Hannah, Veresch, Cha'el, K'vvan


A night trip to escape the rain turns unexpectedly awry.


It is late night of the tenth day of the seventh month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Galleries, Southern Weyr

OOC Date


hannah_default.jpg veresch_default.jpg k-vvan_default.jpg cha-el_default.jpg



Stone benches rise, black and showing the lack of polish from a thousand seats — by the look of it, these have not been used in… forever, if ever indeed.
Type 'help here' for info on how to view objects on the sands.

Timor: 1_m20.jpg Belior: 1_m12.jpg

Evening falls like a quiet blanket across Southern Weyr. The rains drum a steady beat into the weyr's heart while its denizens scurry too and fro about their nightly business. The flicker of glow lights and lantern lights spattered about the weyr can be seen even through the softly falling rain. The chill in the air is biting to exposed flesh, causing the rain to feel just a bit like ice water where it lands. In the Hatching Cavern, however, the warmth drifts up from the very sands themselves, emergent and humid. It cloaks the inner confines in a stifling heat that's alleviated only by the tendrils of cooler air sneaking in by way of outside. Here, the rain is all but forgotten except for the increase in humidity. Hannah sits, not on the sands themselves notably, on the benches closest to the sands, lazily fanning herself. She's attired in a spaghetti-strapped sundress of bright print that's thin enough to be cool, and loose enough to not bind. The hem of which ends just about mid-thigh. Her feet are propped up on a little still and she currently is nursing what was once probably ice cold. Now it boasts only a few sad ice floaters in the mix of lemon-colored liquid.

The sheer abundance of winter rain to a person used to sandstorms can't be overly emphasized; even with the cold droplets needling into her skin Veresch doesn't move very quickly. Then there's the factor that running up the staircase to the Hatching galleries in the dark is ill-advised, and of all times to break a leg this isn't the best one. So, with cat-like tread into the galleries she steals — which pretty much means with firm, booted tread and a rustling as she pulls off the leather jacket that protected her from the cold earlier. Underneath it a thick, insulating layer, which also gets stripped off, until she's in a twist of a halter-necked top, revealing arms slowly growing sturdier than the kid-sticks she had, and a figure almost on the verge of becoming slim rather than scrawny. She pauses at the top of the steps, arms basketing around clothes and an earthenware pot alike, then trots down the inside ones to Hannah's side, face still wet and hair dripping fat, cold droplets of water everywhere. "Whuunf," she meanders, friendly, eyes opening at the wall o' heat that smacks her in the face as the micro-climates change. "Pleasant." Yes, so not pleasant. "Evening… ma'am?" There's a little bow for the clutchparents on the Sands, and a wiggle of a wave for Sikorth.

A visitor to her heated warmth has Hannah turning her head to watch Veresch's progress across the galleries. She doesn't move, but she's quite comfortable in her lazy lounge. With pale hair pulled into a messy ponytail-bun on the top of her head, it keeps the bulk of the mass off of her neck though tendrils still fall and cling to cheeks and neck, alike. "Evening." Brows raise curiously for the questioned 'ma'am' at the end of the girl's greeting, though her eyes pull away from Veresch to the clutch parents down on the sands. Dhiammarath is, notably, curled about her eggs and seemingly asleep. "Come to eye the clutch?" the question is posed quietly, as the goldrider is as languid as the heavy air in which they breathe. "Surely you didn't come," humor suffuses husky voice, "to cook in this Faranth-forsaken cavern." Emerald green eyes fall to the things that the girl carries, brows lifting again. Curiouser and curiouser.

With no indication of rank until Veresch gets close enough to see Hannah's front, the girl admittedly doesn't know that it's very much in play. Once she does get a chance of deciphering the little mini-knot pinned to the front of the pretty dress, however, there's a little bow as well, easy without being officious. Long practice, in any case. "I did, yes," she says quietly, putting her things down before folding up with enviable elasticity on the same level of step as the goldrider. "It's a pretty large clutch, ma'am. Congratulations." One hand lifts. "I'm Veresch, of Igen extraction these days." A quick smile flits across her expression, and bare arms curl around her knees. "Sort of an assistant to the weyrwomen back home." The two ladies, with scrawny Veresch plonked next to delicate Hannah, are sitting on the first rank of steps above the sands; the wall of himidity is palpable to all that enter, and whilst the rain drums down on the evening-dark Weyr outside, little sign of it is in here but Veresch's soaked hair.

"…cleared just this afternoon." K'vvan's voice proceeds him and Cha'el entering the galleries from the opposite edge of the hatching caverns. Cha'el leads the way, holding K'vvan's hand. There's a rather strange smile on K'vvan's face, relaxed for all of the unfamiliar territory the pair find themselves in. Their vantage point does not at all allow the pair to see the blond weyrwoman, nor her teenage visitor. K'vvan's eyes sweep out to see the eggs before them. "Those them?" Because who knows, maybe Southern has more than one batch of eggs?

Watching Veresch make her way down to the row in which she's seated, Hannah's smile is warm, friendly even as the girl sets her things down and gives her bow. "Thank you. Dhiammarath," beat, "and Sikorth have managed to churn out a pretty good-sized clutch." Sikorth may have helped. Just a little. "Well met, Veresch." The greeting is followed by the lift of pale brows as an 'ahhh' moment comes to play, "Tuli's assistant? Sadaiya's? Both?" She reaches down to the ground on the side that faces away from Veresch and pulls up a single grape. It's when she's slipping the grape into her mouth that she notices Cha'el and K'vvan — an unknown entity that causes Hannah to narrow her eyes at the man — enter. "Speak of the dragon. There's the clutch father's rider now." Does she point Veresch in their direction. Oh yes she does! And then goes for another grape, because by now Hannah is kind of addicted to food and given the tiny little lower-belly pudge, it's causing her to hold some weight!

"Winter," Cha'el adds to the end of the greenrider's comment and comes to a halt, a boyish grin etching about beard framed lips, pride in open evidence. "Aye. Forty two. Sikorth thinks he's a right stud." To which the mottled brown making his way inward gives a snort. "Sorry, is a stud." Giving the eggs a careful eyeballing, the brownrider glances upward and then freezes when the pair of ladies is spotted, for he recognizes both, the hand twined with K'vvan's twitching but he'll not be the first to let go.

"Both," Veresch admits. "I'm usually a messenger, but these days they've sort of coopted me into running errands for them. I'm learning about the recordskeeping side of things as it goes along, and now that I see you, ma'am, there's something I'd like to ask. I… ah?" That sentence breaks off as Hannah indicates up the stairs behind them, and the girl obligingly turns to look upstairs. There's a look for Cha'el, a look for K'vvan and a look for the hand-holding, but no more reaction given than that. She's weyrbred, so … carry right on! "Evening, sirs." Always a good idea, even if she's sorta-sideways-almost-technically the same rank. Her mother'd kill her, otherwise. Leaving them to choose where they want to sit, she turns back to eye the clutch on the sands, fingertips cupping her chin in the wet, sticky heat. "The last clutch on our sands… whooie, some of them were strangely coloured." But then, Elicheritath.

"Nadeeth would be more than happy to…" but then K'vvan's eyes sweep past the eggs and land on Hannah and Veresch. His eyes narrow, the edge of good humor his shots of wiskey and a healed dragon have supplied slip away in an instant. That twitching hand is dropped and he'll step backwards a half step and hiss at the brownrider. "You said she'd be down on the sands and that this late most people wouldn't be here."

"A messenger assistant," Hannah rolls that around thoughtfully, before both of their attention is on the riders in question. Cha'el, particularly, is given a look until that look is swung K'vvan's way. Never let it be said that this junior weyrwoman is not bold — or maybe it's the hormones. "Cha'el, bring your friend over here lest Dhiammarath eat him." Maybe Igenites taste good. Emerald green eyes swing back to Veresch, showing the humor lurking within as she prompts, "You wanted to ask something?" Scootching back, she plucks up another grape from the magical grape vortex at her side — it's really a bowl — and sets aside her lemon-colored drink with it's sad little ice floaters and pops the grape into her mouth, brows lifting. She's all ears. "It's always amazing to see how the dragon's eggs come out," is added in an almost aside. For this clutch of Dhiammarath's and Sikorth's is of rich jewel tones that are not unlike the accents of the pale queen's hide.

There is the very faintest purse of lips and narrowing of eyes when K'vvan drops him like a hot cake but Cha'el wisely keeps his thoughts to himself - for now - and arranges an affable smile into place. "Good evening, ladies. Enjoying the sauna?" Cue the crooked pull of lips. As for the greenrider's hissed comment, he turns his head and squints a look back at him. "Aye, and you said you'd be here like two hours ago." Shit happens, things change. Old married couple much? Meandering over to where Veresch and Hannah are set up, Cha'el gestures toward the recalcitrant young man behind him and makes the introductions. "Hannah, Veresch, this is K'vvan, Arroyo wingsecond, rider to Nadeeth. K'vv, Hannah, southern weyrwoman bonded to that beauty down there and Veresch, one of our own and a long way from home." A smile for each is given.

It's probably only Hannah that sees the slight stiffening of Veresch's shoulders and the whitening of knuckles as K'vvan's accusation, but the girl remains where she is, otherwise at ease. "As long as I'm running, might as well run for them, ma'am. I came to drop off a couple of messages and pick up something for a friend in the current Weyrling class," she nods to the earthenware pot, "but I'd like permission to poke through your library for some information as well, if you don't mind? An errand from Weyrwoman Tuli, and whilst I'm already here…" She lets the sentence peter out as the two men join them, nodding courteously to both. "Weyrsecond. Wingsecond." Pause. "I've met the Wingsecond before, sir," she says neutrally. There's another slight pause. "Congratulations, sirs." To the hands, even if it's not being held anymore.

"I wanted to make sure Ivy made it back to her weyr in one piece," K'vvan protests, still hissing. But when Cha'el introduces him he'll nod to Hannah, "Ma'am. The eggs are beautiful." He manages to keep the large frown from his face, and tucks his arms behind his back, twining hands around one another. Nope, he and Cha'el totally weren't holding hands. Nothing to see here. Veresch though, gets a narrowing of those eyes and a promise of unhappy days (if she could catch it) if she could say anything. "I've met Veresch."

"Cha'el," Hannah starts to say the man's name, watching his interplay with K'vvan and Veresch. "I'm surprised to be seeing you here," except she's not given by the very excited way she eats another grape. "I'd half expected to see you here with the woman who wears your ring on her hand. Sweet girl." Except crazy, but that's another story. For Veresch, those keen eyes switch from Weyrsecond to messenger and so does the devilish switch to warmth. "You may peruse our library. Just let Renalde know that you have permission for the public works." Not their secret stash. Hidden in the depths of the weyr. Shifting a little on her buns, the junior weyrwoman lays a hand on her lower belly and reaches for her glass. "You're nice to get the new weyrlings gifts. They're doing well?" They are half-Southern, after all! Oh, did she just drop a landmine on Cha'el and K'vvan? And totally just blase-like turn the subject to the weyrlings? You betcha.

Congratulations? Cha'el almost chokes on that but manages to cover it with a quick clearing of throat not daring to look at K'vvan for his reaction to that one pretty sure he can feel the daggers in his back as it is. There might have been a wicked smirk to appear on matters of what perusing the Southern library might reveal but then Hannah drops a bombshell that finds Igen's Weyrsecond paling a little beneath that tan of his. "Uh…ring on her hand?" He echoes dumbly, definitely not looking at the greenrider now. In a bid to cover his mortification, Veresch becomes the target of interest with lamely offered, "Just stay out of the Seacrafter's section. Lessen you want an education you didn't expect." Ahem.

Veresch weathers K'vvan's narrow-eyed stare with a blank expression of her own, the kind of watching-paint-dry-in-my-head stare that's sufficed her before during Hatching invitation delivery. Hannah, however, rates a much more polite one: "They're all doing well enough as far as I know. We're not, um, allowed together much yet, but the ones I've met are taking short jaunts, and the dragonets eating everything in sight, it seems." Her eyes dart to the pot — perhaps reconsidering the gift? Perhaps. The little note about a ring is tucked away, deep away, but a too-intelligent glitter in her eyes promises no chance of forgetting it. "Bluerider, ma'am? Real pretty, blonde hair?" She lets her tight-knuckled grasp on her legs go, and shifts a little to accomodate two lanky men should they choose to sit down. "Seacrafter's section? Thank you, sir." Of course she's going to look there now. Thanks, Cha'el!

K'vvan says, "I'll be leaving if you'd prefer ma'am." All sorts of respect K'vvan will lay out to the woman who totally outranks him, doubly so when her eggs are upon the sands. Except wait… what? The glower upon his face is replaced with a look of confusion and he steps forward to glance at Cha'el side-long. Comments about the Southern Library fly right over his head, so he ignores them completely."

"I suspect she saw me as competition," Hannah gamely plays along with this hand of hers, turning her eyes to Cha'el with a hint of feral glee that lurks beneath. "But seemed to put forth the lovely story of how you gave her your ring out of love." Her eyes flick to K'vvan, but it's not suspicion or even pity that gets writ upon her features, nay it's delight. "No, no, no. You may stay, but only if you…" half leaning now, she's digging through her stash. Yes. There's a food stash doing on beside her. "… try this lovely pastry. I think it just hasn't caught on yet." A cream-filled thing of confectioner's delight is waved at the Wingsecond. It seems to say to him, trrrrrryyyyyyy meeeeeeeee. Y'know, if pastries could talk. "Ah, yes! That's the one," she exclaims, picking up on Veresch's description. The books, the library; they are second fiddle to the larger play at hand. "Cha'el, you liked my pastries?" Such an innocent-sounding question, that. "Dragonets tend to do that. Eat and eat and eat, but they'll grow up and your friends will be less confined to their lifemates." For the girl, it's meant to be a kind of warm encouragement.

Nope. Cha'el's still not looking at K'vvan. Doubly so when Veresch goes on to describe said wearer of ring rather accurately. A groan is stifled and the messenger girl is set with a scowl. Thanks for nothing, Veresch!! And Hannah you're not helping any either! Currently he has a mouthful of teeth for any attempt he makes to set either of the women straight is only going to dig his grave deeper. But then, stiffly given, "There's more to that story than she told you." Set to add more when that pastry is produced, Cha'el darts a look from Hannah to K'vvan - now he's looking at him, a horrified expression in place - and quickly gives a small shake of head and mouthed 'No!'. Then the wily weyrwoman is putting him on the spot. "Uuuuh….I fear that Southern cuisine is not quite to my stomach's lining." Diplomacy is tried for, fear for the HORRID, AWFUL offerings of Hannah not quite as well hidden as he might like.

Veresch lets Cha'el's scowl splash off her back like rain off oiled cloth — after all, what are big brothers for but to embarrass hideously, especially if you're still bearing a grudge? Then, of course, that glorious pastry-cream-thing-blob hoves into view, and the girl is absolutely charmed. "That looks lovely!" she enthuses. "It's a miracle the cream stays so well in this heat." Seriously, obviously Hannah's doing this out of the goodness of her innocent heart - just look at her! Besides, eating pastry as an admission price for eggs? Not so bad. She too shifts expressive, curious eyes to poor on-the-spot K'vvan. He could do with some fattening up anyway.

If K'vvan wasn't rather fragile emotionally right now, he might actually make the connection between blue-rider and Erissa. As it stands however he doesn't. Hannah, holding out food causes him to bite his lip. Clutchfather may be able to get away with saying no, but booty call greenrider… yeah, he probably isn't. With a small shrug at Cha'el he reaches out for that pastry and takes it from Hannah's hand. "Thank you ma'am." He's a greenrider of few words tonight. When he settles down, it is less of a flop and more of a wary-cat movement, leaving him right on the edge of the stone seat as if he might pop out of it at the slightest povication. Upwards the pastry travels to his mouth, and a bite is taken.

"Ardstelle is an amazing woman," Hannah answers Veresch's comment, smiling ever wider as K'vvan takes the pastry. Come now, the goldrider knows full well what lurks within that pastry and is eagerly awaiting the visiting greenrider's response. "Is there? More to the story? What could be more than undying love?" That last is thrown in there with the dart-like precision of an intense gaze falling upon the brownrider for his less than hidden thoughts on her food choices. "This lovely bluerider," she pauses, then adds, "Erissa, I think her name was, seemed to think you could handle anything. Carried her off after saving her." Unconsciously, she pats her rounded belly, sneaking a glance to Veresch. "I have one for you, if you'd like." And just like that, with impish glee, the goldrider is offering Veresch the same delicious, cream-filled pastry. "Careful it doesn't explode out the end, now." Now that statement is given with a cat-that-ate-the-canary look to both male riders.

K'vvan, Cha'el will try to protect from the pastry of doom, Veresch, giving that she's just thrown him under the wagon wheel, not so much. Because that's what older brother types do, ensure their younger siblings understand the kind of retribution they're capable of. But then the greenrider is ignoring the silent warning and in peril of ruining whatever time they have to spend together by ensuring close communion with the latrines. Without thinking, Cha'el swats at K'vvan's hand, hoping to knock the pastry from it while at the same time risking the Wrath Of Hannah. She who distracts him in the next instant. "I don't sharding love her," the Weyrsecond growls and then GLARES at the goldrider when she produces a name. "Aw, fuck me." He groans under his breath. His night in the Southern paradise just went tits up in the most royal of fashions with little to no hope of exploding of any kind now on the cards. Thank-you-very-much-Hannah! With a huff, the brownrider plonks his butt next K'vvan and crosses those thickly muscled arms of his over chest in much the same fashion as a child that's had its cookie stolen from it.

Eyeing the pastry that comes past her radar, Veresch reaches for it with a blithe look on her face. She cradles it happily, eyeing the creamy layer with ill-disguised glee. That, of course, is when Cha'el tries to knock the pastry from K'vvan's hand. Ignoring the two-and-fro for a minute, she holds the pastry carefully, gingerly even, and takes a very large bite. There's a moment's pause, a clouding of her expression - what is that? - but, with a ginger motion of chewing, she swallows the bite down. "Unique," she mutters afterwards, brows beetling together. Then, because really, she's capable of multitasking, "She's really nice. Erissa, that is." Clearly a Team Erissa fan member this one. Another bite, another thoughtful chew. "This is … actually not bad. I like how it's salty and sweet at the same time. Right, Wingsecond?"

K'vvan's lips close around the pastry and he bites down hard before Cha'el is lashing out at him. "What the f," is prompted by one, the salty squishy NOT CREAM thing which his teeth have just encountered, and Cha'el's hand knocking the pastry out of his hand. None of it actually manages to go down his throught though, so perhaps Cha'el might still get his tropical night so long as he doesn't hit him again. He's confused. And what is all of this about that B9tch Erissa? His confused caze will shift between the trio. Someone cue the greenrider in please?

"Cha'el." Hannah's voice carries a warning hint when he smacks the pastry out of the greenrider's hand. No longer is the goldrider shifting her attention from greenrider and messenger to include the brownrider. Nay, she's focused intently upon Cha'el and that feral irritation roils beneath. "I just did not see you foul my," the clutch father he may be, but he is still visitor, "galleries with such antics as to swat Ardstelle's lovely creation to the ground." And then throw a sharding childish temper tantrum to boot! Although that last is left unsaid, to quiver in the air between all three. Veresch's praise is what diffuses the rising anger enough that Hannah can pull her eyes away from Igen's Weyrsecond to smile widely at the messenger. "Oh, see! Someone can appreciate the fine arts of this pastry." K'vvan is eyed, in case the greenrider follows his boyfriend's behaviors. "No thanks," the goldrider sing-songs. "If you don't love her, then you shouldn't be giving a girl a ring. It gives her ideas." She, herself, is wearing a pretty little gold dragon necklace with a jewel for it's eye.

Wrapped in a hardly-done-by funk, Cha'el slides a sidelong glance Veresch's way as she takes a bite of the pastry, sure he'll at least be rewarded with spitting and coughing and disgust. When it doesn't happen and instead she goes on to show approval for the awful creamy thing topping that with putting a halo on Erissa's head, the brownrider SCOWLS. "Aye, she makes about as much sense as that pastry." He grumps though not with as much heat as might be expected for he really does count the bluerider as a friend, even if the mere mention of her name is a veritable cock-block of note. And then he's getting a tongue lashing from the wee goldrider. Blue eyes SQUINT in return, frustration seething just beneath the surface. Darting a look K'vvan's way as he chomps on the one bite of the pastry he'd managed to get in an explanation he'd not intended to give at this time, blurts out. "I didn't! It's her mother's ring. She left it in my weyr and I returned it to her at lunch the next day. Look, she and I, we hooked up back in Ista that's it. She's just a friend now." Dirty laundry aired the brownrider falls to silence, attention firmly dropping to the eggs below before there's a muttered. "I'm sorry." Though to which of the three that's directed is left to be determined.

"I mean, it's not for delicate stomachs," Veresch says, eyeing the two guys snippily, before polishing it off and licking the extra cream off her fingertips. Sure, it settles like a brick on the stomach, but the effort of keeping her digestion even is enough to distract the messenger from the immediate discussion at hand. Still, there's a ray of hope on the horizon: "Cha'el wouldn't hold hands with a guy unless it was serious," she informs Hannah. Capriciousness rules, makes her eyebrows lift. "I mean, no one back at Igen knows." That status might not last long after she gets back home, given tonight's happenings. "'sides, there was that hot sauce guard as well." It's a relationship chart of Gordian complexity. Pause. "Did Ardstelle make these?" You know, just to make sure.

K'vvan feels the sting of Hannah's rebuke strongly, and shifts on his seat in total discomfort. He'll cast a slight look at Cha'el, see the scowl and shift just slightly aside in his seat. Look, Cha'el, this is getting a bit uncomfortable for the younger rider. He'll reach downwards and pick up the bitten into pastry and just hold in his hands for a while. And Veresch keeps talking. Yup. She's going to get it later.

"Ardstelle did," Hannah's keenly watching the currents pass between everyone beneath Veresch's commentary and Cha'el's hastily given explanation. Brows lift as the goldrider finally, finally starts moving by hefting her feet up from where she's got them propped up. "Don't be so uncouth next time Cha'el." With a grunt, she picks up her bowl of grapes and cradles them in her lap, plucking one off the top and biting into it with the careful show of teeth. "Or Dhiammarath will deny Sikorth access to the eggs." Q'fex has it right, a clutching gold can make a bronze or brownrider's life hell. And with a smile too — see? The sweetness is almost tangible. "I'm glad you like it. I thought it was entirely unique and for some reason I've been craving sweet and salty. I need her to make more of my spicy ones."

At first, Veresch is awarded with the briefest sliver of gratitude when she appears to take his side, squashed when she mentions what people back in Igen may or may not know. "And its gonna stay that way," Cha'el directs at her, flicking a glance to K'vvan as he shifts away and retrieves the poor abused pastry. Not that he cares who knows but, promises were made. A frown greets Hannah's comment, features tightening at the threat made which elicits a deep rumble of disapproval from Sikorth rendered his rider's way. "Don't punish him because I'm an arsehole." The Weyrsecond quietly states and unfolding his arms, comes to his feet and ever so calmly reaches over a plucks two pastries from the tray. One is held out to K'vvan - they can 'die' together - and the other is shoved into the brownrider's mouth. Whole. As the noxious taste coats his tongue and slides down his throat, eyes water a little but to his credit, Cha'el chews and swallows only once having to fight the gag reflex. Dusting his hands together, Hannah is set with a triumphant twist of lips lightly coated with a film of cream. "Delicious." He lies openly. "I'm sure Th'seus will enjoy the recipe book I brought with me for you." Roundabout payback.

Oh oh, mistake. K'vvan's glare did not really affect Veresch very much - she's used to them - but Cha'el's injunction not to gossip does. Then, since it's Hannah's sands at the moment and it wouldn't be polite to pull a humongous tantrum right here, she merely smiles. Brightly. Prettily. Even in situations like these, especially in situations like these, the proverb about flies and honey applies. "Ma'am, thank you very much for your hospitality," she says as she looks back to Hannah, starting to gather her things. "And thanks for permission to look around the library. I hope that Dhiammarath continues in fine fettle. If you could please pass on my greetings and respect on to her as well when she's awake."

K'vvan doesn't follow Cha'el's movement to his feet. Honestly he is so out of his depth right now it isn't even funny. So he'll linger there not eating the cream-anchovie pastry and passing it from hand to hand. He'll look upwards at Hannah and be well… rather pathetic. Please don't say anything more ma'am?

Hannah coyly eyes Cha'el, and to some extent, K'vvan, though pity isn't quite what they get. "You know," because while Veresch may not be a big fish, the goldrider is. And ever so calmly does she come to say after Cha'el's ballsy display of eating the pastries, "Dragons, they gossip." Emerald green eyes fall to her nails as she ostensibly examines her cuticles. The game of dragons and their riders and poor little innocent girls is one that the goldrider's adept in playing. "And it would be a shame should Igen's Weyrsecond use his rank to hide his relationship. So unbecoming. So…" Blame the hormones, though the weyrwoman does watch Cha'el from 'neath the fringe of pale lashes and her gaze is so not one of a glowing pregnant woman. "… So gossip worthy." Although, for as much as the brownrider's getting chided so, too, does Veresch, "Nor would it be becoming for a girl to use something so private as a man's relationship for salacious gossip. Talicanitath," Southern's Senior, "is the mother of Elicheritath, and both Elicheritath and Jivayath can trace their bloodlines back to Dhiammarath." Which means, in code, be good or your ass is grass when Tuli finds out. Hannah, already playing the, 'everyone be good' card! "Oh delightful! I shall have Ardstelle on that right away. Th'seus is pleased with everything," okay, maybe not, "I do." And she can conveniently hide behind him when it's prudent! "Of course I will. She will appreciate your admiration of her clutch." Hannah might even preen a little; it is a fine clutch!

"Use my rank to…? What!? No! I…" Cha'el's attention snaps from Veresch to Hannah and back to Veresch again before settling on Hannah, that sly glance from beneath feathered lashes not entirely parsed for how it's intended. But he'll add no more for apparently he has an ENORMOUS shovel in hand and is quite adequately digging himself a man-sized grave. Best he shut it now because there's no winning when a woman gets going. That much he's learned. "C'mon," fingers flick in a beckoning gesture to the rather awkward looking K'vvan, "Lets go get that recipe book for Hannah," and WASH THEIR MOUTHS OUT WITH SOAP! "Veresch, enjoy marauding through the library, Hannah," a salute, "I'll be back in a bit." I, not we, for he has a feeling the poor greenrider has been pushed beyond his boundaries of comfort. The Weyrsecond's return at the mercy of the pastry he's just consumed for already it sits ill in his belly.

"No, ma'am," Veresch agrees idly as she's cautioned not to be nasty. "I wouldn't do something like that anyway, so no warning necessary." Her glance, when she settles it on the two guys, is rock-hard. As they appear to be leaving, she settles back down, spreading out her jacket and setting the pot back on it. "Good night, sirs. Have a nice night." The stare melts a bit; she turns back to the sands to look at the clutchmother's bright-toned clutch, fingers knotted tightly together.

K'vvan is flushed a deep red by now, and when Hannah avoids his gaze stares down at his toes. The pastry is turned over and over like it suddenly is the most interesting thing out there. His looking is suddenly interrupted by Cha'el's hand and he'll stand. "The eggs are beautiful," he'll mutter then look up to meet eyes with Cha'el, embarrassment written all over his face. He'll follow where the weyrsecond leads.

"It'll be your turn," Hannah informs the brownrider. "I'm going home to Th'seus. My back is killing me." Probably because of all the food you're eating, Hannah. "It was nice to meet you, K'vvan, and thank you. Dhiammarath and Sikorth both are proud." She pauses, and glances down to the eggs herself before turning to the girl. "It was a pleasure," the goldrider adds to Veresch, especially after she so readily agreed to be good she's graced with another warm smile. "Visit the library, seek out Renalde, and enjoy all that Southern has to offer." With another grunt, the junior is getting to her feet, and without her precious seven inch heels she's not that tall at all. Hefting her bowl, she gives K'vvan and Cha'el a look but otherwise does not stop them as they go. "Have a good evening, Veresch," is her parting good-bye as she meanders her way out of the galleries.

And Cha'el will TAKE one of those pastry fiddling hands in FRONT of the women, because hey, that runner's already bolted, and lead the way out, muttering an uneasy, 'Uh oh,' as his stomach prepares to give back what's been dumped in it.

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