With Rajakhaleth having flown, excitement buzzes about Igen Weyr over the queen's future clutch. Eggs now grace the sands, and chatter can turn towards the favourite topic of weyrfolk during this monumentous event: Wild conjecture about what's in each egg, who's going to Impress what, and other related topics. Having finally found a few free minutes in her day, the breathless Zetali comes sprinting up to the Gallery, doubling over when she finally gets here and bracing herself against the nearest bench while she catches her breath. She's in pretty good physical condition, but her journey apparently didn't start close to the Hatching Cavern. Close enough for her taste, anyway. Once she finally stops looking like she's going to die (maybe she shouldn't have rushed quite so mightily, but scorch it, she was excited, even if she didn't want to admit the distraction from her studies), she picks her head up slowly, fumbling for her waterskin and taking a long drink.

Xanthee is just coming back, trailed by some drudges who she indicates should go down to the first tier of benches and talk to Nasrin about what she needs moved for her duration bound to the Sands. Seeing a certain Apprentice Harper out of breath, she wanders over with a smile, "You know, I jog around the lake almost every morning, I'd love a running buddy." slipping past to find her own seat with a heavy sigh, her emerald gaze sweeps over the clutch of thirty eggs with a warm smile. "Great clutch for a brown/gold pairing. Although Raktraeth is one of the biggest browns I've ever seen. Should be a great group of hatchlings."

Jaune had taken the time to come and watch the eggs being laid. Zetali probably missed all of it in its entirety. He has taken to being chatted with here and there by those of the Vintner craft. Apprentices eager to hear about whatever Jaune had been doing before he came to Igen Weyr, but Zetali's GASPING and vibrant arrival gives him just the opportunity to break away. To join Xanthee and Zetali, talking about running groupings. "The eggs are very pretty looking..but…is the hatching always like that? Just a lot of waiting?"

The Apprentice Harper waves a hand breathlessly, straightening with another generous pull of her waterskin and catching her breath. Zetali's sigh is one of bitter disappointment. "I only just found out a little while ago, but I guess I'm late after all." She grimaces, although the expression is good-natured. "I was always the last person to find anything out back home, too." Oh, there are people here. "Xanthee. Jaune." Hi, and hi. She looks out to the sands, eyes aglitter at the sight of the clutch. So much for playing it cool and pretending indifference to a clutching. "Wow. Look at them all." Yeah, she knows her smile looks stupid, and she doesn't care. "Everyone must be so proud, huh?" There's been chatter all over the Weyr about the happy occasion. Zetali can put her nose to the grindstone and lose herself in her Craft every so often, but even she isn't deaf.

"Yep, pretty much. That hatching is much more impressive," Xanthee replies to Jaune question, "But there's something soothing about watching them, and guessing what's going to come out of each, also placing bets if you enjoy that kind of thing." The bright smile on her face may betray her own love for an innocent flutter. At Zetali's awe, her smile only beams brighter as she nods her head, "I envy new people to the Weyr cause they get to experience this all for the first time, whereas I don't even remember my first time seeing a clutching or a Hatching, I was so young."

"It was at least interesting to see everyone so caught up in it." Jaune nods, a smile for Zetali's attempts to fill her lungs with air to join the conversation proper. "There are a LOT of them. And they are beautiful to look at. I think I will enjoy the hatching more. Getting to watch people get their lives completely and utterly changed. Throw off what has them tied down in their life…" Jaune's voice falls to a murmur and trails away. Someone got distracted.

"I'd never even been to a Weyr before, so it's out of the question I've never seen a clutching before. Oh, they're beautiful. So are Rajakhaleth and Raktraeth." Zetali smiles. "They must be proud, huh? Their lifemates, too. Are clutches usually this big?" Oh, you poor uneducated child. "Ten, twenty, twenty-five… I count… thirty?" Oh. Other people, too. She does blink at Jaune's observation, though, before narrowing her eyes a little suspiciously. "You're not talking about yourself, there, are you? I told you, you're going to owe me spirits once you've walked the tables." Zetal shakes a callused forefinger at Jaune. "…And I intend to hold you to it!"

"Well stick around and you'll see some more. And yeah, they most definitely are beautiful the bunch of them," Xanthee replies with a lopsided grin. "And this is a very good showing for a brown/gold clutch, but I've seen bigger." She's not trying to be boastful, really she isn't, it's only the truth. A call of her name from another assistant headwoman grabs her attention with a soft sigh. "Well duties call. I'm sure I'll see both of you around," she says as she gathers her things and heads for the entrance.

His hand reaches out to steady her elbow as she straightens up, and it falls away once it seems she has recovered. "It was a lot of eggs. It took awhile." Several youngster teenager apprentices are eyeballing Jaune as Xanthee leaves. And Jaune sees that. And turns to put them FULLY behind him and face Zetali. He might be tired of entertaining questions. "Ehh…It'll be quite awhile. Are you willing to wait that long for a bottle of spirits?"

"Unless I'm posted somewhere else, I've got no reason to leave the Weyr. So you're probably right. I'll see other clutches. But shards, I've got no reason to play it cool, either!" Zetali almost claps her hands, managing to close them into fists so as not to make too much noise. So much for playing it cool. That plan sure is destroyed as her voice practically goes up an octave (although she's careful to stay a little quiet). "I mean, this is just amazing! A clutch of dragons!" Dragons, period. She still stares at the sky, sometimes, between tasks. "And they're right there!" One can practically hear the 'eeeee,' and she's so excited she doesn't even snap at him for touching her elbow to steady her. She does not, however, miss the way he turns to ignore his admirers – are they admirers, or are they archenemies? – and put her in front of him, lending her his full attention. She's back to business once more, clamping down on that undignified show of glee. It'll be quite a while, he says, and she eyes him speculatively; can't help the slow, smooth arch of a well-shaped brow. Her smile is feline and that's probably not good. Zetali folds her arms, something almost challenging in the gesture. "You know, they say good things do come to those who wait. …Are you hoping I'll wait, or are you hoping I'll forget?"

No reason to leave the weyr. At this point, Jaune has no one wanting to help him /out/ of the Weyr. Anywhere that had more going on for him than here. Admirers, or fawners. But more likely they want to wheedle why exactly he got sent out here. He doesn't recoil, not from THAT gleam in her eye and the way her lips curl in a predatory smile. Gentle teasing and no more comes from her. "They are very quite lovely, but I promise that the clutching could not possibly be more exciting than the hatching. Just a proud mama laying her eggs and clucking over them." It had best not get around that Jaune referred to a Dragon in terms used on Wherries. "Am I hoping that you'll wait? For what? Me to be able to provide for a wife? I worry I will be too old to enjoy it by the time I'm a journeyman."

"Moving around is too much of a distraction. I'm here to learn, and that's what I plan on doing. Once I have nothing more to learn, here, then maybe I might consider relocating. But until then, I plan on staying. Having such a dry, hot climate is also challenging, and I need to be challenged." Zetali looks out to the eggs, folding her arms, the fingers of one hand tapping restlessly against the opposite forearm. Her voice drops. "I could have stayed in Keroon Hold; let my father marry me off to someone else's hold. I could have learned to work with herdbeasts, or runnerbeasts, and forgotten what it's like to have strings dancing in your hands." A hard smile flits across her features. "I would've been miserable. I can't bear the thought of stagnation. Of things staying the same, day in and day out… I would've been miserable," she repeats, more softly, shaking her head. "So. I lost my point. But best not let anyone hear you comparing a dragon to a wherry, Vintner. The proud mama might be a little offended…" She glances back to Jaune, studying him for a moment as one might study a mildly interesting logic puzzle. Well, he kind of is. "So pessimistic. Do you really think it'll be that long before you walk the tables…? I have to wonder why you're an apprentice, if you have so little faith in your abilities." The observation is given more thoughtfully than maliciously; she's simply observing what she sees as objective truth.

An outpouring of background, which he is apparently oh so willing to add to. "Fort Hold was a very pleasant place to grow up. Large and bustling. Good for a young smith. Until they let me drink beer and watch a batch being made. It took me a few years to work up the courage to switch." Jaune is actually alone today, firelizards off doing whatever. Most likely sleeping. So nothing is upset by the upwards roll of his shoulders. "I think I got sent to Igen Weyr on purpose. I think I had strong words with the craftsecond at Benden Hold. I think I won't walk to the Journeyman's table until that man retires or dies."

"You're from Fort." Zetali tips her head slightly to one side at that. So, he had a change of heart after applying himself to a particular Craft, and then hebungled it by some kind of drunken altercation. Her frown deepens when he suggests he's never going to advance until that person Goes Away. "So you do have faith in your own skills. That's…" The word doesn't come to her right away, because she's trying to frame it diplomatically, and that takes even longer. "That's complicated," she finally says, evenly. "Have you tried talking to a Journeyman for some guidance? Preferably one who has neutral opinions about the Craftsecond, that is."

"I brew quite well. I smith even better. Though, I tended towards iron flowers rather than anything else. Some wagon and cart work. Nothing very useful." Jaune glances up at that. Yes. Complicated. That is the right word for it. His head'll cant over for her words. "A bit. I don't know many of the journeyman here, not quite yet. Something said in anger may haunt me for quite some time. I suppose it is a learning experience. Tell me about Keroon Hold. I have never had the chance to visit there."

"Maybe so, to you. Some Lord holder might not think it's so useless," Zetali points out, arranging her skirts and sinking down onto a bench. Not that she isn't paying attention, but she's still a little shaky after her champion short distance sprint across half the Weyr. "Hm. Maybe you should get to know them. Maybe one of them might have advice for you, if you ever wanted to get your Craft back on track before you're old and grey. There has to be something. I can't believe you'd be forced to just… waste your Craft." The apprentice harper flicks her hands illustratively. "That's just… wasteful," she finishes, lamely. Smooth, Zetali. Real smooth. So instead, she says, "Keroon Hold isn't half as hot as this place, and it isn't as dry, either. It can get a little hot in the summer, though. Full of herdbeasts. Full of runnerbeasts. Breeding season gets exciting, if only because everyone's running around like mad, and it's something different. But knowing what I know, and walking what path I walk… I think Keroon Hold would bore me to tears, now, if I went back. I've got no interest in herdbeasts or runnerbeasts."

Smithcraft is all about efficency. Anyone with knowledge wouldn't be wasted. "I was hoping to encounter the journeyman in charge of the Cantina. But our paths haven't crossed quite yet." He'll follow over as she sinks onto the bench, Jaune's attention firmly on her as the crowds are dispersing. "They tend to have good hide at the very least. But no, all of Pern would have missed out not getting to hear you play, or seeing you strive to craft the perfect lute." A shaky hand reachs out to squeeze her shoulder. "I am going to sleep, I will probably have heavy chores in the morning. You should send your blue to me sometime, we can take them to the lake."

"I'd say maybe you could think about going back to Smithcrafting, but I have a feeling that's not on the table." Zetali shakes her head, reaching up and absently raking fingers through her hair. "Flatterer," she says, but she sounds too tired to really make the obligatory arguments, or the feline hissing-and-spitting. Zetali starts a little at the unexpected hand on her shoulder, but maybe surprisingly, she doesn't swat it away or shrug it off. "Oh. Rest well. The lake, then, and another day. I expect a pile of chores before the sun is finished rising, but then again, I always expect that. Rest well, then, Jaune." There's a pause as she pushes herself to her feet, thumping dust from her already dust-coloured dress, and she makes her way for the exit. Right on the threshold, she pauses; opens her mouth like she's going to say more. But she only shakes her head, vanishing through the doorway.