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Shards. F'ren's big mouth had been overheard again. And naturally it just had to be by the Bronzerider currently in charge of the Benden group. "Good evening, Bronzerider," she greeted with a small yet polite bow. "We appreciate the gesture."

Lifth observed the scene silently from behind, gathering that His' friend had said something that he perhaps should not have. The young Blue was beginning to grow more and more curious as to what all of the upset was about exactly that seemed to have created some sort of dividing line between Benden and Trine. He and His would likely be having a fairly long talk on the matter later on.

And then S'in decided to join in on the matter. Shards, I may as well not even bother being in this conversation, G'brel thought to herself with the internal equivalent of a sigh. Can't we just enjoy the feast for now and not start any more arguements? This is not the time! "I apologize, I hate to bow out of the conversation, but Lifth is feeling rather hungry at the moment. If you would excuse me."

The Blue was almost amused by this flimsy excuse. I am?

Yes, you are. Now start trying to feel as hungry as possible so that you eyes get some red in them.

With another polite bow, G'brel started off toward the meat cuts with her dragonet, quite intent on avoiding any conflicts that may arise.

F'ren tensed, and in response so did Toulonth beside him. He was about to make a smart reply to the Bronze rider however S'in interjected and he clamped his mouth shut, fists clenched at his sides, "it's Bendens damned fault we lost two dragons" he mutted under his breath, luckily only Toulonth could hear his barely breathed comment Two dragons mine? only my sister went between F'ren sighed, now was as good a time as any to explain to his Dragon A Benden Bronze killed one of our Dragons, the crimson mother of those last six eggs to hatch he replied to her, turning towards a vaguely familiar voice "Oh, hello Ofie was it?" he said stiffly, "i'm afraid i'm going to have to leave with G'brel, Congratulations on your Impression Ofie, but i refuse to stand around much longer, the air smells foul just here" he said, pulling Toulonth away before the Bronze rider could stop him or say another word to him.

Following behind G'brel he shook with tension so that's why you're hurting Mine, but i am here now. Don't dwell on the sadness we should concentrate one being the best pair we can be she said, leaning into his legs as they walked. "G'brel, wait up, i'll come with you" he said, visibly shaking even to someone that wasn't particularly interested.

Oh...that little Greenrider was so very, very lucky that he walked off as he did. So very, very lucky. Ofelia didn't know much about protocol for ranks, with Bronzes being pretty awesome and Greens being down on the lowest rung, but she did know a thing or two about manners - and F'ren's manners stunk worse then a six sevenday old vat of . . . something. Ofelia felt her palm clench a bit and her mouth opened as though she wanted to say something, though thankfully he was gone and S'raid was now talking to her.

"...ya...ya think so? Thank ya quite a bit. 'er name is Serinth."

Ofelia reached down and actually lifted the small dragonet into her arms, the little crimson hardly any bigger than even a small green. Such was the fate of atypicals, so small at birth and a major pain in the a** as they grew. Ofelia wasn't ready for this.

"As for a new life....I dunno. I never wanted ta be a rider, I wanted ta keep wit' mah craft, but then I Impressed ta Serinth, an'. . . ."

She trailed off on that though, either in happiness or in pain. The look on her face made it hard to tell, the expression mixed, but it was likely something that would take the tanner quite a while to work over. She'd changed her life instantly by yelling at a dragonet, she could no longer be the Journeyman Tanner that her whole life had lead her up to be.

It...it was hard.

"It's the healers, Sir." S'in was happy to explain, ((and it also helped distract from his friends retreat.)) "They've been acting very strange, and very presumptuous. Before the disastrous incident with your departed predecessor they seemed to be going out of their way to cause distress and suspicion. I'm sure we would be happy to help Benden with whatever it needs, but they run like tunnel snakes in the light of a glow when they spot someone who might have overheard them." Or that had been how they reacted to him. "I hope saying so is not out of line, but I've seen them do it. It was very cloak and dagger, sir."

The brown clinging to his pantleg chirped again, whirling eyes regarding S'raid with a strange sort of cheerful caution. Cheerful, but clingy thing.

V’al frowned, eyeing the bronzerider from afar and concentrating. He could pick out bits of words here and there. It suddenly occurred to him that he could approach the Benden riders now that he was no longer a Candidate, but now wasn’t the place. The bronze rider wasn’t one he would want to speak with. He looked too composed. Lerath glanced up, meat dangling from his teeth, wondering what was distracting His. V’al dropped his train of thought and returned to feeding the blue. He spoke a few calming words and kept at it until the edge of Lerath’s hunger had sated. Sure he wouldn’t choke now, V’al stepped away and let him feed himself. After watching him critically for a few moments, he asked a clean cloth from the butcher and wiped his hands off before moving away from the corner. He wasn’t worried about his dragon becoming lost or distressed in the crowd. Nor would he cause any real trouble with his failing wings and shambling gait. They had only known each other for a day, but Val had faith in his dragon’s intelligence. His only concern – that Lerath would overeat – could be solved by keeping mental tabs on the blue. He would call him off when he was full. For now though, he stepped away and into the crowd.

B'tar slipped into the crowd in something of a 'fashionably' late way, annoyed at how long it had taken to find an outfit that didn't feel like he'd added coals to the sweltering heat... and he had to admit, glad for a reprieve from the Healers. He really didn't like being out of the loop, and kept prodding the sore spot of not knowing exactly what they were searching for like a sore tooth.

We could sit on one... they'd tell us then... Primath suggested, impishly.

Too messy, I'd hate scraping squished healer off of you. B'tar supplied back with an amused smirk, examining a selection of interesting pastries and deciding which one he might go after.

'The air smells foul just here.' Quite a pungent insult from such a new rider. But S'raid chose to ignore it. There was no reason to add fuel to the flame, as it were. Nor did he respond to the quip about it being Benden's fault that they had lost two dragons... which was patently false. It was one Benden rider's fault that Trine had lost one dragon. The other, he imagined, had gone between all on her own. To a child, though, someone not prepared to handle such losses, it might very well seem as though Benden were responsible. After all, he had to find someone to blame.

"Oh, Ofelia," S'raid said, taking in her expression. Given the context, and how serious he knew her to be about her craft, he expected that that was sadness and not happiness. "But you must realize that even Weyrs have some use for leatherworking, hmm? I know a bit myself, actually. We've all had to learn some. It's for repairing straps and the like. I'm sure that no one would mind if, after your dragonet is grown, you were to do a bit of tanning on the side? You might consider speaking to the Weyrlingmaster or your Weyrwoman about it. But you will be expected to use it, to an extent." He felt the need to reassure her because she was useful to him.

Also, it was easier to focus on the rider and not the dragon, when the dragon in question was a Crimson. "You Impressed from the Stands, correct? Then you've saved Serinth's life by having been present at all. That's something to be proud of." He'd continue to butter her up if need be, but now his attention had shifted once more. "The healers?" He pondered that notion for a moment, an eyebrow quirked in thought. "Yes, I can see how they might have ruffled some feathers. They're rather focused on what they're doing, and have little interest in human interaction."

And a lot of interest in being ferried back and forth between Benden and Trine, which was entirely irksome. "Cloak and dagger, you say? Well, that would be something to mention to your Weyrwoman, wouldn't it?" Though it would definitely be something to keep in mind. What a juicy little tidbit. Ah yes, S'raid had known that coming over here would be fruitful-- There is Moira now! Galvanth bugled, keeping track of the girl through S'raid's mind's eye. ... Oh Galvanth. Suppressing another sigh, he turned to greet the new Queenrider.

"Moira, a pleasure as always. Of course. Isn't that what I am best at?" he inquired dryly, shaking his head at her patently fake smile. "Greetings, Serlaith. Galvanth would dearly like to meet you, if you will give him the time. He's rather excited about this business of new dragonets." Poor Galvanth, so wistfully absent. "I enjoyed your dance, Moira. Is that a folk favorite? Something that the people in the South do at Gathers perhaps?" Oh yes, he was poking fun at her... but she had it coming. She truly, truly did. "Watching you vault over the railing was truly a sight. ... Is that a dress?" For whatever reason, S'raid sounded far beyond surprised. More like, well... shocked.