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Rensoua hated how frequently it took a man - no, a boy? - to deal with this sort of thing, and get her taken seriously. She should just be… taken seriously off of her own back, but apparently that just wasn’t happening yet. Maybe when she finished growing (it looked like she was going to be bear-sized as well as bear-shaped, or so people would have thought if they knew what the shaff a bear was), or maybe when she graduated and carried a sword of her own. Or maybe when whers flew. One of those things.

He looked vaguely familiar at any rate, in the way that she ascribed to ‘probably from the Weyr?’ ‘possibly a candidate?’ She let the hand sit. One should use the tools one had at one’s disposal.

“If I’d been interested in marriage and children, I’m sure my pa could’ve found me a husband long past” she said a little more dryly, taking a deep breath. As opposed to allowing her to gallivant off to the Weyr and run with swords.

“I know all about what you people get up to in that Weyr!” the elderly lady snapped, brandishing her tray (it is to be noted here that she had absolutely no idea what a Weyrling was, or what exactly they did get up to). “Taking nice young women off for reasons that would shock anyone well brought up! I'd say she'll need them!”

—



L’ris had only a snort for Jasiline’s little show, but followed her long enough to notice the commotion and wince. Whatever her erstwhile squire (a title that could now be given to many) was up to… it was her day off and he was a grown boy who could deal with his own troubles.

So there.

She turned her attention back to C’tis, wine, and politics.

“Two mugs of spiced red” she ordered, hand seeking out a carefully secured leather purse. “It can’t hurt - and neither can more hatchlings… though I can’t say it doesn’t concern me that Hiraeth even still rises. The poor sharding creature shouldn’t be able to clutch, it near killed her last time”

Was there anything potentially more wonderful than a gather? If there was Vanavia didn't know about it. Then again there were a lot of things that Vanavia didn't know, especially if they existed outside of the hold proper, the young woman never having had a reason to venture outside. Still, she was near euphoric at the gathering of people, there were so many interesting things to see and experience here. It would be hard to tell she was that excited however because, although she was bouncy with glee inside, the girl was stood politely with her hands clasped in front of her looking about with a small smile on her face as her mother haggled for something she had found that she wanted for their home. Vivenni had at first tried to get her only daughter to focus on haggling for the item, but could tell that the youngster was not truly interested so had let her stare off into the distance instead. It was a gather and the woman was willing to give her daughter a little slack today.

Naturally everything about her appearance had been hand chosen by her mother before their arrival. The dark green dress, showing virtually no skin on the young lady, with it's pale green under sleeves running to the wrist and the pale blue kirtle beneath the dress covering the shoulders, chest and even half of Vanavia's neck. Nobody could even suggest that she was unsuitably dressed when only her face and hands could be seen. Naturally her hair was also fastened in a style that was appropriate for a unmarried maiden. The copper waves securely contained.

Unfortunately the smith's daughter was so caught up in trying to see absolutely everything whilst staying perfectly still that she didn't notice the young man coming up behind her until they had already collided. Vanavia turned her head just in time to see the sack the lad was carrying hit the ground and hear it's resounding crack.

"Oh! Oh, I do apologise," she spoke clearly, despite the shock. It was polite to apologise even though she had been the one stood still. The young man looked at her teary eyed, she wasn't sure how to respond and so clamped down into a firm silence. Fortunatly it was then that a firm hand grasped the girl's wrist a gently, but insistently tugged her away.

"Come along, Vanavia, we have matters to attend," a distinctly feminine voice spoke calmly, with absolutely no room for arguement. Vivenni swiftly led her daughter away from the scene, two maids in tow with one carrying what appeared to be a folded tapestry.

"Yes, Mother, of course, but what about-"

"It was a scam, my dear, they are frightfully common at these types of affairs and you must never be sucked into them," Vivenni said, slicing off her daughters question. Vanavia spared a glance over her shoulder to see the young man scooping up the sack, seemingly far less troubled by the event now that she had left. A light frown tugged at her features as she was insistently drawn further into the crowd. After a sufficient distance had been cleared her wrist was released and she was free to walk alongside her mother once again, her brain turning over the idea of scams and how someone could possibly detect one ahead of time without having fallen for it before.

C'ross and the pushy Harper both froze simultaneously when the gold firelizard came to alight on the bluerider's shoulder, albeit for drastically different reasons. In the salesman's case, it was because firelizard, especially gold firelizard, generally meant tremendous wealth and therefore someone whom it was highly unwise to bother with the usual sales pitch. You didn't try to push merchandise on someone who could quite possibly buy out your stall and get you removed from the Gather in a fit of pique. Not that C'ross was the rich one, but hey, no way for the Harper to know that.

As for C'ross, he froze because unfamiliar claws on shoulder. His instincts were held in check just enough to keep him from actively moving away, but it was still rather startling for something the size of a large cat to land on you without warning and then yawp in your ear.

The Harper paused just long enough to take in Bereck's outfit, his knots, and his ominous expression, then disentangled hastily from C'ross and backed away. "My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience, sirs," he spoke, words nearly tripping over one another in their haste to come out. "Maybe another time! I should - other customers to attend to - have a pleasant Gather - " And then he was off, scurrying away to the next person unwary enough to admire the display of instruments.

C'ross turned to Bereck with something like a genuine smile. "Thanks for the assist, Masterhealer," he told the elder rider with a polite little incline of his head. At the same time he reached up a hand for Aorta to sniff, or possibly to offer eyeridge rubs if the little queen was so inclined. "I don't mind her, if she wants to sit there. She's a pretty one, isn't she?"

Firelizards were... well, charming little creatures. He'd never had the opportunity at an egg, of course. And there was Nimith, but... Nimith hadn't been small enough to bring to a Gather for turns.

L’ris grunted and handed him the clay mug, apparently signalling an end to the topic. They were not in as bad a position as it might be, all things considered… though she would have preferred a Weyrleader who might have pressed the respect owed to riders and their responsibilities a little harder.

“Don’t break it, or they’ll charge me” she warned, taking a slurp of her own with a sigh of pleasure and a little breath of steam from her mouth. The woman was careful with her marks, saving them for - well, what she was saving them for was between her and her dragon (as the saying goes), but she wasn’t one to waste them. “Shaff, I needed that. Needs more cinnamon, though”

Ever a critic.

—

“You young people have no respect for your elders!” the old woman spat, her tray rattling. “You should be ashamed! It’s not like it was in my day, women wearing breeches and -“

“ - ma’am, are you alright?” Rensoua asked, glancing at Bakarn and putting on an exaggerated expression of concern. It was all very well trying to rescue her, but not just to start a fight with an old woman! If he played along though… well, it would be less embarrassing then being assaulted about her morals. “Excuse me!” she raised her voice, doing her best to have it carry across the crowd. “Does anyone know this lady? She sounds a little confused, and might need to be helped home!”

Only doing her duty as a rider. Well, almost a rider.

—

“Excuse me, ma’am. May I speak with your daughter?” Egg had shed the uniform of a candidate for one of the few gowns she owned - she had kept only a few sets of ‘real’ clothing, and had had to carefully unpick some of the decoration as it was no longer appropriate to her status. She had ensured that the seed pearls had been given to her uncle to keep for her - or rather, to be sent to her father, who owned them. Still, the rich dark red with its printed design of yellow firelizards was obviously expensive, even if her head was shaved down and she wore no hat. Getting dressed had been difficult without the assistance of a servant, but she had done it - it was something she’d credit the uniform with in that she could get into it in ten minutes by herself. She shot a sideways smile at Vanavia, and bowed slightly. “It’s Aeglentine, ma’am. My uncle is Tinerin, and I think we met last turn…?”

Bereck smiled back, though perhaps smirked would be a better term for the expression that tugged at the corners of his mouth and crinkled his eyes. "My pleasure, I assure you, I don't like pushy salesmen... and if you had been forced to shake him off I might have had to reattach his arm, and it's supposed to be my day off." The brief 'heh' that came after the statement indicated that it was probably supposed to be a joke.

"She is, isn't she? Her name's Aorta, and the green is Vena," Bereck continued as the gold dipped her head to rub against the offered fingers, chirping first and then settling into a purr. "Useful as well, they earn their keep fetching things I need while I'm working and of course Aorta can keep other people's pets in order in the infirmary. You would be amazed how many people go to the expense of acquiring a firelizard and then fail to train it properly." The healer added this information simply because he didn't like people to think that Aorta and Vena were just an extravagance. They were extravagant though, and knowing full well the value they represented made him all the more keen to point out their uses.

Still draped around her human's neck Vena yawned and stretched a wing lazily.

"Such faith in my ability to hold objects, I'm truly flattered," C'tis said with a snort as he raised the cup to his lips; L'ris' warning didn't deserve to be dignified with an actual response. The wine, when he tasted it, turned out to be pretty passable. "I'd go for more clove myself," he said, never given to agree with L'ris for too long - that was just a matter of principle. "Is pretty good though," he conceded with a shrug, "much better than the swill you sometimes get at gathers."

C'tis had been about to add something more on the subject when a blue blur dropped from the skies, banked, backwinged, and landed on his shoulders. Fang flared out his wings and hissed at the world in general before dipping his nose down into C'tis' cup for a drink; he had always point blank refused to take food from a human but drinks were different, especially wine and beer.

C'tis muttered something unprintable under his breath, shoved the blue's face out of his booze, and took another sip himself.

"You should've drowned that thing when it hatched" L'ris observed acidly, though not without taking another sip of her own wine. The creature was - frankly speaking - a little monster: it might have its uses, but she also had a dearly held ambition to smack the thing out of the air someday. She was never going to waste that many marks on that sort of vanity, but she was also certain she'd train it better if she did.

Yep, there she was. Looking at him with an expression that suggested she was thoroughly disappointed in something, probably just his existence, or possibly the fact that if any of the other 'handlers saw him in purple, she'd probably get stuck explaining it later. Kebarra drew alongside Natalya easily, a bout of surprising grace for him, and flashed a smile at the question she asked. "Lost? Nah. Saw a racing wher, little blue guy, they're so skinny compared to the kind we got at the Weyr, figured I'd go take a look...then lost 'im. So I'm not the lost one, the wher is." The words came quick and easy, Kebarra rattling his mouth off in a distracted near-monotone as he took Natalya's arm with all the appropriate gravity of someone dressed in purple. He ruined it immediately by shooting her a cocky grin, shaking his head a little. "You look great, but you're gonna kill someone with that dress, you know. Some old man's going to walk past and boom, heart gives out. It'll be amazing."

That bit was delivered in a slightly lower voice; sure, he was in Gather clothes at the moment, but Kebarra's rank knots were still in place. The holders might not recognize his station immediately, but everyone from the Weyr would sure as shards recognize both of them, and he really didn't want to get either of them in trouble for over-familiarity. "You gonna bet on the races?" he asked, right back to his normal tone and volume. "We should go talk to the handlers, after. You could get us back there, right?"