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(TAG: EVERYONE. Not gonna tag individually with this post because that s**t will get crazy.)

You are going to get your face torn off by a wher, and I am going to laugh. Merceth appeared to consider this for a moment, then added I’ll come help you, because I don’t want to die, but I’ll still laugh.

I appreciate your support, C’ross shot back dryly, glancing back over his shoulder at the big solid bulk of the brown. Do you have any idea what’s going on? Because I’m s**t out of ideas and I’d rather not fight Linfon.

Deadglow. It’s simple: a show of dominance. Merceth was familiar with these. He’d met plenty of bronzes who postured and flared and tried to make themselves look bigger and stronger than him in front of a gold. They didn’t like a brown who was as big as them and twice as dangerous. Golds have command. No more gold at Warden’s. That means there’s no authority except M’onk’s, and he wants everyone to understand he has power over them. He’s keeping the Candidates here because if he lets them go now, he’s giving in to what a greenhandler wants. He can’t afford to look weak. Especially not now.

It was rare that Merceth and C’ross were on the same wavelength. But when the s**t hit the fan, they watched each other’s backs. And both of them understood that there were more important things right now than who won this little pissing contest. M’onk was out of line forcing the Candidates to watch the wreck of a Goldrider be dragged off the sands, sure. But it was way, way more out of line to intimidate them into obedience with whers. (C’ross had never been fond of wherhandlers, as a whole: if he could keep Merceth under control, why couldn’t they do the same for their beasts?) And whether or not the wherhandlers had intended it that way, with a pack of whers now gathered around the clutch and Linfonsk outright threatening the Warden, it had turned into an intimidation play.

“All right, that’s enough!” C’ross had an excellently trained drill sergeant voice, and it cut clearly above the general hubbub. He laid a firm hand on Linfon’s other arm, the one that Rokana didn’t have, as he spoke up. “Wherhandlers! Warden’s orders – if you’re here to help guard the clutch, then go stand with Descanth. Otherwise, leave. Now. Before someone gets hurt.”

Please, Faranth, let some of them be bright enough to take that for the out it was.

+++++

Descanth was getting quite a crowd of whers around her now. She recognized some of them – the green had been patrolling with their handlers after all – and crooned a low greeting. But her defensive posture did not relax.

Some brief exchange passed between her and Merceth; she turned her head to look at the big brown, then inclined her muzzle slightly. With a smooth motion the green circled the clutch, then lay down encircling it, her neck and tail forming a semicircle of protection around the eggs. Even in the hubbub, someone would have to literally step on the green in order to get close enough to touch one.

M’ska, for his part, had other things to worry about. “You should go back to stand with the other Candidates,” he told Leevi and Joscelin, as gently as he could manage. “Thank you for the help, and don’t get yourselves in trouble on my account.” Then, when Bereck arrived, he gave the healer a grateful look. “I want to get her off the sands... She doesn’t need to be here for this, and the Candidates don’t need to see –“

He didn’t finish his sentence. Just in a quiet voice to Kaelyandra, “We’re going to take you to Brakiheth, Weyrwoman. As soon as we can.”

+++++

Ralvyn was completely overwhelmed. But he had Meera and Warden V’tyai now, two bastions of calm like rocks in a bitter storm. He let himself be herded to on side with the rest of the Candidates, but made an active effort to stay near V’tyai. The tears had passed, replaced with a kind of numb shock and lingering fear: what was going on? Why was everyone fighting? Someone was going to get hurt if it continued like this...

He wished he’d thought to bring the first aid kit, just in case.

He could really do without it coming to a fight in here, especially a fight involving whers. When C'ross put a hand on the angry handler's arm, C'tis eyes slid onto the green beast. Calling Malcarreth down would probably just cause more chaos... which meant he had to trust the handler to keep her head so that nobody lose theirs to the wher. He had his sword - he always had his sword - but that wasn't especially comforting against man-eating dragonkin.

...If one of these idiots killed M'onk there would probably be a very unpleasant power struggle at least for a while, and everything would go to hell. Not waiting for an answer from M'onk, and leaving the shouting to C'ross, C'tis rested his hands casually on the pommel of his sword and moved between the wher with its wherhandler and the b*****d Warden. He might hate him, and might hate what he was doing here, but the last thing this place needed was anarchy.





the dark blue replied, getting up from where he had been resting and leaping lightly into the air. Swift wingbeats carried him over to the Sands, which gleaned a feeling of warning from C'tis. he replied,

thanks.>

Emmitod gradually grew more and more interested as the whers started making an appearance and the tensions rose.
He gave only a momentary glance to the former goldrider's pain, but it was the power struggle and drama that roused him from his apathy. He obediently went where others told him to go- not making trouble was his specialty- but he was enjoying the little play that was happening on the sands.
It was almost worth waking up for this.

Dragons and Whers and people- oh my.
The Warden had started a real opera, hadn't he. A show of power by showing off a screaming woman and a dragon without a wing.
The others had responded with shouting, violence, and disdain.
The green was a noble heroine, brooding the eggs with her noble knights (whers) around her, protecting her from the eeeevil sorcerer. Wait, no sorcerer wasnt the right villain for this opera.
More...
Uh...
Whatever. Warden.
Meanwhile bit character left the stage, while other unimportant characters cried.

Emmitod surpressed a grin at the edge of the sands. This WAS turning out to be quite an interesting show.

The Secondary gave the girl a shrewd look, his lips pressed into a thin line. She had nerve, he'd give her that much, and at the very least she listened when something came from a person not a complete a**. He shook his head, only slightly. "You are here to do as told, not to mouth off. I understand," he hissed, eyes going to Warden before back to Canoake, then the other Candidates. "I fought for this not to happen. Let him have his power trip, keep your heads down, and let the people who have something to lose fight for you.

"It does no good to get noticed by him. Do you all understand?" Vit raised his voice to be heard by the candidates, gaze sweeping over them. Those crying and those impassive received the same hard look. "Nothing positive comes from it. You will get punished. I can't help you there."

The riders still kicked up a fuss and C'tis thankfully put himself between greenhandler and Warden. It gave the bluerider a moment to rub his temples and grumble. "And no, Hiemal, don't write him a letter. I doubt he reads them. Very nice tactic but ultimately useless. Just... stand there. As for everyone else, anyone that would like to see a Mindhealer after this, we have them. I have tea? I am sorry for this."

Tags to All

Joscelin glanced up and nodded slightly at Bereck and then M'ska. "Good luck," he muttered and drifted back to the other candidates, wrapping his emotions tightly and shoving them down. This was farce enough without him weeping in frustration. He straightened up as he walked, composed and ignored M'onk as he crossed the sands and joined the group gathered about Second Warden V'tyai. The first person who asked him about Kaelyandra was going to be curtly and sharply slapped with words to shut the hell up. It wasn't any of their business.


Stella narrowed her eyes but nodded, moving off with her partner to the eggs. She would keep her mouth closed if it meant not getting thrown from the sands. She didn't have to worry about Rev, her taller softer lover had caught the politics and knew better then to make too much of a fuss. She gave a nod to the green dragons and stood at attention at the edge of the eggs.

Jaykkial stuck with the candidates for now, growing ever more awake and ever more disgruntled. She wasn't about to blow her chance at Standing though. She'd done that already and for once she recognized the importance of being given another chance.

"These men are stupid aren't they Handsome?" She nuzzled her little flit affectionately, comforting the little yellow eyed creature. Her own eyes were focused on the clutch, or what she could see between the dragon and whers surrounding it. It's not like she hadn't seen a dragonless rider before. Jaykkial wouldn't put marks on it, but she'd bet if these kids were here at Wardens, they'd seen that and worse in their lifetimes (why were those babies crying in the back?). Pern wasn't sunshine and trundlebugs like the old stories told.

She liked being a guard though, as hard as it was. The physical demands suited her. The only thing missing from her life was a dragon and once she had that she could leave if she wanted to. No one would cripple HER beast. She'd kill them just for trying. It'd be like back at the Weyr. Play nice for a Turn, don't get caught, then once she's out of weyrling hood she could be gone if she wanted.

C'tis stared back, lips pressing into a thin line but expression and stance otherwise unchanged. The only change in fact was the scarred blue firelizard who appeared on his shoulder to glare at their surroundings with vivid orange eyes.

There was a lot he would have liked to say, he would have liked to agree with her, but if he did then he might just tip the balance over into total chaos and.... Since when did he stand for order? Getting to where he was had been a desire for power, and to prove a point not because he had believed in the law or respected M'onk. There was another thing, he'd lose all he had if he went against the bronze rider.

It was a small comfort to his integrity he supposed that the selfish thought had come behind concern for the place he had made his home.

"The Weyrwoman is leaving. I think you ought to as well. Snarls and threats on the sands aren't doing any of us any good." As he stated his opinions C'tis' voice was uncharacteristically flat. He hated this situation, and the very thing he hated most he couldn't attack.

Had the situation been different, Linfon would have welcomed the fight. But her quarrel, Linfonsk's quarrel - no. It wasn't with the wherhandlers. It was with the dragonriders. So though Linfonsk tensed at the roar, at the mental assault of the other wher, Linfon's hand on her head calmed her and kept her silent. Linfon herself paid neither Rokana nor Brakesh heed. This was not about them. They were of no consequence.

She would deal with them later, on her own terms, in her own territory.