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Warmth bubbled, filling him, and Yevalee beamed, and if he was less wounded would have greeted the ladies and the young lording with a bow. “Thank you,” he replied and carefully eased himself down in the offer seat. There was a tinge of pain, he had over done it but it was worth it if they had managed to defuse the situation for the night.

“And I wish I could have seen his face, but I was a bit distracted. Though, I don’t think I’ve missed all of the excitement yet.” T’gall was safe, dancing with Bakarn. Sleuth was still dancing with her sister and Peth and the new girls blue. Vanavia, though her blue seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

“I’m hoping that G’vian will quietly retire for the night and save some face.” Privately, he was sure that G’vian was too far gone in his own petty vengeance to know when he had been beat. To challenge the Weryleader to a duel at their hatching feast. “But, perhaps we should talk about more interesting things then his wounded pride. Huntmaster Natalya, how are your wherlings and their new bonded partners doing?”

T'gall beamed at Bakarn, picking up the steps of the dance with ease. "Thank you," he replied, "and thank you for stepping in! That was looking a bit uncivilized, wasn't it?... Ah, it looks like G'vian is retiring for the night now though, probably for the best. So you are... Bakarn, correct?" T'gall was good with names and with faces and may have asked his dragon for a quick double check with Hiraeth, nothing wrong with that.

B'tes was still trying to reach the weyrlings despite the fact that the situation had been defused, but a large hand abruptly caught his arm and pulled him to a halt. Amarid had also failed to reach the conflict but, now that it was gone without has intervention, she wasn't keen to see any more start up. "Weyrlingmaster, perhaps you'll join me in a dance?... This is a celebration, is it not?"

B'tes glanced from the Weyrhealer to the dancing Weyrlings and back again, and deflated. "I suppose I can wait until later to speak to them." Much as he wanted to bash their heads together for taking such a risk he also wanted to compliment them for quick thinking and good teamwork. Being Weyrlingmaster was not an easy job, and he was beginning to question his decision to take it on.

The wine was accepted with a tight smile and a look of gratitude; Venk took a deep swallow and sat down. "Ah-ha, yes, Huntleader, I don't think he knows what to make of it at all." He didn't know what to make of it either but thank starts it seemed to have worked. "I think he just had a bit too much wine," the Weyrmaster said of G'vian to his companions, glancing back over at where the commotion had occurred but unable to see what was happening now he was sitting down. "And Yevalee, congratulations!" he continued quickly, pleased to move onto a happier subject. "Yevalee here has been an excellent student of mine, Biran, I am sure he and his beautiful girl will be just as fine an asset to our wings!"

Shylla,> Hiraeth said privately to Evmeth,

"Come to us, and we'll put on a proper show for you," Biran promised Shylla, his two guards standing down a little - though still clearly on high alert. They had obviously not been expecting this sort of trouble at a Hatching Feast of all places. He had released Venk's arm to allow the man to sit, but stood still. "My brother's interested in building some stronger links with the Weyr, which sounds like a proper excuse for a jolly"

The boy turned slightly and smiled cheerfully at Yevalee, extending a hand. "Good to meet you, and congratulations on your Impression! It's always good to have more wings in the sky"

Bulwarth had subsided a little, but his eyes still glimmered red and he turned sharply, snapping his jaws at Morth. Whatever was passing between those two dragons was kept private, however - and the bronze's jaws did not actually make contact. After a moment of tension between the two when the bronze seemed to have turned on Second's Wingleader, or at the very least to be staring him down, Bulwarth shook off his wings and took off with a sound like a thunderclap, circling up above the Weyr.

G'vian spat, then looked from the blue rider to the woman, eyes dark and full of murder. "Come quietly and no-one needs there to be more of a scene?" he said, his voice pitched low and dangerous so only those nearby could hear it. "The man's a fool, and you're all caught up in his madness" He wrenched his arms free, then folded them, his whole body a line of stubbornness. "Alright then. Escort me"

Morth lent away from the snapping jaws with a hiss of displeasure but made no move to posture back. When the large bronze took off he shuffled his wings and settled back down, apparently not too ruffled by the display of temper. His rider meanwhile watched as G'vian was led away, jaw tight and pale blue eyes narrowed; apparently this was not the outcome he had been after.

C'ross on the other hand was fairly easy to spot and as soon as S'ol laid eyes on his clutchmate he hastened over, squirming nimbly in between gawkers until he came up beside him.

Zaqueth said to Nimeth, the shield-like timbre in his mental voice coming to the fore. The bronze rider had been, had seen them through the first turns of the Pass with a steady hand and yet now he tried to instigate an illegal duel right in the middle of a feast?

S'ol looked up at C'ross, indicating off to the left with his a small move of his head.

Bakarn

Oooh, mister Weyrleader…

Okay, in all seriousness, Bakarn was hardly a blushing Hold girl. On the other hand, he could appreciate handsome when he saw handsome. And so lightfooted, too! So yes, he was enjoying this. This was their moment, shaffit, he was going to relish it.

“That’d be me, sir.” Get that silly starstruck smile off your face, boy. “Although I hardly deserve the credit for the dance – that brilliant plan was all Keralder. I just got mad, ‘s all.”

Mad and stupid and reckless, that was him. Bakarn wasn’t about glory… or even about useful results, half the time. Shells, that was his problem, once he got going he wasn’t thinking about how others would see him. He’d probably thrown away any chance he ever had at First Wing, all in one night… but it was worth it, for the warm glow of accomplishment. They’d done something. They’d stood up, together, and made everyone listen.

Ankheth! Come dance with me! With Bakarn otherwise occupied, Blyth bounded off towards her clutchbrother. She… wasn’t really sure how one danced, to be honest. According to her rider, it was just moving along with the music, right? There were steps for human dancing, but there didn’t seem to be any particular steps for dragon dancing… So she lowered her front half in a mimic of the bowing that other humans seemed to be doing, and waggled her back half, and then bounced up and down. Come on, let’s go!

---

Natalya

Good. It looked as though some of the adult riders were… gently escorting G’vian out. It would appear that the evening would end without bloodshed after all.

When Yevalee asked her about her wherlings, it seemed safe at last to let a little bit of the polite mask she’d worn all evening fade. Her smile was more genuine, less carefully practiced, when she spoke of Natask’s children. “They do very well, thank you. I have high hopes for them. Natask is already starting to grumble a bit about having the young gold around – they’re not much like dragons, I’m afraid, as soon as the little one’s shelled and blooded she stops being daughter and starts being future rival.”

But she wouldn’t linger too long on the subject – long enough to indicate to Biran that High Reaches had a new gold wher and that the lines were healthy, but not long enough to grate excessively on Venk’s patience. She had no interest in inviting a contrast with the weyrling clutch.

“I agree with Shylla; the teamwork that you and your clutchmates showed tonight is admirable. You must have had quite a teacher,” she added in a quieter tone, with a little nod to Venk. “If I may offer a little advice? Hold on to that sense of unity. This won’t be the last time that someone challenges you… but they may think twice, now that you’ve shown you can challenge a Wingleader.”

---

C’ross

There will be consequences for G’vian, Nimith agreed, and even the timbre of his mindvoice was subdued – less the sharp clang of battle, more moonlight and shadow. And there was regret there, too - regret for a leader they'd respected highly. But this was not a decisive victory for T’gall, either. All this infighting bodes ill for the Fall…

Ah, there was the man he was looking for. Easier for S’ol to find him than the other way around, it seemed. C’ross knew his wingmates; he’d be shaffed if Re’ka, C’tis, and Z’fer together couldn’t wrangle one wingleader without him. It was his fellow special investigator that he most urgently wanted to speak to.

Nodding curtly to S’ol, he followed the smaller man’s lead.

"Keralder eh? Well I'll remember to thank him too," T'gall replied with another flash of that bright grin, turning a neat twirl and then sidestepping another couple. "I can understand why you got angry, well I'd be surprised if you hadn't," he continued, glancing quickly over at the large retreating froms of the Second Wing riders who were escorting the problem away. "G'vian was a good Weyrleader in his day, I'm not denying that, but times are changing! It's time for the old guard to move aside, to give the younger generation a chance... and I think everyone should have a chance to show their true potential."