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Oh perfect.

Really this was just typical.

Get the two Weyrs starting to maybe vaguely work towards some kind of friendship and something like this had to happen. Lacking anything more constructive to do, L'thor drained his cup of wine and refilled it from a bottle on a nearby table. Plague. He hadn't heard too much of it down at Ista, but on coming here it had cropped up in conversation even so long after it had ended. Admittedly mostly it had cropped up as 'I hope you catch the plague you b*****d' but still, that it lingered in the subconscious of angry folk even to this day showed how strongly High Reaches, and presumably Telgar too, had been affected.

Taking a deep drink from his goblet L'thor cast around for someone he knew, or at least someone who looked open to talk. He didn't want to just stand here, waiting and wondering.

"Don't Mine!" Raith had remained in distressed silence up until this point, but her rider's thoughts finally urged her to speak up. "They might be sick, if you go close you might get sick too!" She couldn't stand that thought, he couldn't get this plague, he couldn't, not Hers! Keening unhappily, the sleek green struggled to keep some semblance of calm. In the air around her, four firelizards swooped and dived, chattering in panic; all of them wanted to go to L'thor, but Raith prevented them. If there was sickness and they came and went they might spread it. They had to stay with her, no matter how much they wanted to go to him. She wanted to go to him. She wished she was the size of a firelizard.

L'thor sighed softly and shook his head. "The Telgar plague was famous for how it spread. If it is in this room, it will be more down to luck whether or not I get it than anything else..." Shuddering, the lean rider took another swig of his wine and scanned the hall once more. Crowds shifted, formed, dispersed as people moved around in nervous little groups, or alone, coming together to panic and then moving on to share their horror with other folk.

Was it plague? Was the weyrleader dying? Was the food and wine going to run out before they were released? Were was he going to go when he needed a piss? All these questions and others spun through his mind in a brilliant, horrible whirl. Giving another shudder, L'thor drained his cup again and began to search the crowd for company in earnest.

R'ysan had become fairly annoyed in this gather because although there wasn't any fighting which he might have enjoyed more; the bits and pieces of conversation other riders were having with the weyrlings from Dorath's clutch just made him desire to pop a few idiots in the lips. To be honest, he didn't give a rat's a** what they thought, however, a couple of these people seemed to think they had some sort superior view and needed to be taken down a few notches.

But suddenly, the Weryleader was down. At first, R'ysan thought D'astel got too sauced on the boozes. Considering the way this gather was going, even though R'ysan didn't drink like others, he could see the strong temptation to get drunk. Although, after hearing the bits and pieces being yelled over the room; it wasn't...drunk. It was something else. Plague?

If it were then only the strongest and healthiest would survive...He planned on being that. He wasn't afraid; he'd take this on like anything else...head on. Glancing at the door, he considered his options if he did want to leave. Man...that would be a rough fight...even if the thrill seeker in him thought it might be tempting. Wingleaders wouldn't be easy...not in the least even with his combat skills.

Regedth suddenly questioned him over and over in his mind about the quarantine and that drew him out of his previous thoughts instantly as he told her to stay put. Worrying about her would keep him from doing something too rash...for the moment. There was a fair amount of panic and he didn't want her hurt. I can come get you! she said nervously willing to try and squeeze her green body through the hall if she must.

No! Stay put Reg. Don't panic. I'm gonna find out what's going on, he thought as he looked around and spotted the green rider, L'thor. Walking over he leaned against the wall noticing the drink right away, "Hey, L'thor. So what do you think about this mess? Raith ok? "

It was a fine mess indeed even as his eyes searched the rest of the room to see where Amelia was. He had this feeling that Goldy might be throwing a fit.


---------------

A'ras had a drink, and another. He could have gone for a most pleasant buzz considering that the room was filled with a certain element of tension and excitement. His eyes had drifted once...no twice over the female guests from the other Weyr. Many things crossed his mind as he watched but even so, Telgar wasn't a place A'ras was willing to spend too much time. But as soon as D'astel fell he stopped drinking and practically leapt over to the area to find out what had happened; only to be barred from entering to get to D'astel or Luci. He had to wait.

He wasn't a patient man and the time that it took for Luci to return left him pacing until the announcement was made. The noise of the other dragons only agitated his own and soon Havocath was full on in his head demanding to know what was going on. His bronze was en-route having a long easy going flight over Pern while A'ras dealt with...'politics'.

Hav, I'm ok. But D'astel's fallen over ill. They're saying it might be plague but they don't have proof of that yet. They've sent for a Yalin's son. A'ras felt the big bronze appear over High Reaches "I need you to be a rock, Hav. If D'astel perishes...." His own pleas to Hav caused the dragon to quiet some.

I am with you, said Havocath with simmering determination woven into that mental tone.

A'ras didn't want to think of D'astel's situation; but dangerous thoughts crept into the back of his mind. And he tried to keep these things to himself even if he knew Hav probably heard most of them. What if...D'astel dies from the plague? Who would be Weyrleader? When might...Dorath rise again? Was it plague in this room? Every rider was...in here. What would happen to the Weyr if it were the plague? Was there something else going on?

That last question in his head got his thoughts churning because as a bronze rider, he knew that there were constant politics revolving around the upper echelon of the Weyr. It was hard to avoid by the color of his dragon and now especially with Telgar's bunch also here. So he glanced around for people he knew, his own Wing...and kept an eye on the folks from Telgar. He spotted L'thor but left him be. Then, he saw P'ren but that man...even though he was his Wingsecond just made A'ras...irritated. They would NEVER see eye to eye from women riders to holders impressing dragons. It was an impossible combination and he really had to focus on work and work alone to have anything to do with the man.

That ugly thought caused another to slip through his mind crowding into the other disastrous thoughts. If ever a gold rose and P'ren brown chose to fly it; he just might have to make sure that Havocath joined the chase. He almost dreaded that idea but who in his right mind could want a man like P'ren running a Weyr! It caused a slight shudder up his spine as he pondered what to do next.

R'ysan figured that L'thor's continued drinking was to keep from running around like a screaming loon. The man seemed like that type and the thought gave him a small dose of amusement amidst the nasty reality that threatened to reveal itself. "Mm...Yeah...good thing too considering." he said as he glanced around the room ready for anything.

"I think its a crock. You know from even my small bit of knowledge, I've not heard of any sickness that knocks a healthy man to his knees in less than 5 minutes. Usually something shows up. I'm around the Weyrleader for weyrling lessons and drills. He ain't showed any signs of being ill. Not a cough, sneeze, or any signs of welts or stuff that would make me think...sickness." He didn't mention that he looked for weakness like that but...he did. He couldn't help it. One didn't survive like he had without looking for crap like that.

"As for Reg, well she's getting a tad nervous. She wants to squeeze down a hall and get me. I told her no but she's rather a forward thinker at times and could get herself into trouble. Reg probably could use company at least a second mind to tell her no. Although, I think it would be pretty funny to see her scooting down the hall to me. " He grinned just a bit. She wasn't the biggest dragon in the bunch but probably had the biggest ideas about how she'd adventure forth to save him. Of course, he didn't think he needed saving, yet. "I think we're going to be fine...as long as..." his head tilts towards the rest of the crowd, "...as long as everyone else keeps their head too."

Amelia had yet to get used to the whole gather and he finely cleaned outfit was just a bit more formal then she would have liked. In particular - it itched. But, sitting up with the Weyrwomen and other officials had utterly pleased Sharath so she'd gone about the feast with a sort of serendipitous attitude.

She did, however, find it odd that the dinner was being held in honour of Iva and Amelia wasn't so sure she liked this one, though she wasn't certain if it was Sharath's little mental nick picks of the visiting gold dragon (and her rider) that put the bad taste in her mouth or not.

At least, she'd decided, the food was good. Even if D'astel complained about the wine. Amelia had simply smiled and shrugged at that, preferring water to the wine since she didn't drink, so when the Weyrleader moved off to get more, she'd turned her attention to Luci and the prospective gold riders. It intrigued her - the Candidates all seemed interesting, but she had no idea what would be prefered. Her mind had skipped back to the conversation with L'thor then and she rather hoped it would be someone responsible at the very least.

Amelia froze when Luci announced the quarantine and jumped when Sharath's voice came booming through their private link. What's going on Mine!? There are many upset dragons here... they speak of plague and quarantine!

Wincing, she pressed a hand to her forehead and replied, The Weyrleader has fallen over... is his bronze alright? We're not allowed to leave until they give us a clear bill of health.

At that, Sharath roared outside, gripped by worry for Hers. Ancy and upset, she forgot to check on D'astel's dragon as she crowded in with whatever other dragons had drawn as close as they could from the outside.

Rising when she could think for all of Sharath's questions, Amelia regarded the table with a frown. D'astel had fallen so suddenly... Pursing her lips, she went off in search of Luci, to ask a question.

Shards!

One minute, Kallista was trying to play nice with some Telgar riders while looking for the few friends she had in the Weyr, namely T'ka and Haath and the next minute she was being herded like some drudgebeast into a holding pen. Immediately, her sharp ears caught whispers of conversation.

D'astel...sick...or worse. Didn't he drink a glass of wine before he collapsed?

The flight. Malkai being Weyrwoman. Traditional Telgar having to bend. Some were unhappy about it.

What about the eggs that now lay hardening on Telgar Sands without their gold to guard them?

On and on the whispers went. As a former runner, though she had been a rider for nearly three turns now, there were some habits that never left. SUch as staying in the background and listening. There was much to listen to in this gathering. Quietly and with skill, Kallista weaved in and out. She had survived the sickness that struck Ista and was sure her good health would assist this time around but she wished her wingleader or someone she trusted was nearby.

I do not like this Kallista. Others are upset and talking about being sick. I want you to come out and we can leave. Astarteth's eyes were tinged with worry. She wanted her rider.

Kallista finally spotted two she knew or rather, one she knew and one she had conversed with: A'ras and L'thor.

I am okay dearest. The ridrs are talking and it is not good. Are the dragons saying anything? Kallista asked. She knew the dragons gossiped just as badly as their riders did and often Astarteth would tell her which green was proddy and which blue or brown was interested. I am worried. D'astel fell very quickly.

SLowly, she made her way over to the two that she knew. Kallista was pretty sure that Astar would want her to bespeak to the bronze rider but for some reason, the youthful green rider felt more drawn to the older green rider with whom she had a similar past. Unfortunately, another green rider came up to L'thor and began chatting with him. Please tell A'ras's dragon I would like to speak with him. If he doesn't mind.
Havocath? The one who looked at you last hatching? I can do this. He looked at you since. Even in dire times, her dragon could be counted to play matchmaker. Havocath. My rider is looking to speak with your rider. She needs someone to calm her.

So what if her rider didn't add that part? Astar felt it necessary to add. The green herself felt nervous through her bond with her rider. Hopefully her lack of memory would cause the anxiety to fade.

B'shir stepped away from his grandfather and looked around, watching the crowd for signs of anyone panicking. So far, he was relieved to see, no one was. At least no one was screaming or fainting. That was definitely a good thing. He saw his grandfather turn and make his way over to one of the younger riders whose dragon was older than Sakneth but whose rider was younger than B'shir. The girl looked like she would suffer a breakdown soon. B'shir had no doubt that A'ram wouldn't make her feel much better, but he'd convince her not to make such a fuss. Tact wasn't one of A'ram's strong suits.

B'shir shook his head and made his way over to a brownrider whom he recognized as another one of those people who was younger than he, but with a dragon older than his. Vogieth, he believed the dragon's name was. He'd stood at that hatching, but he didn't remember too many details of it. The rider's name was A'jel. He knew that much. He chose A'jel not because the younger man looked in any danger of having hysterics, but just the opposite. He looked more impatient with the situation than anything else, and that was interesting.

"So," he said conversationally, perching on the edge of the table. "How long do you think we'll be quarantined? Until someone else keels over and confirms it's plague? Because, really, if they leave it too long there'll be issues about sleeping. And pissing, for that matter."

There was a good chance A'jel would ignore him, and then he would just be talking to himself. B'shir could live with that.

I am bronze, and his dragon is brown. He should listen to you, Sakneth interjected. I could tell his brown to make him pay attention.

Please don't. If he doesn't respond, that's up to him. He's still a higher rank than I right now, and I don't need to add to the tension in this room by getting into a fight.

"Help?" Kallista blinked in confusion and then groaned. Astar... What did you say? The girl immediately scolded her dragon. The girl ran a hand through her short and and then tried to put her best face forward. "I don't need help per say. I am sure Astar exaggerated the extent of my condition. I saw you and L'thor in a sea of faces and was happy to recognize someone. How is Havocath doing since the last time we saw each other was the Hatching?"

I did nothing except make sure he came to you quickly. The green huffed. She tried to look around and locate the bronze who had admired her so. But since there were so many dragons on the ledges and all were on edge, it was not an easy task. Where are you hiding, Havocath? Is there space for me since I can not be with mine?

"I have been moving around the room. I am not very noticeable and it's easy for me to be overlooked. I don't like what I am hearing and I can't find my wingleader to bend his ear about my concerns." One thing that was big with Kallista and had been written into her recommendation to transfer was that she was very loyal and very duty bound. She knew where she stood and no one would budge her.