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The camp outside the Weyr was not… well, it was not nice. The Sofianists had denuded the pretty - and valuable - coppiced woods that had once been on that side of the Weyr for fuel, and the grass had been worn away. Though some areas were carefully laid out, others had scattered rubbish and detritus, with laundry strung between poles. Though there were caves, the majority of the people there seemed perfectly confident in the riders ability to protect them from thread, and had set tents up in the open. On one of the fires, a haunch of meat was slowly roasting… which might have been related to one of the herdbeast that had mysteriously gone missing from the now heavily guarded pens. The child who’d been set to mind it looked as though they would far rather be playing foot-the-ball with an inflated porcine bladder, as a group of shrieking children (some of them the Weyr’s own) were doing.

To one side of the camp, a couple of fourth wing riders were attempting to help repair and re-raise a tent. Their wingleader was - so rumour went - slightly uncomfortable with treating it like a refugee camp on the Weyr’s doorstep, but… how else to deal with it? Certainly, until the Council was done trying to work out what to do with it, it couldn’t be entirely ignored. A group of Clay Women to the other side were drilling with spears, their leader’s voice shrill as she berated a chagrined-looking twelve turn old for dropping her weapon.

The other fact of the camp that couldn’t be ignored were the plumbing issues - it was like one of the newest holds, but worse, and the smell (to anyone brought up in a Weyr) was abhorrent.

Well, it had certainly taken a long time, but she had finally settled on her appearance. This was an official meeting, so Nersha had to look appropriate. At the same time she should not make it seem like this meeting was on the Sofianists' terms, but on hers. She was meeting with them because she deemed it suitable to do so, not because they wanted it, and she could rescind her offer to meet them whenever she saw fit. As such she had poured over how she was to appear, although her options were limited. Usually she had scores of choices when deciding what to wear, here she had to balance the common clothes that High Reaches had given her, with the jewellery she had.

So it was a button down, pale brown, gown, (which would not have been her first choice) that she had to hold up a bit to keep it just above the muddy ground. If her clothes were to be limited then really she best try to keep them as clean as possible. A thick, silver, girdle, looped around her waist, set jewels and pearls across the two plaques on her stomach and silver clasps and loops working around her back. Hanging from the tongue was a jewelled girdle book cover, on which was a delicately made scene of dragons in flight. A carcanet lay at the base of her throat. Clearly made to match the girdle, as the silver and jewels were so alike in pattern.

From her neck hung another dragon. A gold pendant, on a long ribbon, no doubt supposed to represent Sereth. Along with the book these were Nersha's 'worn every day' pieces of jewellery. Other things were switched in and out as called for, but those two stayed. Jewelled, silver hairpins held back her long blonde hair, which she had opted for having up in an elaborate array of braids that may have explained why this meeting was not being held first thing in the morning. Still Nersha managed to look fresh faced despite it all, stress wasn't exactly new to her after all.

Despite her worries the woman strode purposefully and proudly through the camp. Trying not to lose a boot in the mud as she felt herself sink into it. The boots were hers, nobody had deemed to try and stab her there, so that had made it out okay. So at least, despite everything, she was in a good quality pair of shoes and had the positive of comfortable feet on her side. Just keep thinking of that and they could get this meeting over with and they could be on their way. Hopefully.

He didn't care for the woman. He had in fact more or less made peace with the idea of being an accomplice in her assassination, at least until her assassination had turned into a mass slaughter. Had his brother meant for him to die in the attack too? He kept wondering that, kept hearing all the screams too and seeing the bodies on the ground....

L'thor gave himself a mental shake and took a deep breath and that certainly focused his mind on the present; the reek was like nothing he had ever encountered before even the worst latrine in the Weyr was a bed of roses compared to this stink.

Regardless of the unpleasantness however and regardless of the fact that he didn't like the gold rider he was here today to make sure nothing happened to her, be it nefarious or just an overexcited crowd. He couldn't help looking at her, noting with envy the quality of her jewelry in stark contrast to her rough clothing. Like Nersha he was dressed in what the Weyr had provided him with; a long brown doublet that had seen at least three previous owners he was sure and hose in a slightly darker shade. The hose did not fit him well, he doubted they would fit anyone well come to that or at least anyone without some kind of deformity. They were very baggy around the knees and, though this was nothing to do with this particular set, he would never get used to the fastenings. Also like Nersha however he had a few items that showed he had once been a person of substance, a couple of gold rings but most notably a fine sword in an expensive scabbard embellished with gold, slung from a thick black leather belt with an ornate buckle depicting the crest of his family. Perhaps he would take the advice of his brothers' former mistress and sell the lot.

"Mmh?" said S'ol, who was pegging in one of the ropes. Once it was in place he looked up, brushing his hands off on his dark blue hose as he searched for the object of R'soua's interest. "Oh," he frowned slightly, "the gold rider, um, Nersha? And two of the other time riders." The sun that glinted off the cheap buttons of his and his companion's doublets shone off silver and gold over there, clearly they weren't concerned with being subtle.

"Perhaps we should find out where they're off to," S'ol suggested after a brief pause, he couldn't seen any wingriders with them and that fact concerned him slightly partially for the safety of the time displaced people and partially because.... Well he wanted to be trusting but he'd heard plenty of people muttering that the gold rider was just waiting for a chance to reclaim her throne and who better to help her than Sofians who practically worshiped her? He knew it was terribly suspicious of him and probably utterly untrue but on the other hand... on the other hand it couldn't hurt to accompany them. "Help me get these last pegs in? They're not moving fast so we can still catch up to them if we're quick."

A little behind Weyrmis- a little behind gold rider Nersha Lamira hastened along, wide-eyed with fascination at the strange people of the camp. Unlike the adult riders before her she actually looked reasonably smart in a blue weyrling's uniform. With the hood of the thick cloak down Lamira was feeling a bit chilly around the ears, missing her long black hair that was now a mere fuzz on her skull, but far too preoccupied just at the moment to lament the loss again.

Up above her Regulith circled, drinking in the sights and sounds and yes the smells through his bondmate's sense. Like her he was fascinated by it all and rather longed to get down among them but he didn't want to cause a stir when it seemed that Sereth's rider was on a mission and so aloft he stayed. Perhaps he could come down later.

“Sure” R’soua said, staring at them for a moment longer before bending back to her task. The girl worked quickly and efficiently: she’d put tents up before, although never necessarily this size, and not in a long while. That jewellery was beautiful, and she couldn’t help but feel a little covetous - she’d never owned anything half so pretty or half so valuable as a single one of those pieces. However, she reminded herself primly, she did have Aurata - who was probably worth almost as much as the whole lot and that fancy sword, maybe even more. Maybe it was better not to make comparisons altogether.

“Did you see how tiny their dragons are?” She asked quietly. “Their hatchlings must’ve looked like puppies”

It was a poorly planned camp. The grass had been trampled, the woods stripped, and ground turned into mud. There was too many people pressed together, too small of space and the smell.

Ra’fe curled his lip, disgusted and resigned. The Sofianists were not his people to watch out for. His people were a bunch of crackskull dimglows who wore fancy jewelry into a camp. Nes he expected to wear some sort of inappropriate fancy jewelry, he expected more in her clothing actually, but to not include actual riders of the Weyr they were guest in. He frowned, eyes slanted, and reached out to touch Banneth.

Banneth questioned from his spot besides Sereth, sprawled out on the ledge and keeping an eye on their queen.

Ra’fe replied. They had talked and while she had guards, he could see one of the wing seconds and L’thor had his sword, they were all within their little niche. And who had invited the weryling?

Banneth replied and relaxed back on the ledge.

"If he gets much bigger a green could ride him!" S'ol agreed with a smile; he rather liked the great lump of a brown though he couldn't actually claim to know him at all.

"Right though," he nodded, "let's get moving. No need for us to challenge them or anything, just keep close so we can keep an eye on things and call for backup if anything, er, interesting happens." Hopefully the caution was unwarranted but even if it was he was curious to know what Nersha was doing here.

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They were attracting attention. Of course they were attracting attention. L'thor watched the child come and go but his attention was soon flicking around to take in the faces of the people of the camp to try to judge the mood of the crowd; their presence was making an impact that was for sure, or more to the point their display of wealth was making an impact. He had to say one thing for the gold rider he supposed, she knew how to make an entrance.