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The kitchens had built tiny pastry holds filled with pork, carefully coloured with expensive saffron. They had cooked goose hotchpotch, and coloured cream, and almond sauce. Spiced capon and meatballs, massive wherries, custardes and other pies, a magnificent sugar sculpture of High Reaches with it’s spires, breads of every sort piled high, roasted herdbeast and brewet, bacon broth and meat tiles, frumenty and sauced fish of every kind (some of them were truly massive, a present from Tillek Hold on the occasion), blancmange, pottage and a hundred types of cheese.

There was another massive subtlety - a "wild wher” made of roasted herdbeast that, when cut open, proved to be full of sweetly singing wherries. There were two massive pies, each one surmounted with small pies that represented a crown (which someone in the kitchens had very carefully gilded with turmeric) for the new tiny gold and her mother, and a hundred piles of fruit and nuts and other beautiful things. To drink there were a dozen sorts of beer, wine, and all the berry wines and elderflower and possets that one might expect - it was harvest season, and the feast was magnificent. The kitchens had truly outdone themselves.

The bowl was lit up by glows as the evening faded into dimness. A group of harpers were playing, and Ko’ren and Lady Tanathi were dancing together. O’ail and her entourage were not looking incredibly pleased about that, but they didn’t seem to be making huge steps towards intervening - instead, O’ail was holding court with a group of minor holders who had attended, a few of whom seemed particularly drunk.

“Dance with me!” M’ere insisted, snagging A’ri’s hand. The young woman - despite the chill of the evening - was dressed up in Islander glory, as gifted to her by one of her new friends. Her main intention, as far as anyone could determine, was to scandalise the Weyr with her bare arms and exposed stomach - though she had, in deference to the weather, worn hose and boots beneath her kilt. In further deference to taste and morality, she had not foregone her top.

Her skin was pink with sunburn, her curls were decorated with brilliantly coloured wherry feathers and paste gems, and she looked deliriously happy. She had slung rows of brightly coloured beads around her neck and wrists which clacked as she moved, something which seemed to delight her excessively.

The Islands seemed to have suited the greenrider, who had had a surfeit of being the subject of interest and attention, and seemed a little puffed up on it. The pair had arrived as the hatching began, delivering curious onlookers from the Islands (there had been some debate amongst the Islanders about who would go, because… well, everyone had seen firelizards hatch. What was the difference?).

“Six of them” M’ere promised, automatically exaggerating.

At least she hadn’t proposed marriage to anyone - or been the one who’d had to deal with marriage proposals for the men of the group. Something mischievous in her was absolutely delighted with that, like they were things to be bought and sold rather then she - which was half the reason she’d been agreeable to be searched in the first place. The other half was her brother, who couldn’t be allowed to do such a big thing by himself.

“And of course you’ve missed me, everyone’s missed me, I’m sure everything has been terribly dull but I’m back now!”

Ah, parties; he'd take a private gathering in his own quarters with a handful of friends and a couple of bottles of wine over this noise and extravagance any day, but it was a hatching feast and it didn't do to miss them. The other thing he disliked about things like this was having to dress up; he was a neat man by default but not fancy, the number of buttons he'd had to do up on his green doublet and the lace of the cuffs of his shirt and the rings on his fingers all just felt excessive but if he didn't do it then it would be taken as disrespect to the clutch rather than his own personal preference.

Seen as he was here Bereck was looking for Nersha; hopefully she was enjoying the festivities, a healthy bunch of hatchlings and no injured candidates! The idiot wingsecond only had himself to blame, kicking up a fuss like he had, so really all in all it was a resounding success.





Bereck sighed slightly and shook his head, she was still angry with him for the 'beasts' comment.

The hulking green, who was lurking at the edge of the festivities in the hopes of seeing the hatchings, gave a sigh of her own and relented; her displeasure with her bondmate remained but the heat was gone and she loved him still, and let him know that. Agreement to disagree over the matter reached Berath reached out to Sereth.

Shiloh looked over as Nimian approached, a little green dragon in his arms, and offered a smile, though it was in part due to the mental groan Lyrieth uttered to her. "And congrats to you too, she's so little! What's her name? My dashing blue here is Lyrieth."

Lyrieth had dimissed his clutchmates but they would be interested in him, wouldn't they? He'd made a spectacle of the Hatching and gone and chosen the person who'd spoken against him while he was in the shell. Of course they'd be curious.

Do you blame them? Shiloh asked, easing into this mental speech thing with an immediate ease.

No, but it's irritating when they have no use right now. Lyrieth replied, though outwardly he cooed in response and closed the distance to nuzzle his sister, trilling in response. He matched her excitement and joy with equal measure. You have found Yours, a good choice too! His voice was honey sweet, darling really, and absolutely earnest. He turned his gaze to Nimian himself and cooed again, proudly, as if to approve of him.

Internally, Shiloh laughed. Oh but between her and Lyrieth, this Weyr would be theirs. It was his ambition speaking but the newness of completeness carried her aloft and set her to happiness she had never expected to meet. he was offering her visions of a future she hadn't planned for yet, and, well, she had no reason to say no yet.

"Hard to imagine how vicious unbonded dragons can be, hey? He's so sweet, it must've been the shouting and fright." She chuckled, shrugging as she guessed at the unspoken question, and worked at managing their image, "Turns out what he was offering was true... not really used to it, to this..." She gestured in general, implying Impression, "But it's good. Very good."

Seragee and Blue Vermellath

Seragee could barely contain his heart in his chest. Every time he glanced at, what anyone else might have called ugly, the blue dragon that was his partner a grin cracked across his face. He couldn't have been more thrilled. Let all those others have their fancy dragons; all he needed was Vermellath. The new weyrling was doing his best to make himself presentable. He had to show that he and his dragon were right for each other and impress C'tis. He hoped the older bluerider was proud of him.

Hair washed and tied back neatly, Seragee had put on his best set of clothes. His hands smoothed the tunic as he turned to the watching blue. "Well? what do you think?"

Vermellath gave a slight hiss of displeasure and shuffled his wings. I don't see what the fuss is about Mine. He was a plain dragon at best and didn't see the worth of all the fuss. Or even if it really was worth going to the feast at all. He and His didn't need fancery to show how awesome they were.

He sensed the dislike of going out among everyone from the young dragon. "Not to worry Vermellath. We go to show we are strong, and proud of who we are." Seragee tactfully didn't mention his dragon's unusual appearance. "Plus there will be food, and tasty things, and people to congratulate us. My mentor C'tis should be there too. I want him to be proud of us." He looked pleadingly into the blue's eyes.

Vermellath looked back for a long moment. His eyes whirling until finally he heaved a sigh and twitched his tail. Very well Mine. Only for you will I do this. He'd already been fed, cleaned and oiled to within an inch of his life. Rising to his feet, he head butted his rider out the door.

He willingly went forward with a grin. As he approached the feast, Seragee straightened up, remembering Vermellath's first words to him. With a hand on the lumpy blue's neck he walked in among the crowd. "Wow, look at all the food!"



Kialynka

The prep for the feast had been horrendous! She'd never been asked to cut and fetch so much wood and water. Her shoulders were still a bit sore, and she was definitely looking forward to getting at the scraps if the greedy glut riders left any. She eyed the new weyrlings as the joined the feast with their tiny dragons.

Aeglentine was honestly - sincerely - depressed by the hatching. She was nineteen now, and it was hard not to envision her life if she hadn’t taken up the search: rather then stuck in the limbo of candidate life, she might be preparing for marriage, even be close to having a home of her own. Still, she had dressed up pretty and tried not to look too mopey.

“It’s tough being left standing, isn’t it?” she said sympathetically to Wen. She had a pewter mug in one hand, filled up with weak beer, and the other sat on her hip thoughtlessly.

===

“Congratulations!” R’soua - not a looker herself - clapped Seragee on the back with a grin. She didn’t know the candidate except to look at, but it was still the thing to say. The tall young woman was dressed neatly in dark colours, though it wasn’t anything that spoke of a role above her relatively low wingrider position. “He looks like he’ll be able to stand up to a few blows"

Much like a ship with full sails, Sarai descended among the crowd in a wave of green and shimmery gray. Her green gown had been what had remained of her gifted finery so many turns in the past, and the sleeveless grey flax surcoat had been a gift from an admirer. It felt right to wear the dress that had traveled with her to celebrate the timerider queens’ clutch. Sereth and Nersha were not her queen, her queen had died in fort but it was still a time to celebrate a clutch of now tiny hatchings.

And there was someone she wished to speak to. Sarai glanced around, hair contained in a beaded net and alighted on Shiloh and flowed over, grinning brightly. “So you’re the lass that impressed the razor maw! Congratulations darling, “ she exclaimed and cheerfully went on. “Vicious little bugger isn’t he? That can help you move forward, if you can keep it controlled and that is what you desire.”