Who Sephany, Zevuki, Eiram, Riohra, Leia
What Sephany and Zevuki meet again; a challenge is issued and accepted. Eiram departs for the Harper Hall. Riohra arrives and Leia scars them for life.
When Spring
Where For Weyr - Living Caverns

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Fort Weyr - Living Caverns
This cavern, having been created by bubbles in the volcanic flow of this extinct volcano, has a breathtaking ceiling — a vast dome that arches high above the heads of the weyrfolk that scurry around beneath it. A hollow echo can be heard from loud enough noises, and the chatterings of various firelizards are consequently multiplied into a chaotic babble. All in all, the living cavern is a loud place.

Tables are scattered around the room, apparently in no particular order. Over to one side near the kitchens, two medium sized serving tables are constantly spread with snacks, klah, and other goodies. The tables look worn, yet perfectly fitted to the atmosphere of the caverns. In the 'corners' of the cavern, smaller two and four place tables are set up for more private talks or just a less chaotic atmosphere in which to eat.


It is that quite part of the morning, a time of tranquility before the hustle and bustle of busy people creates noise and chaos. It finds Sephany in the Living Caverns, curled into a chair by the hearth, feet tucked up with her slippers kicked beneath. A plate of fruit and a mug of something warm are near enough to the weaver to be easily reached, but her attention is decidedly on the book in her lap rather than her meager breakfast. A finger traces the line of text, and she murmurs under her breath as if reading to herself. Despite that spring has sprung, she continues to wear a heavier dress, unwilling to give up the winter garb just yet.

Although Zevuki hasn't been at Fort since the end of the games, the few days of visiting have allowed him to be familiar enough with the place that he can navigate to the living caverns without stopping to ask for directions. He's exhaling sharply as he pauses just inside, habit making him stamp his boots even if not needed, since it also gives him a chance to get his bearings with a glance around the caverns. It doesn't take him long to make a beeline for the hearth, and the klah there — it may be springs, but there's still an early morning chill in the air that the Igenite doesn't apparently welcome. Habit makes his gaze sweep back and forth, slowing as he spots a familiar figure, brow furrowing for a moment as he comes to halt a few paces from the Fortian's chair. "Sephany," he says, half a question as much as an observation, head tipped.

The concentration is real; the apprentice is lost to the world around her, and does not appear to hear or notice the guard until her name is spoken. A lift of her head, a briefly distant look as she murmurs the last few words she'd read, one finger pressed firmly to the page to mark her place. And then her focus sharpens, attention coming to the present and the person standing before her. There is a smile for the Igen guard as recognition dawns, and her answering "Zevuki," is a firm statement of acknowledgement. "Good morning! You're… far from home. What brings you to Fort?" A flick of her gaze toward a nearby chair, and a quick, "would you like to sit?" brought out of politeness.

The grin from the Igen guard suggests Zevuki's pleased at remembering correctly, or possibly merely being remembered in turn. "Good morning," he echoes, with a rueful sort of smile. "Yes, I—" he glances towards the cavern's entrance, a ripple of something passing briefly across his expression, before he seems to think better of continuing whatever he was saying, "I will, thank you. Can I get you something to drink first?" he inquires, as if he were the host, gesturing towards the klah warming on the hearth.

Sephany's gaze mirrors him, flashing toward the entrance when his attention goes there. But her expression is simple curiosity and nothing more, fading easily enough when no other explanation is forthcoming. "Mm, no thank you. I still have my Klah," which she seems only now to remember, reaching for the mug with her free hand to draw it to her, though it is simply held for the time being. "If you are hungry, there is an assortment of fruits and sweets laid out, though they won't serve breakfast for another hour or so," she says in a slightly apologetic tone. A ribbon is produced from her lap, laid across the page before she closes the book to set aside.

"As much as I appreciate the offer," and there's a flickered amusement in the Igenite's expression, "I don't think I can justify a second breakfast," Zevuki steps closer to the hearth, taking time to pour himself some of the klah, no other additions. He wraps his hands around the mug, takes a deep draught, then finally moves closer to take the seat adjoining Sephany's, half turned towards the Fortian, gaze mostly resting on her but shifting past her now and then, too. "I noticed it's getting warmer here. That must be a relief," he says, wryly. "Are the summers here as hot as Igen's?"

"Oh," for the comment on 'second breakfast,' and there's a briefly sheepish look along with amusement as Sephany recalls, "I forget the time difference. No wonder you're so awake this early," she teases gently. She snags a piece of fruit from her own plate, contemplating it before she finally takes a small bite. "Hm. It is, in some sense I suppose," for the relief of warmer weather, "Though I feel like I wasns't able to really appreciate the snow before it was gone. I wanted to try skating again, on the lake," because last time was such a positive experience, "But it was far too thin by then, and now it's thawed out." Which is likely disappointing to her, if not her current companion. Another little bite, a thoughtful tilt to her head, and she glances toward the bowl. "I doubt it, but I don't really know," she says honestly. "This will be my first at Fort. I do hear that it can be rather wet, which shall be a new experience." And then a thoughtful look for Zevuki, and she poses the question a second time, "What brings you to Fort?"

"It's nearer to lunch than breakfast," Zevuki admits, as he shifts his weight marginally within the chair. "As much as I would like to take the credit for being an early riser." He regards her food, or more accurately, watches her eat for a short moment. "I'd imagine Telgar or High Reaches would still have snow and ice, if you're so inclined. It's…" he pauses, almost unnoticed, "Odd, getting used to the feeling you can go anywhere, so long as there's a dragonrider traveling there, or willing to take you." He rubs a hand over his chin, gaze flickering about the cavern in a habitual manner before returning to the Fortian with something that lands between a grimace and a smile. "I'm afraid my cousin Anjela's taken a liking to a Fortian lad two Turns her elder." His feelings on the matter are obvious; he doesn't seem that pleased, but he is here, all the same.

"Well. If you are partial to breakfast food, perhaps you can get a light lunch before you leave?" she offers, though it's more a tease than legitimate offer, judging by the playful smile and glimmer of humor. "Not a morning person, then? Shame. Morning is the best time. It's quiet, and peaceful. Almost a different world." The last bite of fruit vanishes, and she considers her plate for a moment before idly selecting a slice of redfruit next. "That is true. But I don't know anyone in either of those places. I think it would be rather rude if I were to just show up and claim their frozen lake for my own amusement. As well," she continues, "I don't own my own skates. So I would be imposing on their hospitality to provide me a pair." As for his reason for visiting…"Has she?" and this she seems to find highly amusing, smiling wide as she glances around the cavern for the named individual. "How sweet!" but his displeasure is not missed, and she offers a helpful, "I'm sure he'll be a perfect gentleman and treat her with the proper respect she deserves," regardless of the fact that she has no idea who this boy is. The habitual scan of the area makes her grin a little, though she ducks her head as if to hide it. "Hazard of the job, I suppose. Constant vigilance."

Either Zeuvki's oblivious to the tease, or distracted; hard to tell, with his attention shifting this way and that. "Night time — the middle of the night — is just as quiet. More so. I've a fondness for the midnight shift," he admits, as his gaze shifts back to the Fortian. After taking a gulp from his mug, he admits without a trace of embarrassment, "That's pretty much what my cousin and I did. Showed up here and claimed the ice. Although not so much the latter in my case, I concede." Sephany's enthusiasm as to his cousin's crush is met with a frown that might or might not be in deliberate contrast to her wide smile. "If you were a boy you'd be more worried than think it was sweet. We are not to be trusted." Boys, presumably. It's only her latter words that make his brows rise, before he concedes her point with a brief, flickered smile. "Not so much a hazard, not as far as I'm concerned."

"It is," agrees the weaver for the middle of the night, "Though I am usually much too tired to properly enjoy the quite by then." And likely asleep, if early mornings are a habit of hers. "And that was different!" for his claiming of the ice, though there's renewed mirth for the memory. "That was a public event open to everything. You were invited," if not specifically handed an invitation. Sephany's redfruit is bit at, an audible crunch as she hmms thoughtfully. The remains of the fruit is placed back on her plate, and the plate is gently pushed away with a little nudge of her fingers. Chew. Swallow. And then a laugh. "I know a thing or two about boys. And you are right. They are not to be trusted in the slightest. Deviant creatures. Boys." It is clearly good natured, and if her smile and barely contained laugh is to be believed, she finds Zevuki's concern to be amusing. "You're adorable. Really, I'm sure she's fine. Haven't you taught her how to defend herself?" A flicker of her gaze around the cavern, though it's unlikely she sees the space the same way the guard does. "But doesn't it get tiring, being constantly on alert?"

"After a while, it becomes easier. Not that I recommend it — you get to miss the sun after a time," Zevuki muses, setting his mug on the arm of the chair he's claimed along side Sephany's, half turned towards her to make conversation easier. "I, personally, wasn't invited," he reminds her with a low chuckle, looking amused, like he's contradicting her just for the fun of it. The amusement dims slightly as she calls him adorable. No boy likes to be called that, least of all the serious-seeming guard. "She's fine, because I'm here," comes his correction, as well as, "And yes, I've taught her how to defend herself. That's not what I'm worried about. I remember being that age," with a grimace, before his gaze flickers across the room again, before resting back on Sephany for a beat. "Think of it like this — when you get up, you have a routine, right? You put on your clothes, brush your hair, your teeth. You don't really need to think too closely about these things, they're just habit. It becomes much the same."

"Sunrise is my favorite time," admits Sephany, "So I likely would miss it. Thankfully, my line of work does not require a midnight shift. A roll of her grey eyes for the retort before she continues right along with, "The entire world was invited. And you are part of the world, so I would assume that includes you. Regardless. You came, you conquered… well. You tried at least. And you survived to tell the tale. And I am glad you did." And Sephany has a brother; she knows all about the names and titles that boys do not like to be called, and may, perhaps, be rather ruthless in employing them if the situation calls for it. This one, however, does not, though she does not apologize for the observation nor her choice of words. "Then what are you worried about? That she may allow him to take liberties? A kiss or two is nothing to be worried about. And she seems a bit young to be… doing much else." A little shift in her chair, and she sits just a touch straighter as she considers his words. "Hm. I suppose I see your point." And then a curious question in a lower tone of voice, "Have you ever had to put your training to use? Besides observation, I mean."

"I've never heard of Telgar or High Reaches turning away a visitor either," Zevuki observes, with another of those flickered grins. "Or are you afraid to go alone?" because the best way to goad someone into doing something — at least in the Igenite's circles — is to call chicken. "It's the something else I'm entirely worried about." Also the kissing, probably, but he doesn't voice that aloud, though he does grimace again. "She's only thirteen." Perhaps her latter question serves as suitable distraction, or maybe he's just glad to be off a more uncomfortable subject, and onto a more familiar one — either way, it earns his full attention. "On a few occasions. My family has been guards for generations, and my father's well trusted by Lord Iequi. There is always — well, people thieve, people lie, people make mistakes, and sometimes they're just bad. All require our intervention at some point or another, generally."

And Sephany is no exception to that, either. There's a distinctly 'ruffled feathers' look to the weaver as she sits up just a bit straighter, grey eyes narrowing just a fraction for that little comment, though the amusement of her smile remains. "I am certainly not afraid," she says resolutely. "I came halfway around the continent without escort. I can certainly go to a neighboring Weyr." And yet, she won't. "Though I'm not sure how much fun it would be. Alone." Which she shall use as her excuse for as long as it holds water. "Still young, then," for his cousin. Though perhaps she takes pity on him, for she won't tease him further about Anjela. Her mug of Klah is lifted, poised at her lips as if she is going to take partake, though it doesn't move. It simply sits there as she peers over the rim with a fixed look at the guard. "Did you ever want to do something else? Or was it always 'guard or nothing' for you?" before she finally sips at her Klah.

"Could you?" the Igenite guard challenges, mildly. "Well, that's settled then. I shall look forward to hearing how you've fared skating at other Weyrs," Zevuki says, with matching amusement that reaches his eyes if not perhaps reflected in his otherwise even expression, "As I'm sure you could easily acquire an escort for yourself." Maybe he's relieved she doesn't pursue that uncomfortable topic, posture easing enough to appear relaxed rather than stiff-backed in the chair. "When I was very young, I wanted to be a healer. My sister and I used to talk about taking off for the hall as soon as we were old enough." His gaze shifts downwards, deliberately obscuring his expression as he lifts his mug to sip for a moment. "But — that changed as I grew older. My brothers all became guards. I wanted to be one, too."

Speaking of thirteen turn old, Eiram appears from the lower caverns with packs in hand to return back to Harper Hall. Instrument bags and a small backpack hang from his shoulders, and another small backpack is worn on his chest that his hands are gently cradling. As he sees Sephany he makes way and lets gingerly sets down his instrument pack before taking a seat. "Hey Seph, was hoping to catch ya before I headed back. I should be back in a next rest day." He informs his 'compatriot' of the games. He offers a welcome smile to the Guard, "Hey there, recovered from the great battle?" Even as he sits he seems very careful of the bag on his chest.

Touché, Zevuki. Touché. Slightly narrowed grey eyes just narrow further. This time that amused little grin sort of… twitches in the corner into something much more dangerous. Wolfish. For a moment, for those who may know both, she looks very much like her older brother. Challenge// accepted. " Shall I write you a detailed report of my exploits?" she teases. "And when would you like it completed by, //sir?" because she can't help it, really. There's too much mirth, too much fun to be had, for her to contain herself. Goaded into visiting other Weyrs? Forgotten. Now it is a game that she intends to win. She looks ready to say more, going so far as to drop the hand with her mug into her lap so that it is out of the way, when Eiram arrives. "Hello, Eiram." And now she is polite and poised once more, even if the humor dancing in her eyes is evidence of her good mood. Bags are glanced at, assessed, and she offers him a bit of a smile for his words. "Well, when you are, we should do something fun. There's no more snow, but I'm sure there's trouble to be had." And then back to Zevuki, lest the guard think he is getting out of this conversation. "I have always wanted to be a weaver. I suppose I am lucky that my family is so… diverse." A softening of expression, a little bit of sympathy, perhaps. "You wanted to be one, or you were made to want to be one?"

"That would be lovely. Address it to the best guard in all of Igen, care of Igen Weyr," Zevuki replies blandly to Sephany, the twitch of lips suggesting the guard's entirely too aware of her mirth. Even before the apprentice's approach, Zevuki's habitual regard of the caverns means the Igenite is aware of the familiar figure, tracking his path as he approaches. "Good morning, harper," the guard greets, easily. "Well recovered, thank you — though perhaps not looking for a rematch any time shortly," he adds, smiling. While Sephany and Eiram exchange words, he falls silent, though his gaze remains on the pair throughout the exchange, professional curiosity if nothing else driving the attention. When Sephany attempts to draw him back into the conversation, he gives a slight shake of the head: "I don't really remember," he murmurs, though he seems to do so with sincerity — that or he's very good at bland response. "And yourself?" he gestures towards Eiram, "Has Harper has always been your calling?"

"For sure..I will seek you out." Eiram says with a nod to the weaver apprentice. "I can imagine all manner of mi..fun, I mean fun we could get up to." He says with such an innocent look upon his sweet young features…that you know for sure it means nothing good will come of it. A handful this one is at the hall no doubt and to his parents. At the question from Zevuki Eiram looks thoughtful for but a moment, "Well my Da is a harper, but he never pressed it on me. I have enjoyed hearing his tales and songs since I was a little boy." Says the little boy. "Though I spent time fostered with my Ma's family at Rubicon hold in the south and when I was the age of choosing I debated mightly between becoming a sailor or a harper. Figured I could learn all the harpering lessons and if I still want to sail, the boats will still be there." He gives a shrug.

"Hm. Very humble," teases the weaver. "I shall deliver it personally. I am due a trip to Igen in the coming weeks." Because this is a challenge that must be done sooner rather than later, lest the ice melt at Telgar and High Reaches and she is forced to concede defeat. During the exchange between guard and Harper, Sephany lifts her mug to slip languidly at her Klah, shoulders relaxing with the warmth of it. Eiram receives a smile, a confirmation that 'fun' will be had upon his return, though there's a bit of a grin and smothered giggle for that oh-so-false look of innocence. And more Klah sipping for the blond, gaze drifting between the pair as they discuss the merits of Harper vs. Sailor. "The Singing Sailor. Nice ring to it, hm?" she offers with a flash of a smile. And then those grey eyes settle on Zevuki, and he is given a rather studious look for a bit longer than may be polite. "Hm." A lift of her mug, another sip. And then silence.

"I look forward to it," Zevuki replies to Sephany. "I do enjoy reading reports," is offered with a brief, fleeting smile. Mischief, even unvoiced, is hard for Zevuki to ignore — attuned to such behavior that even the look he gives Eiram is reflexively reproving of such intentions. His expression shifts into something more neutral moments later, while he listens to the harper's words. "I'm sure there's plenty of stories to be borne from a sea-voyage or two. Perhaps something to consider once you attain your Journeymanship?" His gaze slants, if briefly, to Sephany, acutely aware of her look but far too polite to draw overt attention to it. Instead, "More klah?" he offers, pushing to his feet.

Eiram grins at Sephany's title for him, "I like it…perhaps one day. Even if I don't take to it full time, I could still get out on the boats when I visit them. I think the sailors liked me out there cause I could climb the rigging easier because of my size." And perhaps a touch of reckless fearlessness that comes from his age. "Doing my Journeymanship with a boat instead of by land…that could prove a fun challenge." He says with a grin of the undaunted. As he picks talk of Sephany going away he looks curiously to her, "Ooh what are you delivering?" He asks with wide eyed curiousity.

The determined look on the blond says that she is very likely to follow through on her words. A written report hand delivered. But there is no accompanying statement to go with the look, just a quiet satisfaction in knowing that she will be successful. The Klah sipping continues, mug never leaving her lips as she settles into her chair once again. Her gaze moves from Zevuki to Eiram, and the corners of her eyes crinkle slightly with a smile once again. "Mm. You told me that before. It sounds rather dangerous; I should try it some time," she decides of climbing the rigging, though it's likely she's teasing about that as she follows with, "if I can stomach the rocking boat long enough." Another sip, this time the mug tipped up almost completely as she finishes what is left. "Oh! Thank you, that would be wonderful," for Zevuki's proposition of a refill. Her mug is offered up to him, along with a flash of a genuine smile; no amusement this time. And then back to Eiram with a curious look. "Would they let you do that?" journeyman from a boat. "Oh… a handwritten report on my adventures ice-skating alone at both Telgar Weyr and High Reaches Weyr. Because someone," and a fixed look is given the guard, "Does not believe I am willing to go alone."

Zevuki collects Sephany's mug with a nod, and moves over towards the hearth. He takes his time refilling both mugs, the slight turn of his head might suggest he's listening closely all the same. His steps are measured and careful as he returns to the pair, offering Sephany's refilled mug back towards her. "Words are intentions, not actions, as my father likes to say," is his answer to that look he receives from the weaver, though there's a brief smile on his part. "I've been on fishing boats out of Igen, only once on one of the larger ships. I can see the appeal, in some ways."

"It is fun…and the view you have when you get to the top of the mast is worth it." Eiram says with the look of someone speaking of something with great love. There is a deep breath from him then a little sigh, "Sometimes I do miss the smell of the salt on the air." The wistful moment passes though and he smiles once more as he looks to Zevuki, "Yeah, mostly big catch boats and some trading vessels. Its one of Rubicon's biggest trade items. The fish that is. Some times we would be out on the water for days and days hunting different types of fish." He says with a grin, "Storms made it a bit more exciting." He grins at Sephany's professed goals, "That sounds like quite an adventure, maybe next winter find out any more weyrs that have it and maybe become the first person to skate at all the cold weyrs!"

"I'm sure the view is amazing," Sephany agrees, "though I don't know how much I would be able to appreciate it." The return of the guard, and the handing over of her Klah, is given her full attention. A smile for the former, a deep and appreciative look for the latter. Fingers curl around the warm mug, and she tips her head back against the chair for a moment as she just relaxes. "Integrity is following through on those words," offers the weaver. "And I intend to follow through on mine." The talk of boats gets a mixed reaction from the blond; polite enough to show interest in the conversation, even if there's a bit of a wobble to her smile. "Days?" and then "Storms?" with increasing trepidation. "I would be so sick," she admits. As for Eiram's challenge, Seph looks a fair bit amused at the idea, though she decides, "I think two is plenty challenge for now. I will be sore enough after this little adventure, I am sure. I'm also fairly certain I would not be the first person to accomplish such a feat."

Zevuki reclaims his seat, settling in stiff-backed and straight again, where he has a good view of both his companions and the caverns as a whole, gaze flickering across the latter and taking notes of new arrivals before turning to his fellows. "If nothing else, you can still choose to spend your vacation and rest days on the sea, so there's that. I doubt harper would let you be a harper for a day at a time, so it seems like you made the right decision." After a pause, he nods in agreement with Sephany's latter words, "I imagine most riders have ample time to enjoy such pasttimes. Although I'm told dragons take up a lot of time — I find that difficult to believe sometimes, given how much of the day they seem to spent dozing in the sun."

Luckily before Eiram can regail Sephany on the joys of riding out storms on a boat, his father waves at him from the entrance. "Shardit, time to get going. See you later." He says as he rises carefully and reloads bags on shoulders. He does extend a hand to Zevuki, "In case I do not see you again great warrior, Your deeds will be remembered in song." He says with a grin and a wink then trots off to the waiting bronzerider.

There is a slide of grey eyes towards the guard, a general taking-in of the stiff-backed and straight seated posture, of the way his eyes travel over the cavern. It makes Sephany smile with a touch of amusement, though it doesn't last when she picks her head back up and takes a sip from her mug. "I don't rightly know," she says honestly of dragons and free-time. "I've no dragonriders in my family… well, there is S'van now. But he is still a weyrling, and rather terrible about writing letters to his sister, so I have no idea what he is getting up to. I've never bothered to inquire; I feel if I did so, I would likely get roped into some sort of dragon-care duty that is both messy and time consuming." A little tap of her fingers against the mug as she decides, "Likely, whatever work the beasts require is worth it, for the joy of Impression and the ability to take yourself wherever you desire at the blink of an eye." There is no envy in her tone. It is just an observation from someone born to the Weyr. "Good bye, Eiram! Study hard…" even if her grin seems to say she won't hold her breath on that. "How much time does being a Guard occupy?"

There's a sense that Zevuki is indulging the harper when he reaches to shake the boy's hand in turn. "I'm sure you can come up with a much better subject for a song, but the sentiment is appreciated nonethless," he replies to Eiram, gaze tracking the harper's departure with interest. "It doesn't seem like you're too keen on the idea of sailing?" he says, when his attention returns to Sephany. He's silent while she talks, before he expresses surprise, "Your brother is a rider? Hm." He taps fingers against his mug. "If you were given the choice, do you think you'd put your craft on hold to stand?" The questions, though offered in light, easy tones, might unfortunately have the ring of an interview, this perhaps a more telling occupational hazard. "Usually we're rostered onto shifts. But often there's a lot of downtime even within the shift. That is often the hard part of the job — the patience to wait for all the time when nothing happens." His lips twitch, as his gaze goes distant.

"I'm not," says Sephany honestly. "Although it is not necessarily the idea of sailing that I am not keen on. It is the rocking and rolling of the ship on the waves. I actually like the idea of sailing. Of being on the open ocean with nothing but wind in my face and the sea stretched out to the horizon. My body is simply incapable of enjoying the experience." And lest her point remain unclear, she will simply state, "I get terribly sea sick. Took a ship out from Southern Boll once and spent the entire time hanging off the side of it. It's… not an experience I want to repeat." A sip of her Klah, followed by an affirmative nod of her head for her brother. "He is. He just Impressed at the recent Hatching in Half Moon Bay Weyr. First dragonrider in our family. A bronze, too," she says with a note of affectionate pride. The question of whether or not she would suspend her occupation to pursue the same future turns her thoughtful, grey eyes studying a distant point as she gives serious consideration to the idea. "I'm not sure," comes as a soft sort of murmur, a little shrug of her shoulders. "Honestly, I never considered the option. I'd like to say 'no'. That my passion for my Craft is enough for me. But unless I am faced with the decision, I can't say for sure how I would respond." A glance towards Zevuki now. "Would you?" As for the difficulties of being a guard, Sephany will simply offer a curious, "I would imagine staying vigilant during all of the nothing would be a challenge, as well?" beat. "Isn't it better, when nothing happens? Because in your line of work… something happening would likely be dangerous."

"So, what you're saying is that you're better suited to enjoying the seas from a… dock. That's not so bad. It's helpful to know one's limitations." It seems to be genuine sentiment from Zevuki, accompanied by a smile. He listens with interest as to the talk of her brother. "Your family must be proud. Did you attend the hatching? I've heard stories, but I haven't the pleasure… although with Igen's senior having recently it's all the buzz at Igen." He takes a slow sip from his mug, gaze flickering about the cavern again before returning to rest on her. "I feel much the same as you. I am content with my role, and it's hard to imagine anything more." He sets aside his mug, exhaling at her latter words, as if it requires some particularly singular focus. "Many do find ways of passing the time. Playing cards, gambling, the like. And certainly, yes, it's true… when required to work it can be dangerous. But some, mm, it could be said are made for such things." He's picking his words carefully, hands still and folded into his lap as he speaks.

"A nice, stable dock, yes," agrees the weaver, though no more is said of her limitations. Instead, there is a slow sip of Klah and the casting of her gaze across the caverns. "Mm. They are," she agrees of her family. "It was… unexpected. And yes, I was there. My father and mother made it, and a couple of our sisters, though most had to attend to family or craft obligations," a glance at Zevuki, "I have seen several Hatchings, but it was very different to see my brother on the Sands." She nods her head at the mention of the recent queen's flight. "Won't be long," she agrees, of clutching. Of Hatching. "They are very… hard to describe. On the surface, it is dragons hatching and candidates Impressing. But saying that really does not do the moment justice… You will have to attend and see for yourself," she decides with a glance and a grin. "I'm not sure they would allow a guard to continue being a guard… after Impression. At least with another Craft, you can generally pick it up again after weyrlinghood."
A long, considering look is laid on the guard, mug lifted to press against her lips as she considers his words and her response. "And are you one of those? One of those who were made for it?"

Zevuki, it seems, is content to listen to Sephany's description of a hatching, silent and attentive throughout. It's only when she's finished that he says, "I find many people find it difficult to adequately description. Dragonriders, too, of their dragons. It is mystifying." And undoubtedly frustrating for a guard used to getting to truth and the heart of matters. He gives a slow nod, for her words, "Perhaps. I imagine that would influence my decision, but as you said… it's hard to guess how one might react." Her latter words earns a slow shake of head by way of not-very-helpful answer. It's hard to tell whether it's a negative to both of her questions or a refusal to answer, given he takes his time in sipping his klah, gaze wandering over the caverns again to take stock of the early morning arrivals.

What is early for some is late for others as the tall hunter comes in his thick leathers and cloak, he rests his bow and quiver out of the path of people near a wall and hangs his cloak up. Riohra looks the room mostly to see if there is a fresh pot of Klah because well priorities. As he makes his way across the room and will wave to Sephany and her guest saying "Morning" he is very chipper and has a little spring to his step.

Was that… an explosion? It definitely sounded like an explosion; the momentary shake-and-shiver of walls, and plates, and klah-laden mugs seems to provide further affirmation that it was probably an explosion, but there's an eerie acceptance that follows the breath-held hush of the crowd, of an exhale that comes too quickly, too dismissively for this to not be somewhat of a normal thing around Fort Weyr these days. It's probably as normal as the gleeful (maniacal, some might rudely interject) cackling of a woman that comes seconds later - a heralding of sound, an ode to Leia, an introduction of chaos and discordant dissent that lives in the compact frame of 5'4" and once-red hair that has been dyed black once more. And Leia has pinned those curls up close against her head, because Th'ero's hair is not as long as hers. The woman even has a beard (that is patchy, and falling off, and made of hair of questionable origin that we just aren't going to question because if anybody in Fort Weyr has the crazy, it's Leia), is sporting a black cape, and is wrapped up in more of that endless black that gives the very clear impression that she is impersonating the Weyrleader. Why did Th'ero want her in Phoenix under him? Why did anybody think that putting insanity in an admin wing was a good idea? That's the question of the hour - a question that may yet go unasked, because she's not sporting a knot, and is booking it through the living caverns likes the guards are after her (which they probably are; SOMETHING blew up). "Excuse me, pardon me! Pregnant woman coming through!" Cue more cackling, and a body that doesn't look at all pregnant but SHUT UP. WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE? And here she comes, right for… Rio, and Sephany, and Zevuki. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! Maybe she does stop running long enough to slam her hand down on the table and lean in close to Rio with a smile better suited to wolves. "Riohra," she says his name with punctuation, hitting the syllables hard with tongue and teeth before she snaps at him. And then? "I THINK I FOUND THE CULPRIT!" Yep, more cackling, as she sits in next to Sephany and leans forward like she just knows everybody here. "Better run, Rio," she says, affecting an air of innocence that comes complete with doe eyes.

"How do you describe something that is just so intrinsically felt?" she wonders hypothetically. "It would be like describing a sunrise to a blind man. S'van tried to explain it to me, and it just turned into a really emotional situation where he appeared to forget I was even there," she admits. "And a Hatching is… well even watching it is something else entirely. It's emotional," which is not that much more of a help than her previous inadequate description of the event. A soft exhale, a sort of defeated sound for attempting to describe the indescribable. A latch onto the next topic, something not so difficult to process. "Sometimes I wonder… who could really say 'no' to the possibility of a dragon?" but it is a whimsical sort of inquiry, not really meant to be answered. His apparent aversion to answer her direct inquiry as to his suitability for a life of 'guarding' does not go unnoticed. A pointed look is given the guard, one pale eyebrow lifted as if she expected some sort of an answer. "You are not a violent person," she decides finally. "But I think… you are the type who would want to defend those who cannot defend themselves." A glance up for the arrival of Riorha, a smile in greeting even as she is lifting her mug to her lips. Sip. "Good morning," is cheerfully offered in return. It is short lived, as the sound of an explosion has the weaver sitting bolt upright, free hand gripping the arm of her chair in white-knuckles as she looks around with suddenly wide-eyes. "What…" and her first instinct is to look up, at the ceiling, assessing with quick, flashing eyes before she seems to decide it is not about to cave in on her. There is very little relaxation, even as the rest of the room seems not at all concerned for the sudden DOOM that has descended. And is now invading her personal space. "Um..Ah… Do I know you?" The fact that Sephany is doing her best to scrunch herself as far as possible into the OTHER side of her chair says no. No she does not know her.

"It seems it is one of those things better experienced than described," the Igenite concludes with a nod, expression thoughtful. "I look forward to seeing Igen's hatching, then." While Zevuki doesn't respond to Sephany's guess about himself, her speculation does earn attention from that thoughtful gaze, maybe the hint of a smile, if briefly. For Zevuki, it is mid-morning, so there is no trace of sleepiness about the Igenite as he sits straight-backed in the chair alongside Sephany's near the hearth. "Good morning, Riohra," he greets the hunter with a familiar nod. "Did—" whatever question he had planned is forestalled at that… explosion?! He's on his feet in an instant, moving — towards whatever it is because habit, before he checks himself a few paces in. This isn't his home and — after a quick glance around — no one else seems bothered? He turns questioning, confused look on Sephany and Riohra, brow rising as if they might be able to provide an explanation. Maybe even before they can answer it arrives — in the form of a rider. Zevuki observes her with a deliberately expressionless expression. It's a guard-face, set to give away nothing, taking in her words to Riohra with an intentness that doesn't shift, even as he gives a sidelong glance to Sephany, taking in her reaction to Leia's presence and sliding over a step, not quite obscuring her but sort of in between her and the newcomer.

Riohra looks back at the explosion as he sits down at the table just in time for the little ten stone weight of crazy that is packed in a five stone bag, is telling him to run. He is rather confused and looks at the other two and then will smile at Leia, because that is what Rio does "Good morning to you too Leia, I see you are feeling better now?" he will sip his mug but is still on the edge of his seat. The spark in the hunters eye for foolish things seems to have been ignited but he is keeping a good leash on it for now..

Leia's too-wide (and not nearly innocent enough) smile is on Riohra as the bluerider leans into Sephany's space, and then Sephany is addressing her, drawing blue eyes to the weaver along with that wolfish smile (and perhaps genuine startle - as if she didn't realize that Sephany was there) only to have Zevuki assert himself into the situation as a - "Oh, now that is cute," Leia practically purrs, looking between Igenite Zevuki to newly-Fortian Sephany with a slender finger that extends to flick between them. There's a wickedness in her eyes, a demure kind of cleverness that speaks to a woman who is unafraid, and undaunted, and perhaps takes those things just a hop-skip-step too far at every opportunity that presents itself. "Use protection, children. Rearing little ones isn't nearly as fun as it sounds. But when you do make those babies, make sure you name them Th'ero. It will get you through all that loss of blood, and your body not fitting through doors, and -" LOOK. Here come some people now, who look like maybe they know exactly who they are after, and that's why they are sporting the most unimpressed looks they can conjure as they slowly stalk through the morning crowd with the bluerider already shifting to stand like she might run again, attention back on Riohra. "Feeling better? I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, good sir." And there's the hint of a smile again, a shifting of leather-clad thighs as Leia steps onto her chair, and then onto the table so that she can put her hands on her waist and jut one hip out. "Last chance, Rio," the bluerider tells him breathlessly. A beat, and then, "OI! WHAT'S TAKING SO LONG? HE'S GONNA GET AWAY." And yes, she's giggle-cackling again, blue eyes shifting to Zevuki who gets the full brunt of that smile and a wink that's not so much flirtation as intense mischief. He seems like the uptight kind. The purveyors of mayhem and discord tend to build shrines to those type - like the one to Th'ero, over there on that table. DID YOU MISS IT WHEN YOU CAME IN?

That grip on her chair does not at all diminish, despite the fact that the ceiling is not caving in on her. Oh no. It is now one-hundred percent for the bluerider that is invading her personal space as if she wasn't even there. Sephany just frowns, jaw muscles working as she tries to figure out what to say to this crazy person. The surprise and apprehension is slowly turning into something of a challenge, and there's an almost determined shift to her shoulders as she claims her personal space and refuses to flee from her chair. Surely, crazy blueriders cannot evict her from her chair if she doesn't get up from it, right? And then there is Zevuki, stepping in between them, and proving her assumption to be right despite his words of confirmation. There's a renewed confidence for the support, and she tips her head back to kinda stare at Leia. The finger wag and insinuation makes her cheeks turn a bit red, though it's hard to determine if the response is embarrassed or ANGRY. And more working of those jaw muscles, coupled with an open and shut click of her mouth because she is, decidedly, speechless. And then there is a Leia, on her chair. On a TABLE. "Oh Faranth help us…" and she's scooting the other way now, putting distance between her and the bluerider without having to release HER chair. And then a look at Riohra. "You KNOW her?" and maybe her opinion of him has dropped a little, because clearly this woman is unstable. If she's scooting a little closer towards the PROFESSIONAL GUARD it is surely accidental and not for self-preservation. "I don't know what to do," she confesses to whoever will listen.

There's a tension in the way that Zevuki stands, kind of on the balls of his feet, like he's ready to move at any moment. Habit, and nothing more, holds him in that position while he evaluates the situation, taking in Riohra's easy response, Leia's snap judgement and Sephany's reaction alike. He's too well trained for his expression to change overmuch, though there is a flicker of something in his gaze. "Are you unwell, ma'am?" he asks, pitching voice in that low, soothing tone all guards use when they're trying to defuse a situation. "Perhaps I can call someone for you." A slight, sidelong glance maybe takes in those that look to be hunting the rider in turn.

Sipping his Klah the tall hunter nods to Sephany "She is the mate to my friend X'fyr", if Leia is a Tsunami Riohra is a rock of calm. He will look to his friend and the visiting Igenite saying "She is a good person, but as far as being unwell? She always seems to get cleared for duty" When Leia stands up and starts to stand on table he will stand up and wait for the other people who have been chasing the blue rider to approach him, "Morning Gentlemen, How may I help you today?"

SO TERRIBLE, THIS WILD LEIA. It's true: everybody who knows her is probably not-sane, or started sane, and soon became not-sane; either way, they should be looked down upon because fun is just a three-letter-word for HEATHENS. Sephany's fear doesn't earn the Fortian pity from the woman. One the contrary, Leia seems to find amusement in the scooting away, in the inching closer to Zevuki and the redness of cheeks that really could be embarrassment or anger - but is assuredly a reaction that Leia inspires on a regular basis. "Of course he knows me, darling," Leia drawls, as if this is the most obvious statement to be made in this very moment. And there the bluerider goes, rolling her shoulders back, affecting Th'ero's trademark, borderline scowl and disdain as she pitches his accent near-perfectly, "I'm Weyrleader Th'ero, girl." And there's that smile again - too many teeth, too much humor, not enough regard for the chaos she embodies as those two unimpressed men get closer and draw Leia's attention with a flicker of blues in their direction. She doesn't look because her attention is on Zevuki as he speaks with her. "I could be unwell," she says with sudden sobriety - that smile flickering into non-existence, those brows drawing in tight confusion as Leia looks around with an expression that states quite convincingly that she isn't sure how she's got where she is (or why she's standing on a table under the mutinous regard of three, no five, people). "Who are you?" she inquires - the words innocent, holding a hint of fear that's shattered when she smiles again, too wicked and too clever for there to be any truth behind the expression that preceded it. And then her attention is on Riohra, and she's laughing again. "Don't tell them my secrets, you terrible man. It's more fun when they think I'm crazy." But those shoulders sink as those men get closer as she exhales, licking her lips as they take the last couple of steps that bring them alongside the table. "Oh well," she says, "duty calls." And then she's snapping a salute for Rio, Zevuki, and Sephany before calling out, "TRUST FALL!" And yes, yes she did just allow herself to go tipping sideways off of the table, sending those two men in a mad scramble to catch her - which they do (angrily) before setting her on her feet. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, you crazy kids! The paperwork might be fun, but not nearly as fun as the - " AS THE WHAT? It's a mystery, because she's cackling again as she gets dragged out of the caverns.

Again, there is that look for Riohra, for knowing the woman on the table. For associating with her. For calling her a friend. "Um. OK." Because what else is there to say about the crazy woman on the table. Pretending to be someone she is, most assuredly, not. But the hunters confidence that Leia is not a threat does not really change Sephany's expression or challenging expression. Or that creeping redness that is reaching her hairline and dipping down below the collar of her dress. It's definitely anger, now. Certainly. Though she doesn't say anything else on her feelings. Instead, there is just the resolute squaring of her shoulders and lift to her chin, a very defiant sort of expression in the face of apparent insanity. A flicker of grey eyes towards Zevuki, for that calm voice and approaching manner. He's trained. She is not. HE can handle the crazy. Only now the crazy is TRUST FALLING into the arms of strangers. "Well, um… That was unique…" for an experience that, much like Impression and Hatchings, has become indescribable.

Zevuki's gaze settles on Riohra for a moment, taking in the hunter's assessment with a brief nod of his, his attention very quickly returning to Leia. His brows twitch upwards for Leia's claim of Weyrleadership, intent gaze cataloguing the swift and changing emotions of the rider. "If you are Th'ero, I am Faranth," he replies, easily, in that self-same low, soothing voice. Only when the locals come to claim the rider does his posture seem to relax, if marginally, waiting until the woman and her escorts leave the caverns. "Is that normal here?" the question seems mostly directed towards Riohra, but his glance seems to indicate it includes Sephany. Or maybe he's just making sure she's fine, gaze lingering for a moment before giving a nod in apparent agreement with her assessment.

Riohra shakes his head saying "no sometimes she is crazier. She is a good sort though, never really lets trouble get to out of hand." He looks over at Zevuki and Sephany now and checks to make sure they are ok as well. Still standing he will say "I find it is best to have some extra Klah when Leia drops in on you." He inclines his head to the two asking "would either of you like a cup?" yes he is calm but there is still that fight or flight running in his veins and can easily be seen now that the danger has been redacted to another area of the Weyr. "It isn't an every day thing some times Leia just has to much excitement for one person. Or so I have been told."

Sephany is undecided if she is 'fine' or not. The look on her face says that she is trying mightily to look as though she is alright, though her grip on the chair has not lessened, and her mug is almost entirely forgotten, but also in a rather intense death-grip that threatens to shatter the clay. "I don't know," is her honest answer for the guard, grey eyes flashing towards him once before going back to the direction that the crazy-person just left. "It certainly hasn't happened to me before today…" but her words fade off as Riohra speaks, and a little furrow develops between her eyebrows. "That… she…" a deep breath. "She can be worse?" This does not please the weaver in the slightest. "I don't like her," she decides, and there's a little shift-shift in her chair, a drawing up of her knees as she kind of hunkers down. At the hunter's offer of Klah, Sephany seems to remember her own mug, and a concentrated effort is made to bring it up for a drink. "I have some, thank you," she murmurs.

"I think I've had plenty, but thank you," Zevuki replies to Riohra. He listens attentively, but there's a slight frown that might suggest he doesn't seem overly convinced by the reassurance of the hunter's words. "As long as she's being cared for," he settles with the polite, non-committal response, before his weight shifts, and he starts to move before he's even voiced the thought: "I… should go and see to my cousin. Good morning to both of you," with a fleeting smile for the pair of them, the Igen guard hastens his walk to seek out his cousin.

Riohra nods to Zevuki saying "oh she is, her two weyrmates usually keep her in check. But some days.." he will shrug and will wave at Zevuki as he leaves saying "See you later than may good man" he will get his mug refilled and come back to the table sitting down and eating his food. Something has the young hunter happy and it doesn't seem to be dampened by the crazy antics of the blue rider.

"Two…" but no. Sephany is not going to approach that topic. There's a little shake of her head, and a quick chugging of her Klah, downing half the mug in one go. As Zevuki goes to depart, her eyes fix on him once again, an unreadable expression. And then a nod of her head; an acknowledgement that he is leaving. "It was nice to see you again, Zevuki. Give my regards to Anjela," even if the girl would likely not know who Sephany is. At least she's starting to look a little more like herself, the color fading from her face and the grip on everything sort of relaxing.

Riohra smiles his happy smile and will even start humming a merry tune from the dance, which comes out as strange seeing as he hums in a deep bass. Unlike his usual tenor speaking voice, but it isn't bad and the song is catchy. Soon others will be humming and singing along in the room, maybe even Sephany will jump in to help push the strangeness of the day from her mind, who could say. The living caverns seem a little brighter at the moment with merry music and good food.


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