Hunting Wild Cats
Who Eiram, Leuka, Riohra, Sephany, Kielric
What Sephany returns from Igen; talk is had of music and hunting felines; Kielric joins in the discussion
When Autumn - Day 14 of Month 9 of Turn 2714
Where Living Caverns, Fort Weyr

filename.tld


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.


Riohra grins and nods "anytime you wish to play let me know" He sits down and sips his Klah saying "oh is there more than one of you? I admit I have been gone visiting my Lady at Igen the last few weeks so I have missed some new arrivals."

"I heard she impressed a gold." Eiram says brightly, "Shame so far away though, but I guess just a dragon ride away. I suppose you gonna move there to be with her?" He asks openly to the matter of the couple, though there is a hint of worry in the question as well. "His name is Oboe, he looked like the brown of Master Hareman's oboe and I couldn't resist." A more staid and upright master there couldn't be at the hall, but he can play the Oboe amazingly at list.

Leuka drops onto the seat and digs into his sandwich, groaning a bit since he was more than a little hungry. He nods to Riohra "Yea. Hauser's around somewhere." The other's name isn't really Hauser, but that's the name he's dubbed his frenemy so he has no chioce but to live with it. Dunking some of his sandwich into his stew, he bites into it eagerly, glancing between the others and grinning as he cants his head and narrows his eyes at the flitter. "You're right, he sorta does match the color of Master Hareman's oboe."

Riohra shrugs and smiles at his young friend saying "We will see, if she wants to stay there I will move but for now she thinks she will transfer back here" When the talk about an Oboe he askes "what kind of instrument is that? I am only really familiar with the flute and drums and now this" he pats the guitar case.

From the Bowl comes Sephany, uncharacteristically dressed in the loose and flowing fabrics and dress more characteristically associated with the desert and, specifically, Igen. Igen Weyr to be exact. There is still a bit of sand clinging to her, in the smudge on her cheek and the way her pale hair is dulled with the grit that clings to literally every part of your body until you've taken five baths and gotten rid of all your earthly possessions. She is also, predictably, shivering her little butt off because she was not smart enough to bring a cloak with her, despite the fact that she lives at Fort now. So shivering, and irritable because of it, dragging in sand that gets a glare from anyone responsible for keeping the place clean, Sephany arrives. And marches her unhappy-self straight for the Klah pots, descending upon them like a starving woman (or just a shivering, cold one).

Eiram has not had opportunity to visit the weyr in nearly a month, but with the bag next to him it looks like he is staying a couple days at least. (For Seph) At the response from Riohra Eiram visable relaxes and nods, "Good." He responds and starts to feed a few bits of meat to his young firelizard. "He is still growing I think and I hope his appetite will slow down when he does finish." Then there is question of the oboe, "A woodwind, like a pipe but fancier with a reed and special hole covers." As Sephany enters the room his eyes brighten all the more, "SEPHANY!!" He calls out, "Join us over here, can feel the fire from the hearth where we are sitting."

Leuka gives his head a little shake after Eiram explains what an oboe is. "I never had much skill for that instrument. Good thing I've other skills though." He gestures to his cello leaning behind him against the wall. Not knowing the woman they are speaking about, the Journeyman doesn't comment, simply spooning some of his stew and making it disappear. When the apprentice yells Sephany's name, he peers around, observes her a moment and then turns his attention forward again murmuring to those nearest him before she arrives. "That looks like one pissed off Weaver boys. Should we leg it before she gets here?" He's joking, maybe, as he snickers over his bowl.

Riohra looks up at Sephany and shakes his head at the the Journeyman "She is fine, just cold. She was probably down at Igen too." He will get up and grab his heavey coat off the wall to walk over to where Sephany stalks the Klah like an hungry feline and offer it to her saying "Here if you need it" He smiles at her knowing where she was and why she is cold and neither of which should be the subject of teasing.

Klah has been obtained, cold hands quickly wrapped around the mug like her life depends on it and she may freeze to death without it's saving warmth. A quick sip is taken, the scalding liquid burning her tongue in her haste. Eiram's call is heard (how could it not be?) and she turns in the direction of his table, seeking him out. A half-smile makes it onto her face, though it blossoms fully when Riohra approaches with his coat. "Ugh, thank you Riohra!" and though she would typically refuse, this time she dives into that coat with no thought to propriety. She's cold, so she is going to take the help offered. But she is starting to thaw out, and after topping off her mug (for the one sip taken) she follows the hunter back towards the table. There is another little smile for the group gathered, a sentiment that does not quite reach her eyes, though she does try. "Hmm, this looks like trouble," she teases, injecting as much humor into the sentence as possible. "Do I even want to join this little gathering?" But the heat of the hearth is too great a siren call, and perhaps she's tired, for she sinks into the empty chair with a bit of weariness. "Hi Eiram," she greets finally, flashing him a smile. "Back for a while?"

"For a few days at least. Passed my mid term theory exams so have leave for a sevenday." Eiram responds to Sephany as she joins them. "Visited Igen?" He asks of her desert dress, "Did you get to see the impressions?" Oboe looks at the arriving weaver and chirps at her too before diving his head down to Eiram's plate and grabbing a mouthful of meat before flying off. "Impatient creature, I would have fed you that!" He calls up to the debating brown with a shake of fist but there is little ire in it. He looks over thoughtfully to Leuka as he mentions several journeymans now here. "Maybe I can do some lessons here for awhile…" He suggests hopefully.

Leuka lifts a hand to wave to Sephany when she gets closer. "Hi again Sephany." He watches the interactions among the group and eats quietly for a few bites. He ducks as the brown takes off with his prize. It wouldn't have hit him, but it looked close enough to cause the involuntary reaction. Glancing off in the direction the flitter went, he chuckles at the fist shaking from Eiram. A quick nod to the apprentice "I don't see why not. That's one of the reasons we're here. To teach and entertain." He scooches over a bit to give Sephany more room to huddle over her klah mug. After a moment, he can't help but toss out a tiny taunt "I bring my cello to prove you wrong, and you were no where in sight. Bad Sephany!" He may be about to get smacked, but sometimes a guy just has to live dangerously, right?" Maybe his new friend Riohra will serve as a meatshield if the young woman does go on the attack.

Riohra knows sooo much better, sorry Leuka your about to learn why Rio sits on the otherside of tables. "You best watch yourself, she is no princess but a warrior. i have seen what happens when she kicks a bronze rider." It is mostly true.

The borrowed jacket is large. It does nothing for the shape of her body, and she looks like she's just about drowning in it. And yet, Sephany is clutching it close around her without thought for all of the above. Just the fact that it is warm, and she is still chilled. But this is slowly and steadily being remedied; between the giant jacket threatening to swallow her, and the mug of Klah she is clutching and sipping in turn, warmth will be restored in short order. But that does not mean her mood is improving, and while typically there would be some sort of clever quip for that 'bad Sephany', she's just… not witty today. So instead, Leuka gets a glare. It's not an especially violent or dangerous glare, and packs about as much punch as an angry kitten swatting at a fly, but hey. She tried. And she is far too busy clutching at mugs and jackets to actually try any sort of physical violence. Leuka is safe. "If I had known," she insists, "I would have made it a point to witness such a feat. Alas, my social calendar was booked." Or something. But there is an actual, legit pout on her face for having missed it. Grump-grump-sip. "Good!" to Eiram for passing his exam, a much warmer smile bestowed upon the visiting Harper. The escaping firelizard is followed curiously, and she actually laughs just a little at the admonishment that follows him. "Thimble abandoned me the minute I arrived; she's probably on my pillow." And therefore, not stealing food.

Oboe the brown firelizard is sitting on one of the smaller ledges up the wall eating his captured food. The rest are sitting at a table near one of the hearths this afternoon. "Please tell me they slow down as they get full size?" Eiram says to Sephany about their firelizards before turning bright eyes to the Journeyman healer, "Really? I will right to apprentice Master first thing then…I am sure they won't mind me out of their hair for a bit." He grins at Riohra and Sephany, "Just think it, me getting to stay here full time and not having to go back and forth. Oh what we could get up to!"

Leuka lifts his hands as if to surrender to Sephany, eyes darting to Riohra and his look clearly says 'gee, thanks for nutin!' Peering back to Sephany, he does the only thing that comes ta his mind, offers out half his sandwich. Maybe that will appease the angry Weaver. "We didn't plan it, just sorta happened. He had his guitar, and he a lyre and a squeaky voice." He gestures at Riohra and Eiram. That's right guys, Leuka's dragging you under the rampaging dragon with him. He does nod agreeably over the Apprentice passing his tests. "Thautseruck or I can send a note as well if you think it may help your cause." He grins at the enthiasm from Eiram about not having to travel back and forth.

Riohra grins and lets people fend for themselves, only way they are going to learn the scared hunter sips his Klah and nods at Eiram "That would make pie hunting alot easier" When his guitar playing shrugs "you have heard me nothing special there, and i am sure this good Journeyman will be filling out halls with musical tones soon enough"

Leuka nods to Riohra's comment and brushes crumbs from his hands as he finishes his sandwich. "Well, since my sandwich was snubbed, how about a few tunes?" A curious brow lifted to Sephany as he pushes his chair back from the table, enough to give him playing room. "Maybe a certain Apprentice can find a moment to get me a hot mug of something?" He doesn't specify what he wants, he'll sip at whatever Eiram might bring him in between tunes. Leuka will draw bow over strings and fill the hall with tunes, perhaps not dancing tempo, but lively enough to possibly have a few heads weaving with the melody for a while.

There had been a question posed, about Impressions, or Hatchings, or something to do with Weyrlings, that Sephany is only now registering (blame the cold! She is frozen, OKAY). But eventually, grey eyes find the Harper, and she acknowledges his earlier inquiry with a quick, "Yes, I did. I was there for the Hatching. And I was actually there to visit one of the Weyrlings, today," she notes with a neutral tone of voice. There's a guarding there, something she hides behind the sip of her Klah but revealed in the skittering of her gaze across the Living Caverns. "I think so?" for slowing down as they get older, though she shrugs her shoulders helplessly. She doesn't know. "Hm. Do you really think Fort can handle all three of you?" she wonders, attempting to interject a bit of playfulness into her voice. Sandwich peace-offers are eyed suspiciously before she shakes her head, not even lifting a hand from her mug. "Mmhm," says the weaver, clearly not buying it. But she's teasing, honest. Just ignore the death glares. But as snubbed sandwiches are finished, space is made and melodies start to flow, Sephany's feigned-anger ebbs and she actually manages a playful sort of smile in his direction, grey eyes dancing with amusement. "Hm. I'm sure you can do better," she decides, teasing lightly before she turns to regard Riohra. "You're just beginning," she assures him, for his guitar skillz.

"Its not that squeeky. Yet." Eiram says defending his changing voice, "Taking bets on where it will end up." He finishes with a grin taking his pubescent voice in stride. He is a good singer but clearly his passion is with the instruments so he at least has a 'backup'. "Yeah, if you could that might help." But they are likely to be glad to be rid of the apprentice for a time. There is a look over to Riohra, "You are shaping up to be a more than decent guitar player." Then the Journeyman is asking for something to drink and well Eiram wants to stay in his good graces and rises from his seat to procure a mulled wine for the fellow harper. At this point he can't resist rejoining himself and pulls his Lyre back out of it's bag. His fingers deftly picking out a compliment to the tune Leuka is playing.

Riohra grins and nods at Sephany "I know I am, it is this or I break my promise to Kassala and go hunt the big felines down south by myself again." He admits his favorite passed time as casually as someone says they are going to go and toss a ball around. He listens to his friends praise of his talent and will bow his head saying "well I have had some patient teachers" he will listen to the tune that Leuka is playing.

Fort Weyr. It's not such a strange place for Kielric to find himself these days, not since having a certain brownrider, greenrider, and bluerider crash-land into his life with little sisters. Why Kielric is here is not terribly important; important is the teenager ducking into the living caverns bundled against the autumn chill in a black pea-coat and a black scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. That leaves curiously silver-grey eyes free to sweep over the occupants of the living caverns from beneath a head of gravity-defyingly unruly hair (it's also black, in case you were wondering) as he decides on what he's about to do next. One finger hooks at the upper-most part of scarf so that he can tug it down towards his chin, and then his decision is clear: klah. He's retrieving a mug of the heated drink and finding somewhere to stand vaguely in the vicinity of harpers, and weavers, and fellow huntsmen. "Felines are a nasty business," comes suddenly on husky tones from around a friendly smile. Don't mind him just RUDELY BARGING IN ON CONVERSATIONS. "May I?" asked of Sephany, because he's asking if he can sit beside her while nodding his head to the harpers. They are making music! He's been on the receiving end of one-too-many tiny angry-harper fists to interrupt.

There is no comment from Sephany in regards to Eiram's voice; she has heard no squeaking yet, so can neither comment nor tease him about it. But there's a devilish look that says he'd better watch out when it happens. That idle tapping of her finger, in time to the rhythm started by Leuka and picked up by Eiram, may indicate a shift in mood for the better… until Riohra goes and opens his mouth about wild felines. "Don't you dare," she all but growls, death-glares leveled on him now, even if he just said it was something he was not going to be doing. She will just offer her furious-kitten-threats to the mix there, as if Kassala was not scary enough. But anger dissolves in the flash of a look as a strange voice and new face joins the mix. Strangers require politeness, a return to proper decorum even if she's looking a bit disheveled at the moment. "Please," for the offer to join, followed quickly with a much-more-subtle admonishment of, "And don't encourage him. I swear, he has a deathwish." There's a look for the jacket, the scarf (definitely lingering there, with a bit of a wistful look) and general appraising of the foreigner. Her own Klah is pulled close once more, and she sort of hunkers down in the five-sizes-too-large coat as she sips her drink.

Riohra looks up at the new face and gives the very fimalar looking young man, but just can't put a finger on it maybe he has two many eyes, and says "Well they can be, but the pay is good and if you got the right gear you can even the odds a tad." He will take a drink and say to the angry weaver "I haven't done one of those since before the hatching, I got the pelt I am working on making a heavy cloak for someone. It won't be up to your standards but i think they will like it."

Eiram plays out a tune with Leuka and then sings with the next tune. Indeed it seems that puberty is starting to strike the young harper as the voice does crack at points but he soldiers on. After two songs he takes a break and has a sip of the Klah and looks over to the new arrival, "Good afternoon!" He says in bright greeting. The boy may be suffering the throes of puberty, but his height and 'sweet' face still make him look several turns younger than his years. "Well I think I have had enough hunting for a little while…I would hate to see an Angry Kass AND an angry gold come hunt you down if you go after felines."

"Thank you," Kielric offers Sephany as he sinks into his seat, seemingly unaware of the weaver's appraisal until he's laughing - low, husky, good natured - and unwinding the scarf from around his neck. Kielric doesn't ask if he can invade the tiny weaver's space (he's already saturating quite a bit of it with where he's sitting anyway), he simply leans his much-larger body towards hers and, with gentle ministrations, wraps the scarf loosely about her neck. "It looks better on you," comes with a hint of curious accent; it's an accent that lingers when Rio's responding to the dangers of felines and earning another smile from the Half Moonian. "Good money, true, but they don't go down easy - even with the right equipment." And then there's Eiram. "Good afternoon," Kielric says around one of those too-easy smiles, grey eyes bright with mirth and camaraderie as they linger on the singing-harper (he doesn't even wince when the teenager's voice cracks), and then he allows his gaze to fall on the table while he brings his mug of Klah back to his lips.

There is a low but audible exhale from the weaver, a clear sign of disapproval for Fortian hunter. "See how much 'pay' you take home if one of those beasts takes your head off," Sephany retorts, reining in enough fury so as not to be too biting when she says it. Really, blame the cold. Surely it is the cause of all her snippiness, right? Eiram's voice is met with lifted eyebrows, a curious expression that makes the corners of her mouth turn up in delight and surprise. "I don't think I've heard you sing before…" she remarks, making no comment on the inherent challenges of changing voices. THIS time. But when Kielric moves, she pauses mid-sip with the rim of her mug poised against her lips as grey eyes track his progress as he leans in and further invades her space with hands, and scarfs, and motions that mean to put both on her person (innocent as they may be). But she doesn't move, or protest, or even look that discomforted by the gesture though there is clearly surprise to be found in her expression, and perhaps a little clearing of her throat at the parting, accented comment. A flicker of a smile, a spark of mischief in her gaze that finds the visitor and lingers for just longer than is strictly polite. Hm. The continued talk of felines earns a darting look towards Riohra, and then Eiram as he chimes in to remind her of his own hunting adventure. "Good. At least you have a bit of sense." But really, she knows nothing of the activity other than it involves a lot of blood and potential bodily harm. So there is no more comment on the profit to be made of big cats and how to take them down. Instead, she turns her attention back to Kielric, another assessment made before she decides, "You're not from Fort… or did you just arrive?"

Riohra nods at the new fellows assessment saying "True but that is half the fun" and there he goes he has that look in his eye as he glances toward where his room would be and his hunting gear. What is one little hunt right? Rio echo's Sephany's question about his origins "Yes i think i have seen you somewhere before friend, did we hunt together?" could be Riohra hunts alot with a lot of people. When Eiram talks about the mad gold and Kass riding down on her he chuckles "But what a sight to see, and you did alright on your first time. Got a buck dead in the heart one shot." any other details are up to Eiram to share.

Well the voice is a good countertenor save for the occassional crack. The voice of youth, sweet and pure, before hormones come in and wreck it. "I like singing but well reckon I prefer playing the instruments especially while this instrument sorts itself." He says pointing to his throat. There is a matter of fact shrug, "It not so bad really as long as I keep the vocal cords warmed up before I sing." As Eiram witnesses the addition of clothes upon the weaver he looks thoughtful for a moment before rummaging in his bag and pulls out a beanie and passes it to Sephany with a quirk of a smile, "Now we have all contributed to the effort to keep you warm." He says and glances over to Riorha as he mentions their hunting adventure. He pales a little at the mention of the shot but squares his shoulders, "I should let the hunting master at Rubicon know his lessons served me well. It was…scary and thrilling and…well I think I will stick to target archery for now."

"The lady is right. You can't get paid if you're fodder for the felines," Kielric intones, but there's a mischief about the way he says the words, as if he's not really telling Riohra that he disagrees with him… because he really doesn't. But Sephany is giving Kielric an appraising look, and grey eyes find grey eyes as the tiny woman's attention lingers longer than is strictly necessary - a gesture that earns a crooked smiles from the Half Moonian even if he doesn't speak. He doesn't comment; he doesn't say a word until Rio draws his attention back with talk of The Hunt. "If you can get them to come out. Ferocious bastards, but they can be shy when they want to be." THEN the fun can begin, he doesn't say, because his attention is on Sephany again - and then Rio - as he shakes his head. "I'm not from Fort, no. I'm from Half Moon Bay, actually." A beat, as grey eyes take in Riohra, and Kielric shakes his head. "We may have, but I doubt it. I tend to go alone when I can; less noise and less people to worry about tends to mean better bounty for me." A pause, as Kielric finally allows his attention fully back on Sephany, and there's a soft, husky, "But you don't seem native to Fort - and you're upset." It's not a question, but it does have him leaning on the table he's occupying, leaning closer to Sephany as he drops his voice to a whisper. "I think that means it's time for a dance." And Kielric is watching beanies being handed over as his eyes settle on Eiram, that friendly smile pulling at his lips once more. "It gets easier." The killing, maybe. "Would you play us a song we can dance to?" A beat, a flicker of his attention back to Sephany. "Unless you're of a mind to protest?"

"I honestly know nothing of singing. I enjoy it," she counters, "and I have been told I am good… for someone who is not Harper trained, of course," she amends quickly. Beanies offered and she sets her mug down so that she can accept it, an amused, "Thank you," given as she is thoroughly outfitted in borrowed items. She hesitates only briefly, inspecting the cap for a moment before she pulls it over her head , looking only a little awkward as the last discernable feature (her hair) is covered. And it just continues with this disturbing talk of hunting dangerous wild creatures that are designed to rend flesh from bone, and tear skin from muscle, and destroy with claw and teeth and… there is a subtle shudder from the weaver, a scrunch of her nose that says the current conversation is not appreciated, and something of a look in her eyes that any woman would recognize as that classic 'men' long-suffering sort of look. It is a look that does not diminish despite Kielric's attempt to convince her that he is not also an adrenaline-junkie thrill-seeking feline-hunter with a death wish. This fact is only confirmed by discussing how to lure them out of hiding. And then Eiram, talking about the scary thrill of hunting and just… no. Nope. All kinds of nope for the mental images of blood and death and gore that are running through her head. It's a welcome distraction, then, that lingering and silent look, the crooked smile that makes eyes dart briefly elsewhere as she lifts her mug to hide her expression despite the way her eyes crinkle and the mischief just grows. There is a subtle shift in her posture, a little ducking of her head and biting of her lip that is hidden by the mug of her Klah, and she seizes on the subject of origins. "Half Moon Bay…" she repeats, a soft murmur not meant for more than herself. "Far from home, then. Why is everyone from Half Moon Bay?" Clearly rhetorical, without much obvious basis. But the ire can't last, not with that focus back on her. "I am not," a native of Fort, she agrees. As for being upset? There is a moment in which she is going to protest, but it dies before she can even open her mouth, turning rapidly into an echoed of "Dance?" Dance? Dancing she can do. There's a quick shake of her head, a hasty dropping of her mug to the table, and a firmly delivered, "I am not," of a mind to protest. "Unless Eiram would prefer not to oblige us…" Because it is entirely within his right to refuse to provide the necessary music.

Eiram wrinkles his nose at the discussion of hunting, "I suppose I may be good at it, but Fish is easier, they don't bleed everywhere like that." There is a shiver of his shoulders, "But I suppose I am glad I did it, had to try, you know? But I will leave the hunting to the hunters." There is a bow of his head to Riohra and Kielric. At the request for a dancing tune Eiram nods in earnest and picks up his Lyra pauses and places it back down before pulling out a pipe instead out of its padded case. He blows a few notes before he nods to the Hunter, a curious look to Sephany to see if she will take his offer. "I am not from Half Moon Bay." He offers oh so helpfully to her question, "Isn't your brother there though?" See he remembers things! At the suggestion that he might NOT oblige in playing music, Eiram just rolls his eyes makes a motion to the small clear area by the table and places pipe to lips again. This, at least, does not suffer from his journey into puberty. He plays quite a playful dancing tune starts off slow and each phrase getting just a little bit faster until the dancers can't take it anymore.

Kielric is observant; it's what he was taught to be, it's what his job demands him to be, it's one of those things that just comes inherent when you have a father who spent a good portion of his life being a renegade. So Kielric sees Sephany's expression, notes the long-suffering look of perennial disapproval passed down from generation to generation of woman, and Kielric smiles at it. Mischief, humor, a crooked tilt of his lips as keenly attentive grey eyes stray from weaver to harper again and Kielric once more displays his total disregard for personal-space by leaning in to put his hands gently over Sephany's ears. "They still bleed," comes amused on husky tones, preceding him drawing back into his own space (hands obviously retreating with him) before he continues. "But I thank you; it means I get to keep my job for just a little while longer." And yes, those silver-grey eyes are back on Sephany as she bites her lip, and ducks her head, and abuses mugs so that Kielric can't see it even if the smile slow to pull at the corners of his lips again says he knows what she's doing and he likes that mischief. As for why they're all from Half Moon Bay? Kielric merely laughs - low, husky, short-lived but no less genuine before they're back to Sephany and her origins. "So you're not," he concedes softly, as if this fact is interesting in a way that's not allowed as grey eyes take her in and that crooked smile takes over once more. A tilt of his head towards Eiram, brows raised as Kielric says, "He's not from Half Moon, if you'd rather dance with him," but the hunter is already getting to his feet, extending a hand for Sephany to help her gain her own footing (if she so chooses) before he whisks her out to start that dance. "Otherwise, you're stuck with me." But not before brows furrow at the hand in his, calloused fingers firm but gentle as they wrap around it in much the same way Kielric steps forward into Sephany's space and introduces the heat from a hand at her waist. So the over-sized jacket is doing a good job, but, "You are… tiny," the hunter says - concerned, grey eyes jumping to grey with a question, but one that he doesn't ask. They're here to dance. "But sturdy, I'll bet." There's that smile again, as he pulls her into a movement that matches the tempo, spinning her around him completely, pulling her back into him once it's done, moving quicker and quicker in hop-hop-hop steps with arms clasping hands extended when they move in dips to one side, and then the other. More spinning, more laughter that matches the mirth in Kielric's eyes as he watches Sephany move - and then it has to end, doesn't it? He can't keep up, or the music ends, but either way, he's stepping back with a playful bow and a breathless-husky, "Thank you for the dance," as he leads Sephany back to the table. "Take care of her," the hunter tells Eiram, even as fingers twist in the scarf about Seph's neck and he leans a little too close to the weaver when he breathes. "And keep the scarf. It really does look better on you." And out he goes, no names given or exchanged. maybe they'll see each other again. Or maybe not.

Protective, space-invading hands arrive too late; Sephany totally heard that comment about blood everywhere thank you Eiram and it has her looking just a touch less disapproving and a lot more… pale. If that is even possible. But as it does not continue, and she is at least spared a thorough description of fish-gutting or other hunter-outdoorsy-grossness, she recovers quickly enough. It may have something to do with HANDS ON HER EARS that do not belong to her, though once again there is no shrinking away, no inherent discomfort in the gesture, though there is confusion and a subtle tension to her shoulders that could mean any number of things. "Yes, he is," for her brother. "And no, you're not," she agrees for Eiram's origins. "There is nothing wrong with being from Half Moon Bay," she decides, "Simply that there are an awful lot of them that seem to have found their way to Fort Weyr recently…" is that a grump? A blush? Both? Probably. Ahem. There is a look directed at the visiting hunter, something meant to be sly, or mischievous, or secretive but falls short of the mark because she is distracted and off her game right now. "Nope," she is not. From Fort. From Half Moon. None of the above, and the glimmer in her eye says she's not ready to reveal her own origins. "No, he's not," she agrees once more, in regards to Eiram's decidedly un-Half Moon Bay origins (a mark in his favor, perhaps?) though she's happy enough to overlook this apparent slight on Kielric and accept his hand for a dance, regardless of his dubious home-Weyr. "Thank you, Eiram," she offers quickly, flashing him a bright smile before she's whisked away to put the young Harper's music to good use. Warm hands against her, the heat enough to make her shiver just a touch beneath the many layers working to protect her against the autumnal chill. That concerned question that is not a question is met with a lift of her chin and a set to her jaw, a look that is just daring him to push the subject while already promising that no answer will be forthcoming. But her challenge is not met, and the defense is dropped with a laugh and assurance that, "Yes, I am," for her being sturdy. "And more than able to keep up," she teases, quick enough putting words to proof as she follows his lead with quick steps and twisting body. There is freedom and fun in dancing, a following of the music and following of her partner that leaves Sephany laughing brightly at the end of each twist and turn, each dip or spin. Faster, a fight to keep time with the increasing tempo; breathless for the exertion, for the contact, for the hop-hop-hop and crush of bodies as Eiram's song comes to an end and the dancers prove they have more than enough of what it takes to keep up. There's a flush to pale cheeks, a twinkling mirth in grey eyes that fasten briefly on Kielric as he leads her back to the table and admonishes Eiram to 'take care' of her. A twist to the corner of her mouth for that exchange, a comment on the tip of her tongue that is a scathing declaration of the unecessaryness of someone taking care of her… that dies a swift and absolute death as he leans close and speaks once more. It's a silence that prevails as he leaves, grey eyes chasing him out the door as Sephany finds herself utterly speechless. Deep breath, held. Exhaled. Then. "Well. That was interesting." Putting it mildly. "Do you want your hat back?" because Sephany is quite warm now, and has no need of it, pulling the item off her head with careful movements so as not to disturb her hair too much. Warm enough that she's opening the coat to allow the chill back in rather than fighting to keep it out.

Any comment about fish guts is left off for now as its time for Eiram to be a harper and play for his audience. Eiram would normally play this type of dance in a group of musicians so one can take a breath before continuing on while the others keep up the tempo. As the solo musician well he does a good job of it. He really puts in a solid effort, but before he could run the dancers off their feet his own lips loose their ability to blow and he ends a particularly fast pass with a squeek of notes and he drops back on the table dead. Ok not dead. He is laying there catching his breath and rubbing at his lips to get the feeling back into them again. After a moment he sits up and looks to the hunter as he gives charge over to him for the wellbeing of the weaver. "Of course, she is my fellow warrior at arms, upon my honour she will come to no harm." There is a salute with his pipe and grins at Sephany, "I think he likes you. He sure danced like he did and held you all close and stuff." At the offer of the hat he takes it with a nod and rams it on his head, "Now if you will excuse me I have a note to write to the apprentice master if I am to stay here for a time." He says with a grin, offers a bow and grabs up his bags.

Sephany laughs, though it lacks the power to really take hold considering she's still trying to catch her breath from the physical exertion that was dancing. "I think he likes to dance," she counters, unwilling to discuss the rest. Despite the flush, she reaches once more for her Klah, the beverage having cooled while she was away but still giving her something to do. "Hm," she offers, grinning. "It is nice to see you back, Eiram. Write well!" A lift of her hand will follow him, the weaver content to remain where she was placed, mug poised at her mouth as she stares off and loses herself to her own thoughts.


Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License