Who Aignes, Ajral, Cielo, D'lei, F'inn, Inri, Kaellian, K'vir, K'zre, Meion, Nessalyn, Nyalle, Rinian, Risali, Teinon, Th'ero, V'sri,
What Party on the Yokohama! Complete with near-fight and talk of fire.
When NO SEASONS IN SPAAAAACE - Month 4 of Turn 2719
Where Recreation Deck, Yokohama, Space

Yokohama - Recreation Deck
Tables line the walls of this place, each holding a variety of games for the leisure of the personnel and staff that resides within this station. Computers are set up upon the center in rows, offering a variety of games as well to those willing to tap away at the keys or handle the mice and joysticks attached for education and amusement not required for work. Books are also available here, too, both in the form of stories and reference materials for those wishing to take up a hobby or merely escape to somewhere else for a time while it's allowed between their long days and colder nights of duties here in the Yokohama. No matter where one would like to go, plenty of cushioned seating is here for rest and conversation.

Meanwhile, dominating the room is a large window that overlooks Pern, showing much of the planet as the station orbits overhead.


F'inn is… Well, F'inn is trying to be everywhere at once, checking the food, checking the centerpieces, nagging the musicians to the point that they are no longer listening to a word he says. He is, in short, frantically tending to those last minute things that one remembers.. Well.. At the last minute. Course, it's made all the more comical by the fact he is a top hat and tails, not to mention a billowing cape that seems determined to nudge things out of place every time he passes. It's just one of those moments and the young bronzerider is dancing on the edge.

Nyalle hasn't been out in public in a while, choosing instead to keep to her office and her weyr, often sending messages via messenger and rolled hides. She's dressed in a violet gown with matching mask, a bit understated but still very nicely crafted. She is never one to try to stand out or be the center of attention, but at a ball one has to dress up. To /not/ dress up would be to stand out. Thus…she's dressed the part. She finds a chair to sit down in and settles with a low exhale of breath, fanning herself.

F'inn blinks once as he notices Nyalle, his head tipping to send his tophat rolling down the length of one arm. Of course, he catches it at the last moment and goes for a smile as he heads for where she is sitting. "You alright, Weyrwoman?" He's noticed she has not been out and about in a while, but with Nymionth? Noticing that stuff is exceedingly easy. "You need some water? Klah? Something harder?"

Nyalle looks up and smiles warmly, pausing her fanning. "Hello, F'inn. I'm fine, thank you for asking." Fine. Sure, fine. "Water would be nice, or some juice? No, water," she quickly corrects herself, with brows furrowing slightly. "Water, please."

F'inn waits a moment, just in case her mind changes again. When does, and the changes back, his lips twitch in a wry smile, the top hat settled back on his head. "Righto." Stepping away, he's quick to return with water in one hand and juice in the other. Easier to anticipate a woman changing her mind then not to. And F'inn? He comes from a family of women. "Water," he notes as he sets the glass within easy reach. "And juice, just in case."

Nyalle smiles, and then frowns slightly as she looks at the juice. "Sorry, could…could you take the juice away please?" Then she looks up and around. "The room looks wonderful, F'inn. You've outdone yourself, certainly. How many people do you think will be here?"

F'inn glances at the juice, snagging the glass and settling it on the tray of a passing serving. "Thank you," he murmurs in response to the compliment. "It took a lot longer then I anticipated." It's the last that has him momentarily worrying his lower lip, his head giving a mild shake. "I have no idea," he admits. "I know a few are coming from Half Moon and I heard that Risali is planning on bringing her Candidates, but beyond that?" He really has no idea, at all. "I made a point to send out the invitations to the Weyrs and Holds well in advance, Weyrwoman."

Nyalle smiles. "I'm certain that you did, F'inn. I've no worries about that from you. You're very diplomatic when it comes to those sorts of things." At least he is now. "Hopefully everyone enjoys themselves."

F'inn exhales a breath, one hand scrubbing over his face as he glances around the transformed room. "Hopefully, Weyrwoman," he echoes. "I've done what I can, reasonably, at least." In the wake of the words, he lightly clears his throat, pushing the cloak over one shoulder as he turns to survey the room. "I'm pretty sure that people will have a good time," he admits. "There is more then enough alcohol to ensure that."

Nyalle laughs. "Well, alcohol can…" Then she pauses and smiles. "I'm sure everyone will have a lovely time. I won't keep you if you need to continue to get things ready. Please don't feel like you're obligated to entertain me."

F'inn flashes a lopsided smile at her words, his arms folding over his chest as he exhales a mellow laugh. "I'm pretty sure the musicians and most of the servers will gut me if I start asking if everything is in order, again." He's only done that about a thousand times, so far. "But I'll leave you to relax," he assures as he steps back. Inclining his head, he moves over to the massive banquet table and returns to fussing with the plates and centerpieces until they are 'just so'.

Nyalle sits off to one side at the seating area, dressed in violet and sipping a glass of water. Or vodka. But it's probably water, given the size of the glass. She's observing, watching as folks arrive.

The redecorated deck is barely recognizable, but for the stunning display that is the window overlooking Pern in all her glory. The musicians are in full swing, servers moving through the room with trays of fanciful drinks. For his part, F'inn has finally stopped worrying about rearranging things and is leaning against the bar to watch people arrive. Mind you, watching people arrive is a very stressful endeavor, particularly when you are worried that people might not arrive, at all. ( Play list - https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQzWzJ3XC08arg3VQ_JBH09-KOE4-5HMX )

Tall and tan and long and lovely - V'sri is none of these things, and he's from Fort and not Ipanema, but he arrived safely on the elevator after pressing way too many buttons with no REAL ill effect. "Dude. Dude. DUDE," announces the bronzerider to none in particular. He stops in the middle of the room, fingers out to point at a festive bloody mary type deal. "That drink is… like, half dinner? Half salad? Who INVENTED that!"

Inri does not do costumes, historically speaking. Never, in a number of turns of costume parties and balls has she ever worn a costume, but at least she has a ball gown. Black and gold, shimmery and multi-skirted, it is one that has never been seen before either because Inri would not repeat an outfit for a seasonal event such as this. The dress may appear again at some other event, but certainly not at another Fort-hosted ball. As far as the 'costume' aspect go, she has an elaborate mask with feathers and other decorative features, in the same colors as the dress, and several necklaces and bracelets. She's working the room with a champagne flute, as she does.

Nyalle watches people emerge from the lifts with a faint smile, not hidden behind her mask that only covers her eyes. She's not in costume either, but in a simple, well tailored violet gown. She sips water, and nearly spits it out at V'sri's comment. "I thought you did," she calls over to him.

F'inn is not drinking, although the urge to do so is impossibly strong. Instead, he's watching the room, one hand raising to nudge the tophat back a bit on his head. With people arriving, he's suitably distracted with directing the servers bearing drinks and various tastey bits in the proper direction. It's easy getting lost in making sure things are going smoothly. Of course, the moment that V'sri comments on a drink, the young masked woman bearing the tray sweeps in his direction, winking before offering him his pick of seasonal beverages heavily loaded with alcohol. "Drink and it could be very good for you," she notes with a smile that is more then a little flirtatious in nature.

Fort's Weyrleader is here as well and already mingling in with the growing crowds as more newcomers arrive. Th'ero's an old hand at this now and while he's not one to normally dress too fancily, somehow Kimmila managed to convince him to wear SOME color in his ensemble again. True, it's a deep maroon-red but hey, it's not more black. Which is the majority of his outfit, along with grey and trimmed in bronze thread and latches. Even his mask follows the same scheme colorwise, the shape vaguely wolf-like if Pern had such a thing. His hair, always shoulder length, has been partially plaited back, now well peppered with grey and probably the likely dead give-away as to who he is. That and his mannerisms; costume or not, Th'ero's habits are telling and you just can't get him not to be wholly relaxed and informal — yet. Someone get some alcohol into him and well…

V'sri turns smartly on the ball of his foot and, in all one motion, pushes his mask to the top of his head and gives well flourished bows to his beloved superiors. As his cape billows out behind him, a streak of chunky green escapes from the satiny folds and complains her way to a window. "EY EY Deathwing c'mon, it's not that kind of party. Ladies." A BIG smirk. "Weyrleader. I think Leia is, y'know. Hiding. Safely. Ooh, I will, in fact, try one of these… these meal-drinks." The mystery barmaid gets a big smile. "Ahhh, thank you. Do I… like… drink around it or do I, y'know, eat. First."

Black is a perfectly acceptable wardrobe color! There's a greenrider in Half Moon that would totally extol the virtues of a monochromatic wardrobe (and perhaps share in the lamentation of weyrmates who require them to wear color) but he's not here yet. Woe.

Fort's Steward who only EVER wears black would also do the same thing, if his player were not still on hiatus. Somewhere, though? The Steward is pulling off a shiny black tuxedo.

Nominally, Inri is very good at getting alcohol into Th'ero — that is, in fact, how they met — but as of yet she hasn't tried too hard. She and her golden-black-sparkly-gown are at least thirty per cent accent color if you count gold as a color (it is one, okay), though, and eventually she does manage to pick up an additional glass of wine and float over to the Weyrleader. To whom she offers that glass of whine, politely and without verbal comment: it's all in the eyes. Here. Lighten up.

"I would," the be-masked barmaid notes to V'sri in tones that border on wicked. "Would highly recommend you suck the alcohol off the celery." From the twinkle in her eyes? She'd certainly enjoy watching it. "Otherwise, order hardly matters," she adds with a wink. Course, a moment later, she's sashaying away and there is a whole of sway in going that way.

Nyalle hesitates before gathering herself and then pushing to her feet, moving carefully through the gathering crowd towards Th'ero and Inri. "Evening," she greets her co-workers with a smile. "Both of you look lovely."

Th'ero has finished with his greeting to some new arrivals and has barely turned to address V'sri and others when Inri is suddenly there with wine. He doesn't even need to be as guarded with his masks while wearing a mask, but even so his relief is… kept in check. "Thank you." he murmurs dryly, slightly clipped. Another mercy? It's a half mask, so drinking some of that wine won't be a hassle! "Enjoying yourself?" he asks of Inri, just as Nyalle joins them. "Weyrwoman," he greets, with a respectful nod and a hinted smile. "I think 'lovely' is better reserved for Inri and others, yourself included." Oh-ho, who's the charmer now? Anyone who knows him, knows this is just Th'ero being 'polite' and playing the game.

And here comes Risali, moving slow because she's leaning heavy on a crutch, hindered further by the fact that this Faranth, sharding dress is UNNECESSARILY IN THE WAY. But her outfit is more a nod to Xanadu itself, woven in the browns and rustic reds of Autumn on a corset bodice. It's pretty steampunk, all cogs and goggles and top hats, and the mask over her face is black lace, accented by make-up painted on with a kind of smokey-eye effect. And then she just stands there awkwardly, maybe a little lost, maybe a lot unsure of where she goes from here because she is the lone Xanadu ranger so far, and how does one leader awkwardly mingle with many? YOU DON'T. You grab a glass off a passing tray and down it in the least lady-like fashion. Nope. There's another glass, and an awkward smile for the person walking it around before she downs that too.

As a precaution, V'sri pushes his elaborate metal embossed mask further up on his head before studying his prey. The drink, I mean, though the swing on the barmaid's back porch gets a speculative glance. Of course, he ends up approaching his repast all wrong and just straight up lowers his face to the foliage decorating the bloody mary and takes a big ole CRONCH. It's a bit like watching a rabbit eat its way out of a bush. "Hrfm. Mrfh. Drink complicated."

With a polite head-bow, Inri — whose mask does not cover her mouth, but everything from the nose up — offers Th'ero a silent version of a you're welcome before lifting her head to smile at Nyalle. "I was going to say, I don't know if our esteemed Weyrleader is all that lovely, but I'll let it fly. You do too, I — oh." She sees that foreign goldrider coming in, raises her eyebrows (not that anyone can see) and then adds, "Excuse me," before making her way toward the Xanadu Weyrwoman. It's not one of those fancy diplomatic greetings, though, just "Risali, what happened to you," as she steals yet another drink from someone's plate and offers it as #3 for her.

K'zre is late. Or, well. He's not already here. He's arriving with yet another group of the party goers, riding up in the lift (and probably hating every second of it — gosh darn crazy technology!) and then stepping off into the transformed rec room with careful, measured steps. And he is definitely in costume (and it's desced on him so the player is not going to bother to re-write it here cause… lazy… *ahem* >.>), holding to the whole 'autumnal' theme with a vengeance. Risali and her crutch definitely get a look. A look that says his Healer-Side is definitely kicking in for a moment there, and the want to go and inquire about it is almost as strong as his desire to find his weyrmate. In the end, that inquisition is more than he can bare, and he's sidling over to the Xanadu Weyrwoman just as she's swigging her second drink, to murmur a totally polite, "Are you alright?" Hey. Hi. Welcome to the party.

Nyalle blushes a bit at Th'ero's compliment, sipping at her water. "Thank you." Her eyes scan the room again, and she thinks she spies another Senior, but she's not quite sure because of the mask. So she just stares at Risali for a long moment, offering a 'hi do I know you?' smile if she glances her way. Then there's V'sri's attempt at eating a drink, and the Weyrwoman lets out a laugh. As Inri leaves, Nyalle nods a little bit. That /is/ Risali. She keeps an eye on the pair, curious about the crutch as well. "Thank you for handling the situation with Greystone," she remarks to her Weyrleader, unable (or unwilling) to leave work behind. Or maybe she is just at a loss of small talk topics with the bronzerider.

F'inn finally gives in the lure of alcohol, opting for a shot of something hard and unpleasant tasting before pushing off the bar. The shot immediately does it's work, inspiring an exhale and a quick shake of his shoulders that sets his cloak to fluttering behind him and the tophat to wobbling precariously upon his head. He did his part, he reminds himself as he cracks his neck, it's definately time to relax. The people who need to meet and greet are here, the food and drink is flowing— or neatly arranged on tables in the case of the food. All is right with the world. "Risali!" Gathering up a random drink, F'inn immediately makes a beeline for the Xanadu Weyrwoman, a broad smile on his face. Course, Inri beats him there and that's okay cause F'inn's attention is completely stolen when the lift opens and K'zre steps out. He's completely distracted, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he takes another step forward, promptly gets tangled in his cloak and nearly ends up spilling himself, and the drink, on the floor. Fortunately, he catches himself. Unfortunately, he's still got that gape-mouthed look on his face.

Th'ero keeps his usual stoic expression, mask or no mask, as Inri excuses herself. It takes only a moment for him to spy to whom Fort's junior is going to greet and he likely guesses correctly based the costume alone. The crutches certainly grab his focus as well, but he doesn't immediately venture over. Inri's go things covered, even if his curiosity is piqued! "Mhm?" Turning back to Nyalle, it takes him a moment to shift gears. "Ah, right. I'd be surprised if a Turn goes by that we're not dealing with them in some manner." he muses gruffly, only to smirk. "But we're here to enjoy ourselves, are we not? I never would have thought to hold a formal affair up here."

Risali catches Inri's hand as the junior comes over, winces for that question and then deflects having to answer it for mere seconds by smiling to Nyalle and raising her hand in greeting. She's just turning back to Inri, grey eyes shifting to focus on her when - K'zre. The Senior Weyrwoman honest jumps, bumping her shoulder into Inri as she opens her mouth to speak and hears her name and - "F'inn." It comes almost startled, relieved, but she's reaching out a hand to rest on K'zre's arm, offering a gentle squeeze as she breathes out, "I'm fine — you look fantastic," and then she's finally looking back at Inri. A beat, two, three, four, and Risali answers, "I fell off my dragon?" Yep. We'll go with that. And look at her, taking another passing glass of something alcoholic to press against her lips probably in an attempt not to have to say anything else about that and depositing the empty glass on a different tray. Now she's hooking arms with the Fortian Junior, smiling to Th'ero, and looking between K'zre and F'inn. Here comes that smile again, pulling at the corners of her lips in a way that bespeaks to an inherent awkwardness. "This is beautiful. It really is, and you all look stunning. I feel underdressed."

V'sri emerges from the wild brush of his drink. Note his vibrant plumage i.e. the small dots of tomato juice on his already freckled cheeks. "It… tastes good. Like cold tomato soup! But not in a bad way? Oh!" And Risali's entrance is, at last, acknowledged with the smith's somewhat dated over formality. "Weyrwoman. Hello. Is it true there's something going on over at the, uh, Bahrain I think?" He jerks a thumb over his shoulder towards a viewing point. "They don't have ping pong, though."

"I will," Inri says with an easy smile, letting her arm stay linked lightly with Risali's, "Pretend I believe that for your sake and let it go." See, she's nice, reliable friend, all this: if others press, Inri is not playing a part in it and is going to allow that Risali fell off her dragon because that is what she said and that makes it true. It isn't as if she has to worry that K'vir or D'lei are abusing her or anything. "No, you're dressed fine. I always overdress for everything. You should try the rum cake though," is her most ringing endorsement for the preparations.

K'zre will allow that answer to stand, even if he doesn't buy Risali's explanation for why she is on a crutch. He'll at least inquire no further, having enough sense to know that she has her own healers and does not need him butting in. So, duty done, there's a murmured, "thank you," that comes for the compliment, and then a further, "Careful of the paint, and the glitter…" or she's liable to smear it and end up wearing it also. With Inri stepping over, Kez steps back, attention turned to the arriving (and stumbling) F'inn. Yes. He caught that. And while there's a brief flicker of concern, once it's clear that he's not about to die, that look transforms into one of subtle, smug amusement. A dip of his head to the weyrwoman (and V'sri and his tomato-soup-drink), and he steps aside to close the distance between himself and his weyrmate. "What do you think?" It's probably a rhetorical question, given that Kez is looking rather pleased with himself.

Nyalle looks towards the windows and then back to Th'ero with a small smile, nodding to his not-so-subtle redirection of the conversation. "It's a lovely spot for a party, if you don't mind the heights. Excuse me though, I need to go sit down. Feeling rather fatigued." Or maybe the view is bothering her. She offers Risali another warm smile and lifts her hand in a more formalized greeting before shuffling to sit in her seat once again.

"You… look…." Trailing off, F'inn gives a slow shake of his head, the bronzerider's pale eyes sweeping down the length of K'zre's form. It is enough to have him drawing in a slow breath, holding it, and releasing it just as slowly. "Yeah." Just yeah. Cause anything else he could say would be.. Not fit for public consumption. He does, however, slide an arm around K'zre's waist, being careful to only touch the belt and not the body paint as he turns a brilliant smile on Risali. "I've had a few of those kinds of accidents," he notes with a smirk. Does he believe she fell off a dragon? Heck no. Will he push it? Nope. "Love the corset," is added as he settles his hand firmly on K'zre's hip. "And thank you, we've spent days pulling our hair out trying to get is just right." It is K'zre's question, however, that has his attention, his head giving a slow shake. "I think we're leaving early," he notes with a husky laugh.

Rinian managed to find a place to change so she's in masked costume upon entry. She steps off the lift and her gaze goes instantly to the large window. She stops short and just stares, not paying attention, as of yet, to the other people or music playing in the hall.

If K'vir could ever stoop so low as to hurt Risali, he'd have to deal with his father… who would just leave him to his mother's mercy, really. Thankfully, Th'ero's not so dim as to assume that either, though he's still glancing towards Xanadu's Senior periodically; he'll even send her a respectful nod as well, though he remains in Nyalle's company for now. Let him enjoy a little more of this fantastic wine and he'll start to ease up! "Mhm, I suppose it's a touch disorientating. Not everyone may appreciate the view…" He certainly had a hard time taking it the first time he was up here. Brows knit beneath his mask as Nyalle goes to excuse herself and almost by instinct he offers her his arm. "Do you need anything? More water, perhaps or something to eat?" Which is his way of subtly asking 'are you alright' without calling immediate attention to it. Once she's seated, he'll linger there, either waiting to fetch her something or to be dismissed again.

Some of Xanadu's candidates are here as well; they're coming in a series of packs, it seems. Ajral, for one, is doing Costune Party in an actual costume for the first time — she has an odd, shimmery thin shawl that looks just like a blue butterfly's wings and the rest of her is covered in skintight top-and-leggings of the same pale blue base color. So, she's a butterfly. With high heels and her hair in a bun. It's a nice, fun, easy costume since she already had the shawl … "Parties," she whispers to herself, and then, "I hate parties," is probably also to herself, she needs a firelizard to pretend to be talking to. But she doesn't hate cookies, and there are cookies, and white wine, and she has both now so it's okay to wallflower idly and see who goes by.

Risali's attention is momentarily spirited away by V'sri, grey eyes going from the bronzerider to the window and — ah. There's a scrunching of her nose in humor, a huff of laughter as the Xanadu Senior offers, "I haven't heard anything, but imagine if they turned off the gravity for that ping pong match." Epic. Now Risali's pressing her temple to Inri's as if she means to hear the other goldrider better despite current proximity. "This is why we're friends," Risali whispers with a squeeze of her hand to Inri's bicep. But there's another smile for K'zre, a nod of her head to say, 'You're welcome,' and then a blink of eyes down to her hand. Did it come away with paint? Now she's looking at Inri's arm. There's a wince of apology there when F'inn's words draw her attention back to him. Now there's mischief in her smile, a dip that might have been a curtsey were she not hindered by a crutch and a foot refusing to take too much weight. "Thank you," she tells him, "for the compliment and the invite." BUT THEN GROSS, F'INN. Risali is pretending not to hear (STOP IT MOM AND DAD) and instead looking to Nyalle and Th'ero, leaning back into Inri with a whisper of, "Is she alright?" while waving hello to Ajral and Rinian both.

Teinon slinks into the party in one of those aforementioned packs of Candidates that he is most definitely not a part of, but shush. He's not wearing much of a costume, really. Just an eyepatch and a headband that probably signifies… Renegades, maybe? Zombie pirate? Ninja renegade? Whatever. He takes in the crowd with rather wide eyes, and then with a careful attention to avoid bumping into anyone, he makes his way around the edges of the party to get a better look out of that big window.

Rinian stands there for a long moment, before taking a deep breath and moving closer to the window. She rode a dragon. Went Between. She isn't going to let the vastness of space get to her if she can help it. After a few hesitant steps she hits a more purposeful stride and comes right up to it. Or at least as close as she can with the food tables in the way. As she walks her feline's tail swings with the movement, and her mask hides her expression to some extent.

The only reason that K'zre is not rushing from nearly-hovering all healer-like over Risali and her crutch, to hovering all healer-like over Nyalle and her 'need to sit down' is because he is too far to hear it, and too distracted to see it. And so instead of looking concerned, he's looking rather smug. In a very subtle, understated sort of way. "Good." Because all of that? That is exactly what he was after when he dreamed up this gold-and-glitter affair. There's a word of warning about to be issued forth, before F'inn's hand lands on belt rather than gilded-skin, and even if he's casting little looks down to make sure that the hard work that went into it isn't smudged, he seems confident enough that F'inn will behave. Maybe. Maybe not, given that answer. It's a twitch of a grin that answers him, and then he's eyeing the drinks like maybe he needs one, too.

Inri has joined the crew of people giving Nyalle concerned looks, though most of her attention is still ont he people right with her at that moment. Except that she is ignoring the public innuendo, she is over here answering that question. "As far as I know, yes, though she's been tired," is all Inri can say, sounding thoughtful about it. "Might be in the early days of a cold. No serious illness or anything; I'm glad that we're holding this party not at Fort so I don't need to worry about the typical omens." You know how people always DIE at Fort parties? That's probably why this one is where it is. As for what's on her arms that might shed? Glitter, yes, but no paint to be concerned about! "Though I can't remember the last time anyone actually got sick enough to pass out. I think it was brawls the last couple of times …"

"Hey, ho, hey, Ma'am, Nyalle… you alright?" With all his doglike charm, V'sri hauls his unreasonably pale and large fishbowl of vegetables after the ailing lady. "Oh, you got it? Guys?" Idly, he pulls the celery out and lets it stick out of his mouth like a cigar and, thoughtfully, chaws on its end. "Hrm. Well, who wants to make me look bad at some kind of foosball affair? Inri, you able to throw down on the party game floor?"

Nyalle settles back into her chair looking a bit pale, sipping her drink and shaking her head at Th'ero. "I'm fine, thank you. Please, enjoy the party." Then there's V'sri, and she smiles warmly at him. "I'm fine, yes, thank you." She'll just fade into the background over here, observing quietly.

It takes some time for Nessalyn to make her way to the party, because she, like Rinian, has to find a spot to change first. When she does emerge, it's sans her crutch, although she appears to be limping with each step. The plan isn't to dance, though, so all she has to do is get to the sweets and find a place where she can get a good view of everything. Her costume (in desc) is a little over-the-top by her standards, but sometimes family members interfere in matters that are NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS. She makes a limping beeline for the first thing that looks like sugar, ignoring anything else in her path.

F'inn is not giving Nyalle concerned looks— only because he got all that out of his system before the others arrived. Instead, he's pressing his drink into K'zre's hand— it's mulled cider with a shocking amount of rum— and settling in comfortably to slant a smirk at Risali. "Hey, I need to get myself on crutches some how," he points out. "K'zre won't let me leap from Nymionth's back on skiis." Yet. He's still working on that, though. Glancing at the people with white knots coming in, he flashes them an easy smile, his head dipping in a nod of welcome.

Given that the food table is right next to the big window, it's pretty easy for Teinon to grab a plate and a few snacks on the way through, even if his ultimate destination is the pretty view. Matter-of-factly, he passes a plate of sweets to Nessalyn as he passes, then continues on his way to look down at the planet.

D'lei schemed and planned ahead, tucking his costume into a side room up here. Which means it's only a short detour from his arrival in the cargo bay for him to get here… but now he's dressed in russet and brown, a sharp suit made sharper by the adornment of tiny brass clockwork in cuffs and trim, interlinked gears that connect into wires that run inside the jacket and do… something. Maybe. It's a mystery! As is his identity, at least, if you can't figure out who it could be in the matching costume to Risali when the upper half of his face is obscured by a golden mask with an eagle-beak curved over his nose. MYSTERY. But hey, at least he's here, and so the mystery of where he is… is solved.

"Leaping from a dragon on skis is probably a good way to end up with crutches," Inri says sagely, and then V'sri is definitely gathering her attention enough that she gives Risali's arm a squeeze and then detaches (don't worry, she WILL be glued to you again later friend) to turn around and face the bronzerider, "Well," she says. "You could. But I don't have my glasses, and therefore you will end up probably getting hit with a ping-pong ball, do you want to play with those odds?" Inri, unlike many, is fine at a party without her glasses because she is far-sighted. But playing ping-pong when far-sighted could be POTENTIALLY DANGEROUS.

Ajral the skin-tight-suit butterfly is continuing to be the wallflower butterfly with cookies, but at least most of the candidates are all over the sweets and so she is far from alone — she has now also sampled enough of the different cookie tastes that she can offer people who she recognizes from the barracks reviews on them all. Nessalyn's costume gets a chirp of glee and a soft air-clap when she sees it, too.

"Is yes the wrong answer?" replies V'sri pertly. "I mean I already got like… three burns making my mask. Haven't done small work in like… pfff. Hoo." Insert old man consideration of the ceiling. "Forever. Anyway, your ping pong balls cannot harm me. Though… wait, you're off doing crazy extreme weirdness off of your DRAGON?" This time, his consideration of the ceiling has all the markings of someone talking to their lifemate. "Don't think Diqth would DO that. Do you got any, like, secrets? On how to talk your big hulks into letting you do stuff that isn't necessarily, like, safe but is fun?"

Risali listens, brows knitting inward as she takes in Nyalle and then makes a soft noise in her throat for Inri. Then there's a look for the Goldrider, another huff of laughter as she breathes out, "Well don't jinx it." Because the LAST thing they need is MURDER. IN SPACE. Still, V'sri's question has Risali's brows arching up somewhere beneath that mask and then leaning away from Inri, back on her crutch. "You should show him how it's done." Go kiss his butt, bb. SHE'S GOT YOUR FLOWER. And an awkward smile for F'inn as she leans sideways to bump her shoulder into him. "I would suggest falling." You know. "From your dragon." Because that's her story and she's sticking to it. "Though don't let him stop you. I'll come and help you make that a reality." But ONLY IF SHE GETS TO SKI TOO. Then - D'lei. Look at that relief as Risali whispers, "Excuse me," to F'inn and K'zre, as she brushes Nessalyn's shoulder on her way past her, and waves to Teinon and finds her Weyrleader so that she can PUNCH HIM. RIGHT IN HIS ARM. Then she's tucking in against his side. "No troubles?" A whisper, and a tilt of her head up.

At some point Nyalle quietly leaves the party without fanfare, silently slipping into the lift and returning to Fort.

Rinian completely misses Risali's greeting, as taken as she is with the view. She spends a good few minutes there before purposely moving along the table of food until she finds the pasta with its garnish of hazelnuts. She serves herself up some then takes it to a seat where she can start paying attention to people, and yet still see the view. She is not going to let that get the best of her, if she can help it. She starts up as soon as she sits, then adjusts her 'tail' out of the way before she sits again.

As soon as she arrives in the room, Meion heads straight for that view, passing up food along the way. She clatters as she goes, with wide-bottomed glass flasks tucked into her belt, and an oversized coat she scrounged from the healers she spent the night with. It's neither obvious what she's trying to be, nor gracefully elegant, but the computercrafter isn't much for social skills anyhow. She just stands at the window for a long moment, staring out over the world in amazement, before she starts mentally trying to place landmarks and figure out where in the world she's actually looking. Was she supposed to be socializing?

A snort. That is K'zre's reply to F'inn's idea of fun. Leaping from dragon on ski's. Yup. Definitely veto'ed. "Exactly," is murmured in agreement with Inri's assessment of how that will end, and even if he's being handed an alcoholic beverage (and is certainly pleased for it), the look he slants at his weyrmate is one of serious disapproval. Serious disapproval. And then a sigh, for Risali's contribution, because "Why would anyone want to fall from a dragon? Or be on crutches at all?!" this is a question he has asked himself multiple times, usually after F'inn has expressed interest in some exceedingly dangerous adventure in the name of 'fun'.

Th'ero doesn't seem convinced that Nyalle's 'fine', but he won't go spending much of the rest of the gathering breathing down her neck either. "If you do need anything, Nyalle, do not hesitate to ask." he murmurs, before politely stepping back. He'll give V'sri quite the side-eyed glance as he moves away. He needs a refill of his drink and maybe something a little stronger! Venturing out means he'll be snared again at some point for conversation and eventually he'll tire of wearing his mask and remove it. So caught up will he be, that he won't immediately notice that Nyalle's left — that will come later.

Cielo arrives in costume, though it is perfectly comfortable enough. Fuzzy white plague doctor? Fuzzy white plague doctor. Though when he arrives he seems to be ~utterly~ out of sorts. The anonymity allows him moments to linger on the sidelines before he scampers for Meion. "Hi! Hey. You're familiar." He greets. It's like he's pleading 'be my anchor so I don't keep freaking out,' or maybe his mask just permanently looks like that. Supposed to or not, now she's socializing!

"If you need to set yourself on fire there is someone dressed like fire," Inri cants her head in the direction of Xanadu's candidates and Nessalyn's incredible outfit. It is putting her glitter to shame. "Now, golds shouldn't participate in any of these things, but if you want to get hit in the face by a ping-pong ball and say you beat a weyrwoman at table sports, V'sri, I'm happy to volunteer." It'll be entertaining for everyone, right?

And Risali is… going to be hard for D'lei to find in this crowd (because she's SHORT, that's why), but that's okay because she has found him. He knows this by her punch, and he grins as he curls his arm in around her with a small shake of his head. "Garouth decided we needed another candidate," he says, his tone still quiet but not actually a whisper. Candidates aren't secret, the knots just give them away! "The fuzzy white… him," yay, there's Cielo! See? That one. Right there.

"Only if you don't have my skills," F'inn notes with a wink to Inri. "I am just trying decide which slope I want to hit first." Which is not going to please, K'zre, but it is mostly true. It's Risali's comment and the accompanying bump that inspires a wry smile and a playful lilt of pale blond brows. "Oh, I intend to fall of a dragon many times tonight," he assures her. Course, she's moving away and F'inn takes the opportunity to draw K'zre in closer against his side. "You look…. breathtaking," he whispers. Sure, there is glitter on his tux at this point, but he just doesn't care. It's the question directed at Risali that has him leaning over to whisper in his weyrmate's ear.

Oh no. The socializing came to her! Meion's first instinct is to reply "I am?" - which she does, before properly sizing up Cielo and realizing it's him. "Oh! You are too." She reaches out toward that white string he's wearing in a gesture. "You did better than me at getting that, too. I'm the one who passed out." But there's the sort of smile that says she can already laugh at it a little - and it's all quite obvious, because she never even thought about wearing a mask. This whole event is so much fancier than she's used to, so she clings near the window. "Have you ever been up here before?"

Nessalyn never turns down a plate of sweets, whether or not it's asked for, although she does give Teinon a strange look as he simply hands it to her. Okay, weirdo. There's clearly a moment where she considers tossing it out for the sake of principle, but desserts win in the end. As Risali bumps by her, Nessalyn offers the Weyrwoman a face that says exactly how much she appreciates this entire situation. It's clear her choice to abandon her crutch somewhere else on the ship was not a wise one, as she's already limping toward the nearest wall to lean and snack. And then once she finishes this first plate of sweets, she can ditch this party and explore.

Teinon gives a dazed little wave back to Risali, then moves on to the window. He looks for awhile, awestruck, gaze sweeping across the planet's surface. After awhile, he remembers he has food and takes a bite of something random without quite taking his eyes off the view. Eventually, his attention wanders to Cielo and Meion, who happen to be nearby just by virtue of also looking out the window. He just sort of watches them for now, with a vague little smile. Most def a weirdo.

"Maaaan, I didn't dress as fire. I dressed as… Idunno whatever. I soldered a bunch of stuff." Setting his drink down, V'sri makes to pull down his elaborately mirrored mask, flanked with long waves of metallic feathers. "BUT! But!" And he pulls a small staff from a holster on his belt, hidden behind his cape. "I rigged this up." A flick of his wrist and the staff sprouts flowers. "Eh? Eh? But like… seriously though, you ski? from your dragons? Is that why y'all look like you were in a brawl? So many crutches!"

Yeeeeeeah… that disapproving look? Not fading any time soon. Solidly planted on K'zre's elaborately painted face and turned entirely upon the bronzerider at his side. "You're smearing the paint…" comes in mild complaint for all that smooshed-up-ness, though the compliment softens him some. It might not soften the glower. At least until he's pulled closer (in full defiance of that warning!) and issued whispers that have him briefly startled and them possibly flushing. Or at least looking a little less anger and a little more? awkward. A twitch of an eyebrow, and then a lift of that drink to finally take a sip of it. "You look good, too," finally comes. And even if it's much delayed, it is still very honest.

DON'T SASS HER WITH YOUR EYES, NESS. Risali's answering smile is sympathetic - almost. "Because it's called living," Risali answers K'zre on her way to D'lei, with the kind of smile that says mischief and the collusion of terrible ideas is definitely her jam. Still, she's holding up a hand for F'inn, saying, "Nope, I don't want to know," and then abusing her weyrmate. WITH HIS META SHORT JOKES. HA HA, SIR. Grey eyes blink towards that wayward candidoot and Risali smiles, tightening her arm around D'lei's hips to affect a squeeze. "Good." Because it is good! Like V'sri's FLOWER STAFF. Risali is definitely not biting down on her bottom lip to stifle laughter. "Something like that," Risali answers the smith. And then probably grabs another drink. Because she needs it.

Cielo smiles. It's mostly in the shoudlers and the glovey gestures. Focus on the friends you make, not the people ~talking~ about you. "Good," he replies with a laugh. "I wouldn't say I did better. I haven't passed out since my apprenticeship, but I wouldn't rule it out yet. The night is young." Look. Practical medicine is full of things that do not let a faint heart last long. "No. This is my first time! I'm not, ah, haven't been prone to a whole lot of travel…" And his attention is drawn to the view which… he cannot resist either.

Rinian nibbles at her food and slowly relaxes. She watches all the people that mingle, but doesn't stare at anyone as that would be rude. She also doesn't just go up to any of the groups to join the conversation as..that would be rude. It is easy to not be rude if you just quietly eat your meal and stay out of the way.

"It's just good sense, really," D'lei offers to V'sri as he intrudes into the conversation by dint of Risali bringing it to him. "That way, if we're stuck up a mountain with our dragons, we don't have to ski down the mountain… just down our dragons." He grins, and accepts both the drink that Risali passes him - whether she intended it to be his or not - and the punch she probably also gives him because he deserves it.

Meion has enough of a sense of social awareness to step slightly aside when she notices Teinon standing close, with that unspoken statement that if he'd like to enter the conversation, she's not going to object. She turns back to nod to Cielo's honest answer. "I've travelled a bit…" at least, by her standards it's a bit, though they might be skewed by having been around people who travel more-than-a-bit "- but I've never been up here. I mean, I'd heard it was _possible_, but.." She doesn't need to say that she didn't think she was the sort of person who did that sort of thing. It's easily read in her expression.

"I ski every chance I get," F'inn notes to V'sri as he glances up from whispering to K'zre. "As for from dragonback, not yet. But, I intend to try. Seems like a viable method of dismounting in areas with high snowfall." Viable, to F'inn, apparently means extremely dangerous (and amazingly fun). At the mention of paint smearing, he looks back down at K'zre and winks, his lips twitching in a broader smile. "Not yet, I'm not." Course, he heard the compliment for his outfit and smooths a hand over the vest beneath his tux. "Thank you."

When Meion makes room, Teinon glances between the two with a slightly brighter, but still somewhat uncertain smile. He gestures Cielo, then taps his own shoulder, as though to reflect the Candidate knot, then gives a thumbs up and a nod. Then he glances between the two of them, as though waiting to see if they get it.

YOU CAN'T STOP HER, RISA. Nessalyn is going to sass everyone with her eyes. Her mouth may be consuming sweets as quickly as she can get them to her lips, but her eyes are judging all of you. Or maybe it's just the critical gaze she's turning to every aspect of the ship's interior that makes it seem like she's judging the rest of the room. She's about one last pastry away from giving up and vanishing for a moment to go retrieve her crutch, so she can move about like a normal person.

V'sri has, once again, taken to munching on decorative parsley. Not the most delicious snack, but he's thinking here. "Diqth is dubious about this in a way that suggests it's awesome. Which means, hi, I'm V'sri, Diqth's my guy. From Fort. You should, y'know, let me join one of your expeditions or whatever." Diqth would be the St. Bernard with the cask of brandy around his neck in this mountain man outing scenario.

Also, V'sri is assuming he's talking to everyone at once, if it's not clear. V'sri player has been drinking.

Risali is… empty handed? Those lips come apart in feigned offense, those grey eyes blinking up to D'lei before she definitely punches him. Because that drink was definitely for her, and not for him, thankyouverymuch. But a smile comes on the heels of it, a huff of laughter as she maybe just sabotages his attempts to drink every time. You know, by tapping the bottom of the glass, or smacking him again, or doing any manner of things that might make him react. Then she's looking at F'inn, then LOOKING AT D'LEI, and then she's stifling laughter in his shoulder because that's safer. RIGHT? There's still a hint of laughter in her voice when she breathes, "Should we mingle, or are you going to dance with me?" Important questions. YOU'RE NEXT, NESS. "Well met, V'sri of Fort Weyr. I'm Risali, of Xanadu." Now WHISK HER AWAY, Dash, before she makes it anymore awkward.

We're all awkward here, my love.

Cielo doesn't mind weirdos. He probably looks plenty one himself, and it's only bound to get worse. Of course, he's also looking over his shoulder in a sharp turndid he just HEAR that??before nodding to Meion. "I'm a little—well, I guess not for long. Traveling is good for the soul, I think. Especially to strange, unique, and… wonderful places." Yes. That about sums it up. Places with FOOD also helps. But he'll get to that. The masked up candidate turns to Teinon and opens one arm a bit in welcome. "Ah. Yes. We should probably get acquainted! Yes yes. How are you feeling?" A very doctorly question. Not like he can answer it himself.

Someone brought him here. Someone who may or may not have been paying much attention, and that's fine. Everything's fine. He arrived with that last group of candidates from Xanadu, somewhere in the wake of them, separating only once they've merged into the crowd to mingle.. or eat.. or whatever. A cord of white is bound to his own shoulder, as much a display as everything else. Kaellian has donned a long tan coat, lined in black. Formal wear that could be worn anywhere, perhaps, though its sleeves flare in white, stark against the black gloves that hide his hands. The mask on his face is eerie in and of itself, mostly ebony with a sheen of dark blue and glint of silver sparkle, not all unlike seafoam. It covers just over his eyes, though the edges fall away, curling tentacle-like, as if he bares the figment of a sea monster, a kraken waiting from the deep. Gaze sweeps over the room, picking out perhaps what he may from masked faces and fantastic costume. Eventually, "You look fantastic." Kaellian hums too close to Nessalyn, his smirk curling his words, as he comes up behind her- probably just out of immediate swinging range- while she's so-busy judging all the things.

D'lei beams his approval for the punches, then takes a drink… or tries to, anyhow. Because Risali is right there, to make sure that he gets drink splashed at his face but not actually swallowed. As is her wont, and so… he adapts his costume to be fall colors, clockwork, and spilled drink. V. classy. "We could mingle with the dancefloor," he suggests, then grins. "I'm D'lei," he adds helpfully after Risali's introduction to V'sri. "Also of Xanadu… and believe me, our slopes are open to the fine dragons of Fort any time. Though you've got the better snow." But! Just now, he's capturing one of Risali's hands to put it over his shoulder, drinking the rest of her drink - ooooh, actually got some into his mouth that time - and then catching her crutch-hand with the other so they can clomp it together. It's time to do the limping shuffle!

A slide of brown eyes in brief appraisal (and clear appreciation) trail after the hand that smooths F'inn's vest. "It suits you," decides K'zre, lifting his drink for another swallow. He means to finish it quickly, and soon an empty glass is gracing the tray of a passing server. There might be more he could say, maybe more he would say, if the crowd were not a factor. But it is. And maybe it is the crowd, or maybe it is the clear implications in his weyrmate's words, that has the greenrider looking flustered. It can't be the alcohol, as he's only had the one. But then there is V'sir, who is chiming in on wanting to join this ridiculous venture, and all K'zre can think to say to it is, "We're also Fortian's." Because their knots are somewhere… else. And it seems important to add this. And it's all he can really think to say. Words? Crowds? Parties? Not his jam, clearly. Which is why he's snagging the first glass of wine that comes within reach (and isn't already claimed by someone else, cause that would be rude) and making quick work of it. Risali? Shoulder-laughs? This just gets a blank, somewhat confused look. "What… Ah…" but no, never mind. He decides he doesn't want to know. Sometimes, it's better to be out of the loop.

"F'inn," is offered in response to V'sri's name. "Rider of Bronze Nymionth, of Fort, as K'zre said," F'inn notes. "And I can't see why not. Course, I need to organize it with Thunderbird, first." And convince K'zre not to beat him with a very big stick before he can break a limb. Course, he's following the words by snagging the wine out of K'zre's hand, setting it on a tray and sweeping the greenrider off to dance. F'inn, it should be noted, is a very good dancer and he's definately leading. "Have I mentioned how perfect that costume is?" Cause if not, he's definately going to do so at least ten, maybe twenty, more times.

Weird clustering has begun, over in the corner by the window. Meion looks visibly more comfortable when Teinon steps in and gestures - once she sees him in motion, it's harder to picture that he's judging her for not knowing the right things to do at a formal party like this. She considers on the meaning of that shoulder-tap as she answers Cielo. "Traveling is - well, it's wonderful, and strange, and kind of exhausting if you do too much of it, but. I could do with more of this sort." That view. She turns to Teinon, and offers her misinterpretation of the gesture. "Are you also a candidate? Did you lose yours?" So close, and yet.

Teinon smiles back at Cielo, with a kind of self-conscious awkwardness. He has that look of someone who is wanting to say something but for some reason holding back. He glances around, surveying the crowd, then he bites his lip thoughtfully. Meion's comment earns a frown and a shake of his head. He swipes the flat of his hand in a negative gesture, and after a long, pained moment, he finally shrugs in an expressive 'screw it' gesture. He starts gesturing weirdly with his hands, in a purposeful pattern. Maybe it's dancing! (Nah, it's sign language. But hey, someone's bound to know it eventually!) When he's finished, he looks between them with an apologetic look, waiting to see if they understand or just sort of…sidle away from the crazy person. One or the other seems likely.

"Thiii-i-is is nooot a dignified affair." Finally, V'sri is sipping cautiously, and getting rewarded with a carrot to the eye. "Seriously! I never thought to include my guy in doing, y'know, sport. Things. Or not like THAT! I never really considered… Sorry, you kinda blew my mind a little." He laughs awkwardly, flushing ever so slightly.

Don't worry, K'zre, it wasn't a rude laugh. It was a your weyrmate just made paint smearing jokes and I maybe liked the innuendo laugh. But what she does or does not like doesn't matter, because arguably her favorite person in this room is putting her hand on his shoulder and catching the other, and dancing with her. It's awkward and clunky with crutches, and that's probably why Risali is eventually pausing just long enough to pull off the one shoe she has on, and step up onto D'lei's shoes. There's a wince as she rests some weight on that angry foot, but it's fleeting as she wrestles her crutch into an awkward placement sandwiched between them, and lets D'lei do ALL THE WORK. (But what else is new?) "Look at all of them," a whisper now, as those grey eyes jump from D'lei to their candidates, back to her weyrmate. "Do you think they're going to hate us?" It's a whisper, one less full of trepidation and more erring towards humor.

D'lei shifts his own position, tucking his arm further around Risali as she gets closer by stepping on his toes (again, what else is new?) to hold her there. But then - to dance, following the music with just enough caution to not fall over… and significantly fewer style points than F'inn and K'zre and their actually-good dancing… though it's not from any lack in sense of rhythm. D'lei nods to Risa, looking over her shoulder as they turn to see - and see - because there's a lot to see… and then a laugh. "Only some of them," he answers her with his own quiet words as he continues in the gimble of dancing to change the view and see a different set of those faces. "Just the ones who think they know what's going on." There's a touch of something wry to that amusement, an implication left hanging rather than filled out.

Nessalyn whips around to glare at Kaellian, her mouth full of pastry and not the least bit dignified. She's not about to throw her pastry at him, so she hurls the plate instead. Hopefully he can catch it! If anyone asks, well… she was startled. These things happen! "What are you-" Her gaze slides to that white knot and stops short, her eyes fixed on his shoulder. Then: "Oh, come on!" Hands are thrown up, and Ness promptly turns to limp away, looking for Risali in the crowd. She's going to land somewhere near the edge of the dance floor, arms crossed and glaring at Risali and D'lei, whether or not Kaellian follows.

"Ooh. Shoot." Cielo tilts his head to the side. Well, at least their new friend seems to understand. No reason to stop prattling, then. "I don't know… that much. Not enough to talk. But I'll try." Patience is all he can ask for, and offer! "And what about you? Traveling, I mean." It only seems fair to pass the conversation around. He tries to move himself in a way that lets him enjoy the view, mingle with Meion and Teinon, and somehow not completely circle-clique them off. It mostly involves turning and wandering around like a lost duck for a few moments. "… how much drink did they bring up here?" He whispers conspiratorily, glancing between them and the rest of the party. Is it an accusation, or a hope? Hard to tell.

Rude, not rude; innuendo, no innuendo… Kez really doesn't get any of it. And he's (mostly) come to terms with this. It's not unusual. He also really, really doesn't get how V'sri manages to stab himself in the eye with a carrot. There's a particular look to the painted-up healer, a very 'huh' sort of expression that might precede some sort of question, or comment, or general observation about vegetables and eyeballs and how they don't mix… But he doesn't. Maybe because he can't. Maybe because his wine is being stolen right out of his hand (and there's definitely a protest for that, which comes in a mild huff and a brief glower) before he's being swept away (with a very urgent, "Be careful of the paint!" even if F'inn just flat out ignores it) and led into a dance. And dancing with his weyrmate definitely takes precedence over discussing the merits (or lack of) to including dragons in dangerous shenanigans. F'inn is definitely leading, but Kez is just as quick to step in and follow suit; finding the steps after a moment of consideration and then taking it up like a fish to water (like riding a bike, right??). "Not in so many words," is murmured back in answer to what is probably an entirely rhetorical question. It comes with a smile; a fleeting lift to the sides of the greenrider's mouth as he meets those pale-blue eyes he loves so very much. "I'm glad."

Rinian finishes her food and disposes of the plate. The dessert table gets a wistful glance, and then is ignored. However in ignoring it she is glad to see Cielo move enough to make that group, perhaps, open to another person joining. She quietly moves closer, but her mask doesn't really show much of the hopeful look on the face beneath. This sort of gathering is something completely new to her, and it seems to them as well.

Those gestures aren't random. That much is obvious to Meion, she whose job is staring at things for hours on end and following her hunches about what's random and what isn't. Given a few dozen hours and maybe something to cross-correlate with, she could likely make a start on decoding the meaning in whatever it is that Teinon is doing - and then Cielo speaks up, and she considers. "You don't know.." Inference. She addresses Teinon "So, is that a way of talking? I'm sorry; I don't understand." Social skills, zero, but deductive inference gets three points! "Maybe.. is there something to write on, up here?" If this were the weyr, she'd have a notebook within arm's reach - but if this were the weyr, she'd also be sitting alone at one of the computer terminals. She smiles as she sees Rinian join. "Do you have something to write on?" Because of course, when someone joins in, they have what you need, right?

"Really seems like a hollow exclaimation," F'inn observes as he waltzs K'zre around the floor. "It doesn't encompass nearly enough." In the wake of the words, his gaze trails over the glitter and paint clad figure in his arms. "This definately makes all of this worthwhile." And considering how much time he spent up here getting it all ready? That's saying a lot. "N'sir helped you with it? Remind me to thank him as soon as possible." As their steps slow, he guides them toward the tables heavily laden with food. "Are you hungry? Have you eaten?" As he asks the question, his hands smooths over the leather belt girding K'zre's torso, pale eyes slanting toward the cluster of candidates. "Congratulations to you all," he offers.

"They'll forgive us," Risali decides, completely okay with what they are about to do. "Eventually." Even if that's never. But oh. This is Risali, definitely keeping that smile on her face as grey eyes find amber and hold, as Risali pretends she didn't just hear a plate getting thrown. Or Nessalyn talking. Or the dots connecting in her head. And then oh okay, alright. WAY TO RUIN A PERFECTLY GOOD DANCE, NESSALYN. Risali's eyes roll towards the techcrafter, and then there's exasperation beneath that lacy-mask as she calls out, "You're ruining my dance, Nessalyn!" But it's also playful, an invitation for her to come closer even if she isn't willing to step off of D'lei's feet and stop that dance.

Teinon seems pretty sensitive to the fact that a new person is moving in to join, and sidles aside a bit to make room for Rinian. Seeing that Cielo must be picking up at least a part of what he's saying, he sets his plate aside to free up his hands entirely, and in a deliberate and expressive gesture, signs a 'congratulations' and points to Cielo. Then opens up the gesture to all the Candidates in the group. Meion gets a crooked grin, and he shrugs in an expressive apology that is at least easy to understand.

In an effort less graceful than he'd care to repeat, that plate is caught at his chest, flat against it such that bits of pastry and whateverelse have now christened his jacket and the tunic beneath. He just got here, damnit all it. Kaellian's eyes close for a second, though not out of frustration. Given the distance he'd granted when he arrived, he must have expected something, and thus that expression and sigh is his version of some sort of patience. When he looks at her again, it's with a raised brow difficult to see 'neath mask, tracking her as she heads towards the dance floor. "I didn't take you as one so eager to dance." His amusement interlaces a chuckle with his words, leaning nearer her shoulder once she's stopped, clarifying the fact that he did indeed follow. "But if all you're waiting for is a partner." The man straightens, his hand held out to her despite that arm-crossed poise. Whether she takes it or makes him stand there with that offer, he tips his head slightly in indication of Risali,
"You heard the weyrwoman." That's probably not at all what was meant by that, but he doesn't exactly care.

Rinian is only too glad to be included, as sitting by herself was feeling very awkward indeed. That and the adults here seem to be wearing /fancy/ costumes, and hers is anything but that. "I'm sorry, I haven't anything to write on." She smiles at Teinon and nods as if she understood what was said. "Thank you." And she also adds to Cielo, "My congrats to you as well."

"We can wait," D'lei agrees to Risali. "Besides… they more or less agreed." A grin, mischief in his expression as they dance, and so they might have continued except for… the fact that Nessalyn is pre-emptively un-forgiving Kaellian, and doing so loudly and with glares in their direction. D'lei shifts the dance to go at least a bit closer to Nessalyn as Risali calls out to her, though he doesn't stop the dance either, and his gaze shifts to Kaellian as well, taking in that detail with… not much in the way of visible expression, just a faint hint of frown. Thanks, mask!

Cielo is far from the type to box anyone out, yes. He looks to Rinian, giving a headbob of welcome while he opens the flap of his 'medicine bag' and digs DEEP. One can see the ruffle of bound pouches inside and from there he is wrist deep in goodness knows what. "Thank you. A-and likewise. I expected to be handing out mostly congratulations myself…" Even with the full mask, ears burning. Eventually, after a struggle and a *yank* he produces a modest, if ruffled few papers. A repeat of this act will yield a pen that looks like it's seen things. 'Don't tell anyone,' he seems to say, resealing his bag and offering them both out. "Ah. I'm Cielo." He will not be your doctor today, or your dragon's doctor, but he'd best get used to repeating the introduction for a while.

There is a long, long look cast at F'inn. The sort that implies things. Things that do not need words to be understood. Even if Kez does offer a few, in the murmured, "I know." Because F'inn doesn't need to speak for the greenrider to understand exactly what he means by his hollow exclamations. And so they dance, until dancing becomes escorting, and Kez is asked questions that he hesitates in answering (which is basically an answer on its own) before he murmurs a low, "I ate breakfast." And breakfast? Several hours ago. Like, way too long ago. The group from Xanadu, candidates and weyrfolk alike, get a brief appraisal — a study that offers no real insight as to how the Fortian feels about them — and then a seconded, "Congratulations," for those that wear the white knot. And then? Food. And wine. Kez is definitely stealing himself another glass of wine.

Nessalyn misses the true skill in her attack, but no doubt she'll get to enjoy the sight of crumbs and sugar on his clothes at some point tonight. "I don't want to dance, I want to-" She smacks his hand away with barely a glance. "I think your crutch did that long before I could," she retorts to Risali. Abruptly, she grabs Kaellian by the arm, intent upon tugging him across the floor with a strained limp, until they're closer to the range of the dancing couple. "Did you do this?" She demands of Risali, gesturing to that knot on Kaellian's shoulder. There's more the wants to say, but they're at a party and she bites her tongue as hard as she possibly can. They can deal with that later; for now she just wants her one answer.

Paper! Pen! Someone who brings appropriate supplies with them to fancy-dress parties! All of these things earn Cielo a bright grin from Meion. She glances back to the room, and notes the number of plates of food about. And there, just behind her, the buffet table. Maybe socializing is useful, if it reminds her that humans need to eat at intervals, and that there are tasty things for doing just that here. She takes a half-step back. "I'll be right back. Would anyone like something?" It's clear enough she means the table, as she steps back toward it.

And F'inn is definately stealing that glass of wine away from K'zre. "Food first," he notes as he places a plate in K'zre's hand. "You remember the last party with alcohol and not enough food." He certainly does and the momentary flicker of worry on his face makes that abundantly clear. "Please," is added in quieter tones. Course, as soon as he says it, he's reaching for a plate of his own, setting the drink carefully on the table. Helping himself to the mustard-stewed acorn squash, he waits for K'zre to make his selections before nodding toward the couches arranged in clusters along the far wall.

Teinon looks at Rinian with a mildly startled but then pleased smile. With a questioning expression, he makes a few more signs, then glances back to Cielo. Rather than anything more traditional, he gives another thumbs up and a grin. Close enough to 'pleased to meet you'. Aaaah, but then there's paper, and he brightens and seizes on it, scribbling quickly before handing it back, with the word 'Teinon' written down. Then he waves and smiles. To Meion, he smiles but shakes his head and pats his stomach to indicate he has already eaten.

D'lei is not the only one taking in that knot on Kaellian's shoulder, though Risali is looking back up to her weyrmate with brows knitted in and lips pulled together in the beginnings of a question. Her mask does less to hide her expression, though that might be why she's momentarily pressing her face into D'lei's shoulder, pressing her body as close as she can to his and - an exhale. So the dance has to wait after all. There's a squeeze for D'lei's hand, drawing strength, or hinting she's about to step down, or both - and she does. She steps down, shifts her crutch back under her arm and turns to face Nessalyn. But here there is no cowering away; here is that confidence Risali finds when she absolutely needs it to face down ANGRY NESSALYN'S and their questions. Those shoulders square, she gives no space, and while those grey eyes flicker briefly to Kaellian, taking the man in from knot to eyes, she holds Nessalyn's gaze. "This isn't the place, Nessalyn," Risali tells her, quiet but firm.

Rinian smiles, and nods to Teinon. "I may be a little rusty though, as I haven't had to in a few turns." She glances at the paper and adds, "Nice to meet you, Teinon. I'm Rinian, woodcrafter turned candidate." She then gives a faint shake of her head to Meion as she'd already found something to eat earlier. "Thanks, but no."

D'lei transfers that crutch to Risali as she steps off his feet, getting it placed and then following her - a step to the side, a half-step behind. His own expression's a somber one, regarding Kaellian for a long moment whilst Risali speaks to Nessalyn, then shifting his own gaze to her to take in her expression before his eyes shift back to Kaellian once more. No words, though.

Cielo would be a little sheepish if called out upon it, but it is gratefully accepted without much commentary. He pats the satchel and settles back in, getting lost once and again in the viewing window. He can't help it. "… something to drink. Ah. Not.. alcohol. Not yet. Not unless there will be a toast involved." Water, sugar, something to make his head stop reeling a little bit. "Sometimes, life is just a stream of new faces… or masks. But I'm pretty sure there are smiles to go with them…" Optimistic, that.

And K'zre is definitely offering a bit of a protest for it, a little huff and grump and glower. Even if he recognizes the truth of those words and well understands the logic behind the suggestion. Which is why he's offering a conciliatory "Alright," and not putting up further protests (or attempting to steal it back). Because he does remember that last party, and it has him looking briefly less comfortable (possibly casting suspicious looks around the room, even if the only bit of fire to be seen is Nessalyn in her beautiful costume). The options for entrees are perused, a plate and bowl acquired and soon loaded with stew, bread, roast veggies, the pork, potato and apple pie, some pasta… Kez might be just a *wee* bit hungry. And once he can carry no more (because his plate has run out of room), he follows the nod of F'inn's head toward the couches. Carefully, carefully, he settles on the edge of one cushion in a vain attempt to preserve either the body art on his back, or the fabric of the furniture.

That offer is retracted only because his hand is smacked away, returned to his side, though of course Kaellian doesn't leave. No. Fortunately, he'd deposited that aggressive plate somewhere along the way from where they'd been to where they are, and he takes the moment to re-adjust those deep black gloves back into proper place. "I don't believe that to be true, love." He replies in that low, private voice that is born of little more than a hum from his chest. It's humored, a recall of drunken and highly awkward times already come to pass. But before he can put that into words, he's being dragged onto the dancefloor, and not in the manner he intended. There's no fight from him, though, just a crooked grin evident against the shadows of the scruff visible below the mask's lower, irregular edge. From weyrleader to weyrwoman, Kaellian's seablue gaze shifts between them, and when they meet grey, his head tips a bit. Just enough. Just formal enough to be something of a bow in a manner that suits him. That dry sarcasm and dark barings that filter into the whole of him. Leaning closer to Nessalyn again, "We can talk about whatever you wish. Later." For now, alcohol, yes?

Only one request - well, that's easy enough for Meion. She's back after only a moment, with a plate that balances a little dinner with a lot of dessert, and two large glasses - one with mulled cider for Cielo, and the other with a sweet, spiked klah that she keeps for herself. She looks between the three, considers saying something - and then reconsiders. Let the conversation go on around her; last time she forgot to eat, she ended up passing out when she was supposed to be thanking Risali. She listens, as pasta, squash, and more than a few of those little nibbly cookies begin serving the all-important purpose of fueling this computercrafter.

If F'inn is aware of anything untoward going on with Xanadu he gives no indication. Instead, his attention remains on food and his immediate company, a faint frown touching his lips at K'zre's akward perch. "All in all, I think things have gone well?" Settling in to the squash, he makes short work of the food on his plate, a fleeting glance cast toward the candidates and Weyrwoman. A moment later it is back on K'zre, his lips twitching in a smile as he glances at the heavily loaded plate. "Nym says the dads are dancing in the hold," he points out in wry tones.

Nessalyn has somehow already perfected the art of looking murderously angry beneath a delicate mask. She might very well burst into actual flames at any moment. But that slow-building tension in the techcrafter's body coils, then releases in a rush as she forces an loud exhale. "Fine. Fine." It doesn't sound fine. "We'll talk later. But if you did this, I-" Nope. Noooope. She cuts herself off with a forceful squeeze of her fists, one of which is still attached to Kaellian's arm. This seems to remind her of that fact, and she drops her grip suddenly. "I'm talking to Risali, not you." And then she's going to storm off as best as one can with a still-healing leg wound. Sure, it may look like she's disappearing to fume for a few minutes, but really she's just going to retrieve that lost crutch of hers. At least it will hopefully seem that way when she reappears a few minutes later with the aid of a crutch.

Teinon shrugs at Rinian, but still seems pleased by this turn of events, rusty or not. Seeing Cielo's overwhelmed look, he suddenly grows thoughtful. He takes a moment, considering, and then reaches across the group to touch Cielo on the shoulder, then holds up a finger, his expression suddenly solemn. With the other hand, he gestures to Rinian, and then Meion. He holds up that finger, then brings the two fingers together. He clasps his two hands together, a joined gesture. Then he glances to Rinian, and makes a few more obscure gestures, but it definitely included the sign for dragons. Then, he smiles broadly.

Rinian slides her mask up to rest in her mane of hair, so the others can see her face. Who knows if is acceptable, but technically she still has the mask on, right? She tilts her head slightly as Teinon gestures and she says for the others, "He says that dragons don't make mistakes." Not that she's so sure about that….

"…then it was her decision, the same as it was to search you," is what D'lei says to Nessalyn… or, most likely, her disappearing back. It's probably safer for all concerned - including the hull integrity of the Yokohama itself - if she was already on her way out and/or momentarily deaf, but his voice is pitched such that she probably does hear it, because that's just the kind of foolish he is. His hand also shifts to rest on Risali's shoulder, because … that's the kind of weyrmate (and Weyrleader) he is.

Cielo is naturally prone to those mental drifts, and when he comes back from whatever thoughts pull him back home, there is chatter, and there is cider with he accepts with two hands and a 'thanks!' In his case, the mask HAS to be lifted for him to enjoy food, drink, and elsewise, so he does so in solidarity with Rinian. A glance between Rinian and Tenion, and now he can see the amused eyebrow arch. "Ahh…" Do they not? It's not polite to wonder. "Maybe maybe. Dragons are young for a while too, though…" It might just depend what your definition of 'mistake' is, too. "… I do not think one has been made, though, no."

Mistakeless? That doesn't sound like the dragons Meion knows. But there's a sensibility to it as well. She gestures to Cielo with her fork. "You're a dragonhealer, aren't you? I imagine most of the dragons you see there have made a mistake or two at some point." But there's the spirit in which it's intended. "But.. I'll trust that they're better judges of who should be there at the hatching than we would be."

"The…" dads? It takes K'zre a moment, two, three, before he understands who it is that F'inn is referencing. "They… they are?" For some reason, this idea is startling and baffling to the greenrider, a bemused expression flitting across his face (and his mask? It does nothing to hide anything, seeing as it is painted on) before he just shrugs it off and tucks into the small mountain of food on his plate. A few bites in, and he shifts so that he's casually leaning against F'inn, regardless of the mess it might cause. "I think it is amazing." Which Kez has already stated, but it bears repeating. "It's… you did a great job." Regardless of the shenanigans brewing amongst the Xanadu crowd, the greenrider seems to think that, "Everyone's having fun."

Risali does not rise to the bait; she keeps her eyes fixed on Nessalyn, says nothing despite quasi-threats to… what? It doesn't come, but Risali doesn't pursue it, doesn't react even when D'lei answers for her. There's no hint of that devious woman who dances, and sings, and jumps from the highest cliffs - not even when she meets Kaellian's gaze. There's just steel in her expression, a refusal to bend even if she responds to his slight bow with a collected, "Kaellian." Those eyes drop to his knot again, lift to look towards Nessalyn's retreating back, and then back to the man made of sea and secrets. "We need to talk." She's catching at D'lei's hand on her shoulder, squeezing and then… turning back to face the Weyrleader. Back onto his feet she steps, BORDERLINE DISMISSIVE as she figures out that crutch again and squishes it awkward between them. "But not now. Now I want to dance." Because moving is how Risali thinks, and maybe that is why those grey eyes are finding amber and holding with some kind of silent plea for him to start again.

F'inn frowns at raised voices, his weight shifting on the couch as he stares back at the group from Xanadu. Taking a moment to consider, he presses his lips as he rolls to his feet and calmly straightens his tux. For the moment, he does not approach, but given that leadership from Fort has departed and this is his event? He's prepared to step in, if need be. It is only when Risali reclaims her dance partner that he looks back at K'zre and smiles. "Thank you." For a moment, he remains where he is, just long enough to be certain that things are settling down. When the moment has passed, he sits back down, slanting a wry smile at K'zre. "The dads," he repeats firmly. "What else can we call them, really?"

Teinon shakes his head at all that, and continues grinning. He does not appear to be buying this idea that dragons are fallible, but he doesn't try to argue the point. His attention wanders, just for a moment, Nessalyn's retreat caught in the corner of his eye, and his grin dims a little. He glances to his new group of friends, points her direction, then does a passable imitation of her scowl. Then, he just looks worried.

Rinian looks over her shoulder at Teinon's gestures and also frowns a little. She missed what was going on behind her as she focused on the group she joined. She looks back to see where Ness may have come from and sees…someone she would rather not. Green eyes widen, but when she looks back to the others its back to its usual serious expression. "I don't know that I've seen her that mad before. Any idea why?" She'd missed the knot on the person she'd have prefered not to see.

For the most part, and probably smartly, Kaellian stands there in an enigmatic sort of silence, though almost anyone up here could be as mysterious as some drama phantom behind these masks and wardrobe displays. The grip on his arm earns his other hand to come up to almost lay over Nessalyn's clenching fist because smol does not equal weak and she has a helluva grip. Almost, because he's not quite brave or stupid enough to give her that particular hand in the smoldering beginnings of the techcrafter's wrath. If he searches Risali's gaze for something, he doesn't for long, taking a step back from them as Nessalyn disappears into the crowd. His name, though, returns his attention to the weyrleading pair. "Aye." A grave-touched intonation that is barely a word at all. That's it? It is. For now. Even if he hadn't been dismissed, he passes through the dancing pairs for the edge of the dancefloor again, likely for Nessalyn's return, and probably the drinks that are offered not far from it. He could go bother someone else, but what sort of fun would that be. "You needn't that, if you'd let me help you." He'd say on her return.

Cielo ponders this. "If… one were to assume that certain experiences are a crucial part of a forming adolescence…" he starts off, then frowns. "I'm not a doctor of philosophy. Or technically by any title." Plus, he kind of wants to stop talking when that moment of awkwardness and wincing sets in. He shrinks back a little towards the window and gives a shrug to Rinian. "I haven't the faintest." Another quaff of cider! Another attempt at mirth. "All the ones I've known have had excellent judgment, yes. It… it should be fine." He nods, and smiles. "And we are not doing ourselves any favors by worrying at a party, no?"

K'zre is oblivious to raised voices and potential conflict. He probably shouldn't be. He probably should be aware of exactly what is going on around him, for reasons left unspoken. But he's not. He's engrossed in his food, and the very idea that 'the dads' are dancing in the hold. And the idea of calling them 'the dads' which is… veto'ed with a wrinkle of his nose. But what he is not oblivious to is the rise of his weyrmate, of the intention in that movement and the tension in his body. And it has him on his feet just as quick, reaching as though to grasp, and catch, and stop him with a murmured, "Don't." Because it might be F'inn's party, but like heck is Kez letting him get into a potentially volatile situation. The very thought of it has killed whatever amusement had been lingering in the greenrider, and even the return to their prior conversation cannot bring it back.

D'lei curls his fingers to Risali's, tucks his arm back around her… but he doesn't begin dancing again immediately. Instead, he waits to see Kaellian's response - but he hasn't long to wait, for the… candidate, apparently… gives his assent and departs, and so D'lei begins to dance with Risali once more… though it's with a slightly slower pace than before, and a significantly more somber expression. Still, at least they're dancing, and whatever explosion may come has been put off for at least a few moments.

That mug of klah Meion has - it has rum in it. And now it doesn't, and she has klah and rum in her. It looks almost like a magic trick, with the speed at which it disappears. She will not let whatever is happening there bother her here. This is where the awkward party is happening, and she is going to awkward. "Nope! No worrying at the party. None." She reaches down to one of the glass flasks that make up her hastily-assembled costume - is she some sort of alchemist? - and unstoppers it, refilling her glass with what looks to be a very strong klah. She offers it around, by a gesture to the middle of the small circle by the window.

Teinon shakes his head a little and starts gesturing like crazy at Rinian, without completely taking his eyes off what he can see of the dramz. Not that there's much to see. He finishes with a glance to Cielo and Meion, an apologetic acknowledgement that they probably didn't catch any of that. Whoops. He turns down the offer of a very strong klah with a little wave of his hand.

F'inn glances down at K'zre's 'don't', his lips pressing into a momentary frown. It is there and gone in an instant, though, his chin dipping in a mild nod. "Alright." That tensions seem to have come to a halt? For the moment, at least? It makes the response easier by far. After a moment, his head gives a mild shake, clearly the frown as he exhales a sigh. "It's fine," he murmurs as he nods toward K'zre's plate. "Do you want a drink?"

Don't worry, Teinon, Nessalyn will be back shortly! She probably didn't even set anything on fire. It takes her far longer than it should to retrieve that crutch, unless she stowed it behind several locked doors in the bowels of the ship. But she does return, still scowling but no longer looking liable to become her costume at any moment. They can fight to the death later, for now she's just going to drink as much alcohol as she reasonably can and eat more desserts. Of course, Kaellian is still there when she returns, moving cautiously (because crutches are not meant as an accessory to dresses), but much less painfully. "Trust me, this crutch is more useful than you'll ever be."

Rinian translates for the other two, "He said he's met Ness before. And he thinks she's sad, not really angry." She looks thoughtful. "Do you really think so? I wonder what she's sad about?" And then, "That is Kaellian. I don't know much about him except that he scares me to no end. Staying away from him is probably the best thing to do." She shakes her head to Meion's offer and tries to not worry. "Sorry, you're right. Parties are supposed to fun, right?"

Risali is largely unaware of F'inn's preparing to step in (and subsequently not needing to), mostly because her attention is fixed on Nessalyn, then Kaellian, then on her weyrmate. "I didn't, Dash," she whispers - not because she thinks he will believe it was her, not because she feels the need to defend herself, but because it implicates another statement altogether: she doesn't know who did. But it doesn't matter, because clearly somebody did. Risali closes her eyes, presses her face in against D'lei's shoulder and… for a time, she simply absorbs his heat, absorbs his strength, and dances in silence.

Cielo squeezes his mug a bit tighter. He likes his own share of gossip chatter, but talking about someone ~in the room~ like that makes him just clench up. "I'll… keep that in mind. But I am sure it will be alright." Yes! Cielo takes another drink and then peeks at Meion. He extends the mug and nods. "Just a little! Haha. More than that, though, I'm looking forward to being friends with you all.."

D'lei nods to Risali; not surprised, with no change of his overall expression - but simply acknowledging it. He shifts his arms closer around her, moving with her in the slow sway of dancing that shares heat and touch and somber thoughts that keep his expression still - and hers hidden - even as they do something that they should - and other circumstances, would - enjoy. But at least they're here, together, and have music to dance to in the hopes that it'll carry their thoughts away… at least for a moment or two.

K'zre's hand finds F'inn's arm, fingers curling into the fabric to establish a grip that is definitely meant to restrain and restrict — to keep him from moving away. "They can handle it…" comes in quiet supplication, a plea for the bronzerider to not involve himself in the Xanadu mess. It is only once he's searched his expression and been assured that he means what he says (that he won't interject) that the greenrider relaxes his grasp and returns to his seat at the edge of a couch. "It is fine," he agrees, sparing a look for the weyrleaders on the dancefloor. "And yes. I do." He really, really does. "Wine, please." Because he's only tried twice before to procure a glass, only to be thwarted.

Somebody else who is largely unaware of whatever just happened or didn't happen would be Aignes since the weaver is only just now entering the Yokohama. And the reason for such tardiness? It probably has to do with the grumblings at the air. "We would have been on time if you hadn't made me change. Three times." But the third time is the charm and that's also apparently a snowflake theme. Long, flowing silvery white dress, shimmering with little glass beading. The outfit is topped off with long white gloves and since it's a masquerade, the snowflake beading extends to both her mask and hair as well. Once in the room, she stops and blinks as most eyes seem to be caught in one direction. "Did someone catch on fire?" Asked to well, anybody.

At least Meion has one taker - she pours Cielo's mug back to half-full before closing up the bottle again. "If that's sad, I'm more afraid of angry, now." People are hard to understand, and she's long-since accepted that her own read on them runs toward the straightforward. But happier subjects! "Yes! I've just finished moving most of my stuff in into the candidate rooms. Just a few heavy things left. Rinian, have you moved in yet?"

"I'll be back before you know it," F'inn assures as he bends over to brush a careful kiss to K'zre's gold painted cheek. In the wake of the affection, he straightens, smoothing the jacket of his tux before moving across the room to fetch two glasses of white wine. It's the sight of Aignes resplendent in white that inspires a smile from F'inn, one hand raising in a wave of greeting before he's drawing two glasses off a passing tray. Of course, he KNOWS it's aignes because Nymionth, Faranth bless him, is keeping him appraised of who is coming and going from the cargo hold— Mostly cause Nymionth is gleefully spying on 'the dads'. In the wake of the wave, however, he is returning to K'zre, one of the glasses of wine held out with an apologetic smile. "See? There and back with no problems," he assures.

Teinon nods an affirmative to Rinian's question, but then shrugs helplessly. If he has a theory, he's not sharing it. He glances back in the general direction of Kaellian, frowning with some clear confusion. After a moment, he looks back at Rinian, once again solemnly. He taps her Candidate knot, gestures toward Kaellian, and raises a quizzical eyebrow. He repeats an earlier series of signs: Dragons don't make mistakes? (Apparently he also doesn't know how to take a social cue. Poor sweet cinnamon roll.)

Rinian would be aghast if she realised that Cielo thought she was gossping. Aghast at herself, because if she really was that would be so incredibly rude and a horrible thing to do. She nods to Meion, "I didn't have much so it didn't take very long. Do you need help moving things?" Her gaze is caught by Teinon as he gestures, and this time when she looks over she notices the knot. Her response is to go a bit pale under her tan. "He's…a candidate now?" She's going to /have/ to be around him? In the barracks and chores and..oh dear. She doesn't even think to share what Teinon had signed.

"Or." Kaellian responds, drawled and unhurried and all too sure of himself. If it hasn't already been plenty clear, little really ever seems to be an appropriate deterrent for his behavior, "Perhaps you could give it a chance. That trust thing, maybe you should try it." Rather than hold out his hand this time, though, he holds out a glass of some sort of alcoholic punch, it's bright color swirled around in the motion of holding it towards Nessalyn as her ambling crutch-weilding self draws closer. There is a glance up from the tech crafter towards the other candidates, though he's not close enough to hear them. Maybe his ears are ringing or some-such. That gaze is fortunately shadowed over, filtered by the mask that covers him, revealing nothing. "You'd pass by this whole affair without dancing?" What a terrible thing, that.

Moving! Cielo hadn't even begun to think of that. And before the thought can take hold, he tries to subdue it with a quick drink. He'll have to do some packing when they get back. "In any case. We should all give each other a ~chance~ at least. See how things shake out. Most… ills can be minded." The last bit is half-hearted, and chased with something a bit sweeter.

"Even if I were going to 'try it', as you say-" with sarcastic air quotes around those two words, "-I wouldn't start with you." Her expression doesn't bear any less of a death-wish, but Nessalyn does take that drink with deliberate care made not to touch him. She glances toward that gaggle of familiar faces, then to Kaellian, and then back across to their fellow candidates, and something in her features falls slightly. "I don't like to dance." She takes a sip from that glass, humming her approval at the taste. "It's like being put in a cage and then swung around and around and around."

Meion looks immensely grateful to Rinian. "I'd.. yes. Yes, I could use help. If you don't mind that what's left is - well, it's really heavy." But even the offer is reassuring, against the prospect of moving the last few items in her room. "And… I'm certainly okay with giving chances." Unmentioned: her past conversation with Kael, and how fascinatingly undecided it left her feeling about him. And now he'd be in the weyr. In the candidate group. That's one way to resolve indecision!

Teinon looks between Rinian, Cielo, and Meion. He takes all of this in with a troubled, thoughtful expression. He signs something to Rinian, a short question. Then his gaze wanders back to Kaellian and he catches Nessalyn looking their way. He responds with a tentative smile and a wave.

K'zre believes him, but only because those brown eyes remained glued to the bronzerider the entire time he was off acquiring that wine. Which means he definitely catches Aignes's entrance, if just for F'inn's wave in greeting. A flick of a glance, a double-take and longer study before he figures out who it is, and then back to F'inn as he's being handed a glass of wing. The potentially escalating situation on the dance floor? He's trying very hard to ignore that. To eat his food, and (now) drink his wine. "Hn," comes in reply to that assertion that there were no problems. "No problems…" yet. Yet. It definitely hangs in the air between them, unspoken but present. It's in the slide of his gaze back toward the Xanadu crowd, in the tight expression that's marring that painted face, and the way he's subtly shifted as though he's going to spring into action (or run the other way) should the need arise. The glass of wine is quickly drunk (though he does make sur to take a few bites of food between swallows), and clearly the point is to get the alcohol in his bloodstream rather than to enjoy it, as he ought too. "I…" but whatever he wants, he hesitates in stating it, flashing another glance toward the group before regarding F'inn with a long, searching look.

Rinian turns her attention back to the others and nods slowly to Cielo and Meion, though she still looks bothered. "You're both right. I'm sorry. He's been searched so yes…" She really does try to squish down her own fear of the man, maybe she's wrong after all. She then thinks to reply to Meion's other comments, "I don't mind if it's heavy. I'm used to hauling lumber so.." She signs something in return to Teinon, though not so well as he does.

Aignes doesn't have the advantage of having a spying dragon telling her who is in all the costumes because some dragon is a perfectionist. But she'll take the wave as belonging to someone familiar and heads over in that direction with just a brief pause to claim a glass of prosecco for one hand and a tart for another. "Hello, Autumn. And… mask guy?" Never mind that everybody is mask guy at a masquerade. F'inn is clearly the mask-iest.

"We'll head out when you are done eating," F'inn assures in quiet tones. The Xanadu group? They'll be fine. Or Risali and D'lei will knock heads, he's sure of that. "I'm exhausted," he provides in quiet tones. Sinking back on the couch, he stretches one arm out along the back, his fingers brushing through K'zre's hair. "You look amazing," he states for at least the third time. (Sorry, getting ready to head out, it's late here. However, feel free to stay as long as you like! And thank you all for coming.)

F'inn grins up at Aignes, one pale blue eye closing in a merry wink. "Winter. Glad you could make it."

She just needs a single moment to reboot, one that she steals with D'lei, one that she ends by pressing a kiss to his jaw and, upon clearing her throat, shifts her eyes thataway in an age-old gesture that says, 'In that direction but don't actually look.' "Our reputation precedes us," she whispers, and there it is, that mischievous pull of lips behind painted eyes and one mask. But it's self-deprecating almost, with a touch of something else that dissipates much too quickly to really register. And then, "Ready to put on your Weyrleader face?" Again. For the second time tonight. WE AREN'T POINTING FINGERS (NESSALYN). BECAUSE PROBABLY THEY SHOULD MINGLE. "Or is this the part of the night where I get to sneak off first, and you join me fifteen minutes later?" SHE IS PROBABLY JOKING. Maybe. It's always hard to tell with Risali, especially when she smiles like that.

Yes. Good. Those are exactly the words that K'zre wanted to hear. Because he wants to leave. He wants to get as far away from the potential danger as possible. Or maybe just get away from the crowd. Kez has limits for socializing, and he's probably… definitely… surpassed them by now. But there is food to be eaten, and wine to be drunk, and he means to do both before they leave. Even if he's (not at all subtly) claiming F'inn's lap now instead of a seat on the couch. He's already covered in gold and glitter so… it's all good. There's no reply. None audible at least. But the look of relief ought to be enough. Aignes' approach earns a glance, and after a moment of consideration, a faint smile and the acknowledgement of, "Aignes," and then a following, "You look really good."

D'lei leans and kisses at Risali's head, just about where forehead disappears into hair. "Of course it does," he says, and those somber lips tug up at the sides into a smile. "There's a reason they sent me here, after all." But! Reputations aside, they do have some fancy knots - much shinier than those white ones that have already been a source of chaos tonight - and that does mean a certain measure of … something. "We're too late to sneak off," he says, one corner tugging further up. "All the good spots were already being taken when I got here." A grin, just for a moment, and then it settles to more of a polite-smile sort. "So, Weyrleader face it is." He shifts, as she descends from his feet, to slip his arm around her so that the crutch-hand is on the outside and she can lean in against him as they go forth to… mingle. SOCIAL-LIKE.

Whatever Rinian said, it leaves Teinon looking pretty troubled. He gives her a tight, sympathetic smile, and makes the sign for an apology, then looks back that direction, lost in thought for the moment.

While faces might be hard to recognize given the masks, voices are something Aignes can recognize. There's a smile for her clutchmates and a small wave. "You two have a good night. Czarduinath seems to think I need to go dance…" With who well, of course the (lovingly) scheming little green already has a partner lined up and the snowflake goes off to dance with someone dressed like a really fancy lordling. The tart is at least consumed along the way although the prosecco comes along for the dancing.

"No worries." Cielo assures Rinian, then serenely and suggests, "Of course, I reserve the right to change my mind later." One might suspect that there's some sort of anesthesia tucked somewhere in that maskbeak of his, but no. Just the faint scent somewhere between floral and sugar. "If I have time between my own packing, I can always help, but I fear I'm far behind all of you." Of course, if he IS taking it so well, it doesn't really line up with the incessant fidget and the final, "I'm going to grab food before I forget." Yes. Good plan.

That grin broadens a tiny bit, likely touching the edges of his eyes if such a thing can be seen. But in this situation, in this place, those faint changes are muted behind facades beyond facade. There's more humor and irony in that than he probably originally gave it credit for. The worst part about that expression Kaellian has, is that it might almost be earnest. Maybe. However long it takes her to take the glass, it waits for her, and then he's retracting that hand to hold take the other that he'd set on the table beside him. "You could have fooled me, that night at the tavern." Which to any unknowing ears sounds about as implicating as it could possibly be. "But there are other parts of the ship." Probably taken, like D'lei said, but he wouldn't be opposed to looking. And it is away from the fish bowl of that dance floor, though interpretation again is left open for his meanings. "And plenty more of this." Alcohol, that is. A brief pause taken to finish a good quarter of his glass. The wave from Teinon, meant for Ness but caught out of the corner of his eye draws his study of them back again. All of them, each in turn. Slowly. Probably because some are just familiar enough to trigger a chilly curiosity.

F'inn winds his arms around K'zre's waist when his lap is claimed, not so much as a blink given to the fact that his tuxedo is now covered in glitter and gold paint. Comfort is comfort and really, that's comfortable. "You look stunning, Aignes," he notes pointedly. "Czarduinath has exceptional taste in clothes." Course, he's at that point where it is definately time for them to get gone. "We," he states as he shifts his weight, rearranges his grip on K'zre and rolls to his feet. "Are heading out, however." Pushing to his feet, he tosses a wave to Risali and D'lei, calling over. "The musicians are contracted for the night, enjoy yourselves." A moment later, he's taking a page out of another bronzerider's book and scooping K'zre up, gold paint and all, and heading for the lift. Kick, scream, scratch, or what-have-you, they are heading home. Fortunately, there is no /real/ protest to be made and Tuxedo Mask, is taking his prize and vanishing. Sadly, there is no swirl of roses left in his wake, alas the limitations of Pern. (Night folks)

Meion looks down at her own empty plate as Cielo calls attention to food. "That's a good idea, isn't it?" That strong coffee is enough to keep eyes open, but it's not nearly as good at keeping bodies from toppling to the floor. "Maybe we can all help each other move."


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