Selenitas Weyr Dance Square

[Avu]

A large space in the center of the stalls has been cleared for this purpose, with a temporary wooden stage built a few inches off the ground. Harpers, clad in brightly-colored masks, and their various instruments are arranged on and around the 'stage', most of them testing their instruments and getting ready to play. The dance floor itself is a simple square, quite large enough to accomodate many people maneuvering at the same time, and surrounded by small, circle tables for two people each and chairs for those who simply wish to observe the dancing.

"Ready?" one of the younger Harpers called, adjusting a bright silver mask again. He seemed to be the most enthusiastic by far, as he bounced over the stage, skirting around and checking each of the other Harpers, who all nodded, rolling their eyes playfully behind their own masks.

"Just call for the beginning of the dance, Jarye," one of them called, exasperatedly, and obediently, Jarye struck a loud chord on his gitar and then yelled (loudly and shamelessly; there was a reason he was the one doing the calling):

"Heeeeyyyyy there, everyone! I must say, you're all looking absolutely stunning today -- oh, oh, wait -- that's because of the masks, never mind -- but regardless, c'mon over, 'cause we've got a day of music planned! So hurry on up, scarf down your food and hurry your haggling, grab a partner and get over here and dance!" He finished with another chord, paused to allow for people to start their way over, and then started off the beginning of a song, the other Harpers joining in where they were supposed to flawlessly. Which they should; they'd been practicing -- but where were the dancers? Surely they knew that now was the time to dance?

[Rowana]

Farryl was very excited. She had been working hard to get ready for this Gather ever sense she had first gotten word of it. Now was her chance to share some of the little carvings she had been making over the months she had been here. Even better, she got a chance to dress up. She didn't have a lot of marks, so she had settled on making her own outfit from what she had. She wore long skirt, bright green to match Peppeth, and that twirled beautiful as she moved. Her blouse was creamy white and a little frilly on the edges. Her mask wasn't as fancy as those for sale, but i was colorful. She had carved it herself to cover half her face, it was painted blue and decorated with blue and green ribbons.

Hobbs was getting into the spirit too. Perched on her shoulder, humming happily and sporting a bright green ribbon around his neck. Behind Farryl, her mare Lyleeka followed on a lead. The chestnut blew her nose happily at any who past. Farryl had braided her flaxen mane and tail with more blue and green ribbons. On her back she carried a large blanket that Farryl had borrowed and two saddle bags full of her carvings and craft supplies. Mikka, a frisky feline and skittish, had declined to come. At least openly.

The music started just as the tiny parade passed by. Farryl's face lit up. She loved dancing! Surely she had time for a few songs before she got set up. Finding a spare pole, she tied Lyleeka so she could graze for a bit. "Be good," she patted her nose. "I'll give you an apple later." The mare butted her and Farryl happily joined the growing crowd of dances. Spinning on her toes, she laughed with delight. Hobbs whistled and trilled joyfully along with the music. He loved singing!

[Requiem]

Apparently they found it amusing. Dmitri didn't find it nearly so amusing to be all painted up and swathed in silk, his hair coifed in a fashion that was ancient and no longer used. He hadn't been able to decide if it made him look like a woman or just a...non-thing. Like one of those old-terran gods that wasn't male or female. Not that he thought he had special powers of death and fertility or any crazy such thing. He wasn't entirely sure he believed that they'd actually come from that line of people, or that AIVAS had actually existed, but there was no denying the scrolls on it he'd found.

Regardless, he certainly wasn't amused at the new group of harpers he'd landed himself in. They'd loved his voice, true enough, though probably more because it was coming from someone who looked like him rather than for its own sake. Dmitri was fully aware that his low singing voice was at distinct odds with his appearance and therefore a curiosity in its own right.

He'd much rather be playing the pipes right now.

The song itself was a lively one, and well-suited the strength of his voice. Soon Dmitri lost himself to it, a song of revelry and festivity after Thread had been seared from the skies. Much as he didn't have much love for dragonriders, he had to admit that the harpers had certainly succeeded in painting them in a heroic light. Even he could be moved while the song was being played.

As the strains settled into something a little more sedate, he nodded to the woman come to replace him and stepped from the dais. He didn't have a role for another few songs. Lifting the half mask (a silken, silvery thing also chosen by the other Selenitas harpers) he slid through the mingling people, casually listening to the conversations to see what information he might be able to glean. One such person bumped into him, and he steadied them with a hand, murmuring an apology before he turned to continue on.

There was, however slim, the possibility that he might actually see his father somewhere in the crowd. Possibly. Although...he wasn't really sure how he'd recognize him if he did, particularly in costume. Inevitably, Dmitri came to rest against a table on the outskirts of the dancing floor, watching the whirling people and tugging at his loose sleeve idly.

[Ruby]

M'kai had no money, no mask, and no costume. In fact, he didn't even have any clothes he could cut up and make into a costume, considering how quikly he'd already destroyed everything he had brought with him taking care of Futh. Futh was undeniably sweet, but a very fussy little creature, and demanded a lot of bathing and oiling, which invariably destroyed clothes. So, doing as any self-respecting twin would on discovering he had no way to afford even materials for a mask or costume, he had simply dressed dark instead of light, rimmed his eyes with dark liner, and tucked as many knives as he could pilfer from the kitchens into his various belts, boot tops and shirtsleeves. How did that work, as a costume? He was Crystoph, of course!

It was, of course, hard to look at his own reflection, as Crys had been missing for a few weeks, now. M'kai almost scrubbed his face clean instead of going, but Futh would hear none of it. I want to sit in the sun and talk to other dragons, and if you don't go, I don't want to leave you, M'kaiMineLove. So I will stay, and then we will both be more sad. I know you loved this Crys as you love me, but he is gone now, and I cannot go with you to look. He will come back, I am certain- how could he leave you? That was enough for M'kai, and the pair set off for the gather field.

As M'kai had no money, he wasn't likely to browse the stalls- it just wasn't worth it. Dancing, though, was free, as was listening to the Harpers play. He headed for the square, sliding along with a somewhat more awkward imitation of Crys' prowl. Once he got there, though, he dropped the walk, glancing around for a table. As all of them were taken, he decided he'd just have to dance. Approaching the first pretty girl he spotted, a brown-haired girl in a green skirt and a blue mask, he bowed a little awkwardly amidst the dancers and asked, "May I have the next dance with you?"

[rii]

What a deplorable gathering of imbeciles. The wine did little to dim the joyous, chittering of festival dwellers. They pranced--yes, that was waht F'lix was going to call it, prancing--around in ridiculously colorful masks and gowns. So many smiling, laughing faces met him at every turn. What did they have to be so happy about? Feh. The gather bored him, and gave him a mild headache, or maybe that was the wine. Still, he expected some form of real entertainment. Maybe he could use the skin of wine he nabbed to accidentally start one of the stalls on fire. That at least was worth watching. Golden eyes peered thoughtfully at the wine--Naaah, that would be a terrible waste of a good drink.

F'lix swallowed another mouthful of wine, absently veering off to the left. Stupid ground moving out from under his feet. F'lix caught himself against the posting of a nearby stall and shot the ground a loathing glare. Hmph, apparently it was time to find somewhere to sit. F'lix steadied himself and managed to gracefully stalk over to the dance floor. Not that he planned to dance--shardlings no. Just the nearest chairs happened to be there.

The dark riding leathers F'lix wore did not qualify as a costume. But it wasn't as if F'lix was going to dress up like the colorful, bouncing idiots around him. He settled into a chair, planning to nurse the skin when a rumbling chuckle filled his mind. You are determined to not enjoy yourself.

F'lix slowly smiled, the small change softening his features. Saboth knew him well. He lifted his wine in a mock toast. "Yes Saboth, yes I am."

[Kisha-Ra]

And once again you are embarrassing yourself. The tone was calm, clinical, helpful, and not at all welcome in R’aro’s mind.

‘Y’shuttup Idioth’ R’aro slurred in the tones of someone who had been solidly drinking since he managed to roll out of bed. There was a little flicker of satisfaction as he felt his bronze react to being called Idioth rather than his actual name, and R’aro adjusted his excuse for a costume and attempted to stand up straight, a motion that very nearly ended in him hitting the ground. A stumbling few steps and a second attempt later R’aro did straighen up and look around with the soft, slightly dazed eyes of someone who is drunk and know it, and is trying very hard to keep people from knowing just how drunk they are.

Idith, safely stretched out on his weyrledge, far, far away from R’aro, gave a whining sigh that was definitely the dragon equivalent of a heartfelt groan. If a dragon could smack his head Idith would have done so. His rider really didn’t seem to realise just how drunk and stupid he was being. To start with he’d managed to evade Idith’s attempts to stop him leaving attired as he was (curse those human sized doors), which was to say that R’aro was wandering around the gather wearing his undergarments and his bedsheet wrapped around his body and tied over one shoulder, and Idith was certain that was not what was meant by ‘dressing up’. Also R’aro was under the impression that he was hiding how drunk he was a great deal better than he actually was. But then he was also under the impression the ground was swaying. At least Idith didn’t have be seen with him today. Maybe he could apply some thought to how to stop his rider from trying to drown himself in wine. Or maybe not, Idith amended his thought as he noticed his rider taking an interest in another human rather than a wineskin.

R’aro looked at F’lix with his head tilted to one side, a smile curving his lips, as if he liked what he saw, an expression he never would have worn if was sober, and certainly would never have directed at another man. However being as he wasn’t sober,
R’aro attempted, wordlessly, to twine himself around the other rider.

From the weyrledge came another of Idith’s whining sighs.

[rii]

Oh look, you made a friend.

Huh? F'lix sluggish mind took a moment to notice his sudden inability to raise the wineskin to his lips. His golden eyes lazily slipped over to the responsible obstruction. A young man. Blink. Climbing on top of him. F'lix absently stared at the stranger while the seconds ticked by, realization slowly dawning along with Saboth's teasing jest. His eyes then widened in shock, the right one more so than the left. The action didn't horrify him, but the sheer audacity the person had to dare to touch him effectively stunned him. He only remained surprised for a single, fleeting moment before golden eyes were slitted into a venomous glare. Oh no, F'lix was not nearly drunk enough to allow that.

Instinctively F'lix dropped his hand to his waist, only to find his belt empty. Saboth had made him leave the dirk behind. Cursed beast! the vain thought only earned another amused chuckle from the gray-blue dragon. He'd have to manage without it. Grr, fine. Abandoning his wineskin F'lix used both of his hands to push at R'aro's chest--his fingertips meeting warm skin. The hell--was this idiot wearing just a sheet!? Getoffgetoffgetoff!

If he had been sober his thoughts and actions would have been more logical, but in his current state F'lix thrashed. His face was red in a mixture of being tipsy, a blush, and outright rage. After twisting and pushing F'lix managed to bring his knee up into R'aro's stomach; but in his jerking about, and their combined weight, the chair tipped over sideways. F'lix fumed, thoughts of murder clear in his golden eyes. Vocalizing his obvious disapproval was a feat beyond him as his anger continued to spike. He dies.

Calm down, he's just drunk. You're not going to kill him.

Watch me.

F'lix jerked a leg free from the weight still felt pressing on him and blindly stomped his boot down at what he hoped to be R'aro's face.

[Rowana]

Farryl turned to see the boy who had addressed her. He was maskless, which made identifying him easier. One of the new weyrlings, if she wasn't mistaken. Caught up in the mood, Farryl gave M'kai an elaborate curtsy. "It would be my pleasure, sir," she said sweetly, winking in amusement. Flirting wasn't generally something she did, but this was a Gather and everyone was entitled to some fun. Besides, having the mask on made her feel more bold and prone to acting a little more over the top than normal.

[Ember]

T'san, in his newly bought get up, wandered into the area where dancing was to be held. It seemed like a fun idea and between what he was wearing, his mask, and the fact he was new to the weyr meant that there was no way for anyone to recognize him. Essentially, he was allowed to be as devious and silly as he wanted without any real consequences. Fun? So he thinks. Even as he looked at the dancers though he didn't feel any urge to dance right away. More's the pity.

The brownrider took a seat on one of many chairs nearest the dancefloor If he happened to notice a woman - or a particularly dainty guy - he might swoop over and ask for a dance. For the moment he was content to sit and plot what chaos he could come up with. Seems a pair was already interested in mixing things up. He watched with amusement for a while before propping his head up on one hand and gazing out at the dancers.

[Avu]

The music was broken.

Fingers jarred to a stop mid-chord, voices cracked and choked, and as one, the Harpers turned to look at the source of the screech that had echoed sharply, one long high note, through the entire Weyr. Their gaze eventually landed, one by one, upon a dragon. Bronze, undoubtedly so, though his hide was rapidly loosing its metallic luster and becoming an unimpressive gray-tinged shade; eyes whirled rapidly in a flat white shade – the shade of death. His entire form writhed, dust spurting on either side of the dragon – Corinth had been resting previously on the edge of the Gather, watching the dance square – and rising in choking clouds, but he took no notice; his head was raised, gaze fixed intently now in the direction of the beach, and another screech of protest rang out.

One swift second later, he’d gone. Vanished between. Corinth would not be returning.

The silence that fell was momentarily chilling. The death of an otherwise healthy dragon meant only that his Rider had died first – but even the most thorough of searches, throughout the Weyr and its surrounding area and anywhere that any Search Parties could think of, would yield no results.

The bronze’s Rider had vanished just as efficiently as his dragon, and without the aide of between.

[Requiem]

Dmitri, who did not, as a general rule, bother to involve himself in the affairs of others (particularly when it involved what looked disturbingly like getting your face stomped in) suddenly jerked upright. His eyes widened and narrowed in the space of a heartbeat, the boy's gaze darting toward his fellow harpers. There was something dreadfully, dreadfully wrong about that screech but, though he was born of two dragonriders, Dmitri had no idea what a death screech sounded like. He shivered at the sound, perplexed.

Whatever it meant, the significance of it was punctuated by that dreadful chord of voices and instruments broken off mid-note. That, more than the screech itself, had Dmitri shook up. He was stepping out on the dance floor, drifting in a direction that vaguely bisected the harpers and the death kreel, unwittingly nearly knocking over M'kai and Farryl in his distraction. At the last moment he veered around them.

"What the shards...?"

Silence still reigned in the wake of that sound, until a young girl's voice broke the quiet. "Daddy? Daddy? W-what was that?" He turned his head, watching the child-parent couple he'd only vaguely noticed a few moments ago. The girl was still perched on her father's feet, the man himself conspicuous in his height and the lack of a mask. Though he seemed just as frozen as everyone else, his daughter he clutched to his leg, and now she was swept up into his arms in a clearly protective gesture.

Dmitri could just make out the answer, the words barely above a whisper. "Corinth...T'rid's dragon has Betweened."

"But why?"

"I don't know."

Then things began to get crazy, voices rising in horror and shock all around them. Some demanding. Some imploring. Some just shrill with the terror that always comes after something unexplained turns your safe little world upside down. Dmitri made it a few steps toward the direction of the main part of the Gather before one of the harpers snatched him by the arm and a couple fell in around him, the boy escorted swiftly from the Square.

What the shards?

[rii]

The screech of a dying dragon quickly sobered the young rider. His golden eyes widened and he was suddenly twisting around, sitting up on his knees and looking down at R'aro. F'lix didn't really mean to kill the idiot! Curses flew through his mind until--oh wait--the other rider was quite alive actually. Good. F'lix snarled at him and sent a closed fist across his face. Jerk.

Who is attacking?

No.. I don't think we are being attacked. Everyone sounds very confused still--Corinth's rider is no where to be found.

Come get me.

I can't possibly fly proper in the state you've drank us.

Growl. Leave it to the enemy to pick a night he drank to attack--and F'lix would deem it an attack until proven otherwise. That screech made him reflect on those he had heard in the north; dragons loudly protesting the death of their riders; of their slaughtered mindmates. He rose to his feet and began to force his way through the panicked patrons of the Gatherings. His short temper soared as he roughly shoved people out of his way. Idiots. All of them. Why did they stare at the sky and ask questions when they should be readying themselves for a possible attack, or at least acting to find the answer to the bronzerider's death. How pathetic! No wonder Selenitas posed such an easy target---

The wine sat illy in his stomach, twisting with his anger and need to be sober. The bluerider emptied the contents of his stomach beside one of the abandoned stalls. Oh people may think him wholly upset by the death of a dragons--far from the truth. F'lix had seen plenty of death, it did not phase him in the least. Being sober, however, was one of his priorities. He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and proceeded to storm his way toward the stone stairs that would take him along the Weyrledges. His weapons were all back in his room, and there too laid Saboth with the linger affects of alcohol clipping his wings.

I am sorry Saboth. F'lix absently licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry and him without the wine to sate the thirst. Did Corinth share anything before.. ?

.. No

-----

Rulven slowly stood to his feet as panic swept over the Gathering. The once-hungry flits around him were keening softly and one by one they disappeared between to return to their owners. They sounded so sad.. and that screech from above, what had that been about? Rulven's heart jumped in pace as the smith remained calm and slowly looked around for clues to the reason behind the sharp shift in the festival's mood.

"What's going on.. ?"

[Rowana]

Farryl froze in mid twirl, her skirts fallen limply around her. For a moment she simply stared, her eyes widening in horror. Hobbs whimpered sorrowfully and hid in her hair. Even Lyleeka knew something was wrong, pulling to at her traces to be free. Corinth was gone, just gone. No warning or message, he was simply gone. It could only mean one things. Somewhere, somehow, T'rid had died. But how? Farryl-mine! Peppeth's panicked voice broke her stupor. All around her people were upset, sad and frightened. The dance circle had quickly turned into a mob of confusion and panic. Not everyone was panicking though, she could already see a few riders jumping into action.

Finding M'kai still next to her, she hissed in his ear. "We should get to your dragon, until we know more," she suggested firmly. She decided to stay with him for the moment. It would do no good to be separated in case an attack was imminent. Peppeth was already soaring over head, eyes a sharp yellow and orange. Where are you, Farryl-mine! she cried, having a hard time seeing in the throng. Corinth is gone! He is gone! I know, Farryl whispered. Can you find Ebolath. This would break her friends heart even more and she had a sickening feeling in her stomach. She will not answer, Peppeth returned mournfully, her high pitched cries filling the air above the Gather.

Further down the river, G'tor looked up with horror in his eyes. Ruskeath, please tell me that wasn't what I think it was, he begged. His mind refused to believe it, but his heart knew it was true. Corinth and His are gone. the brown confirmed. His voice was full of sorrow he raised his head a keened to the sky. Corinth had not only been his wing leader, but one of his closest friends. G'tor sat down hard on the grass, fighting the tears. But how? Why? His mind was still in shook. T'rid may have been a bit grumpy at times, but he had been a friend.

I do not know, Ruskeath replied. But whoever has done this will feel my claws. Ruskeath's voice was cold and held a dangerous venom. G'tor looked up at him in surprise. His brown's sorrow filled eyes were tinged with red. Never in all the years since he had impressed had G'tor ever seen Ruskeath angry. Not even when he had been injured in the Siege. That fact alone, was enough to frighten G'tor more than an army of Northern riders.

[Kisha-Ra]

R’aro you cannot just twine around strange males. Or at least if you’re going to you pick out those who ride green. I like greens. Very much. Idith advised his rider, mildly worried about how the rider R’aro had managed to corner was going to react. The bronze was hoping that this one would realise how much wine R’aro had drunk and ignore his advances. Idith was quite sure R’aro didn’t really like males that much, 86% sure to be exact.

I’m just being friendly Idith. Everyone should have friends. Even pretty riders who’re sat around being grumpy. R’aro quite failed to notice the glare his actions were getting, nom indeed, he was far too busy trying to snuggle F’lix. Consequently it came of something of a surprise to him when the pair of them went toppling off the chair. Unfortunately in his drunken state R’aro found this fall uproariously funny, and giggled like a girl while he tried to extract himself from the tangle, a course of action somehow resulted in a worse tangle for a few moments. Then, of all the things, a boot came down heavily on R’aro’s face.

Well that was totally uncalled for, R’aro thought muzzily as he raised a hand to touch his nose. Red circles of pain exploded in the greyness around the edges of his vision. That was almost certainly cracked, if not broken, and that was definitely harder than he intended to poke it.

Idith was just getting to his feet, intending to go and protect, remove, and then lecture his rider until R’aro gained a notion of proper behaviour (hopefully this would be an important lesson to him), when Corinth…left. Idith sank back down into a sitting position and raised his voice in mourning with rest of the dragons.

R’aro thrashed against his sheet, now tangled around his feet and managed to get into a half sitting position before a fist came across his vision and knocked him flat on his back again, where he lay and looked at the sky, all bemused by events around him.

[Ruby]

Pleased at the woman's boldness, M'kai matched her curtsy with a playfully elaborate bow, dropping his Crys impression fully so he could move less awkwardly. He took her hand and kissed it on her way up, then spun her out with a laugh. It was all very playful (and nothing like Crystoph), and he began dancing her around the square with little regard for anyone else there. M'kai had learned long ago that if you just looked like you knew where you were going, and went there with purpose, people generally got out of your way. It was working excellently with he and Farryl.

And then it happened. He froze as Farryl did, halfway through the turn, his long, loose hair tangling around his shoulders as the whole of the Gather seemed to go silent, except for the cry. M'kai himself didn't know the Bronze, but he knew dragon death when he heard it. It had been a sound all too familiar in the North. Without him even asking, Futh supplied the name- Corinth. Then M'kai could identify the blue's keen among the others, calling a higher note along with the other young dragons.

M'kai never panicked, really. He'd been trained for situations like this, possible attacks or emergencies at any time of day or night. He was used to hopping to, performing what ever duty needed doing. But he had never had Futh before. It was a good thing Farryl suggested going to the Blue anyway, because for the first time in his life, M'kai lost his head. Ignoring the harper who nearly barrelled them over, he instinctivly tightened his grip on the Greenrider's hand and dragged her along behind him as he ran from the square. He simply couldn't bear to let go of his one tangible hold on reality until he knew for sure that Futh was totally safe, clear-eyed and shining.

He could feel Futh running, too, in his direction, but in his flight he couldn't make mindspeech work. Grimly determined, he simply opened the link with his dragon, forcing all his worry and fear on Futh. Not, generally, a good idea, but Futh was a stouter dragon than many Weyrlings. Instead of going into hysterics, Futh simply ran faster, darting around milling dragons and humans despite his bulk. Finally, he saw His just beyond a brown-clad man, and dashed forward to twine around M'kai. You are well, M'kaiMineLove? You are not sick, or hurt, or bad? You must stay with me, I need you, Futh implored, now twining Farryl too. Suddenly realizing what he'd done, M'kai dropped her hand and stammered, "I-I- oh, I'm s-so sorry, I just...." he trailed off, hoping she'd understand his need to see his dragon safe. "What happened? And where... who's Yours?" he asked somewhat tactlessly, glancing at the sky as Futh forced his head under M'kai's arm.

Although the flight had seemed endless, the pair had really only made it to the edge of the gather tents. The Dance Square was still in sight, if somewhat obscured, but there was room out here for Farryl's dragon to land, assuming she could avoid the scattered, milling crowd.