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30-07-01: Zureile
You go into the Living Caverns. L'lia laughs slightly, "Xornath had no problem fetching, you know.." Her eyes twinkle, "He...

You go into the Living Caverns.

L'lia laughs slightly, "Xornath had no problem fetching, you know.." Her eyes twinkle, "He loves to flirt with the female dragons.. and really, he thought she was very polite about the whole hting." A dip of her head, "But yes, we are getting settled in. We have a weyr -- " She gestures her thumb, point upwards, "Just above us, actually.."

And there's Hanneke: skipping, to be exact. She makes her overly cheerful passage from bowl to serving table, sloshing juice about -- some of it does actually make it into the cup -- and then turning about to seek out companionship. Wait for it. Wait for it. It's coming, it's coming--"Hihi!" There.

Zureile shakes her head in defeat. "Now that she's figured out that they'll get her food, there's going to be no stopping her. And if Xornath thought she was polite... well, she doesn't get accused of that very often." Zureile gives a short laugh. Unlike other weyrlings, her dragon's "shortcomings" had been evident nearly the moment of Impression. Speaking of shortcomings.... "Hi, Hanneke."

Klari takes a glance up and grins over to L'lia, "A lot easier to get to food for you, I suppose." Klari smiles over to Zureile as she stands, "Daemith never gets compliments on his personality, only on his beauty." That's because he's an arrogant one, he is! He doesn't care either because he's the best, or so he thinks. "Hi, Hann." Klari gives another salute to the Weyrling before waving back to the others, "Gotta sleep before I need to get up." And she's out.

Shortcomings? Where? The 'best weyrling' -- yes, that's Hanneke, just in case you missed it -- catches Zureile's greeting, and strides, skips, waltzes towards the other weyrling, giving a bright salute towards L'lia, and then grins towards Klari as the other weyrling leaves.

Zureile looks to either side of her. Hmm, Klari was leaving, L'lia was gone...Sigh. It seems she has no choice but to attempt to make conversation with Hanneke. Scratching the surface of the table idly with one finger, she hesitates, then begins. "So, how's Caeruleth?" Oh, come on Zureile, you can do better than that. "Enjoying Weyrlinghood?" Pathetic attempt. She coughs awkwardly, and then gives it her final shot. "Heard any good songs lately?" She raises her eyes to meet Hanneke's, and shrugs inwardly. Oh, well, so her strong suit wasn't beginning conversations.

Hanneke peers at Zureile. Abjectly. "You're funny." Delightful, that. She pushes at her cup, spilling more juice. "Caeruleth's fine! Weyrlinghood is bad--even though I'm the best weyrling." Honestly. Truly. Really. "No." She wiggles within her seat, adding, "You used to talk to me fine."

That Zureile did... back in the day when she got enough sleep to think up interesting conversations. That was back in the days before Hanneke had called her a wherry, but Zureile's willing to let bygones be bygones. This time her shrug is visible, as she hunches her shoulders in the classic, nonverbal dismissal. Basically, a silent "Eh." Taking a sip of the juice in front of her, she eyes Hanneke's mess warily. So long as it didn't spill on her, Zureile could care less. Her interest piqued, she decides fo follow up on one of the Hanneke's comments. "The best weyrling?" Zureile furrows her eyebrows slightly. "How do you come to that conclusion?"

"Kr'lin said I *could* be," explains Hanneke, straightening her posture, and latching onto Zureile's question rapidly--does anyone not like to brag? "And D'nic said I wasn't. So we tested it, and I won. And D'nic agreed." So she's the best weyrling. Therefore. She's not in the least bit tired, although she shifts about, spills further juice, and generally appears to be running without fine motor control.

"Test?" Zureile's eyebrows move from furrowed to arched. For furry little lumps above her eyes, they certainly are expressive. "So let me get this straight. Kr'lin," there's a slight emphasis on this word. Zureile's past experiences with Kr'lin hadn't proven him to be very trustworthy, "suddenly names you the best weyrling, which is proved by some vague sort of test. What kind of test was it?"

Hanneke holds no love for Kr'lin, either, but this is beside the point. "He said I could be. He said I could be *weyrsecond*," trills the greenriding weyrling, still shifting about in his seat. Her curls, short though they are, bob about her face, as she adds, "We threw firestone. It was harder for me, because I had to throw up and all. Because we were on our dragons. But *D'nic* said that I was best."

Zureile grimaces slightly. "You threw up?" The side of her mouth curls down sharply, showing her obvious disgust. If throwing up was part of the ritual on proving yourself the best weyrling, Hanneke could have the title.

Hanneke's brow furrows with confusion, vacuous expression taking hold once more. "Oh! No. I had to throw the sacks *upwards*!"

Zureile's expression smooths slightly. Ah, throw /upwards/. That made much more sense. Still... "How did one firestone-tossing exercise prove you to be the best weyrling? I throw lots of firestone." Why Zureile is so intent on dispproving this perfect weyrling theory, Pern may never know.

Hanneke aims her nose in the air, and even though it doesn't actually hurtle off into space, it might as well. "D'nic said so," she argues, as if this makes everything all right.

Zureile does not think it makes everything all right. And out of a sense of inner-decency and politeness, she's going to refrain from commenting, right? Ah, if you believe that, then you don't know Zureile very well. "Just because D'nic said so doesn't mean it's /so/. If you're going to be judged the 'best weyrling' then it should be because of a competition between all of us, not just you and D'nic. Beating D'nic just means you're a better weyrling that D'nic is." Which, despite their newfound friendship, Zureile is all-too ready to admit.

Hanneke wrinkles that extending nose--Pinocchio, only shorter, rounder, and far, far prettier (thank you very much), to complain, "But he said so! And Kr'lin did, too! And I *bet* all the others would say so, too. You're not the best weyrling. Caeruleth actually stops eating." Caeruleth also has a marked impact upon Hanneke's mental capabilities.

Zureile's face begins to flush a rather unbecoming shade of red, but she manages to keep control of her temper. Well, sort of. "Who says I'm not the best weyrling? I'm certainly doing a much better job than you. At least my lifemate doesn't creep about in the dark like she's embarrassed to show herself." Uh-oh, this is getting personal. But Hanneke always did have that unique knack of getting Zureile right where it hurt. Really, the girl could give Kyla lessons on how to rile Zureile, and that was saying a lot. "And Suryareth does /too/ stop eating. She just eats more because she's growing so fast. Unlike Caeruleth." A none-too subtle jibe at the green's petite stature. Zureile ends it all with a honeyed smile, saying, "But if you want to go on believing you're the best weyrling, you go right ahead and do so." As if Zureile could convince Hanneke otherwise.

Hanneke, meanwhile, appears to have held onto her pale complextion without so much as a tint of red--which would, quite possibly, conflict with both her outfit and her hair. Consequently, all is for the better. "You don't! Caeruleth likes doing it. It's good. She makes Rojoth scared, and that's fun!" We'll forget the fact that Caeruleth is also ensuring that she and Hanneke won't go *between* on time, but that is, as it goes, besides the point. "Caeruleth is perfectly sized! Caeruleth's a hulking giant, and no one likes her!" She sticks that projectile nose in the air once more, repeating, "I am. Because you're certainly not." What happened to being friends?

Zureile really could care less to what happened to being friends. Her temper is good and roused, staining her cheeks even further crimson. But instead of lashing out as she would wish, she tries a different approach. That honeyed smile is still plastered on her face, and her voice practically oozes sugar and sweetness. "Of course, Hanneke. Of course you believe that. After all, if I had impressed an undersized little smudge of a lifemate, I'd want to convince myself that she was perfect also." She feigns a look of sympathy, the cruel glint of her flashing eyes belying the look on her face. "It's not your fault you impressed an ill-tempered midget." Zureile's gone jabbed low, and swung hard, and this time goes for the knockout. "Really, after all you've been through, you probably /do/ deserve the best weyrling award. After all, you had to overcome the dissappointment of impressing Caeruelth, so I think you should have it." The smile increases in intensity.

Hanneke's face falls. "I thought we were friends!" Sometimes, people think stupid things--and actually believe them. Her juice is pushed away from her, then something -- Caeruleth, probably -- lights up inside her, like that glow above the head, and she picks it up, aiming to toss the liquid at the other weyrling. It's dodgable, of course. "How dare you! As if anyone would want that stupid, gorging Surya-thing, who wouldn't have the faintest idea about *anything*. Caeruleth is anything but a disappointment!" So there?

Yes, it is quite dodgeable. If Zureile was thinking straight, or actually had the slightest reflexes to boast of, she might have leaned adroitly to the side and missed the airbone juice. But she isn't and she doesn't, so she sits there like the proverbial lump on a log, mouth agape in astonishment as the juice catches her head on, drenching her in its stickiness. And to think she had been starting to feel sorry for her words. Caught completely by surprise, Zureile sits on the bench motionless for nearly a minute, mouth gaping like a fish starved for breath, juice-stains spreading over the white shirt. Breathing heavily in her near-rage, she works her mouth several times before the words come out. It's only one sentence, but her voice manages to inflict all of her shock and anger into it. "You threw your juice on me." Okay, so it's not exactly the most astonishing comeback ever made, but Zureile is in a state of infuriated shock, so she's not exactly up to making briliant speeches.

Oratory brilliance is, evidently, catchy, as is a lack of it. Hanneke's own rhetoric takes some time to flow from her mouth, and when it does, as she sits there, blinking at Zureile -- did she do that? -- it's fairly slow. "Yes. I did." Triumph touches at her voice, as she strains with pride. "I did that."

Zureile blinks in sticky silence several times more, then tries again. "But you threw it on me." Okay, Zureile, we've established that fact, it's time to move on. She wipes a hand across a juice-soaked face, attempting to clear her vision. It's as if the motion sets off the dam of words that were locked up in front of her. "That was completely uncalled for, Hanneke. I can't believe you were so childish as to throw your juice on me. In fact, you and Caeruleth deserve each other. You with your childish intellect, and she with her stunted size. I can't believe I even liked you. You are one of the most ill-mannered people I have ever come across. And as for you throwing your juice on me..." Zureile, in a fit of anger, heaves her own glass of juice in Hanneke's direction, completely oblivious to the irony of it all. Insult someone for a childish action, then repeat it. Yes, Ista's newest junior weyrwoman is in fine form tonight.

"Yes," repeats Hanneke, as if the reality of this is sinking in, and she's becoming more and more delighted at the fact that she, Hanneke, actually did something so outragous, and perfect. If she'd expected accolades--and that's certainly possible--she's disappointed, and, once again, her face falls. Petulantly, she retorts, "It was, too, called for! You're so high and mighty, little perfect person because you think that because Surya-thing is gold you're above all the rest of us. I'm perfectly intelligent, and Caeruleth is perfectly sized, and if you think otherwise, then it's obviously because you're too, too, *jealous* to see clearly." And too covered in juice. Zureile's juice is blinked at, rather than ducked from, to the extent that it hits Hanneke in much the same way that her own hit Zureile. Spluttering, the weyrling stares at Zureile. "You ruined my hair!" Indeed, it drips down her hair, soaking the perfectly set hairstyle, dripping onto her leathers--which have already suffered, thanks to an inopertune soaking. "How dare you!"

Zureile's juice-stained face contorts with vicious glee. "I dared because you dared." Ah, the logic of this conversation will astound philosphers for ages. "And I don't think I'm any better because Suryareth is a gold; in fact, I seem to get in more trouble because she is. I have to work harder, and train more, and everyone expects more from me just because she is. I'm not above the rest of the weyrlings, I'm just above you." Oooh, catty. "And the only reason I'm above you is because /everyone/ is above you, and your dragon. You are a perfectly matched, spiteful pair. All you ever do is make fun of us, and all your dragon ever does is antagonize Suryareth." She pauses to admire her handiwork. Yes, Hanneke's hair is definitely ruined.

Hanneke gets over her dousing as quickly as she can, dwelling for only a moment upon the state of her ravaged hair. Life is unfair. Live with it. "Above me? Since when? You've thought you were above us since the moment that *thing* told its name to you. What happened--a wherry egg got mixed up with the others?" It's amazing where it comes from: pre-Caeruleth Hanneke would probably have muttered something inane at this point. "Your *thing* antag-antag--was horrible to Caeruleth first! You've lost your mind. Can't think straight. Can't do anything, because you're too busy falling over yourself to be perfect for that *thing*. It's stolen your mind!" Um. Yes. Okay.

Zureile's fists are clenched at her side, and she hisses back, "I have /not/ thought I was above you any of you. I'm the same as I ever was. The only person that's changed around here is you. Yes, that's right; you. You're spiteful, you're cruel, you /antagonize/ me constantly," yes, that was a smug emphasis on the word, "And the only thing I can attribute it to is the fact that you've taken on the personality of your boorish lifemate. Either that or you're jealous of me. And if I lost a mind, at least I had a mind to lose!" She glares angrily at Hanneke. And as an afterthought, she adds on, "And I told you before: DON'T call me, or my lifemate, a wherry. EVER."

"But what if it's true?" retorts Hanneke, half rising from her seat, leaning over the table, glaring at Zureile. "You have. You're just too blind to see it. To see anything but yourself, and that *thing*. Wherry! You started this! I didn't anta-thingy you at all. You, you, you! Just because you're the centre of everything you see, doesn't mean that it is reality." Her eyes roll, as she adds, "As if I'd be jealous of *you*."

Zureile copies Hanneke's movements, but with a little more pizazz. She springs up from her seat, and leans far over the table until her face is very near Hanneke's, resting her weight on her splayed hands. Behind her, the bench topples over unnoticed. "You should talk! Ever since I met you there's only one thing you've cared about: Hanneke. Oh, that and your hair," she adds with a condescending sneer. "Maybe you're just insulting me with things you know are true about yourself. After all, everyone knows how self-centered you are. And you are jealous of me! It's completely obvious!" Well, not really, but if it makes Hanneke mad, Zureile's glad to say it. Her voice drops lower, and this time she enunciates her words with a dangerous firmness. "This is the last warning. Do /not/ call me, or my lifemate, a wherry. Do not say it, do not insinuate it, do not even think it."

Hanneke raises one eyebrow with remarkable eloquence -- that's new -- responding, her voice dry, "Why not? Because you're afraid of it becoming common knowledge. What'll you do if I *do* think it, say it, live it?" Caeruleth, you argue well. "I do, too, care about things other than myself. At least my hair is reasonable to look at--you'll never be pretty. And people will always complain about having to be anywhere near you, you and the thing you call a lifemate--wherries both of you." She bounds out of her chair, sending it falling with a *thunk* behind her. "I'll say what I please." And, with that, she pushes her way past the fallen chair, and the dent in the floor beneath it, and strides towards the bowl. Game: set match. Sort of.

Zureile stares at Hanneke's retreat back with impotent fury, face mottled with her rage. Still seething, she follows the other weyrling's exit, stomping out to find her lifemate. Wherry indeed. Hmph.