Threadfall MUSH Characters

August 1, 2004
R'hyn variously pleases and displeases in dealings with B'myr, B'den, T'ren and Emani, over the course of an evening.

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R'hyn's by the hearth - it's a habitual placement, these days - warming his hands, a woolly hat perched over one knee. Beside him, there's a mug of klah, still steaming; he obviously hasn't been here very long.

B'myr comes into the caverns in the long jacket he's adopted to keep out the windy chill of Fort, gloves and matching hat keeping most of the remaining skin warm. Slipping his gloves and hat into his pockets while waiting to pour himself a mug of klah allows him the time to see R'hyn sitting near the hearth. Smart placement of course, and a friendly face, it's the combination of these two that lead B'myr to an empty seat near R'hyn. "Evening ... this seat taken?"

"Oh!" R'hyn sounds surprised, caught out of his reverie by B'myr's greeting, but his smile is warm. Waving his hand, he agrees amiably, "Of course, please. Actually, I needed to speak to you anyway. I was going to seek you out before the end of the evening. How are things?" He picks up the hat idly, spinning it on his finger as his other hand wraps itself about his klah.

B'myr looks slightly surprised at the talk of seeking out but nods polietely as he takes the seat and wraps his hands around his mug. "Well I'm at your service if you have something you need to speak to me about. Things are going alright so far, still adjusting of course."

R'hyn, with a wrinkle of his nose, admits, "I'm not sure I'll ever adjust." His cheeks have gone a little bit pink; it may just be the warmth of the hearth, or a flush from being outside in the cold, but it's hard to be sure. "Well... We're trying really hard to be bi-partisan. You know, make things equal around here. If we can. We're not trying to change leadership at all, but with this clutch..." He looks almost embarrassed to be asking that. "We're asking B'den to look after organising the searchriders. I thought of you, to look after the candidates. What do you say?"

B'myr nods in agreement with R'hyn's first statement and then nods, "Candidates huh? Yeah I think I can manage that! Nhiameth would absolutely love the opportunity I'm sure too. I was actually talking to B'den and he suggested I might want to volunteer to help the Weyrlingmaster."

R'hyn's relief is palpable, and he smiles. "Oh, good. I thought you'd like it - and Nhiameth. Really?" He nods his head quickly, several times. "I think that'd be a good idea. Orilee - well, I remember her from Southern. I think she'd be good to work with, and you'd probably... I'm babbling." Apologetically, he ducks his head, taking a quick sip from his mug. "The clutching... Well, it'll be soonish. Within the sevenday, probably."

B'myr laughs slightly, "Nhiameth has always been interested in youngsters, which is why B'den suggesting talking to Orilee who I've been trying to run into, and this seems like something she'd be just as interested in." He sips at his klah a bit. "So we should have candidates in here soon then, that's good to know."

"If I see Orilee, I'll tell her you're looking for her," R'hyn promises. "Though you could just get Nhiameth to talk to Lornath, I suppose." He takes another quick sip from his mug, then sets it down again, flexing his fingers. "Yeah. Hopefully it all goes well. I mean - the more eggs, the better. And good candidates. You know."

B'myr nods, "I've been trying to keep an eye out of her since with the drills and such Nhi has been fair tired and I don't feel like always asking her to do things for me. I may ask her soon though depending on what happens. I get what you mean yeah ... hard to tell with Siramyth how many eggs it's going to be but it'll hopefully be a nice big clutch and I'll make sure to keep an eye on the candidates and make sure nothing gets too out of hand."

R'hyn nods, smiling wryly. "I know that feeling. I try not to make Arisvath do it, either; he's got enough on his plate, with a fussy Siramyth, and drills and everything." He turns his mug, playing with it idly, his head tilted quietly to the side. "Good. I really appreciate it. Just - yeah. Discipline them, if needed, or send them on to me, answer their questions, make sure the robes are there. If you need help, just ask."

B'myr nods, "I played candidate three times, I think I can remember the things I needed help with and I'll make sure they're as well behaved as I can get them, we sure don't need candidates with attitudes at this point I know."

"Yeah, that's true," says R'hyn, smiling. "I mean - it makes sense. You know the drill. It's a foreign weyr, but things don't change that much, I don't think. Thank you. Slap some sense into them, if needed. We don't need more... well Emani and Tru--whatever incidents."

B'myr had heard about that incident and he takes a slow sip of klah before nodding, "Yeah it's a foreign Weyr but that just means I'll know just how it feels to be new like any candidates we search who arn't from the Weyr. I'll make sure they get the commen sense beat in when they need it and try to keep the arguers seperate. I'll send them on to you if I start getting any flack. I have a feelign that if any Weyrbred get searched they won't appreciate an Istan coordinator."

R'hyn seems thoroughly disgusted by the incident - his expression is anything to go by. "Exactly. And you were a candidate not so many turns ago, so you remember what that was like, too." His expression sours further, if that's even possible, as he nods. "No, probably not. But what we really have to do is get people used to it - because, really, we're no longer Istans and Fortians. We're Fortians. All of us."

B'myr nods, "I know it and you know it, but there are still those who want to remind us that we were Istans and how we're different." He sighs, "It stinks and it's a stupid thing to squabble over but hopefully Nhi and I will be able to stand up for ourselves and show that we're not to be triffled with no matter who they think we are."

R'hyn nods blandly, reaching up to scratch at his stubble-covered chin awkwardly, as he speaks, "I know. I mean, I /get/ it, kind of, but not really. I mean, we'd've hated it if a bunch of people from Fort had come to Ista, too. Good on you, though. I think you'll do a good job."

B'myr grins, "I'm glad you think so, I'll admit it's got me all excited already. I like the idea of helping out the candidates after knowing what I went through, and Nhiameth is already getting excited about the prospect of eggs and babies. She'll never have her own children but she's fascinated with anyone elses."

"Does she keep wanting you to procreate?" R'hyn wonders, grinning suddenly. He drops his hand, letting it rest easily by his side, before he adds, "I'm really good. We thought - but, well, you never know."

B'myr smiles, "I think she'd be completely estatic if I was to ever have children but I don't know how the odds are of that at the moment." He finishes off his klah and pushes it aside, digging out his gloves to set them on the table. His face is still a bit confused as he goes over R'hyns last words but they still seem to make no sense to B'myr.

R'hyn evidently shakes himself out of whatever he was saying - apparently to himself, and smiles. "Ah, you're young, yet. Decades to go. It's hard, though." His face falls a little, as he admits, "I haven't really had a chance to go back and see Rhyena, since getting here."

B'myr nods, "Yeah I can understand how it could be hard and yeah I've got a while to go but I don't see my life settling down at all anytime soon." Gathering up his gloves he smiles. "Thank you for thinking I can take care of the candidates. I've got to get myself back to my weyr and oil Nhi tonight before heading to bed."

"You're welcome," says R'hyn, promptly. "All right - I'll see you around."

B'myr nods, "I'll keep in touch especially once the clutching takes place." Slipping jacket, gloves and hat back on he slips out into the cold."

[A short time later]

B'den comes out of the tunnel from the bowl.

The night grows late, midnight fast approaching on this winter evening. A blanket of gray clouds cloaks the skies, blotting out the sky so that everything seems uncommonly dark and chilly. The winter air is cold and bitter. A thin, seemingly permanent layer of snow and ice covers the ground. (15F, -9C)

R'hyn is by the hearth, a woolly hat propped over the edge of one knee, his gloves on the table beside his now half-empty mug of klah. He seems deep in thought, staring blindly into the hearth in front of him, his hands lifted to embrace the warmth. It's past dinner - mid-evening, now - and the caverns are beginning to quiet down.

B'den comes in from the bowl, hands tucked into his armpits and elbows flapping to chase away the chill. His eyes flick across the caverns - the food tables, actually - and the Wingleader heads there first, responding to the serving girl's sally with something sotto voiced and sullen.

R'hyn picks up his mug without actually moving his gaze, sipping at it distractedly, his lips slightly pursed. Turning the mug in his hands, he finally distracts himself - in fact, he grimaces, choking down the mouthful with a grimace. Cold. Evidently. Thus, he stands, leaving his hat and gloves behind, and seeks out the serving tables.

More one-sided conversation - B'den's all but running away screaming, with his dropped eyes and unengaged body language - and the serving girl steps back with a frown. A friend drifts over to tease her with elbow nudges and giggles, but B'den seems oblivious to the by play as he heads toward the drinks table with his bowl of stew.

R'hyn arrives in front of the klah pot shortly before B'den, dumping out the remainder of klah into someone else's empty mug, just sitting there. Setting the mug down, he tests the side of the klah pot with one hand - still hot, by his hasty reaction - though, giving it a dubious glance, he pours cider instead.

Cider was B'den's choice as well, it would seem. He offers the other rider a bland, "Sir," as he holds back to wait his turn. "T'ren tell you he talked t' me?"

R'hyn finishes pouring just before B'den speaks, and glances up, a little surprised. "B'den," he greets, hastily, bobbing his hand, still holding on to the pot. "He did. He was-- a little concerned. Something about your potential replacements?" He seems to have forgotten all about the Head Searchrider position. And the pot in his hands.

B'den, not one to let an opportunity slip, snags a mug and holds it out helpfully. Of course the Weyrleader is pouring for him. Makes perfect sense. "Ah. Yeah, he, um... I ought t' talk t' you about that. Maybe we could sit?"

R'hyn blinks a couple of times, as if attempting to figure out why B'den is holding a mug out at him. Comprehension, finally, dawns, and looking a little flustered, he pours for the Wingleader. "I-- yes, all right. My things are by the hearth?"

B'den blinks at him, then up at the hearths. Then back at him. "I don't know sir. Are they?"

R'hyn sets the pot down again hastily. "Yes. They are. We'll go over there, then." He picks up his mug, turning his head away so that he can flush without it being incredibly obvious. Only a little.

B'den says, "Ah," again, and heads off in the direction of the hearths. Not too quickly, mind, so it's easy for R'hyn to overtake him and lead the way to their table.

R'hyn heads back to the table in haste, his head ducked, though the flush begins to recede by the time he makes it back to the table, well ahead of B'den, and sits down. His mug is set down directly in front of him, his gloves and hat quickly moved over to the side.

B'den settles into the chair opposite his Weyrleader, plunking stew and cider down with the air of 'and there they stay'. His foray into the conversation sounds like this: "Cold out there."

R'hyn wraps his fingers about his mug, thumb hooking firmly through the handle. A little taken aback by this particular conversation starter, if his expression is any indication, he nontheless nods: "Yes, quite. I'm quite looking forward to spring. Now--?"

B'den just looked at you

B'den glances up at him over his stew. "Now? Nah, not for a couple more months. We'll get a thaw around now sometimes, makes people think it's spring, but it's not."

R'hyn blinks, owlishly, over the edge of his mug, as he lifts it to sip. "Uh," he begins, then stops. "Oh, right. I don't know - all kind of new to me, this snow thing. But, what I-- about what you said to T'ren."

B'den, having just taken a large bite of stew, grunts acknowledgement and bobs his head in a 'yes, right' sort of way. Just a little chewing and he asks, "Wha' T'ren say?" Yes yes, he's talking with his mouth full.

"That," says R'hyn, thinking, "You asked about who would replace you - or something like that. He was, and I am, concerned... I, er, is this in response to anything specific?" He takes another quick sip of his cider, his eyebrows raised.

B'den grimaces and shifts his eyes away from the other man while he swallows and then rinses his mouth with cider. "Just a... talk I had with someone. You don't have t' - I mean, I'm not going t' step down unless you want me to."

R'hyn puts his mug down again, fingers lingering about the warmth of it. "Someone suggested you step down, or indicated that we wanted you to?" He sounds a little more confident, now that he's talking business. "Good. I have no intention of replacing anyone."

Emani comes out the short, wide tunnel from the lower caverns.

B'den's shoulders shift underneath his shirt, and he returns his attention to his bowl. "Neither." Spoon stabs into his stew, but is returned to the bowl as he adds a low-voiced, "Sir. Just... you don't have t' worry about it. Sir." -Then- he eats.

Emani saunters on in, hair tousled as if she's just woken up from a nap. Her progress is even more slow than usual, as she heads across to the nighthearth, blinking sleepy-like.

R'hyn expels a long, slow breath, and finally nods, though his expression remains dubious. "If that's-- well. All right." Both hands still wrapped about his mug, he takes another sip from it, adding, "There's nothing you, I don't know, want to talk to me about or anything?" Emani's progress goes unnoticed; R'hyn seems very much focused upon B'den.

T'ren comes out of the tunnel from the bowl.

B'den starts to shake his head, then stops himself, nodding as he catches the other man's eye. A 'just a minute' finger serves to delay the conversation while he finishes chewing. "'Bout that Searchrider thing, yeah."

Emani is still too intent on getting across the caverns and getting warm to bother looking up just yet, so the conversation between bronzeriders isn't interrupted just yet. She sidles in close to the hearth, sighing. Much better.

R'hyn nods, shortly, waiting for B'den to finish his mouthful. "Oh!" A faint blush expresses itself upon his cheeks as though he really had forgotten. "Of course. Have you made a decision?" Emani's sigh, not so far off, surprises him - he turns, glances at her, then turns back again to await B'den's response.

Hunched up in his jacket, T'ren enters the living caverns. Eyes are locked on the ground as he makes his way further inside, so most of the people sitting or wandering through go unnoticed at the moment. Feet carry him in the direction of the serving tables and he stands there for a long moment, staring at the current offerings as if not entirely sure what he's after. He finally settles on some cold meatrolls and a mug of ale, then turns to take stock of the surroundings.

B'den uses Emani to delay answering - the sigh catches his attention as well, but he takes his time 'glancing' at the girl, especially while she's paying him hardly any mind. "I guess I could do that, yeah," he tells R'hyn, looking back to him guiltily before returning his attention to his meal. "Durreth says it shouldn't be any problem."

Turning round to warm the other side, Emani finally takes a moment to look around, brushing curls from eyes that are considerable more alert. Though neither R'hyn's glance nor B'den's - whatever he was doing - are noticed, but the riders are; she lifts a hand in a languid wave. And look, a morose-looking weyrsecond.

"Durreth does?" R'hyn sounds openly surprised by this - but, to be fair, hastily adds, "Good. I'm glad. It's good to have you on board. That's both of you set - you for the searchriding, and B'myr to look after the candidates." At length, he gives Emani a slightly cool nod.

B'den's chin goes up at that so he can blink his astonishment at the Weyrleader. "What?"

Looks like the hearth area is the place to be tonight so, edibles in hand, T'ren makes his way over. He pauses by Emani and nods to a seat next to her, "You mind?" R'hyn and B'den are both graced with brief nods of acknowledgement.

Emani's falls visibly at R'hyn's nod, though she's resigned. She even has the grace to look embarrassed and away - pretty much anywhere but the Weyrleader. T'ren's arrival is a bit of a surprise, thugh not unpleasant, especially at the moment. "No - all yours. How're you?"

R'hyn blinks, confusedly, at B'den. "Huh?" What's he said? T'ren's greeting distracts him, and hastily, he notes to the Weyrsecond, "B'den has agreed to be Head Searchrider. And B'myr, Candidate Coordinator." He's too distracted to notice Emani's response to his nod; mostly, he seems to be peering confusedly at B'den.

B'den taps imperatively on the table to draw R'hyn's wandering attention back. "What's that you say about my wingrider? B'myr?"

T'ren slips into the seat and sets his mug and munchies on the table. He turns so that he can easily carry on a conversation with the girl next to him, giving her a bit of a shrug, "Better I suppose." Drink, eat, turn to look at B'den and R'hyn, a slight smirk creeping onto his face as he nods, "Good to hear about B'den..." he trails off though, letting B'den have R'hyn's attention back.

Emani's got very little interest in wing politics or positions or whatever they're on about. She hooks a stool with her foot to drag over and kick her boots up on - then leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. Glancing to the brownrider, "Better's good, I guess. Better'n worse." Having stated the obvious; "Couldn't sleep."

"That he's agreed to be Candidate Coordinator," says R'hyn, finally, after a long, slightly surprised pause. "If-- that's all right with you?"

T'ren keeps on ear on the conversation between the two bronzeriders, sliding his chair a little further away from their immediate vicinity. He nods at Emani while he does this, "Me either," he murmurs in agreement, "kept tossing and turning so finally decided to give up on trying."

R'hyn gets to watch B'den's face slowly cloud over, becoming as sullen and threatening as any low-hanging cloud. "If that's what you want, Weyrleader." Oh, dangerous is his tone, no matter how polite his words.

"There was a little of that and - uh - little of not used to being down here." Emani doesn't bother to elaborate, shrugging at T'ren. "Some people're loud too. So lots of excuses." A wry twist of a grin, as she touches her forehead gingerly, looking R'hyn's way for a moment. Boy, was that a mistake, what with how B'den's looking - back to the fire. She'll leave them be.

R'hyn seems to have swallowed a glow, or eaten too many redfruit, or something - his face turns slightly crimson. "I-- if it is okay? Really, I will understand if it's not, er, to your liking. We," he hastily indicates T'ren, and then towards the bowl - presumably Kiora - "Thought it would be a good choice." This may be an exaggeration; it's hard to know. R'hyn looks rather crestfallen. He's stuck his foot in it -- again.

Foot? More like femur, if the Wingleader's face is any indication. "If that's what you decided, sir," he says again, glaring fit to drill holes in the back of R'hyn's skull and nipping off the ends of every word. He hasn't yet noticed T'ren's arrival, nor Emani's reaction, for every iota of attention is fixated on the other bronzerider. Then, for no outward reason at all, he suddenly breaks eyecontact, dropping his eyes back to his uncaring stew.

Can the chair scoot any closer to Emani? T'ren is sure going to give it a whirl it seems. He turns his full attention to the dragonhealer, it's much safer this way, "Opposite end for me. Too quiet." A slow drink from his mug, "Although it may have been a better choice to stay put," he ends up muttering out.

Emani seems to agree on the safer thing, ignoring the two along the balcony in favour of chatting with T'ren. "-Seriously-," she mutters in return, shrinking down in her seat. "I oughta know better than to hang out in here by now. Should just get food and go, avoid fighting altogether. Too quiet, though? Wish I had that problem."

Emani suddenly looks like a much better choice - T'ren, too, amazingly - and once B'den has stopped killing R'hyn dead with his stare, that bronzerider glances towards both, smiling, it should be said, a little weakly. Gosh. That went well.

"If that's all you wanted t' talk t' me about," B'den tells his stew, "Then I ought t' be finishing up. Sir. Drills t'morrow are going t' be..."

T'ren gives a bit of a shrug, idly pushing the meatrolls around on the table, "Well, when your room is way up the side of the bowl, it doesn't tend to be very noisy." Gaze is lifted and he offers Emani a bit of a grin, "Besides, it's warmer down here."

B'den pages: That's the trailing off of 'please interrupt me'. It's getting late, I should have posed that better. :p

"Yeah, but then nothin'll wake you up, right? No snoring, that's pretty good." Emani looses a hand to push curls back behind her ears. Easier to look up at T'ren without moving, that way. R'hyn's smile goes unnoticed - she's not looking back that way, oh no. "I guess. Don't you have, like, a fire or somethin'?

R'hyn hastily glances back at B'den. "Oh! Of course. Er... yes." He stumbles over his words, in his haste to get them out. "Of course, of course." Squeak.

B'den grunts - it could be taken as acknowledgement with a liberal interpretation of same - and returns to his stew. Nope, nobody else at this here table. Just him and his stew and his cider.

T'ren shrugs at Emani's questions, and then gives a slight smirk, "Sometimes fire just doesn't cut it," he states smoothly, "although I'm sure you understand what I mean." He does happen to glance back towards the two bronzeriders just for a moment, head shaking slowly.

Emani rolls her eyes at T'ren as he looks bronzerider-wards. Like she's one to talk. Or eye-roll for that matter. Then; "Oh - yeah, right. Right. Er - thought you had someone you were spending time with?" she asks, casual enough. She purses her lips thoughtfully as she eyes the fire.

R'hyn looks very, very small, as he picks up his mug again, and rather cautiously shifts his chair, so that he's not quite facing B'den full on. He sips, quickly, keeping his eyes lowered.

B'den was almost done with his meal anyway, thankfully; one more bite shoveled into his mouth and he stands, taking mug and bowl with him. He doesn't even give R'hyn a nod farewell as he stomps off, nor Emani and T'ren either. Such cheek.

T'ren leans back in his seat just a bit, attention turning back to Emani, "Yeah well, she was a bit preoccupied this evening." He shrugs again and then, very casually, "So how's N'thri doing these days anyway?" Hand rubs at the back of his neck as he watches B'den do the stomping routine.

B'den heads through the tunnel to the bowl.

Emani doesn't watch B'den get all stompy - or much of anything but the fire, really. Who knew the living cavern could be fraught with danger? Er, well - she did, but a girl's got to get warm. "Oh," she says, then adds, eloquently, "Okay." She's uneasy, shifting a little in her chair.

R'hyn, as B'den leaves, expels a long, relieved breath - an audible one. This allows him to shift, again, putting him in a better position to actually listen in on Emani and T'ren's conversation, though, as yet, he makes no move to join it.

A little chuckle is given as T'ren settles forward in his seat again, brow arching, "Just okay?" He mmmms lightly, "Heard he barrled into the infirmary pretty quick after your little show out here."

"Yeah, well. He was just annoyed he missed it - probably hoping we were still going at it." Emani says, dryly, then glances behind her, easily and fortunately distracted by R'hyn's exhalation. Look, a Weyrleader! "Please don't be mad at me," she pleads. "I was just -defending- myself."

Though R'hyn's lips purse at T'ren's mention of the fight, the expression fades to something like surprise, as he's addressed by Emani. "I don't want to hear it, Emani. You know as well as I do--" he breaks off, shrugs.

T'ren gives his head a shake and then turns to watch the Weyrleader as he speaks, brow arches just a little, "You survived," he mutters out quietly, lifting his mug to sip slowly at the ale within, "Good thing you're wearing that knot on your shoulder."

Emani isn't sure what to do with herself. Beset on all sides, woe. She settles on looking morose, noting to R'hyn, "I'm -sorry-. I mean it. And it won't happen again. I'll shut up." Not likely, but perhaps she won't be so snarky from now on. "Just - be mad, think up whatever horrible thing you want for me to make up for it - just don't make me leave, 'cause that'd be kinda difficult to explain." Thankfully, T'ren's attention's now on R'hyn too. Yay.

R'hyn colours, at T'ren's comment, hastily responding to Emani instead of to the Weyrsecond. At least he seems to have the upper hand, there. "What do you think would be a fitting punishment?" he wants to know. "No, I won't send you away - not this time. But if it /ever/ happens again..."

T'ren twitches in his seat, and leans back to listen. This is an interesting way of metting out punishment. He turns to watch Emani, "Lucky you," he mutters into his cup, "not getting tossed out on your ear.... this time."

"I dunno. I'd have to think about it," Emani answers, a trifle sulkily. However, she does look sincere, just reluctant. Her fingers brush her forehead lightly and she winces. "It won't! Ever! Look, the bruising's incentive enough - I look -awful-." T'ren gets a sidelong glance, wide-eyed. Not helping. Thanks.

R'hyn studiously ignores T'ren - it seems easier that way, perhaps - and takes a slow sip of his steadily cooling cider. "Nothing jumps to mind? Mm." He sounds - distant - and a quirk of a smile, far from friendly, presses itself into service at mention of the bruising. "I noticed. Perhaps I should move the pair of you into the same quarters. That's a traditional enough punishment, for those who can't get along."

T'ren chuckles softly and sets his mug on the table, "Lock the door behind 'em and only the survivor gets out, hmmm." The slight grin on his face is easily held, even though he knows he's being ignored, "Easy enough to get around though, if you have other places to sleep at night."

If it's possible, Emani slouches further in her seat, blue eyes glancing at the Weyrleader from time to time. "Thanks for noticing, sir," she mutters - and it's the first time in awhile she's been that formal. "We sort of are in the same quarters, though - but the residential cavern's pretty big." Not that she's been spending a lot of time there lately, but why mention it? However, she hadn't thought that T'ren might sell her out. "Yeah, -if-," she says.

"They're a good reminder, for as long as they last. But they'll fade." R'hyn actually does glance back at T'ren, now - he makes a good point. "True," he agrees, calmly. "That one works better on slightly younger children." He turns his attention back to Emani, nodding. "The point is that I want you two to learn how to get along. Because I will /not/ tolerate these kinds of outbursts. I will be saying the same thing to-- whatever her name is."

"Trusilwyn," the name is stressed for the weyrleader's convenience, "would most likely rather share quarters with her mother than be shut up in a room with Emani," T'ren casually states, "and her mother would be quite happy to let her do it as well." He clears his throat slightly and adds, "I've already spoken to Trusilwyn about this situation, sir."

Children - oh, burn. Emani fairly winces, looking embarrassed again - she knows she's a little too old to be involved in this sort of thing. "Yeah, she kind of hates me," she agrees with T'ren quietly. "Not sure why." Shaking that off, to R'hyn; "I know you won't. I'm sorry - and I'll at least be civil, seriously. No snarky comments or anything."

R'hyn, looking increasingly uncomfortable with all this 'sir'ing, nods in thanks to T'ren. "Trusilwyn. Peculiar name. Thank you, for doing so - I think I ought to as well, however. She may not like my authority, but she will have to get used to it. What, exactly, prompted this whole thing, anyway?" Finally, it's a less formal question, followed by, "I know you'll try. Just - please. For my sake."

The meatrolls T'ren brough to the table have become more entertainment than food it would seem. The brownrider toys with them once again as he listens and then he just stares at Emani and shakes his head before saying to R'hyn quietly, "Step carefully with True," a look is given in Emani's direction, "as carefully as you have with her, if not more so." He's trying to be helpful, really.

"I dunno. I really don't. I mean, she was on me at the gather, then in the infirmary once - and I totally was professional there, 'cause I was at work. And then - we argued and she jumped me." Emani's likely leaving out all the aforementioned snark, but it can likely be assumed. "I am. I will, R'hyn." She offers the bronzerider a slight smile, still rather charming - more so because it's so apologetic. She blinks at T'ren, confused. What?

"I will," says R'hyn, simply. "I already have a fear of her talons, looking at Emani." He considers Emani's explanation with a slightly raised eyebrow, and nods, finally. "I see." Exactly what - well, that remains to be seen. "I know you will. I don't know if things are going to get better or worse, after the clutching, but I want to do everything I can to try for the former."

T'ren shakes his head slowly, at both Emani and R'hyn, but remains quiet for the time being. When R'hy mentions clutching he perks up a little bit, "Eggs on the sands means more new people coming in. Might just be the thing to get people's minds off other things."

Emani, nodding emphatically at R'hyn, "-Seriously-. Girl can scratch." His response to her explanation is accepted with a nod, though blue eyes reflect no little curiousity. "Gonna take time," she murmurs, then nods to T'ren. "Might." Then, she can't help herself; "Seriously, do you know why she hates me? 'Cause, sure I deserve it -now-, but I didn't before."

R'hyn, head shaking, remarks, "Long finger-nails shouldn't be allowed. I sure hope so, T'ren," he continues, nodding quickly. "They may not be Fort-bred dragons, but they'll be Fort-born -- and all the new people will make a difference, too."

T'ren leans forward to rest his arms on the table, full attention on Emani for the moment, "You seriously don't know?" For some reason the weyrsecond finds this just a little amusing in a twisted sort of way, "If you honestly don't know I suppose I could enlighten you a little." R'hyn is given a nod, "Fort born is a start I supposed, but it may not make much difference to some."

"And there'll be big dinners and such - that's always good for putting people in a decent mood." Emani looks reasonably heartened by that idea. Blinking at T'ren, she sighs heavily. "I said I didn't! If I -knew-, you think I'd go around asking people? I might play innocent, but Shards - wouldn't go so far as to ask you. And wht's so funny?" She's now suspicious.

R'hyn, nodding again, remarks, "It will be good when Dovryth rises - that will be better. Parties, that's right. Feasts, for the clutching, and then the hatching, and new dragons." R'hyn babbles, but quiets, in time, leaning back to listen to the discussion of Trusilwyn, his attention falling towards T'ren.

T'ren heaves a sigh at Emani and he gives that little head shake again, "You're Istan." He shrugs, "And yes, before you go off the deep end, that is quite enough for True." He turns slightly to include R'hyn in his little explaination, "You are the evil monstrosities that have just made all her worst nightmares come true."

Emani is quiet a long time, before; "But - she was -" She stops, shaking her head - confused. "I can get it when I -do- something, but -" Pushing from her chair in one motion, she gets to her feet. "I'm gonna go see if I can sleep, I think. Maybe if not, try'n think about it." A few steps, and a pause. To T'ren, mostly; "I really didn't mean much by any of it. Dunno if that makes it better or worse."

R'hyn, perhaps well used to this, now, keeps his expression quietly blank. "How accepting of her," he remarks, dully. "Good night, Emani." At least, now, he has a little more warmth for the girl -- even a half smile. "Sleep well."

T'ren watches Emani rise and offers her a small smile, "You just ended up with the brunt of a lot of pent up frustrations I think." A tilt of his head, "Try not to think about it too much, there really isn't anything you can do to change anything right now."

"G'night, R'hyn." Emani mirrors the bronzerider's smile, nodding. The same slight smile to T'ren as she adds, "Yeah well. Do my best -" She pats the Weyrsecond on the shoulder on the way by. "You give it a go soon, too, yeah? Ya'll have like, way more work than me - you need rest." And she's off, into the caverns.

Emani heads through the short, sloping tunnel to the lower caverns.

R'hyn doesn't seem to have much more to say, though his expression turns a little sad. "I don't think she's used to being disliked," he remarks. "Mostly, people just fawn."

T'ren drains the last of the ale from his mug and sets it carefully on the table, "Yeah well, guess she'll have to get used to it at some point." He stretches and sighs, "Not everyone in the world is going to like us, eh?" He sits quietly for a minute and then, "Was that your first face to face with B'den then?"

"Part of growing up." R'hyn, however, seems no more used to it - though he manages a brief kind of smile. "Well -- I've... you know, had vague dealings. But. Um." He looks embarrassed. "Does he actually like anyone, or does he hate me, specifically, too? I thought I heard he wasn't Fort-bred."

"B'den likes ale," T'ren states with a chuckle, "Don't feel bad, weyrleader, it's not personal with B'den." He pauses and scratches at his chin, "at least, not mostly." Finger raises to point at the knot on R'hyn's shoulder and then he taps the one on his shoulder, "He respects these, not necessarily the person wearing them." A shrug, "You get used to it after a while. I admit, I'm a little afraid of what may happen if I had to face him as a non-ranked rider."

"Ah." R'hyn lets that hang, a time, and then nods. "Well. That's something. I suppose my mistake was in not asking him, if I could offer the position to B'myr. I mean, aside from breathing. I suppose--" he shrugs, smiling vaguely. "I'm glad he's not my Wingleader, that's for sure. I'm surprised Cardixa hasn't chewed me out about that."

"He runs a tight wing that's for sure," T'ren states quietly, "one of the better wings in the weyr actually." He chuckles just a little, "I suppose fear has one use in keeping your wingriders in line."

"Yes," says R'hyn, agreeing slowly. "I'm not sure if it's an environment I'd like to work in, though. Perhaps it suits some people." R'hyn tends to care too much - that much is clear already, in his dealing with the wing. Stifling a yawn, he adds, "I'm going to turn in. I'll see you tomorrow, no doubt."

T'ren pushes his chair back and rises, obviously having the same thought, "Have a good evening, sir," he says casually, "I'm sure we'll run into each other at some point." With that, he makes his way out to the bowl.

R'hyn makes, silently, a face at being called 'sir' - again - but nods, as he follows T'ren towards the bowl, disposing of his mug on his way.

You head out the tunnel to the bowl.

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