Ista Hold Gather

Great Hall (#1711J)
The immense hold doors lead to an equally immense Great Hall, with an entire wall of long windows and breezy white curtains that make a picturesque view that rolls down to the ocean. Most of the room is given over to several long rectangular tables, though a group of bright turquoise chairs and couches cluster invitingly next to the hearth and the endless pot of klah kept hot there. The Lord Holder's table has prime place near the windows, together but apart from the rest, while a wide flat bench occupies a little alcove in the far wall, heaped with brightly colored pillows to soak up the sun. Several broad archways, framed in the same golden wood as the floorboards, lead out to the rest of the hold.
You see Lucas and Houdini here.
Taini, Sterling, Daelin, Wullan, Aldon, Kamilah, Alereo, Threndon, Aodien, Quorra, Althia, T'paz, and Vyune are here.
Obvious exits:
Kitchen Courtyard Residential Hallway Hold Office
Moved.

T'paz nods, sipping his own wine. "There's something to that, Wullan, but I figure sometimes one's skill promotes one far more than one's voice. I'm sure he'll be tapped soon enough." He shows off his current outfit. "I think I bought this from him, a while ago."

Althia smiles to the weyrwoman after handing her the glass, and nods to the Bronzerider "please I hope you will call me Althia, titles are so formal. And I really do not do that much at the moment, skinned knees and the occasional wounded pride

Althia
Tall and supple, this young woman's twenty turns have graced her with the slim, athletic frame of a young sapling. At about 5'8, her lean frame anchors the fiery cascade of long, /long/ hair hued a deep, rich, sanguine blood-red. With eyes of forest green and a honey-warm countenance, she hardly needs the elegant nose, warm, soft lips, long neck, and those endless legs that make up the rest of her.
Althia's knot of healer purple and white shows A Journey woman healer and rests against her Fort Weyr's darker hues.
Althia wears a soft white cotton tunic, with large baggy sleeves that fasten with wooden toggles at the wrists. A fur lined Vest of Healer Purple, snugs tight to her waist and bosom showing her form. For durability she wears fight black wherry hide breeches with a belt that has a silver buckle with Fort Weyr's emblem on it. Her feet are clad in soft calf high black wherry hide moccasin / boots that have a leather fringe around the tops and cling to her calves. Thad regards you, perched atop Althia's shoulder.
Althia is 23 Turns, 11 months, and 16 days old.

T'paz
Dark grey eyes that sparkle with humor and intensity, looks deeply into yours. Dark brown hair, peppered with grey now, is pulled back in a longish ponytail. It's kept tight, so as not to interfere with his riding helmet. His skin was fair once, but is now ruddy tan. Strong cheekbones blend into a clearly defined, yet easygoing jaw line. His broad shouldered frame sports toned and chiseled muscle…long, lean and powerful. Shoulders ripple down a hardened back, to gymnast's legs - ready to move any way they need to. His chest and stomach are lean and defined. Hands are long and strong, callused from hours of duties and heavy tasks. He's wearking black leather bracers, and a small silver ring on his right hand.
Snowy white shirt of very finely woven sisal with a stand-up collar provides an elegant backdrop, straight armed sleeves ending in lacy cuffs secured by silvery snowflake cuff links. Coarse sisal vest dyed deep ebony overlays the white shirt, overstitched with black snowflakes to match the cuff links. Soft ebony trousers in a classic cut are belted with wherhide decorated with swirling patterns in silver studs and accented with aquamarine jewels, and end in highly polished wherhide riding boots.
An orange and black cord with a bronze sisal ribbon woven through it is tied in a wingrider's knot. It's bound with a metal band that is engraved with the logo of Amethyst Wing.
T'paz is 54 Turns, 4 months, and 25 days old.

Wullan
Deeply chestnut hair, gently highlighted with touches of white at temple and crown, cascades in a glorious wave down this mature woman's back. Clear, olive complexion complements almond-shaped dark eyes, fanned with ever-deepening laugh-lines set above high cheekbones, and a saucily upturned nose. She is softly feminine, mature curves flowing roundly under her clothing, but there is an electric undercurrent about her which fairly crackles with energy. Her smile is wide, always ready to curve into a vivacious grin at a moment's notice. Petite, though you would never know it from the amount of boyish mischief she exudes, she projects an air of confidence and experience.
A complex, multiple looped knot of blazing orange and black cords, through which a ruddy golden strand shines, denotes her status as a Retired Weyrwoman posted to Ista Weyr, and the rider of gold Isabeth.
Spirited crimson stains this dress, slashing colour sweeping from shoulder to calf in clinging sisal. Dramatically slit from ankle to thigh, and sleeveless even in winter's chill, the dress is elegant albeit risque - more so when paired, as now, with highly polished spike-heeled wherhide boots reaching up almost out of sight under the slit. Bangles grace Wullan's wrists and throat, glimmering gold punctuated with the scarlet fire of rubies tastefully arrayed. Gold Duchess regally regards you, from Wullan's left shoulder. Bronze Baron fixes you with a smoldering glare, vying for a spot atop Wullan's shoulders.
Wullan is 59 Turns and 3 days old.

Mika
She is a slim woman, willowy and on the short side. Her long brown hair is tinged slightly with red, giving it a mahogany look, and falls past her hips. Her face is a bold diamond shape, very much at odds with he rest of her appearance. High cheek bones accent soft hazel eyes, her nose is long and straight. Her mouth is a full bow shape, managing, somehow, not to overspill the pointed chin. Her figure curves gently, evened out between bust and hit and slender waist.
The simplest of all knots in a base of Ista's colors of orange and black. Through it is woven two strands of bright white thread.
A rich green brocade drapes elegantly around her form, tapering at the waist, then flairing out at the skirt, giving the illusion of more of a figure than she has. The materiel is light enough to cling in all the right places, and the tailor was skilled enough to send the spiralling felines, green thread, embroiedered so they shone at exact oposite angles of light from the rest of the dress so they were always visible even though the colors were perfectly matched. Her hair is coiled up on top of her head with only a few trails hanging down. SeaCliff regards you, perched atop Mika's shoulder.
Mika is 17 Turns, 2 months, and 10 days old.

Quorra raises her glass rather belatedly, and takes a delicate sip. "Mm," she replies to Taini, agreeably, as her eyes alight on Daelin blushing on — Sterling's arm? What's this? Her eyes narrow thoughtfully, and not altogether pleasantly.

Aodien turns to set the wine glass down on the bar and then begins to make his way through the crowds. They've thickened somewhat, so other exits may have to be considered. The Smith still looks uncomfortable and finally finds himself against a wall. He'll watch from there until things thin out.

Apparently Daelin can do no wrong in the Lord's eyes, as she might as well have predicted 'Thread is gone forever!' for all the way he beams down at her when she recites the toast. Keeping his manners intact, the others around him garner attention. "Bronzerider!" Sterling greets T'paz as he calls out the toast, "A pleasure to have you here." Quorra is spotted again, and he is apparently trying to keep tabs on his beautiful daughter as she works the room.

Alereo raises his glass at the toast, but drops it quickly so he can throw back the rest of the contents. A passing drudge receives the empty vessel and the arm-locked pair continues to stroll around the perimeter. "Shame, Kami, for keeping that from me. I should have been given the honor at least. He /is/ my brother." He frowns down at her, ignoring her form pressed close to his, in what could be a first for the young man. "I do not know if he will be inheriting anything, he is.." His voice trails off as he closes his mouth firmly, choosing not to divulge whatever it is he was about to say. Indecision flashes in his eyes and his lean cheeks flex convulsively. If there was ever a time in his life for selflessness, this would be it. To save his brother's skin and sacrifice his own dreams? Or should he assume obliviousness and let the girl bind Sergeo soundly? Steely-blue eyes find Quorra through the crowd. Seconds tick past. "You do not want Geo," he says carefully, turning his focus on the petite, buxom blonde at his side. "/I/ want you, Kami. That is what I really wanted to drag you away for, but you know me, ever at a loss for words.." His gaze is intense, his words quiet and meaningful. At least one Eo brother is getting betrothed tonight.

Taini's gaze follows Quorra's and chuckles softly. "Ahhh." She nods. She drains her juice, and moves over to ask for a refill. "Threndon." She remembers his name. "How are you, sir?"

Mika comes hesitantly in on the arm of a tall lean gentleman in harper's knots, though he's mirroring her look with a green tunic, though his pants are dyed a similar color to his mahogany hair. His triangular face is alive, and mobile, and his blue/green eyes scan the crowd even as he hooks Mika's arm closer and grins down at her. "Come now… You can't hide at the weyr forever. you've been here before. You told me yourself. Let's see if we can find the dancing…" And he pulls her into the crowd over her softly stammered protests.

The next drudge to emerge from the kitchens is a mild hunchback - ah, no, it's Vyune, her silhouette marred by a small satchel slung over her shoulder. Anzan is still in her arms, but barely, his struggles becoming more marked against her restraint. So many luscious colors, so many sparkling fabrics, and he wants to touch them all. Dark heads tilt together and her lips move as she murmurs soothingly into his ear, inching her way back towards the hold doors.

Threndon sincerely hopes the Lord Holder is done with the toasting. At this rate, everyone in the room will be two-fisting within the hour and he'll either run out of glasses and mugs, or booze! Then again, there is always the Tillek white. He rubs his chin and orders one of the drudges he hasn't permanently injured to go to the Broken Staircase and grab as many skins of the white as possible.

T'paz blinks, then turns towards Sterling. He bows formally from the hip and grins. "Thank you, Lord Holder. I'm glad that I was able to come. It's been far to long since I attended a ball of any sort." He notices the watchful eye, and nods. "More in the room than I'm accustomed to. Magnificent spread, impeccable hopitality." He raises his mug in salute to the Lord Holder.

Wullan smiles again at the Fortian and nods her own agreement. "When I was the young scribe accompanying my grandfather everywhere. He was the old Lord of Ruatha Hold," she notes, "He never let anyone get away with anything less than the appropriate etiquette under the circumstances. Grew tiresome, to be honest. I myself am simply Wullan - since now that I am retired, I hold only the rank of weyrwoman rather than Weyrwoman."

Althia smiles to the two Istan riders as Thad uses his head to gently nudge her cheek..her eyes blink a moment and she says "if you'll excuse me, seems there is a cut that needs sutures back at the weyr….

Threndon, hearing his name being called turns to Taini. "Why yes. I do believe I remember you. One of my first customers if I do recall. I'm busy but….well, busy." He beams happily. Well, as happily as a man who takes marks for getting people drunk can be, but it's all he has. Seeing the glass he queries "Wine?"

Between the attention from Sterling and the effects of the wine, there's no telling when Daelin's fair complexion will ever return to normal. Never the less, she plays her part, greeting those that come up to them as if she did that all the time and didn't lurk in her crafthall instead. Feeling more gazes upon her, Daelin tries to discretely look around and spying Quorra there. Innocently the weaver raises a glass to Sterling's daughter, having met her before however briefly.

Aodien will notice the drudge aka Vyune with a small frown and raise an eyebrow at the bundle, especially the squirming one whose head is twisting in all directions. So he'll try and intercept her by pushing off the wall and walking a step behind, "The other outfit was prettier," get murmured quietly in her direction.

The Lord Holder dips his head appreciatively to the toast. "Thank you. Do enjoy all that you can! Remember, also, any rider in off sweeps, or threadfall for that matter, gets their first drink free at The Broken Staircase." His nearly empty glass is raised, "To the riders! The heroes of Pern!" Is Sterling trying to get everyone drunk? Threndon will be pleased.

Taini shakes her head, and once again points out the weyrling knot. "Not tonight, I'm afraid. Just juice." She says, with a smile. "Understand. He's going to run you out of supply, isn't he?"

Quorra carefully schools her expression back into a blank kind of polite pleasantry as she lifts her glass in return to Daelin. No reason to make an enemy of the woman that her father seems so enamored of, but she makes no effort, either, to approach the two. Avoid, avoid, avoid.

Alereo's charming words render Kamilah quite speechless. The country bumpkin heiress stares disbelievingly up at the Fortian man a long moment, then she smacks him with her small handbag. "Reo! He's your own brother! You'd take his happiness just because you want me?" Her eyes turn up to him and lashes are fluttered plaintively - begging him to answer in the affirmative. "I just don't know that I could bring myself t'break his li'l heart like that. He's become so attached t'me and li'l Kam." Then there's a little sigh as she seems to consider his words, "Can we have a big handfastin'? Like this here? An' will you love me and Kameo ferever and ever?" Apparently she's willing to be his for but these paultry requests.

Threndon sputters at the Lord's generous offer. Heart attacks don't come cheap you know! He looks at Taini with a mildly pained expression on his face before looking up and seeing others looking back at him, clapping mildly. He nods and bows a bit, wanting to find the closest knife and take a running stab at the Lord Holder. Again, he just says "Yes. Of course. Why not?" It's only my profits your cutting into you lazy so and so….he thinks.

Vyune cannot whirl, beladen as she is, but her head still turns swiftly to pinpoint the source of that whisper. Only Aodien seems to be attentive, and yet by her expression she'd rather be facing Sterling himself. "Ye ain't goin' ta stop me." Not at all certain, those words, and after a moment of harried thought she actually steps closer, her voice gone breathy with urgency. "Ye won't tell. Will ye? Promise me ye won't. I can't let them take 'im. He's mine, he's all I've got."

Vyune
Coils of blue-black hair, dark and glossy as a beetle's carapace, pile efficiently atop her head just above the matching slash of full brows. Burnt cinnamon eyes, lushly jet-lined, follow a similar slant, prompted upwards by the rise of wide cheekbones; the plush contours of her dusky mouth thin far too often, though time spent in the Hold has not diluted her skin's golden hue. Her small hands bear the callouses and scars of heavy labor, her manner a bewildering flux between sharp and soft that speaks of too much, too soon - or too little, too late.
The paler strands of her orange and white Istan resident's knot have become rather beer-stained since she started working in the bar.
Shadowed sapphire coats her torso, the cut feminine without being obstructing, with a subdued collar and wide sleeves gathered to fasten at her wrists. Pants, sleek and dark and with hidden pockets here and there, cling more tightly than strictly comfortable to her slightly rounded waist. Her mid-calf boots of soft, supple leather dyed to deep russet brown clearly cost a fine mark, and worth every eighth. Si typically finds his perch tucked against Vyune's collar, near the chin. Quae spices up Vyune's shoulder. Vyune generally keeps Anzan within eyesight if not always arm's reach, and the solemn boy seldom strays far.
Vyune is 19 Turns, 1 month, and 19 days old.

Daelin is oblivious to Quorra's concerns, only seeing the polite look and taking it at face value in her innocent way. Then looking back to those nearest, she ends up following yet another toast with some alarm but keeps her own smile up on her face. "To the riders." And she inclines her head to T'paz at that before sipping once again. Her glass empties quickly at this rate and she warns herself to partake very very lightly or else.

T'paz nods and grins, sipping his wine and blending into the crowd. His ears remain open, but clearly he's seeking food. <sniff sniff> Ah, there's goes something yummy. With facile ease, he moves into the throng and disappears…

Wullan raises her glass with pride, the glow in her cheeks either a pleased flush or the effect of having stood next to the handsome bronzerider before he vanished towards the latrines. "Hear hear!" she responds to the toast to the riders, her impish eyes sparkling.

The drudge comes back, with two friends weighed down by a mass of skins. They are deposited and Thren smirks evily toward the general direction of the Lord Holder. Go ahead. Have another toast. Thren dares. Oh her dares.

Taini's comment is whispered, as she takes her refilled glass. "Might as well supply for flights, too, the way he's going on…" She smiles. She looks around, noticing Aodien talking to someone, though she can't make o ut who it is. So, she shrugs, takes a drink of her juice, and glances around the room again.

Aodien will look a little confused at Vyune for a moment. "Why would I stop you?" The question is offered in a husky tenor, but he shakes his head in assurance making an instant decision. He can recognize desperation when he hears it. "I won't tell," is murmured quietly. He'll lean his lanky frame towards her a little closer and though his eyes normally clear eyes are a little darker then normal he asks lightly, "What am I not supposed to be telling?"

Daelin's glass is promptly filled by an assistant steward that is hemmed to Sterling's side at all times. This is after, of course, his is filled first. The rule is: never let air touch the bottom of the Lord Holder's glass. Now that everyone of particular influence has been greeted, the man steps out of the Lord to give Daelin his full attention. A deep throaty purr comes at her low, "Are you enjoying the Ball? Have you danced?" All the while he holds to that lovely arm as if it were a hard won prize.

Quorra is near enough Aodien and Vyune to think there's something odd going on between the Smtith boy and the drudge, but after a quick glance she dismisses it without another thought — they are, afterall, only an apprentice boy and a drudge. Besides, at this point she's cornered by the wife of one of Ista's minor Holders, and must widen her smile and clasp the woman's clammy hand. "Ah, yes, Lady Marilla. How are you?"

"Jest — don't tell 'em about me. Anythin'. Nothin'. You ain't seen me, you ain't seen us." The last word, emphasized strongly, draws Anzan into the bizarre realm of Vyune's intent - muddled even to her. Earnestly she searches Aodien's face for signs of .. what? and then a moment later contradicts herself: "Iff'n they ask, tell 'em we went to… to.." Her eyes seize upon the skin delivery and supply a quick, "Tillek!"

Tillek white at the ready, Thren feels a little safer in his bunker of a bar by the kitchens. He looks over to Taini once more. "Are you not allowed to drink or something? Does the weyr do some kind of designated rider program I don't know about?" Juice? At a party?! It's just unPernesian of her.

Bylaran drags Mika through the crowd. "You can't hide on the walls forever, sister dear…" He picks practically at random and his eyes rest on Quorra, "Ah! Good eveneing good evening!" He strolls in even as Mika tries to pull him back. "Bylaran, you can't just go interupting people and barging about everywhere."

There goes his hand, partly raised, until Alereo realizes he has no glass to lift. His hand drops to his side and he gives Kamilah a smile, the likes of which Sergeo might be proud of. Turns spent watching his brother charm this one or that one has taught him a few tricks. "What about my happiness? I would writhe every night thinking of you in his arms. No, you have to be mine, Kami, say you will." He stops, turning her into his arms, and stares meaningfully down into her lovely face. "Sergeo has withstood heartbreaks before and I am sure if he knew how much you meant to me, he would do the same. Do not keep me in suspense a moment longer, Kami. You can have whatever you want. A big ball like this, jewels, and a huge feast. Anything to make you happy, and say you will handfast me properly and soon." She will probably miss it, but a furtive look is shot over her head to Quorra, then to the doors leading to the garden. Bad timing could ruin the whole scheme, and now that he has made his mind up, he means to see it through, for better or for worse.

There is the sense of being a small fluffy creature in the sights of a prowling feline, at least that's what Daelin feels like as she hears Sterling's questions in her hear. The young woman half turns her head, peering up at the Lord Holder through thick dark lashes. "Oh yes, of course. There hasn't been a gathering like this in Boll in some time. It's good to get away." Then she shakes her head no, "I haven't danced yet. Doesn't appear that there are too many on the floor. Perhaps you could encourage the harpers to strike up a suitable tune?" And that brings the dimples back to her cheeks.

"I'm a weyrling." Taini says, shrugging. "So, for roughly two Turns, no alcohol, no intimate contact…" She sounds like the page from the weyrlingmaster's manual. "Luckily, I've only got a little less than a Turn to go." She grins. "When I can, you'll be sure I'll put a few marks in your pocket."

Threndon beams good naturedly. Secretly he hopes she will break her vows of alcoholic chastity and come partake of a few adult beverages before a Turn is up, but he simply smiles and say "Well isn't that nice. Good for you." He pats her hand lightly before moving down the bar, toward the customers who might actually get drunk enough to tip!

The Steward himself arrives to tap Sterling on the shoulder just as he was about to answer the young weaver. A stern look is fired at the man, but when his gaze is directed toward the Hold doors, it all becomes clear and he nods understanding. In walks a young man known to Ista Island as Detrim, son of a minor holder. It is with apologies that the Lord looks down upon Daelin, "I will happily do so and sweep you off your feet if you will give me just a moment. I have to make an announcement. Bare with me?" he questions with heavy-handed hope.

Kamilah stares, jaw wholly agape at the younger twin of the two. She's gathered up into his arms, and still just listens. And its a good thing, too, that Alereo has her now in his arms because on the heels of his words she swoons, "Well, I do declaaaaaaaare!" This is certainly loud enough to ring over the din as one hand moves to fan herself expressively, "Of course, I'll hand fast you, Reo!" And before there can be two words of protest she's on her tip-toes to reach his face, and pulling it with both hands down to meet lips in a (well, at least on her end!) empassioned kiss!

Aodien seems to make the connection between 'all I have' and 'don't tell' quite quickly, "I've never seen you alright." He'll repeat that softly with a slow nod of his head. The desire to not reveal anything is something he can atleast appreciate since he has no secrets left to reveal. "If anyone asks you've gone to Tillek?" His gaze will narrow just briefly as his hand scratches his chin. The tenor will roughen a bit, "Why Tillek, why not Telgar, Igen or Fort? The more details I can provide, the better a lie it will be don't you think? That way should anyone ask I can give tons of details and no one will guess I'm lying." He doesn't believe this, but he will ask.

Re-enter Sergeo, through the Hold doors. Looking more disheveled than when he left, hair ruffled out of the neat arrangement it had been carefully placed in. His expression was less somber - truly, but all that changes quickly enough as his eyes are drawn to Quorra in the crowd. Arms fold across his chest and his eyes shift around to find Kamilah not only in Alereo's arms but kissing him! And its there that he sets as his mark and begins to push through the crowd to get to.

It would take a louder woman than Lady Marilla to drown out Kamilah's exclamation. Quorra's eyes are drawn over the woman's head and towards Alereo and his newly-betrothed, and there's something quite satisfied and triumphant in her gaze, though it fades almost as quickly as it came. She'd be hard put not to notice Sergeo, even in this crowd, drawn to him like a moth to a light, but she only deliberately turns her back on him, tosses her head, and laughs like she's having the time of her life.

Seeing duty rearing it's head once more, Daelin nods uncertainly at Sterling. But when he mentions announcement, the young woman appears to have had enough of being so close to the center of attention. She slips her arm out of Sterling's grasp and smiles innocently. "Go on, don't mind me. It is your party." Well Quorra's technically. "Do what you have to do." As Sterling looks away but for a moment, she steps back and vanishes into the crowd. Daelin'll find that attentive Steward and head on to one of those nice quiet guest rooms.

Taini nods. "Thank you." She senses some of his frustration, and feels a little of it herself. She takes her glass, and stands, to walk toward the center to get a better view. As she does, she passes Aodien. "Don't be bothering the drudges /too/…" She gets a good look at the 'drudge', and inhales deeply. "I don't want him. She says, plainly. "I just want to know him. And, I lied, by the way… It wouldn't be every one of them. Just some." Mainly the ones coming after her and her family. With that, without even waiting for the 'important announcement' of the evening, Taini makes her way to Sterling, curtseys again, "Thank you for a grand party, sir, however, duty does call." And she heads out the door to her waiting dragon.

Sighing deeply with a sad shake of his head, Sterling watches Daelin go. "Duty. Always in the way." Alas, he knows his duty, and moves on. Stepping up onto what looks like a freshly painted dais where the harpers are playing, the Lord Holder waits as the music dies down to capture attention. The thick wooly voice booms out across the room, Harper training being put to full use. "Ladies, gentlemen, and anything in between! Thank you for coming to our Ball! I have an announcement and would like to take a moment of your time." With a formal stature he scans the room with a frosty cool gaze.

Vyune's arms constrict, eliciting a bleat of protest from Anzan that burgeons towards a full-fledged toddler's outburst. "Not Fort!" Her own disagreement rises above her son's sniffling. "Never Fort!" Tension bristles about her, jaw clenched tightly shut, but Taini's approach sends her over the edge. This older Taini, strange, different, and in Vyune's mind powerful; the Barlord's confession is lost on Vy, who blindly struggles to escape the crowd, uncaring of whose satin slippers she crushes on her way out.

Wullan waits attentively for the announcement, swirling her wine idly.
Brawling, drinking, and womanizing are Alereo sort of attention-mongering, not over the top dramatics as Kamilah has just exhibited. He winces as her loud voice brings him pain and he puts more pressure on her arms, to keep her from falling on the floor and making a complete cake of herself. "Goo—" he starts to say, but is silenced by her kiss. It is no passionate kiss on his part and it ends abruptly as he spots his brother, over the top of her head, tearing through the crowd to get to them. Grabbing Kamilah's hand and pulling her along, he too weaves around the crush of people, intending to meet his brother halfway. He does not bother to stop for Lord Ista either, but continues to shoulder his way towards his twin.

Threndon hopes there's another toast. MWHAHAHAH!

Mika succeeds in pulling Bylaran away from Quorra's vicinity, especially since she recognizes the gleam in his eye as he sees the girl heading towards Sergeo. "Bylaran, you're still causing trouble!" She mutters at him, barely loud enough to be heard in the noise. He glances down at her, "You didn't think that would change, did you Mika? But fine… Let's go to this group, they should be… sedate enough for you. They're from the Weyr so they shouldn't frighten you away and maybe my arm will get some circulation back!" He saunters up to Wullan and Threndon's area bowing deeply as he approaches. "Ladies, Gentlemen might we join you? Since the rest of the party seems concerned with it's own affairs and it would be rude to untangle them… amusing as it might be."

T'paz reappears, mug free, and looking much more relaxed than before. He moves back in the direction of Wullan, and siddles up closely to her. He hears the announcement, and perks up, listening.

Wullan smiles a welcome to Mika and the harper, making room for them both. "Certainly, Harper," she responds quietly, not wanting to interrupt whatever exciting news there may be announced. "Always room for a harper and there's wine over here too - never knew a harper to refuse a glass of wine." She leans into T'paz gently as she waits.

Aodien is just plain confused by that outburst, but concern lingers there as well, so he will follow her towards the door. Besides, she's clearing a path that makes it easy for him to get through the crowds. "Wait!" But then she is gone and so is he.

Clash of the twins! Sergeo does indeed meet Kamilah and Alereo half-way, and hisses just below the din of the quietening crowd, "You bastard. First you steal the love of my life, and now my wife-to-be. Couldn't be happy with just one, Reo? Had to have both?" His tone is a quiet snarl. Kamilah - not being the brightest glow in the basket - blushes at his words, saying quietly, "Now, Geo, Reo loves me, an' tha's all there is to that. I'm sorry yer hurt, but Kameo's Reo's baby." How many times has she changed the parentage of the child now? Seven? Who's counting. A silencing hand is held up to Kamilah and a glare directed at Reo from Geo. "I hope you're happy." And with that he pushes past the two, heading for the drink table and only turning to give Sterling the proper attention once he gets there.

Quorra freezes even as Lady Marilla turns her attention towards Sterling. "Oh, how exciting," the irrepressible woman coos, and it's a good thing she's turned away from Quorra who gives her a dirty, scowling, disgusted look. Sterling wouldn't /really/.. would he?

When the vast majority of eyes are trained on Lord Ista, he begins in earnest. "It is my great honor to announce the betrothal of my lovely clever daughter Lady Quorra to Holder Detrim!" Sterling's hands come together loudly in an attempt to rouse applause from the crowd as he directs bows to both the man mentioned, and his daughter. Spotlights might as well have been directed on them both.

Bylaran grins, "Oh, I'll take a drink surely, m'lady," There is a saucy wink attached to the title, "but I think you'll find my sister harder to persuade, she's a bit on the conservative side…" He shakes his head in dreadful mock melencholy

Mika blushes and attempts to step on her brother's foot, but he's nimble and dodges. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, and I'll stay with juice… I'm a candidate after all…" She offers it up as at least a feeble defense.

Threndon almost claps because there doesn't seem to be a toast associated with the announcement. He claps his gnarled hands together, trying to entice those around him to do the same. Not like he's even had ten words with the man's daughter, but putting on the face is important. First rule of sales is make them think you care. Well….*clap clap clap* "Good on ya!"

Wullan smiles kindly at Mika and grins back at Bylaran. "No, no, I'm Wullan, not 'm'lady', Weyrwoman or anything other than that," she notes for the harper. Hearing the announcement, she smiles and sets down her glass after raising it in toast. "And that is my exit, Isabeth is restless and I must go. Enjoy yourselves!" And with that, the scarlet clad goldrider heads out the hold doors, the heels of her thigh-high boots clickclacking purposefully on the lovely wood floors.

Jaw drops. Sergeo stares - at Sterling, at Quorra, then in revulsion at Detrim. His turn to the drinks couldn't be fast enough. Soon enough there's a good number of drinks that were full and are now empty. And if that weren't good enough, both hands snag up bottles into both hands and he begins threading his way through the crowed towards the courtyard.
Sterling's lovely clever daughter Lady Quorra is having a hard time looking pleased. The most she manages is a rather twisted sort of smile as the applause rises around her, and well-meaning guests open a path in the crowds for Detrim to join his betrothed. He takes her arm with a possessive air, and Quorra endures it. Barely. Until she remembers that Sergeo is in that crowd, and then her eyes flash and the smile sparkles and she looks adoringly up at the man she's to handfast.

Sergeo is gone from Alereo's presence before he can recover from his shock long enough to comment. He stares after his brother, keeping a firm grip on Kamilah's hand lest she decide to run after the other man. All he can do is lift his gray-blue eyes to Sterling for the announcement. In further astonishment, he looks to the man named, Quorra, and then back to Sergeo. Swiftly, his jaw clamps and he growls out low, "Idiot!" Neither twin has a high opinion of the other at this point. Dragging his new fianc in his wake, he speaks quickly and effectively, trying to staunch any protests she may have ahead of time. "I think it is time we left. I have to pack my things and you yours, so we can get to Fort. My parents and yours will want to know about this."

Sterling gestures with a graceful flourish for the band to strike up a tune and heads down into the crowd toward his daughter and her betrothed. A wine glass mysteriously materializes in his hand just before he arrives at their side. Detrim's shoulder is enthusiastically thumped, "My good man, welcome to the family!" The sideways glance thrown at Quorra is full of covert warning.

The polite clapping doesn't seem to lessen the grumbles of the disappointed. Sergeo had resolved to at least maintain some dignity by -walking- to the courtyard much as he simply wants to flee, but hearing Sterling welcoming Detrim - of all people! to the family… well, this is too much for his aching heart and rebelling stomach to bear. A few someones are shoved roughly aside as Serge gives up on walking and breaks into a run as he tries to exit faster - vanishing through the Hold doors.
Some poor fool of a drudge trips as he is coming back to the bar area and spills 3 full glasses of Benden red all over Thren's lovely lavender coat! "Gah!!! Fool!" the old man barks! He takes a rag and tried to wipe some of the red liquid off, only making things worse. "Oh bother! I have to go get this cleaned right away!" He beckons one of the servers over and instructs them not to let any toasts occur with a red wine in glasses before shuffling out of the Hall.

Kamilah, for her part, as much as she'd -like- to protest, to go after Sergeo - she's easily led, poor thing. And so when her fiance says 'let's go' that's just what she does, making her way off as she's towed by Alereo.

Quorra hardly needs Sterling's warning glance, though her smile falters as soon as Sergeo is out the doors, and she's uncharacteristically silent. She bides her time, accepting congratulations with fairly good grace, but as soon as the crowd loses interest she, too, slips away, without a word to anyone.

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