Feasts and Gathers

Writers: Shawna, Sia
Date Posted: 27th June 2025

Characters: Aleriand, N'tan
Description: Aleriand and N'tan attend Panitath's hatching feast.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 6, day 26 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: J'ine, N'vanik, Z'kim, Master Unknown, Corofel

Aleriand

Hallmaster Aleriand swirled his wine in its cup, watching the spectacle on the dance floor with a dry, unimpressed sort of detachment that had taken turns to perfect. Across the crowd, the Weyrleader and his greenrider partner were a whirlwind of scandalous movement. The weyrfolk laughed, the holders clutched their pearls. It wouldn't be a hatching feast without N'vanik making some kind of fool of himself, and the familiarity was oddly nice.

It did make him suddenly understand why J'ine just didn't seem to ever understand why secrecy was needed at the Hall. He never would have been able to convince him otherwise when the Weyrleader acted like _that_.

"Well," He said, "I suppose I should thank them for being on the front page of Master Unknown's pamphlet. Nobody can top that."

N’tan was frowning, not in disapproval, exactly, but in confusion. “He’s in a mood tonight. I wonder if he’s having a spat with his Weyrmate. Or the Weyrwoman?” He didn’t see any jealous women of any kind lingering at the sidelines, however.

He leaned casually against a wall, idly picking at some refreshments as he crowd watched. “You’re swirling your wine like a shifty wine merchant or a book villain,” he pointed out, distracted from the dance floor by the motion.

"My beard isn't the right type for me to stroke it. It was either this or get a feline." Aleriand said. "Though I suppose that's why Corofel thinks I'm the mysterious writer, isn't it?"

“I could loan you Basil, but he’s as like to bite you as let you hold him. You still having trouble with the young lord?” N’tan chuckled quietly, “You’d think he’d have too much to deal with to be picking fights with the Halls.”

Aleriand laughed at the thought. He and Basil had an uneasy truce that involved both of them ignoring the other. "Just racked up the cost of services. Nothing I can't handle. If anything, it's helping us pay to take more apprentices. Children need a cause to fight against. Imagine his tantrum once someone eventually publishes something criticising his lordship."

“You mean other than scandal gossip?” N’tan said dryly. “Just be easy on the boy. He can hardly match your wit. It’s hardly a fair fight.”

"Something closer to legitimate criticism, at least." Aleriand said with a laugh, "I am being easy. It's hardly my words he's offended by." From their vantage near the wall, he had a clear view of the dance floor, where the Weyrleader and his greenrider partner were in the throes of what could generously be called a performance.

"Who is that, anyway? Do you know?" Aleriand asked, "I don't recognize him."

“I don’t know. He’s not from Dolphin Cove or Thayan Peak,” the brownrider was a homebody enough that he didn’t know many of the riders from elsewhere. “This is presumably going to wind up in the gossip papers tomorrow, I assume. The holders are going to stop coming to our hatchings if we keep having disaster and scandal.” He didn’t seem like that upset him.

"I assume that's why he's doing it." Aleriand said dryly. "Poisoned dragons. Corowal's disappearance. A murdered watchrider. He thinks if he's the next hot topic in the papers, everyone will just forget everything else that's happened these last few turns. Feasts and Gathers*, as it were. Everything else fades in comparison to Weyr gossip and holder sensibilities."

“It’s likely to rile up the holders even more. You know how they feel about… certain predilections,” N’tan said delicately. “He’s just going to cause even more trouble. We might have a hard time replacing the candidates who just got promoted to Weyrlings.”

"Don't I. And this better not impact how much the Weyr Searches at the Hall. I need the apprentices." Aleriand said. He watched the pair a moment longer, though his attention was already drifting elsewhere. He was tired. A bone-weary exhaustion built up after Turns of careful maneuvering, of staying well within the bounds of acceptable.

Aleriand reached out, the motion almost casual, and let his fingers brush the small of N'tan's back. Just enough to feel him, solid and warm. "Let's go," he said, voice low, "I'd rather not waste the rest of the evening pretending I find any of this entertaining."

“You’re just afraid of some eligible young lady guest finding out a single Hallmaster is in attendance.” Despite the bland tease, N’tan gestured to the nearest door that offered a back way out. “Did you need to be home tonight?” With no grace or subtlety, a large brown form dropped to the ground. “Or would you join me for a drink?” As if there hadn’t been plenty in the feast.

Aleriand grimaced. "The eligible young ladies searching for a husband usually aren't at the Weyr, thank Faranth." He glanced back at the feast, casually gauging if anyone would miss him. He was away at the Weyr often enough that his early-morning return to the Printer Hall may not be noticed. "A drink sounds nice, if Bastiath doesn't mind the escort."

“Don't bet on that. Everyone comes to a Weyr for a hatching if they can. But I do hate all the noise. Things used to be quieter when this wasn't happening multiple times a year,” there was no real bite in his grumble as Bastiath gave them the short little lift to the brownrider’s weyr.

“Bastiath will be annoyed when I wake him up to take you home, but he likes you well enough, he’ll get over it.” He helped Aleriand off the brown with more care than was needed, but he waited until they were safely into the dimly lit weyr before pulling the other man in for a kiss that had more heat than his casual and calm demeanor would have hinted at. Barely breaking the kiss, he offered, “Wine? Whiskey?”

Last updated on the July 7th 2025

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Feasts and Gathers