The Headaches Of Fall


Lenia.jpg P'sec.jpg Maura.jpg Nenienne.jpg L'han.jpg

Dragons: Bronze Abydoth, Blues Orralth and Rikath and Green Escaeth

Date: June 29, 2011
Location: Jaya's Bar
Synopsis: In the wake of the Fall, tempers run high, both human and draconic.
Rating: PG-13
Logger: Lenia

The knot of riders coming in haven't taken the time to shower and change, carrying in the pungent smell of firestone and ash. The knot of riders coming in haven't wanted to shower and change - sometimes, after a Fall, what one wants first and foremost is to knock back a stiff drink. P'sec, today, is one of those with this frame of mind. He's bigger than the others he enters with and taller than most, easy to spot as he bears down upon the bar.

Ok, so Maura isn't exactly the type known for wanting to knock back a stiff drink at any time. But, she still follows the knot of riders when they carry the scent of firestone with them into the bar. Why? Just because, -that's- why. And hey, may as well pick up a few bad habits right? Rubbing her hand across the bridge of her nose does nothing more then to smear ash across her face instead of relieve any tension however, thus cementing the look of tired rider.

Lenia is among the hot, dusty and smelly. She strips off her outer layer of leathers as she walks, baring down to a plain black sleveless tunic and blue lightweight trousers. She moves to sit down, curling the dirty leathers into a smelly ball beside her. Sprawling out into a seat, she exhales loudly. "Damn. I'm glad that's over." Not that she doesn't enjoy being a rider. But she's tired. She runs a hand through her hair, messing it up even further, streaking her face with firestone soot.

Nenienne is already in the bar, sipping at something a warm brown in shade. She glances up and greets, without smiling, the two riders she knows; Lenia and Maura. She also sends a polite nod P'sec's way.

P'sec leans across the counter to order a round of something strong that comes in short tumblers with a splash of water. There's plenty for everyone; presumably someone else will get the second round. "Bar or table?" he queries the group as he selects two glasses and pulls them in front of him, leaving wet marks on the wood countertop. "You can say that again," P'sec says soberly in answer to Lenia, between one drink and the next. He treats the first like a shot. "Except don't, you don't actually have to repeat that." Catching Nenienne's nod, he gives the crafter down the way a short, weary smile.

Maura seems to follow Lenia's lead, shoving off her jacket and tossing into a corner where she can smell it less; and then, flopping down into a chair. "Table." she suggests, as she's already seated herself at one, just after grabbing one of those tumblers. "Hi, Nenienne." she adds politely, with a sleepy sort of sigh escaping her lips from the slight burn of alcohol when it heads down the gullet. "I'll third it."

Lenia gives Nenienne a lazy wave, and gestures toward the table she's sitting at. "Table." She looks up at the numbers, and then flings a tired arm toward the table next to her. "Pull that thing over, and we'll have enough, right?" That's the other reason. "What?" She manages a bright, albeit tired, smile. "You don't want me to repeat myself?" It's a tease, but a lame one. "I can get next round, P'sec." She's already volunteering, reaching out for a glass of whatever-the-heck he's brought back to the table. Her attention wanders back to the gemcrafter. "You want to join us? I can't guarantee it'll be anything appealing, since we all smell of firestone, dragon and well, just smell, but you're welcome to, if you want." Yes, the blue rider is rambling.

Nenienne nods and heads over, carrying her drink in her left had, and clenching and unclenching her right hand into a fist repeatedly. "Thank you for the invite. I figure, given the reason for the smell, that it can be endured. How did the fall go?"

Whatever-the-heck is strong enough in the nostrils to kill a good deal of the firestone reek, that's what it is, and after enough of them, strong enough to make one stop noticing. P'sec picks up the tray of glasses that haven't already been snatched up, adding his second tumbler, and brings it over to the table. He pauses so Lenia can grab a glass and then puts the tray down, appropriating his glass along with a chair as two of the other riders follow Lenia's suggestion and wrestle another table over. "Say what?" he replies to the bluerider, his own lame joke, then gives her a quick nod for her offer. "Long," he succinctly tells Nenienne, even more terse than usual.

"What he said." Maura gestures with her half-empty glass towards P'sec when he says the fall was 'long'; and also groans at the lame jokes. Not that she apparently has any better ones to throw out there. Instead, she leans her head against the bronzerider's shoulder and affects a zombie-ish sort of expression for a moment prior to straightening. "It was a bit… clumpy this time too. Which realy sucked." If there happens to be a chair that's not taken, she fully intends to prop her feet up on it too.

Lenia blinks once or twice, tired enough that P'sec's joke goes over her head for a moment. However, she chuckles softly when she gets it, swiftly grasping the glass and drinking it in a couple good gulps. She doesn't drain it completely, but enough that the burn of the pungent alcohol causes her to sniff acouple times before looking over at the slightly younger woman. "Man, P'sec, did you drain the bottom of the skins for this?" She's jibing, letting off the stress of a long, rough Fall with her teasing. "Agreed." That it was long. "Hard." She sighs. "I've got to see if I can't help them figure out some sort of…" She, as a starsmith, feels extremely responsible for not knowing what they used to know. "Everything is so messed up." She turns toward Mara, shifting in her seat to nod at the other blue rider. "Yeah. That's a good word for it. Clumpy." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a habit, not one that's of much use right now, with her sweat-soaked head such a mess. "And that can get dangerous. We're lucky we only had a couple scores."

Nenienne nods soberly as they report on the threadfall. "Nothing really bad, though? I didn't hear any keening, at least." She sounds somewhat hopeful with her last. She is clearly nursing whatever it is she's drinking, and still fisting up her right hand in an almost rhythmic pattern.

Orralth lifts his head from where he's resting in the sun, waiting to be bathed, the dust of his mind a sooty black. « Yuck. That was a rough one. I don't like things so out of pattern. » Like rider like dragon, in this case.

Rikath also waits, but by the lake; he seems comfortable covered in ash and soot, letting it settle on stony hide without complaint. « I don't like it. Period. » Because he doesn't like anything, of course.

P'sec shrugs out of his jacket, which falls behind him with its arms trailing on the floor. Maura may regret leaning on him - the bronzerider isn't clean by any stretch of the imagination, between the firestone and the sweat dampening his plain black shirt. He lets Maura do what she likes though, without shoving her off or shifting about uncomfortably. "You don't want it, more for me," he answers Lenia, nursing his second drink rather than shooting it like the first. He lets the others talk about the Fall without adding his own commentary, listening and staring at the far wall with a brooding frown.

Abydoth watches the lake from the vantage point of a ledge, still as the stone beneath his claws and almost mistakable as part of the rock itself. His mind, too, is flinty, hard and dark, discontent voiced in the clash of hard clash of stone on stone.

Maura totally does not care, because at this point everything smells bad. Plus, he bought drinks. And now that she is finished her first drink she picks up a second glass to start numbing herself with. "Nobody expected what happened with…" she points upwards. "… so it doesn't seem there's much to be done other then try to figure out what'll happen as we go." That's her - part idealist, part pragmatist. Though she twitches at the mention of keening, and nearly knocks back all of her second drink with a slightly bleak expression. "Yeah, none of that at least. Just some scoring." she murmurs.

Orralth snorts, unconcerned with his fellow blue's comments. « No surprise there. » The wind swirls through, unconcerned for others' minds, as the blue seems to brood. « There's got to be … » He's walking through things again: his part of the Fall, the calls he heard after they tired, everything. « There has to be something »

"Yeah, no losses. Couple light scores. Idiots." Lenia gazes over at Nenienne, scowling at the fools who don't listen to their wingleaders. "Your hand okay?" She finally notices the clenching movement. "You just got out of the infirmary, didn't you?" She remembers. "Did you enjoy the pictures I left?" Yes, something has to do with the stars. Her fatigue disappears, or the major signs of it, anyway, now leaning forward, until she stretches her back just enough — "Ow. Must've pulled something with that bag of firestone." Whichever one it was. This cuts the enthusiasm right off. Perhaps blessedly for her comrades. "I didn't say that." She replies easily to P'sec, sipping on the rest of her drink before finishing it and reaching for another. "It's just … strong." She sips at this drink slowly, mostly to have something to do while they talk.

Rikath sends a mirthless toothy smile Orralth's way. Unusual for him, however, is that he doesn't pick on Abydoth. Just sends a quiet wave of cool evening air towards the bronze, and then settles back. « Yeah, there's something. Beat some sense into the crackdust sucking wherrybrains that didn't follow wingleader's orders. » he suggests, in his usual manner.

Nenienne nods. "I got out the day after, but now I get to learn to re-use my hand. Something about nerves getting pinched or starved or something when my shoulder was dislocated." She brightens a bit when the star charts are mentioned. "Oh, yes; it was very lovely. I imagine you'll be wanting it back? I had an idea for some jewelry a while back, and the having actual star patterns would make it even more interesting."

"It happens," P'sec voices, at odds with Lenia's assessment not because of the scores in question, but as part of the principle. "Shifting wind, hit a clump -" He doesn't go on, doesn't even bang the table for emphasis. "Everyone's got their scores." A point to punctuate with a drink. The strength isn't bothering him. "Though, Lenia, in this case I have to agree with you - idiots." Having said his piece, the bronzerider looks at Nenienne as attention's drawn to her hand, eavesdropping openly since she's seated just a chair or two away.

Abydoth broods in his own way, conversationless - not that that is any change of character for him. He's silent only in terms of speech, mind a whorling vortex that sucks up all that stupidity mentioned by Rikath and spits it out somewhere far, far away.

Orralth draws out the other blue's name with a bit of a whine to his voice. « Rikaaaath. » He can't hold back his amusement at the other dragon's description of the troublesome riders. « You think if we looked inside their heads, we'd find crackdust? » He's really interested now. Not literally, but at least in the academic sense. « Oh, that's really helpful, Abydoth. » Cranky after Fall much?

Abydoth, casually, suggests that Orralth could be spit-balled away too.

"And their scars?" Maura wonders, the glance thrown towards the other rengade containing what may be a tinge of sympathy. She'll drink to idiots, though, tipping her glass a bit and emptying her second drink. Which, for someone who doesn't do a lot of drinking, it going to be enough at least make her tipsy. Wheeeee! She decides not to mention the close call Rikath had with one clump, for the very reason of that 'i' word being thrown around. Instead, just sinks into her chair further. "Do we know the list of injured yet?" Her gaze is drawn in towards Neni as well at the mention of infirmary and injury, but no comment on that score quiet yet.

Rikath grits his teeth, the crunch of stone and grnd of enamel sending a tremor through the link. « That's my name, don't wear it out? » Hey, he calls em like he sees em! « No, it would be empty. » is offered as a response. And then he spirals an image of a black spitball going swirling into a vortex. Just for Abydoth.

Lenia tunes out the thought of idiots, and the strange thoughts crossing her mind about black holes and small projectiles. "Which constellations were you considering?" All thoughts of sore hands, Threadfall and anything else has just disappeared from Lee's head. "Northern constellations, or Southern? If it's a circle, you could totally make the whole cycle in order. But that'd take some serious work." She frowns at Maura. "I only know those two — that greenrider and that bluerider." She can't remember their names. "Fairly new to the Weyr, I think. The ones who tried to put weird things int he redfruit juice two sevens ago." That might be enough to identify the specific riders to the others. "Oh, it does happen, P'sec, but these two were — " She tries to find an apt description. "Messing around like hungry wherries." That works.

Orralth catches the vortex, and amplifies it into the black hole he's just envisioned in Lee's head. Better place for idiocy and spitballs anyway. « Like this empty? » He doesn't hold the image for very long, because it hurts to even consider that kind of negative pressure in his mind.

Nenienne says, "I think I'd like to go with Southern constellations, since I live here now. And some circles might be neat as well. My first thoughts, though, were some dangling zircons on silver, sort of irregularly falling, more like an idea of stars rather than actual ones. It wasn't until I got the charts that I thought of making them more like the real thing." Lenia has her star charts; Neni has her jewelry."

The older bronzerider exchanges looks with Maura, which is confirmation enough. "B'en and Orenth." Immediately, P'sec starts naming names, starting with a brownrider pair in Avarice, nodding to Lenia in the meantime as she mentions the pair caught mucking about. "Morons won't listen to Kaseth. Couple greens changed out poorly in one of the other wings - Vuoth and that other one." He can't be bothered to ask Abydoth, or Abydoth can't be bothered to find out the specific green. Jewellery, it must be said, has even less interest for him than starcharts, so he zones right out of that conversation.

Maura just hooks her free arm with P'sec's after the exchanged glance. No need to say anything more about it. She winces with each name thrown out there though, and her lips finally purse at the mention of some not listening to Kaseth. "They'd better learn to listen after they've been injured, then. I can't imagine what would posess people not to listen to a Queen during a Fall." she mutters, a tinge of bitterness in her voice. "Hey, I went back to Igen on my last restday." she adds, when talk turns to jewelry. Because she sees the zoning out, and is determined not to let old man bronzerider brood.

"No, no no. What I was thinking was…" Lenia frowns, trying to explain the picture she's got in her head. "Ouch, Orralth! Don't do that!" Apparently, there's a bit of bleed-over. "I'm not feeling sorry for you or sharing the pain if it's self-inflicted, moron." She realizes she's talking out loud, and grins. "Something about a black hole and … crackdust-sucking wherry brains?" She chuckles and takes a long sip of her drink, then sets it back down, flailing with her hands when P'sec mentions the names. "Yeah. Them. And, yeah, I know it's different to have the queen leading right now, but she's who we've got for leadership, so they really need to buckle down and just fall in line." She grumbles a little more, but it's mostly quiet mutterings. Maura's comment about Igen gets a gaze and a quirked eyebrow. Iiinteresting.

A certain greenrider makes his way into the bar cautiously, minding any ruckus that occurs after a Fall, be it here or any other Weyr. When his gaze spots those that he considers… well not adversaries if not friends, he waves to the gathered Neni, Lenia, P'sec, and Maura. Making his way to the bar, L'han orders up a pint from the barmaid and then glances to the others. "How did the Fall go?" Because L'han was on Watch duty and that means he got to stay put while the rest flew fall.

Nenienne notes the subject change, and says to Lenia, "Perhaps sometime we can get together and talk about it? I think jewelry is a bit out of place here." She listens with detached interest to the talk of strategies and the like.

Abydoth goes still and dark, possibly in an effort to rival Orralth's black hole effect, exerting a subtle but inexorable pull on the others. Physically too, he remains immobile in an effort to minimise the reflection of sunlight picking out the metallic sheen of his otherwise dark hide.

Rikath oh goody's. A testosterone nerd match? « Sigh. » He feels safe in giving at least a little tiny bit of a hard time here.

Escaeth peers at the other dragons as she feels the projections being put out by the others. « What are you all doing? » Her music seems noticably muted today and there is a sense of disappointment? The green doesn't say or do much else, her usual cheerfulness strangely absent.

"But who has ever heard of," replies P'sec, drolly sarcastic, "a queen leading Fall." His drink is disappearing despite his best efforts to make it last, and he frowns at the miniscule amount slicking the bottom of the tumbler. "Oh?" he gamely replies to Maura, pretending more interest than he feels at the moment. Glancing away to greet L'han with a nod and then answer his question makes his pretense less obvious. "Long," he describes, an echo of his earlier self.

Orralth winces at his own projection, replacing it quickly with his normal dust and rocks. « Nerd match? Who? » Oblivious, yes. « We're talking about idiots who won't listen to the queen during Fall. » Since the queen's word is basically law. « You know you become even more … visible when you do that, Abydoth. It's like a reverse effect. Footprint or something. I can still … see you. » He struggles to find the right ideas to convey what he means. He's tired.

Rikath flicks a pebble out at the darkening bronze hide. « What is it. » There's no question that something is bothering the pair, but he keeps his query on a tight band, shutting out most of the other chatter.

"Family." Maura replies, both to Lenia's arched eyebrow and P'sec's dispirited 'Oh?', that is so transparent it's like looking through glass. So she stands up to carry the empty tumblers back to the bar for a refill. One of which is quickly slid across to the bronzeirder while she grabs for his empty cup. "Hi L'han." she offers, a barely polite smile appearing on ash-streaked face.

"I dunno. It's not common." If P'sec is being completely sarcastic, Lenia, just like her dragon, is missing it completely. "That sounds like a plan. I want to show you my ideas, and then you can do whatever you want." She grins over at Nenienne, planning her conversation with the other woman. "Rough. Couple of idiots who didn't want to fly the line." She drains the glass. "Hey, Maura." She's up, right? Lenia fishes into her pocket, pulling out a couple marks of the appropriate denominations. "Here." She said she'd pay for this one. She's good for it.

Abydoth is mostly interested in the weight and the draw and the compression, dismissing the question of visibility versus invisibility as something simple, uncomplicated, black and white. The nuances, he implies through varying amounts of pressure on sinkwell he's created in his mind, is where the real attraction lies.

Abydoth doesn't immediately answer, the flung question bouncing off and left unattended to collect dust in the gloaming. Then, after a long pause, he turns his mind to the pebble, a chip of a thing off a mountain. « It is not such a small thing. » Words, in this case, amplify the meaning he's pondering with the pebble, speech rumbling forth low and gravelly, the shifting of one mountain against another until pieces break and fall.

Rikath is made, at least in his mind, of aeons worth of pebbles fallen and gathered and weather and melted together into something wholly unique. So he watches, and waits, and images himself sitting between the two shifting mountains. Unwavering. « The Fall. The Idiots. The Injuries. They add up. » he agrees.

L'han walks on over and nods to them all. "Yeah, I reckon it was." He looks at them all and says, "Next round is my treat. Grounded rider to those that actually did the fighting." He raises his pint in salute to them all before he drinks from it. "So whats this I hear about some dragons not listening to Kaseth and Randi?" He glances to Neni with a smile, including her in the discussion and the aforementioned drinks.

Escaeth edges away from Abydoth, the weight unnerving her before she swings her attentions into Orralth. « Dragons not listening to Kaseth? I mean mine doesn't like to listen to her rider, but I'd always listen to Kaseth. What were they thinking? » The green sounds concerned as she moves closer to Orralth mentally to listen. Rikath is given a chime to play with as usual with some amusement from the green.

P'sec's attention sharpens with Maura's short response, though response is forestalled until she returns. His hands, loosely folded on the table before him, open to receive the glass she slides across. "Which kind?" As if there's more than one. The rider has a short, tight smile for L'han meant to communicate appreciation before he replies with his take. "They didn't disobey, exactly." Which is more or less impossible. "But were slow to follow instructions or - improvised."

Rikath is obviously like the grumpy old cat that peoole like to torment by picking it up and kissing it when he really just wants to be crabby and cranky. Thus, he flicks the chime away with the expected amount of distaste. « Morons. Who said they were thinking? »

"Thanks Lenia. I'll get next round." The girl promises, letting the others describe the Fall, while she's busy with the trading of glasses and obvious communication with Rikath based on the slightly glazed eyes. That, or she's far more tired then she let on. "Both kind." Maura answers for P'sec. "Rii is here now." Something she allows herself a moment to be pleased about before the somber expression returns. Marks are then slid across to the bartender in payment rendered from the other bluerider, while she picks up her own drink to start nursing.

Orralth winces again, the chime's flick echoing through his mindspace. « Rikaaath. » Yes, it's his name. « Stop that. » He has a residual headache from the Fall and from being stupid with the black hole. « Pretty much. » He does agree with the cranky blue that they weren't thinking at all. « They were messing around. Again. » There's a moment of silence like Orralth is straightening something, or something similar. « There's a time and a place for silliness. Fighting against Thread is not it. » The unspoken image of a score received flits among his thoughts, though he attempts not to let it come too far to the forefront.

Abydoth observes, from a detached distance, how the subtle forces can press and push even one such as Rikath, not to mention the sudden, unexpected shove. « They do. » But he adds to the tally started, with this, and this, and this, flashes of half-memories and emotions that are senseless in their quick succession.

Rikath allows without complaint the grinding stone, the shove, the flashes of memory and emotion. « You keep too much in, Abydoth. Both of you do. » Half of that is Maura right there, and half is himself. He stretches then, pulling out of the crevice that shifting plates have created; and he tears at the side of one cliff with sharpened metal talons - pulling down boulders and dirt and trees until steam vents out the side, releasing the looming pressure that threatened an outwardly peaceful mountain to blow its top.

Lenia nods, satisfied she's done her bit for the evening, and pulls the drink toward herself. "That works for me." She responds to Maura as she sips on the strong alcohol. "Just chip in whenever, L'han. Nobody really cares who buys which round. I just like to get it over with pretty quickly, so that if we get tired, I'm not mooching off everybody else." She shrugs. "I can see there's room for a little improvisation within limits," she offers to the bronze rider, "but those two don't have enough hours in flight to determine that kind of thing yet. And until you do, it's just idiocy and grandstanding." She shrugs, rolling her neck a little to release a little of the day's stresses.

L'han nods to the three riders and says, "Some improvisation. Hell if you get threadscored the Wingleader isen't going to chew your ass for going between to get rid of it or shifting position slightly to get a better flaming on Thread. But for the most part, no, it's best to keep to what the leader is calling for." He nods and says, "I expect those two will be flying sweeps or something to keep them out of trouble until next time." He drinks from his glass again and says, "Wish I'd have been there, but it's a mark toss as to if I'm going to be there or not. Watch duty can't be ignored."

Rikath notes, just for Orralth. « I told you not to wear it out »… and then he goes back to an eerie blank silence.

Escaeth shakes her head and mind. « Sharding fools. No place for messing around in Fall. Dragons and ours get killed that way. » She gives some comfort to Orralth as she picks up on the score in his thoughts and she knows that pain herself.

Abydoth watches with a faint intimation of amusement. Rikath's solution is so easy, so effortless, and therefore so illusory. A quick, unapologetic flash of agreement meets the blue's statement, adds a different hue than the one intended. « There is no other way. »

Rikath is an asshole for a reason. Because he doesn't let it all bottle up, see!? He has no real response to there being no other way. Because, for Abydoth and P'sec it may very well be true and he knows it. So instead. « Maura and I are here, regardless. » is offered instead.

"He is?" Maura drops the familiar name and P'sec looks momentarily pleased until it crosses his mind to raise a minor protest. "He didn't tell us his transfer had gone through." He tips his drink towards Lenia to convey that she had a point. "Especially when you don't know the wing yet." To L'han, he notes, "Won't chew you out unless it's the improvisation that causes the score." The greenrider's expressed desire to fly Fall somehow leaves P'sec unimpressed, and he says rather dryly, "There will be plenty more to fly."

Orralth can't help himself. He's tired, and more than a little cranky. The thought is a soft one, though with a bit of an edge. « Should I test this? Rikath. Rikath. Rikath. Rikath. Rikath … » He trails off, and shutters off a little more, perhaps realizing how much he's taking out on the others.

Abydoth acknowledges this offer and sentiment, but as he fades back into stony fixity, there is a lingering impression that the blue and his rider are young, imbued the quick hot rush of molten lava, while he and his have long since hardened to stone.

"He is." Maura confirms, looking pretty pleased with herself for having dragged Rii back with her. "Well, you know me. I kept checking in…" she admits, sounding not at all sheepish. But instead of taking her seat again, she just leans against the back of the bronzerider's chair and gestures L'han towards her old seat if he wants. "You follow orders when you're up there during Fall, and that's the end of it. Doesn't seem that difficult to grasp if you ask me." she adds belatedly into the general conversation. "And don't be so eager, L'han. You know that flying fall sucks. Watching people get injured. Being right there when they die. Feeling the ash burn at your face. It's nothing to look forward to."

Rikath is tempted to be childish; his lingering dark thoughts are black as pitch however, and ones he must keep to himself. A tendrl of shadow threatens to wrap around Orralth's thought and squeeze in an attempted chokehold though. The gleam of sharp teeth used as distraction. « Fail. » Yep, that's all he says.

"Dragonmen must fly … " Lenia begins, quoting an old harper's ballad. She lifts her drink in salute. "It was a rough one, L'han. We could have used all the wingpower we could get." She takes a long sip of the drink, then leans back again. "Clumpy. Unpredictable." That's the part that bothers the former Starsmith the most. There used to be a pattern. A rhythm. Like the cycles of the moons. Or the constellations. But now, it's all out of whack,a nd it tires her. "Another new person?" She looks between the two talking about Rii, curiosity etched on her face. "Rider? Crafter?" She'll ask. "Orralth, stop. Just stop." She pulls her hand up to rub at her temple. "Maura, I'm sorry." For what, she's not going to elaborate. Maybe the other bluerider already knows.

"It does suck Maura, but it's what we do." There is a nod given to Lenia to her ballad quote. But when she mentions the unpredictability to the Thread he nods. "While I like everything we have because of AIVAS, one thing that should not have been done was screwing with the Red Star. Not only did we fail to get rid of Thread, I don't think anyone was considering what would happen after if we -had- succeeded in getting rid of it." The greenrider takes the offered chair and continues drinking his drink, although his gaze goes between Lenia and Maura in concern. "Are you two alright?"

"True." There's no denying Lenia's remarks on fall and duty, and whatever discontent P'sec carries is swiftly put away. He drinks instead, slowly but steadily. "Rider," he clarifies for Lenia. "Ch'rii and Zekoith." L'han's comments put him at the receiving end of a long, assessing look, though the bronzerider stays noncommittal and says nothing on the subject of AIVAS.

"Yeah, it's what we do." Maura agrees, glancing over at L'han again. She doesn't add any more then that. She too says nothing about the decisions that were made, apparently preferring to keep her opinions to herself on that score. "Oh, it's alright Lenia. I know what Rikath is like. He gets under everyone's skin." If anything, the younger bluerider seems serene in the face of her bonds darker side lashing out on occasion. Maybe it's patience. Or just that she's been lulled into security. "We're alright. I think we are. Are you alright, Lenia?" she wonders, suddenly concerned. Though, she also seems concerned about P'sec as well; his steady drinking has her resting her hands on his shoulders lightly.

"It wasn't our fault." Lenia's on her feet, pushing the chair back, nearly stumbling on the crumpled leathers that decorate the floor. "It was a sound idea, and we looked over the calculations a million times before we attempted anything, or brought anything to the attention of — " She backs up, holding up her hands so swiftly that she sloshes the drink still in her hand. "It should have worked. We have no idea why it didn't." Touchy subject for the starsmith-turned-rider. Everyone on Pern has blamed the starsmiths for the error, but no one really knows why it failed. "We even had some very intelligent Smith Masters going over our work to check our maths." She runs her empty hand across her sooty face, then takes a long drink of her booze, nearly draining it. "I'm sorry, alright?" It's harsher than it might have been, but she's got a splitting headache, Orralth is bitching at her, and her back hurts. Not to mention she's felt guilty enough already. She's a fix-it kind of person, and she can't. That's why she's pressing so hard to find the new patterns. "I'm trying." And after she cleans up her blue, herself, and gets just enough sleep, she'll probably be poring over what charts and pictures she can find. She finishes her tirade, more wiped than before, and looks over at Maura. "Yeah, we're good. He's just being a whiny dim-glow." As he always is when he hurts. "I wish they had klah for dragons. I swear. Sometimes he needs a quick jolt. He gets these headaches, and then he takes it out on everybody around him. It's just fatigue, but …" And she's still here talking.

L'han blinks at Lenia and raises a hand placatingly. "I wasn't blaming you Lenia or anyone else. What happened happened." He seems about to say more but he shrugs and says, "Nothing really to say about a future that will never be now. We'll will figure out the new patterns eventually. I've been helping them down at Landing while there on Watch." He shakes his head and looks to P'sec and Maura, "So there's a new dragonpair coming or here?"

P'sec glances back at Maura, expression carrying a slight question as if he can't place the cause that has her putting her hands on his shoulders. It's only a brief glance, especially as Lenia launches into explanations and apologies, and about halfway through he puts out a hand towards her elbow. "We're not blaming you." The look he sends to L'han is rather pointed, though the greenrider's remark to a similar effect keeps him from prompting an appropriate response. The tall bronzerider stands at this point, effectively displacing Maura's hands. He side-steps rather than block her out of the group gathered around the two tables put together, manoeuvreing around his chair. "If it's fatigue, maybe you should both get some sleep." This to Lenia, with a hint of care in P'sec's otherwise curt, dry tone. He picks up L'han's change of subject with a nod towards Maura, finishing off the drink he holds. Setting the glass on the table, he reaches down for his jacket. "She knows him best."

"Anyone who would blame -any- of you for doing your best with the information you had on hand is nothing but an addle-brained dimglow. You all did your best, Lenia. There's no doubting that." Maura adds, her voice firm despite growing fatigue. "And nobody can ask for anything more then that either." Now, with her hands displaced, she rubs the back of her own neck and seems to wilt a bit after the long day. "I… yes, Ch'rii and Zekoith are here from Igen. Seems Zekoith has an allergy to -sand- now. It was quite a treat to hear his relief at taking a deep breath of humid Eastern air." the girl admits, with a bit more of a smile on her face. "I'm sure you'll see him around. But I think I'll just… clean up and then try to get some food. I'm beat." There's an apology in her voice for the swift abandonment. But she swipes her own jacket up and heads over to give the bartender a few more marks so that the next group of riders coming in can get their drinks free.

"Yeah." Lenia sighs, draining her drink completely and setting the glass down on the table. "You're probably right, sir." The honorific just slips out, as it does from time to time, especially when he's offering her suggestions or pulling 'rank'. A quick consultation with Orralth has her glnacing toward Maura. "Zekoith? He's the one that Orrie was talking to about … " She waves her hand. "Something. It was kinda funny, or so he said. Reminded me of that time we saw Fiala sleep-walking." She watches the other bluerider head out, and waves. "Bye, Maura." She'll try to fix any perceived slight later. She's on edge right now, and that means sleep. "Good evening, and clear skies." She nods to the other riders around, and then turns back to P'sec. "P'sec, thank m you." For what, she doesn't elaborate. She scoops up her leathers, and heads toward the door, fatigue causing her to run into another rider headed in, this one clean and still damp from the baths. "Pardon me." And she's gone.

L'han sighs as he finishes up his drink. "Didn't mean anything by it all." That to the still remaining P'sec. "None of us or our dragons would still be alive today had it all succeeded. No one stops to think about that." The greenrider gets to his feet and says, "Still a moot point now. See you later P'sec." He walks over to the counter adding to Maura's pile of marks as the greenrider also departs for his own weyr.

P'sec's lips twitch; he almost smiles. "Allergy to sand," he repeats in a bland monotone. He nods to Lenia and this time doesn't correct her, deciding to follow suit not long after. He stalls, jacket in hand, puzzled by what L'han says as the others leave. "It wasn't meant to kill us," he replies to L'han, brows drawn together. Not a point to dwell on at this stage, though, and as the greenrider detours towards the bar, P'sec takes the shorter route to the door.

Dragon poses in italics were group-wide, those in bold were "personal"

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