The wedding


Isilna.jpg Alara.jpg T'ryn.jpg Jarvys.jpg Aljenon.jpg E'ro.jpg

Date: August 9th, 2010
Location: Benden Hold
Synopsis: Isilna's wedding to Voronis of Bitra didn't turn out as intended…
Rating: PG-13.
Logger: Isilna

The great courtyard of Benden Hold, decked out in the Hold's colors, fabrics and finery and draperies all around. Loaded food tables, freely-poured Benden wines and Bakercraft fare, enough to feed half the continent.

On the appointed day, at the appointed hour, the greats of Pern have descended upon Benden Hold for a happy day amongst all the tension-fraught politics of the past several Turns. Lady Isilna of Benden Hold is to be married to Lord Voronis of Bitra, brother to the current Lord Bitra. Both men stand tall, confident, proud of this day. Nearby stands ageing Lady Melina, mother of the bride, talking politely to the Bitrans. Dragons from most of the Weyrs are present, with of course, Benden's finest honoring the local Hold. The best food and drink that could be bought, borrowed, but never stolen, is present for the guests, and servers in Benden Hold liveries quietly mill around the assorted dignitaries to make sure that cups are full and nibbles are present. Mostly cups being full, but the Bakercraft's presence is quite evident as well.

Skarel stands on the edge of the crowd, talking cheerfully with Jarvys about some of the Smithcraft's crazier ideas and how they could be cold-proofed for life at High Reaches. It's nothing truly momentous, just the standard way of averting the standard jitters before things finally begin to happen.

The weather couldn't be more perfect for midsummer at the Hold. Masterharper Gallifren, a tall man with curly brown hair and a grin that's seemingly all teeth, strums a gitar idly as he listens to the chatter around him. A pair of Miners from Crom, their clothes not exactly the cleanest, but still far more decent than some locals wandering about the crowd. "As long as this means that that Bitran doesn't try to interfere with our boozing or start making us gamble like they do over yonder, then I'll put up with him as Lord," says one cotholder who lives in the shadow of the Hold itself, gnawing on bit of roast herdbeast that's far superior than his usual fare.

Present is the elegantly attired Lady Garnalla of Tillek, her diminutive form clothed in hues of deep blue with a gloved hand tucked neatly into the crook of the arm of her much older Lord, he resplendent in black coat tails and stiffly starched white dress shirt. A pace or two behind them, a young nanny with a babe of around six months old in her arms, the dark haired child bedecked in the manner of a porcelain doll on display. Stormy blue eyes flit and flirt over the other guests with a comment or two being passed up to Lord Elisser from behind a daintily raised wine glass.

Alara, Senior Weyrwoman of Eastern Weyr, rider to gold Rauzath, is escorted tonight. With her gold broody, she comes on a brown dragon, and takes the moments to strip off her outer layers of riding gear to show her deep purple gown. It's a light fabric and has sleeveless shoulders. It's her first event as Senior Weyrwoman, and she's determined to enjoy it. She mingles among the people, never too far from T'ryn, and usually within sight of J'cobi as well. Both appear to be uncomfortable in the situation, each in their own unique way. Alara, on the other hand, is in her element, talking to people, greeting, and receiving felicitations.

As one of Benden Hold's nearest neighbors, Nerat's Lord and Lady, Risdan and Hendra, have made a point of being present at what should prove to be a festive occasion, and an opportunity for the progressive Lord to update himself on the latest and greatest developments. Only just delivered from their dragon transport, Hendra is still smoothing her skirt as the couple approaches the gathering, fussing to be sure the flowing lengths of fabric fall /just/ so. Risdan, meanwhile, is heading straight for Master Gallifren, determined to get his impressions of the soon-to-be-Lord. "Masterharper, a moment, please?" he asks as he approaches. Hendra, noticing the goal of her Lord, lags behind and takes a moment to collect a goblet of wine from one of the servers.

Isilna can be found at the other end of the crowd, welcoming latecomers to the Hold and beckoning them into the courtyard with everyone else. "Thank you for coming, I appreciate it," she says warmly to the arriving Weyrwoman of Eastern. "I'm glad you got the invitation. I'll have to remember to thank F'min for delivering it for me."

Bakercraft Master Arawyn stands proudly to one side, her usual happy countenance evident in her outfit, a long dress of pale blue tailored in a way to emphasize her ample figure. In her silvery white hair she has a small bunch of matching pale blue flowers tucked into the elaborate chignon at the back of her head. She clasps her hands in front of her watching attentively both the guests as well as the servers who are carrying trays of her craft's wares.

Amongst the attendees on this day are the Lord and Lady of Boll - Kiril and Eliora - as well six of their brood of children: their son the Heir apparent, and the youngest five still due to be married off in their own time, for the best advantage of the tropical hold. While the Lord and Lady are at ease, in conversation with their peers and extended family ties, the children are spreading out, catching quietly up with their foster siblings and the boys moving to greet the young women they certainly have their eye on. Andi, however, is quiet, taking in her surroundings, and while she may be part of the crowd, she's certainly not one of the crowd.

Velanine represents High Reaches along with her Lord Skarel, and is currently talking with Weaver Master Torina, both glancing often at the bride as if she is their topic of coversation.

Gallifren tilts his head up as he's approached by, "Lord Risdan, how well you're looking today." The Harper nods once to the journeyman accompanying him, and the slim young man slips off into the audience to entertain some of the younger set, the Bloods whose parents or grandparents are out and about mingling. "I haven't many moments to spend right now, but you're welcome to one of them." His voice isn't deep, perhaps a baritone, but it's rich and mellifluous, almost hypnotic in timbre.

Jarvys talks with Skarel, all obsequiousness and kindness. However, those who watch will see that his smile doesn't reach his eyes. He keeps a goblet of fine Benden Red in his hands at all times, and his hands are covered in sparkling rings, showing his own craftmanship. "Well, you see, that metal doesn't really handle the cold that well, Lord Skarel. It would crack with the slightest provocation. You're better off with …" He continues to explain, slowly, but with patented deference.

Isilna slips through to the Masterbaker and smiles, stroking the bronze firelizard she hasn't been able to coax away from her yet. "Master Arawyn, you have simply outdone yourself today," the young Lady enthuses, her eyes alight on the variety of the Bakercraft's artistry available for her guests. "We'll all go home quite well fed and a few pounds heavier, I'm sure." She nods as she spots the Masterweaver talking with High Reaches and smiles gratefully.

Lady Tillek's eye is caught by the Lady of the moment, Isilna, a critical eye running up and down the other woman's chosen attire for her wedding day and then over that of Eastern's new senior. A cry from the child behind her, earns the nanny a sharp and disgruntled look and then she's drifting away from her Lord toward more…interesting conversation (translated as useful gossip), wherever that may take her. Probably in the direction of Master Jarvys, the sparkling rings beckoning like a siren.

Risdan nods to the journeyman as the man departs, then turns his full attention to the Masterharper. "I won't take but a few moments. I was hoping you might share your impressions of Voronis with me. I've been trying to decide the best way to approach him and his soon-to-be-wife about some of the recommendations that have come out of AIVAS on grape crops, and whether they seem sound for implementing on our slopes, but I don't want to offend them with the idea," he says quickly in a low voice. "I'm interested in finding a partner for really exploring some of these ideas, and no-one will openly agree to anything."

Alara nods her greetings to the bride. "Thank you, Isilna." She gives her a bright smile, and nods. "Yes, I was pleased to receive the invitation, and even more pleased when Rauzath simply insisted I come." Of course, she let her go knowing that she'd come back with all sorts of juicy gossip. There's always something to talk about after something like this. "It looks lovely." She gestures to the decorated areas.

Lo and behold, on this most auspicious of occasions where every well-to-do man and woman is gracing Benden Hold, there is one out of place bronzerider in the mix. E'ro received an invite - he even made plans to attend with Eastern's junior goldrider. But comfortable with these people and in this scene is not as easy as it would look. Decked out in elegant garb, from dark charcoal overcoat and matching trousers, to a snowy white shirt with pearly buttons, and even as far as some kind of furry stole thing riding his shoulder with his rider's knot. It's a slicked up, debonair man that he's turned out to be, and he could fit in if everyone didn't notice the lack of emotion in his blue eyes or the funny way he walks with such close-fitting pants and formal shoes.

Voronis, a rather handsome and tall man, keeps watch on his bride-to-be, a smile on his face, but it doesn't reach his eyes. A brief nod is given to his steward, one who came with him from Bitra, and the man replies with another nod, making his way through the guests. As Voronis spies his southern neighbor Nerat chatting up the Masterharper, those blue eyes get a faint touch more narrow.

Arawyn puffs up her already more than ample bosom with pride at the Lady Isilna's kind words. She bows her head gracefully towards the bride-to-be. "You are most kind for saying so. Nothing like good food shared among friends I always say." She winks playfully at the lady and smiles radiantly. "And a few extra pounds never hurt anyone." Her throaty laughter makes her own few extra rumble in a jolly way.

Hendra drifts away throught he crowd, listening in on carious conversations as she passes knots of people. She pauses for several moments alongside Jarvys and Skarel, not close enough to intrude, but listening carefully to the discussion. She files away the comment about cold tolerance - or lack thereof, really - before drifting on, exchange a pleasant greeting here and there with the other dignitaries. Her path is a wending one, but she is clearly making her way toward Isilna.

Velanine smiles as Isilna approaches and murmurs something complimentary. Torina blushes at the compliment, so it's a good bet it had to do with clothing. Velanine then heads back over toward her husband and his captive audience, asking Jarvys "Did you craft Lady Isilna's headdress? It is quite beautiful."

Skarel works his way slowly through Jarvys's explanation, pausing now and then to ask for a clarification. There's an answer in there somewhere: while the Lord Holder may be ignorant of advanced engineering, he's not stupid, and if the master Smith is patient enough to put up with him then there may be work to do later. "I don't doubt it. Master Caliban never tires of telling me what a pain it is to do serious metalwork in the winter. He's tried a few things here and there, something about slow cooling, but I was wondering…" The rest of it gets broken off — perhaps mercifully — as Velanine breaks in with matters more germane to the day.

"It's none of our business," says T'mar, Fort Weyrleader, his voice breaking out of the swirl of conversations all about. "Go take it up with Benden, but Sh'gan'll tell you the same bloody thing, Lord Jexor." He's talking to Ruatha's Lord and seems mildly irritated that the man decided to bring up a touchy subject now of all times.

With a backwards glance at her parents, and another long look to place her eldest brother amongst the crowd, Andromeda is slowly moving beginning to weave her way through the crowd, pausing now and then, tilting her head in an attempt to catch this or that snippet of conversation. Biting her lip, she lingers near Torina, before it seems that the topic is nothing of note, and she's sighing lightly as she moves on. And then, the sight of a certain young lord is enough to cause her to hurriedly turn around and work her way back the other way.

Gallifren shrugs vaguely as he strums another chord or three on his gitar. "You want to know my professional opinion, or my personal one?" he queries of Risdan, his brown eyes almost full of mischief as he lowers his voice. "They mighty be one and the same, you know." And he trades his gitar for the glass of wine his journeyman proffers, quaffing just a little bit to whet his appetite and prepare him for larger speeches soon. "However, I understand that the Conclave did Confirm the man, did you not?" He knows perfectly well how the vote went, he was there, after all. "I've seen nothing that warrants any worry at this point in time. However, if you'll excuse me." He gestures toward where the new Lord of Benden stands, indicating that he needs to be getting on with his duties for the event.

Risdan waves a hand about the confirmation, saying quickly but still softly, "I just want to know how receptive you think he'll be, or if I'm likely to offend him beyond all measure. These days, it's impossible to tell who's wholly traditional and who's secretly progressive, unless you have an inside set of eyes and ears." And it goes without saying that Risdan is sure that Gallifren will know the truth of the matter. "I'm not inclined to make more enemies."

Isilna musters a faint smile for the Masterbaker's jocularity, but her smile is soon becoming faded and fixed upon her face. A stern look from her mother, and the young woman makes her way to the steps leading into the Hold, where Voronis is. She pauses when Hendra intercepts her. "Lady Hendra," she greets the other, her voice warm and gracious as always. "It's good to see you as well. Thank you for coming." Isilna holds out her hands to grasp those of Lady Nerat as is the way of ladies.

Jarvys gives the lady a quick nod, reaching out to greet her with his free hand. "Of course, Lady Velanine." He seems extremely pleased to have his work noticed. "Yes, that's the pain of working in such cold conditions. But even in Telgar, or Landing…" He says the name tersely, as though he would prefer to be elsewhere, "we have our difficulties with weather and such.

Garnalla is not of any particular political leaning herself, but one can be sure that the snippets of conversation she picks up in her elegant wend and weft through the crowd toward Master Jarvys, is being stored away for later use. Snagging another glass of wine off of the tray of a passing server, she finds herself face to face with Andromeda, junior lady of Boll. A crisp little smile presents itself, "Enjoying the festivities?"

Hendra's smile for Isilna is warm and bright as she passes her glass to a server and grips Isilna's hands. "You look delightful, dear. I must say, Voronis is a lucky man today. I'm so happy Risdan and I could be here to support your union," she says, her voice a rich and silky soprano as she smiles toward Voronis as well. "That dress is lovely, Torina outdid herself. Those pearls make a wonderful compliment to reds. Did you pick them out, or were they suggested to you? They really are spectacular."

Velanine returns the greeting, her smile perhaps one of the genuine ones at this event. "I will have to look you up, then, for the next special occasion. Our daughters are getting to an age where they'll be looking to marry, come to that." She glances again at Isilna and her smile wavers a little.

One of the curious absences are folks from Landing. There are a few Landing knots scattered about, but in a far smaller ratio than would be expected, given how many top-tier crafters are now there. And notably, something Masterharper Gallifren hasn't remarked upon, but did realize, none of the modern crafts are represented at all. No Technicians. No Computerers. Absolutely no Plastic-crafters. However, none of this appears on his crafty old face as he joins the new Lord on the steps of the Hold. "Lord Voronis, I await your pleasure," he says with an even tone.

A faint shuffle of feet as the brown rider mainly sees to himself, though he does try to remain in some proximity as to where the Senior Weyrwoman is standing. Arms behind his back, he has long since shed his riding jacket and cap. Leaving him in a long tunic of dark maroon and his hair is mainly groomed. Needless to say T'ryn can clean up with help, and by the looks of it, compared to his usual ware-he had a lot of help. A slight look, as he takes in the sights. "Weddin's…" he mutters, as he shifts his weight. "Only good, once th' drinkin' begins."

With her retreat route suddenly blocked by the Lady of Tillek herself, Andromeda is hurriedly attempting to compose herself, hands curling in the sides of her skirts as she curtseys to her, bowing her head easily. "Of.. Of course, my lady." She colors briefly, gathering her voice, in a even tone offering a reply that was likely drilled into her by her Lady Mother. "I only hope that my own will be as wonderful in turn." She says, looking rather awkward even as she does so.

Alara gives a fond look over to her weyrmate as she continues to talk. He's finally shed his leathers, and don't they look a pair. She smiles and nods, moving her way toward the Masterharper, wanting to greet him, and see if he has news of her family.

Greyzina has been moving about and mingling with an easier grace than some may expect. She's attired in not quite a full gown, but certainly an outfit made special for such an event. Trim leggings beneath a dress with a split skirt to make her ride to Benden more comfortable. At the moment, she's largely exchanging light pleasantries as she passes people, but soon pauses as a server offers her a glass of wine. There is a relieved thanks and she pauses, sipping slowly.

Arawyn bows her head again as the lady goes off to mingle as a good hostess should. Her sharp eyes take in the events unfolding and all the gossiping going on around her. With a keen eye, she watches the servers still, correcting the ones who are not doing the Bakercraft's goods justice. With a little nod or shake of her head, she maintains her high standards for how her wares should be presented.

Risdan scowls as the Masterharper moves off without answering his query and turns about, searching through the crowd for his wife. Spotting her with Isilna he relaxes slightly, nodding to himself, then looking toward the Ruathan Lord Holder and Fort Weyrleader. Plucking a goblet of wine from an offered tray, Risdan shakes his head and turns away, instead searching the crowd again - this time, his gaze settles on Greyzina, and he heads toward the Weyrwoman of Ista Weyr.

Garnalla's smile is painted on patient for Andromeda's carefully rehearsed words, the raven haired Lady Tillek arcing a delicate brow upward, "One would hope you have already begun preparations." A gloved hand lifts to waft about the gathering, "Such things take time to put together in a manner befitting of women of our standing." Including the young junior Lady of Boll in this statement. Her wine bearing hand tips toward a particularly dashing looking young gentlemen, stormy eyes giving him the thorough once over, "Does your father have a suitor in mind yet?"

Isilna blushes faintly as Hendra gushes about the dress she's wearing and the upcoming union. "The Masterweaver was most persuasive," she replies, clearly pleased with the gown and how it fits and looks. "And she chose well."

When the Harper arrives, Voronis nods and mutters to his brother, "Time to get this giggling farce over." Lord Harlin claps his brother on the shoulder and mutters, "It's not every day you get to bed one of those, so enjoy it, man." Voronis smirks, but schools his expression quickly before the Harper notices. Near them, a rather beautiful woman stands there with a glass in hand, a scowl patently on her face as she stares at Isilna. A young boy tugs at her skirt, and she tousels his hair. "Either way, we get what we want," she says cryptically to him as Voronis raises his voice, beckoning to his bride. "Hurry up, Isilna!" he barks loudly. "The Masterharper is a busy man!"

Skarel scowls. Voronis's reputation as a master of romance will apparently survive the day intact. He turns to Velanine and murmurs something better left unheard, then turns to face the goings-on with all the attention they merit.

Jarvys snorts at Voronis' comments, then whispers to Lord High Reaches. "Sounds like he has the proper attitude for a holder, no offense, Lord Skarel." He leans u p again, and strides off toward where the ceremony is taking place, intent on getting a prime seat.

Lord Gregor and Lady Zarin of Fort Hold mingle with the others, the Lord listening to his peers' words and that of his subsidary minor Holders. "Ah, here we go. The girl will finally become an honest woman," he says before graciously escorting his lady to their own places in the throng.

Hendra immediately says, "She did indeed! And the circlet is just as fine. You're the envy of every unmarried girl here, and probably several of the wed ones, too, I assure you!" As Voronis beckons Isilna Hendra smiles again, stepping back and reclaiming her wineglass from the waiting server. "You might make him wait, just because of those words," she says with a sly wink before taking a drink of her wine, surveying the waiting groom over its edge.

Another figure is here, dressed in a dark, and royal blue tunic. Clean trousers, and of course his knife belt. All the same, the grizzled features of the Master Vinter is hard to miss within the crowd. Specially as he has been mingling and weaving his way over to where Jarvys has stationed himself. Aljenon's smile barely crinkling as he moves to get a prime view of this event. And of course to stay close to another crafter. Easier, and perhaps less volatile than being on his own.

"Not yet, my Lady. My father is attempting to do the best he can, for each of us in turn." Andi offers simply, blushing further at the talk of marriage, before catching sight of another one of those potential suitors, she's hurriedly dropping another curtsy. "If you would excuse me, my Lady.." She whispers politely, abandoning her conversation to slip away, away from the suitor and to try and listen what she can while the ceremony proceeds.

"Ahh, Lord Risdan," Greyzina says with an expressive smile towards the man. She gestures to him with her wine, dipping her head in greeting. "It is a fine day for a wedding, is it not?" Voronis' shout is the most ready indication for her that things are about to begin and she chuckles, turning slightly to begin in that direction. Though she pauses to await the Nerat Lord. "How is Lady Hendra?" she inquires in that lull.

Velanine nods, her smile replaced with a look of sympathy toward Lady Isilna. She murmurs something back to her husband, then turns to watch the proceedings.
Andi has disconnected.

With the proceedings about to start, Lord Elisser has made his way through the crowd and arrives at Garnalla's side the nanny and whimpering baby in tow. "Take her over there," Lady Tillek gestures off somewhere to the back of everything, "where she can't be a nuisance," and then turns her attention back to Andromeda as they make their way forward. A faint smile appears as the girl makes her apologies and skitters off elsewhere. Attention now firmly settled on the bride-to-be and her groom, "Interesting," is the low-held and somewhat enigmatic comment she places to her Lord.

The majority of the local Benden holders seem well content with the day's event, helping themselves to the especially excellent quality wine and baked goods. Unfortunately, not all of them can hold such fine liquor very well, for one rather already-drunken cotholder cries out, "Cheers, Lady Isil-hic-na! You should get married more often!" Suddenly, the man finds himself pushed to a bench off to the side and silenced.

"Weyrwoman Greyzina, a pleasure to see you. You and Olirth are both in fine health, I take it? And T'nell and Zereneth as well?" Risdan replies, smiling and nodding to her. At Voronis' shout he, too, turns, raising an arched brow. "Well, he's to the point about it. Ah, Hendra is well, and in her element tonight. Unless I miss my guess, she's examining every bit of finery and figuring out how best to apply it to herself," he says, clearly amused by his wife's known interest in fashion. "I imagine we'll be ordering several new outfits before long." Ah, yes, a safe topic indeed.

At the Lord's abrupt words for his future bride, Arawyn twitters a bit looking around. As it seems the ceremony will begin shortly, the Master Bakecrafter finds herself a spot that allows a good view of the proceedings.

Jarvys' eyes narrow at the sight of his fellow Landing Master Crafter, though he doesn't say anything, not just yet. Instead, he moves with the crowd, effectively greeting and schmoozing as he goes. "Why thank you, Lady. It was such an easy choice, with her complexion. Nothing else seemed to work, if you can believe that." He adopts a self-deprecating tone, and kisses a hand offered to him as he continues to move past.

"Olirth is indeed well, thank you. T'nell and Zereneth as well. I imagine he is off sampling this season's red." Greyzina just shakes her head slightly at the mention of being to the point, finding a spot to stand that will offer her a decent view without having to move past anyone. "Lady Hendra's knowledge of fashion is unparalleled it would seem. I'm often at the least curious to see what new designs she is sporting at such events." Another sip of wine and she glances to the glass. "Has there been any mention perhaps of which wine to look for coming out of Nerat this season?"

When she's summoned, Isilna's face sets into stone. Swallowing once, she excuses herself past well-wishers and their finery. She doesn't pause in her walk, but her eyes instinctively seek out a particular face in the crowd, one of the vintners, one of the painfully few people here representing Landing. "Lord Voronis," she greets her soon-to-be husband in a calm monotone. Her bronze firelizard's eyes swirl faster, blue and green wavering with the yellow of worry.

Voronis says pointedly, "Get that thing out of here. For now," he adds, trying to seem fair and kind. "This moment is for us, not for your little friend."

Gallifren's smile doesn't waver in the slightest, although his keen eyes observe the interplay between the supposedly happy couple. "I am ready to witness this union," he says politely, glancing about for the local posted harper, nodding when he spies the man holding the official Hold Record for the couple's names to be inscribed upon.

Hendra smiles warmly to Jarvys, nodding at his words. "She does it justice, and it her. I'd love to hear how you worked out the design. I do adore seeing jewelry come to life." Especially when it is destined for her own form, like the fine necklace hanging on her chest. "I have a few ideas I would be happy to review with one of your crafters as well. We have a fine batch of fruit wines that I'm sure Risdan would be willing to offer in exchange," she natters on, watching the bridal party with the appearance of minimal interest.

Skarel crosses his arms and schools his expression into impassivity, though the customary sparkle is gone from his eyes, replaced by an icy look worthy of a High Reaches winter. His vote at the Conclave might as well be written across his forehead. While he holds his tongue for the sake of decorum and the dignity of the occasion, a hundred comments hang in the air around him.

"That is always good news," Risdan says, adjusting his position to stay in comfortable talking proximity. "She designed her dress for today herself," he says proudly, before adding, "though she did take some advice from our Weaver on the length - she wanted it a couple inches longer, but she was told that would be a bit dangerous for walking." At the mention of the wines he smiles broadly. "In fact, we have just crated up a fine wine made from redfruit - an excellent balance between sweet and dry. The only downside is that it is rather potent."

Torina hurriedly finishes her conversation with yet another Lady Holder and goes off in search of one of those mythical good seats. She doesn't appear to be at her happiest either, despite her smile.

T'ryn is silent as he comes closer to where Alara is standing, and he crosses his arms. Perhaps the not the most station bound place to put himself, but he is close to his weyrmate. A rub under his eyes as he looks over towards the Lady of Benden as she moves to join Lord Voronis. A cough and the brownrider is shifting uneasily. He feels stuffed in here. Yeah, it will be better once the show gets on the road, as far as he is concerned.

"Indeed." Jarvys nods at the compliment, expression bright, then he turns toward the 'happy couple' and falls silent, hoping this won't take too overly long. There are deals to be made.

Raising his hands to request silence, Voronis then reaches into his pouch and produces the traditional gold marriage mark, squinting at it for a moment to make sure the craftsmanship is suitable. "I, Voronis of Bitra, do hereby accept the Lordship of Benden Hold that has been granted to me by the Conclave," he proclaims, giving his fellow Lords a curt nod of thanks, eyes pausing on Skarel for a moment before smiling tightly and continuing, "that is part of my marriage to Benden's Lady, Isilna." He reaches out and grasps her arm to pull her closer to him. Those closest to the pair can see that his hand has a strong grip on the woman, almost daring her to try and break free. "And our children will be raised in a traditional fashion, to honor our Hold and our Weyr." This time, his nod is for the Benden Weyrleaders. He then holds the mark out to Isilna and hisses, "Take it," under his breath.

Alara moves closer to T'ryn, grasping on his arm, and smiling up at him. "I love weddings." Although… she notices that something seems awry. However, the romance of the setting does allow her to give her weyrmate a bit of a mushy glance. When she looks back toward the pair, she frowns. "Does she look…" She's learned to ask him for advice on things at times. However, in this company, she's not sure what to say, or what to do, just yet.

Aljenon watches Isilina for a moment as his hand moves to rest casually against the hilt of his knife. There's a faint look to Jarvys as he comes closer to the other man. Oil and water he would surmise the feelings between him and the fellow Master Crafter he keeps inching closer to. He is about to say something to the elder man, however he drops into silence as the ceremony begins. And there a rather thin line of his lips form. He will watch in silence, it seems.

"After fighting Thread, many riders yearn for potent," Greyzina says with a slightly distant and clouded expression. "I would love to try some and perhaps get our hands on a few bottles. A good wine can warm the heart after a score." She glances back to the steps, where the couple and Harper stand, brow furrowing faintly. As Voronis speaks, she lapses into silence.

Hendra observes the ceremony, sipping at her wine and letting her gaze roam across the assembled parties. She pays close attention, covertly, to the expressions on notable faces, as best she can see them, and files her observations away to share with her husband later. Her eyes narrow as they focus on Voronis and Isilna again, though she keeps a relaxed and happy smile on her face. Something amiss in paradise?

Risdan nods, filing her interest away as he too falls quiet to watch the ceremony. Again that arched brow lifts as Voronis speaks, and a slight frown touches his lips, quickly hidden behind his wineglass.

Political disinterest aside, body language is a craft well understood by Garnalla. As such, the interplay between bride and groom is not lost on Tillek's Lady. In fact, if anything, it draws a faint sparkle of interest to light cold eyes, that Benden red mouth of hers tipping into what inappropriately could be conceived as a smirk. Elisser, all too well aware of his wife's disposition dips his head to speak her name in warning tone, "Garnalla," the hand he places over hers at his elbow, giving a press of fingers to further make his point.

Isilna numbly takes the marriage mark, and the cheers, led by her new Lord's steward, are raucous in her ears and she reads the back of the mark. Her eyes go wide. And suddenly, Mellon, her firelizard, lets out an almighty screech and hisses at Voronis. Dropping the gold mark so she has a hand free, Isilna reaches back and lets loose a rather resounding slap! on her new Lord's face. "HOW DARE YOU?!?" she screams. "Let me go!" And she tries to wrench free from the man holding her painfully.

"Forced?" T'ryn finishes in a hushed voice before he is looking back to his weyrmate, and of course throws in a great goofy grin, for the gold rider. A cough as he reaches his arm to look in with hers once the words begin he's clearing his throat and is looking back in close study of Lady Isilina. " She's uneasy..Ain't that how folks are when they get wedded. We're lucky, love." he mutters back, though his mouth does hang a little askew as he keeps staring at the couple. "Whoa.." And there is the uneasy look back to Alara.

Velanine gasps at the slap and stands up abruptly, though what she might be intending to do is anyone's guess, as she doesn't act beyond that.

Arawyn is clapping loudly with the rest of the guests as the mark is passed to the Lady. About to turn her her head to make sure that the goods are still being passed around adequately, she catches the slap out of the corner of her eye. With a gasp that heaves her bosom so much it threatens to overflow her dress' plunging neckline, Arawyn pulls a hankerchief from her sleeve and begins fanning her face with it. Looking around at the other guests, she mumbles to herself, "Well, I never."

"Forced." Alara nods. "I think…" Her mind is spinning, and she closes her eyes, considering all the ramifications before she speaks. "T'ryn, what does — " She sounds uncertain. "What does Ockath think of her as a potential for my clutch, luv?" It's clear she may be leading a bit, but she says no more than that, and her words are whispered.

Garnalla's expression fairly dances with delight as Isilna erupts, "Now this is what I call entertaining," the cold hearted Lady sends up to her Lord, heedless of what others who overhear her might think of such a comment. By the lack of interaction with the various other Lords and Ladies in attendance, its plain to see there is already no love lost there. It's Lord Elisser that's the one to send a furrow browed look of concern to the new bride and then pins a dark look onto Voronis, "Something's not right." No kidding!

Gallifren's got excellent reflexes, stooping just as Isilna takes a swing at Voronis. Being in the right position, he's able to quickly pick up the fallen mark, and his normally cheerful expression turns rather grave as he also reads what was inscribed on the mark. He looks rather formidable as he stares down the new Lord Benden and enunciates, "Let… her… go. Now. You've got what you wanted, Voronis." He pointedly omits the other's rank, his tone of voice rather frosty and curt.

Greyzina's jaw drops briefly at the slap. She nearly takes a step forward, gaze darting to Risdan to catch his reaction before her gaze tries to seek out her Weyrleader.

Jarvys' mouth tightens into a thin line. "Mind the tiara," is his only softly-spoken comment. He put a lot of work into that thing! He snorts. "Hey, Vintner!" This is not spoken as softly. "See what it gets you?" This is some sort of shared jab between the two, apparently. Perhaps he heard a rumor, or saw something himself.

Skarel 's eyebrows ascend clear through his hairline. Drama surrounding Hold politics is normal. Drama surrounding weddings is normal. /This/ is something else. Whatever's on that mark should go down in the records next to the notice of confirmation.

Risdan and Hendra, though seperated by the crowd, both react the same way to the resounding slap, eyes immediately seeking each other out, and curt nods exchanged. Hendra begins moving forward, calling out, "What's the matter, dear? What's happened?" to Isilna, while Risdan turns toward Greyzina. "If you'll excuse me, I'm afraid this is going to devolve quickly." Nodding deeply to her, Risdan begins working through the crowded, headed for the High Reaches Lord and Lady - after all, Skarel's enmity toward Voronis is well known.

Voronis smiles with equal dislike to the Masterharper. "You came to witness a wedding, didn't you?" he asks, spinning Isilna away from him carelessly and beckoning to the formerly scowling woman with the young son. "This one is as good as any, since the Hold is already mine, Harper. You were there. Isn't that right, Fort?" he shouts to the other assembled members of the Conclave. "And I already have a son to prove my line, unlike my predecessor and his penchant for shelling out girls as weak as her."

The Brownrider pauses as he is looking back over towards Alara for a moment. Taken back from the proceedings of the seems there is something else to focus on. "Asking him.." T'ryn replies as he watches Isilina for a moment. And his jaw is snapping shut. At least he's not speaking loudly, when he is leaning in to whisper his reply. There's enough dramatics right now. Though he does wait before asking a bit loudly.

"Should I?"

Lord Gregor lifts his chin and narrows his eyes as he rises to his feet over the clamor. "You were indeed Confirmed to the honor, Benden," he says pointedly, raising his voice over the shouting going back and forth, and the appalling squeaks and squealings of anyone's firelizards. "Although I regret to see your true colors."

Velanine's lips are set in an expression of disapproval, which is about as close to anger as anyone has ever seen of the grandmotherly woman. Then she turns to hug Skarel, saying fiercely "I'm so glad you never tried to put my daughters through a farce like this." Then she begins heading toward Isilna, her expression once again sympathetic.

Lord Elisser's expression closes into a tight mask for having been so easily duped into putting his vote behind Voronis. Garnalla however, simply wears a smug little smile, her eyes flicking from the lad he claims as his heir and then back to where the nanny is comforting her overly tired and still whimpering daughter. "Man had a plan," she states in cool approval.

Aljenon glances back to Jarvys before he's turning outright to face the gemcrafter. One hand reaching out to push at Jarvys, none to lightly in the shoulder. "You best mind your tongue Smith." Though this is not as loud the other Master. He's not as loud as Jarvys, but the intent can be felt in the weight of his words.

Skarel stands up beside his wife with careful deliberation. He accepts, then returns her hug with genuine warmth — warmth that evaporates instantly when he turns back to Voronis's little drama. The Holder looks to meet the Harper's eyes even as the moment spirals around them.

"Yes, I rather think you should. It may merit a quick exit, but E'ro's here somewhere, or I can ride home on Erikath. He's been very obliging to us." As well he ought; they're his eggs, too. Alara steps back from her 'mate and moves over to have a quiet, heated conversation with her Weyrleader. After a long moment, she nods once, sharply, at T'ryn, and remains at J'cobi's side, plastering a smile on her face once again.

When she's cast aside, Isilna tumbles down the steps into a heap of red and gold brocade. Mellon screams defiance at the treatment of his mistress and launches himself at the usurper, Confirmed or not. "No! Don't!" Isilna screams, but not before the firelizard gives Voronis a good few clawmarks on his face and returns to his mistress. Isilna's helped to her feet by a couple of Bendenites who never much liked their new Lord, whispering something in her ear. "Mark my words, Lord Voronis," Isilna says in a cold voice, colder than between. "You will regret this day. I swear to you. You will be sorry you did this." Lifting the hem of her skirt, she calls her firelizard to order and makes her way through the crowd toward the Hold's exit.

Velanine is not close enough to intercept Isilna, but she does call out, her voice pitched to carry, "Dear, let me help you."

Jarvys is jostled by the Master Vintner, and he scowls his direction. "Pardon me. I didn't think the truth merited such an attack." His tone drips with sarcasm. "I am above responding in kind, fortunately. However, I shall remember your behavior." He steps away, off to find a refill for his drink. It's empty; the last bits having been sloshed on his new tunic.

The talk of confirmation brings Risdan's challenge of, "But the Charter binds to bloodlines! It's Isilna's line that Holds," he shouts glaring about him, daring anyone to refute this. "A spouse he may be, but the Benden line he is not! We confirmed his ability and right to Hold as her husband, but that doesn't remove her rights under the Charter, to have her get lead here!" Hendra, meanwhile, hurries after Isilna, worry writ clearly on her face as she attempts to help the wronged Lady.

Garnalla's eyes roll in faked boredom for Risadan's challenging words, but the very tight grip Elisser has on her hand has her refraining from putting word to thought. Lord Tillek lifts his voice and lends it to Risdan's cause, "Hear, hear," he calls out in a strong voice.

There is a resounding smack of a hand hitting a forehead, as Lord Larion of Telgar forces his way through the chaos to the knot of Lords coagulating around Fort's Lord. "Someone stop her!" he insists sharply. "This is why women are not suited to Hold! We can't afford another renegade Lady Holder out there." Half-Circle's Holder, a dour man grumbling quietly through the whole thing about missing the day's catch, chimes in with, "Uppity women, thinking they know what's right. A sound beating is what that one needs, to remind her of her place. Back in the day of my old uncle, women did their duty by their people, not acted selfishly." Lord Branel of Nabol nods approvingly, sporting a firelizard on either shoulder. "I told you, Gregor, didn't I?" he asks obsequiously. "The girl's too flighty to Hold, we voted rightly. Voronis isn't the nicest of men, but at least he knows his duty."

"Right." T'ryn barks, before he is moving towards where the Lady is pulling out one hand reaching to try and catch a hold of the fleeing Isilina. "Uh, Lady Benden-hold if'n ya will." comes the brownrider's words as he hopefully doesn't slam into Lady Hendra "Just for a little bit." Damned if he wishes he had more of a harper's tongue right now. Oh please let him be able to stop said fleeing lass. Sure dragons, thread, this he understands. Wedding politics, and now this development? Not entirely.

Greyzina frowns as Risdan heads off and glances around, almost lost in all the uproar. She bites her tongue, overhearing some of the comments. And perhaps it makes her stand just a bit more upright, holding self just-so that maybe her knot is a bit more visible. Her wine glass is set aside, somewhere, as she sweeps and tries to find T'nell. "…wish I was taller," she mutters briefly.

Arawyn is out of her element amoung all this excitement and talk of politics. She clasps her hand to her chest and spies a server who is about to drop his loaded tray becausee he is more interested in what is going on. "Straighten up!" She says in a soft, but forceful whisper. Moving away from the main excitement, she finds herself off to one side.

Alara watches the goings on, her eyes hopeful, expression straining toward the striding brownrider. So much depends on this, and it may change quite a bit. However, it's important, and she hopes she's made the right decision. She fiddles with her wine glass, even as she continues to watch.

Hendra's heeled boots are not well suited to running, and the length of her skirt hampers her further as she pursues Isilna. She begins to fall behind the other people - supports and antagonists alike. "I should have listened to that Weaver," she mutters to herself as she pulls her skirt higher, easing her stride. "But I wasn't expecting to be chasing anyone down!"

Voronis yells in pain as the damned woman's firelizard scratches his face, and he shakes off his brother's attempt to offer help in the form of a white handkerchief. "I was Confirmed to Hold Benden!" he roars over the objections of other Lords who don't see it his way. "If that girl abdicates and doesn't stay and do her duty, then she is declared Holdless! And this Hold will not give her shelter in Fall, Fog, or Fire! That is my prerogative as Lord of Benden! Witness it, Harper!" he growls toward Gallifren.

Skarel sighs, a sound completely lost in the hullabaloo, and makes his way around the edges of the fracas to stand near Gallifren while his wife looks toward the retreating Lady Benden. "I suppose that this would be an apt time to register my objection," he offers wryly, "but I doubt that anyone is listening."

Velanine does not break into a run, stately to the last, though her stride does lengthen. Her eyes are only for Isilna, noting the others who are already aiding the girl.

Isilna pauses near the two crafters from Landing, looking in mute appeal to one of them, tears on her face that she is far too proud to let the ranting Voronis see right now. She murmurs thanks to Hendra and Velanine, fighting to keep the despair away… her defiant gesture was just that, a gesture, and like any well-trained Hold girl, the threat of being Holdless is truly terrifying to her. She cradles Mellon to her, trying to soothe the distraught firelizard, and she looks to T'ryn when he speaks. "Yes…?" she queries, her voice cracking on that last letter.

Risdan's reply is snarled back, "Before your get can succeed, all of Benden's get must abdicate their claims, and that hasn't happened! You've no right to the Hold beyond Isilna, you fool! You've read the Charter, like the rest of us! Holding of Benden cannot leave the Benden bloodline!" Hendra, meanwhile is echoing her Lords words to Isilna, assuring the girl that she holds here, not Voronis.

Garnalla snags a wine glass from an even stupefied server standing nearby and takes a healthy swallow of the fine contents, her countenance that of one enjoying an act put together by acrobatic harpers at a Gather, "We really should go out more," the words purring out. Lord Elisser, torn between standing shoulder to shoulder with his peers against Voronis and getting his wife as far away as possible from the proceedings before she can cause any further damage by adding her own two marks worth, eventually decides on the latter. Setting his hand to her elbow he forcibly turns her about and starts heading to where nanny and baby are on the fringes of the crowd. "We're going home now!" his tone leaving no room for argument. Shooting an acerbic look up to her Lord, Lady Tillek all but digs her heels in, "But the fun has only just started!"

"You're out of order, Nerat!" calls Lord Gregor of Fort. "And your interpretation is in error. Not all of our Holds have remained with the same bloodline…" And he looks pointedly at Lord Branel of Nabol, who glares at him. "We all voted on the matter, and the majority voted the Hold to Voronis over all of Benden's get because Ison wasn't ever able to have a son, full blood or not, isn't that correct, Lady Melina?"

With his hand to the Lady Holder, there's a faint smile passed that has the black lines under his eyes crinkling for a moment. However as Voronis rants the brownrider's voice is barking right up. "Hey, Shut yer hole for a moment. Can't shardin' hear myself think." A shake of his head before he's looking right to Isilina. "I got an idea.." said softly, for the woman. "You leave this Hold business to them jackenapes that do this here Holdin. For I think there might be something better in your future. Somethin that's a bit more free and has the air in your hair." And there he is reaching for something. Oh a pebble in his pocket "Fuck-this'll do." passing it out towards Isilina. "Will you Stand for Eastern? Mine has a sense about you-And he'd be sorely disappointed if he was wrong, bout what kinda lady you are." And there T'ryn has said his piece. the decision is in Isiina's court now.

"Some holds have traditions of Lady Holders, and some don't." The old Uncle wipes his nose on his sleeve and offers his comment in a monotone, recitative voice. "Boll was founded by a lady, and Bitra." He doesn't offer his opinion on the current situation, but Old Jorxe does sit down, directly on the ground, probably right where people are scurrying about. He's lost his minder again.

Melina, Isilna's mother, has been quiet, and horrified once her daughter did the unthinkable. "Get back here right now, young lady!" she calls out in the voice of doom no child ever likes hearing. "Your father, were he still alive, would be utterly embarrassed at how selfish you're behaving, giving up a fine match like this just because you took a dislike to him. It's not as if you're the first woman who had to learn to love your husband!" She nods to Lord Gregor's statement. "That's right, Gregor. Your father had other women on the side, Isilna, and we all knew about it. It's the way of things in Holds, you silly child, so you need to start behaving right now and stop embarrassing this entire Hold with your foolish antics. And that's enough out of you, Risdan!" she snaps at the Nerat Hold, showing a touch of the temper that earned her Ison's love in the past.

"Ooooh," Garnalla breathes, T'ryn's words having been overhead as Elisser frog-marched her past the Eastern brownrider and Isilna. Trying to jerk her arm out of her Lord's grip, a cold little smirk unfolds, "I have to see how this plays out. The ladies of Tillek simply must know!" Because its her 'duty' to keep those beholden to Tillek apprised of current events, right? Right.

Jarvys returns to where the 'action' is, mentally taking notes about the Lords' reactions and their states of mind. Plans are always forming in his mind, and he gives a small, sardonic smile as he considers best how to exploit this situation. He whispers a word to a passing drudge, and gives a satisfied nod.

Risdan throws up his hands in disgust, glaring at Melina. "You'd have your daughter treated as no more than a means to an end, rather than as a woman who has been trained to Hold herself? Supplanted by another woman, and her children ousted by his bastard get? Shells, woman, you would give away your daughter's birthright." Meanwhile, Hendra is looking back and forth between Isilna and T'ryn, confusion at his words quickly being replaced by a combination of horror and intrigue. "Oh, but you can't! You must stay here… musn't you?"

Gallifren sighs and shakes his head sadly. "You have a lot to learn about handling people, Lord Voronis," the Masterharper says, giving the gold mark back to the new Lord. "And while I personally don't agree with the notion, I also recognize that it's outside my authority to do anything about it." As Melina tries to bring her errant child to task, he suggests, "If she is so adamant against it, perhaps another of her sisters would prefer to be Lady." Also not an uncommon Hold tactic. "Which will also silence some of the critics," he adds, nodding his head in the general direction of Nerat and High Reaches. And then, as Risdan's dismay becomes clear, a rather amused smile appears on the Masterharper's face. "Perhaps there is a better solution for all." He moves off the stairs, back into the crowd to murmur orders to his journeymen and apprentices. Mostly to listen, take stock of what people are saying, but also to put in a word here, two words there, to turn the situation into something a little less tense and chaotic.

"Married women, in the Hold… must manage the hold, care for its children… run the hold in the absence of its Lord, and provide heirs for the Blood." Old Jorxe continues his recitations, unaware, or uncaring of those around him. "However, in the instance that the Holder dies, she will Hold until the Heir is of an age." Is he suggesting something, or just quoting some random piece of trivia? Hopefully the latter.

"I… what?" Isilna asks of T'ryn, a rather dazed expression erupting on her face. "You can't be serious… I've never even met your dragon… how would…" she checks his knot and spies the brown thread, "he know anything about me?" Mellon croons to the notion and rubs his wedge-shaped head on Isilna's cheek encouragingly. And then, at her mother's commands for her to behave, as if she were a squalling brat caught after breaking something, the young woman squares her shoulders. "All right. Anything to get away from this."

"Garnalla!" Lord Elisser's tone loses some of its careful neutrality in the need to get.her.away. His free hand lifts and summons both nanny with charge and the bluerider that had brought them to Benden in one movement. A faintly apologetic look is sent Isilna with a dip of head going T'ryn's way and then Tillek's Lord and Lady are moving out to the edges of the crowd and making their departure

Skarel frowns. "That is not a proper solution. Both of these young people need to calm down. The Conclave can revisit the vote; there is precedent for doing so. But Lady Holders are not for search.

The Benden Weyrleaders apparently don't have much of an opinion about the proceedings… they would have had to deal with Voronis on some level regardless of his elevation and had already done so since his Confirmation. When T'ryn offers to Search the errant Lady Holder, they head toward Alara, collaring Fort's Weyrleader and Weyrwoman along the way, gesturing for Greyzina and her Weyrleader to join them. "We have no objection to Eastern's prerogative," Sh'gan states blandly.

Hendra protest Isilna's choice, saying, "They're talking about giving one of your sisters to him, now. Would you leave them to that? Shouldn't you stay, and do what you can to preserve your family's birthright?" Risdan quiets briefly as Gallifren speaks, frowning intensely at the Masterharper. "Then Benden line should inherit. Ison may not have sired a son, but that doesn't mean his daughters cannot bear such, or another of the collateral line. If Isilna isn't willing, but a sister is, than a child of that union should be heir, not his son this other woman!"

Greyzina gives Sh'gan a sharp nod and angles in that direction, having heard T'ryn's offer as well. Her Weyrleader comes up alongside them. "While it discomforts me to think that the Hold would be left to…" she casts a glance in Voronis' direction, then back, "such as him, perhaps a Weyr would be safest for her after all of this."

Voronis latches onto the idea of his marrying one of Melina's other daughters gladly. He doesn't care, his mistress, now pouting like a two-year-old balked of a shiny toy, is made to step away for now. "If you want her, you can have her!" he calls out to the brownrider waylaying Isilna. "With my blessing!" He even laughs heartily. "Imagine," he says to his brother, waiting to see which of Melina's daughters is offered up next. "She'll be made to drudge like the other candidates, and when one of their randy riders wants a bit of action, she has to give it up like the harlots that inhabit the Weyrs." Oh, that old prejudice…

"And Eastern appreciates your support in this matter, Weyrleaders, Weyrwomen." Alara gives a swift nod. "The Weyr has often been the refuge of strong women who cannot find places in the Hold." She gives a benign smile, trying to give a good spin on the situation. However, Voronis' words have irked her. She doesn't speak, but she does give a strong glance to the other Weyrwomen around her, watching to see what their reactions to his slanderous words will be.

That gets a laugh from the brownrider. "He's got his ways of knowin' things and gettin' nudges." A grin still remains on T'ryn's face as he passes the stone is passed over. There, that'll work in lieu of a knot. "Then you're a Candidate." A welcome so to speak. A look over to Greyzina for a second, before he's looking for J'cobi and Alara, mainly to see what the next move shall be. However when Voronis starts talking the brownrider's face starts to sour. " Shardin…" Well more words could follow if he gets his dander up. Dander often usually leads to fists. At least in the case of the brownrider.

Velanine has by now caught up to the former bride, and as Skarel speaks, she wavers. Then she says quietly to the girl "Good wishes in whatever happens." Velanine then turns and heads back to her husband's side.

There's the clarion bugle of a dragon in the distance, where they rested to await their lifemates. Greyzina nearly bristles as Voronis' words ring out and T'nell places a hand on her arm. "Thread take that man," she hisses under her breath, looking to the Benden Weyrleaders. "You have my pity." She draws in a deep breath and looks to Alara again, eyes wide. "Take the girl. Whether she Impresses or not, surely Eastern will be a better place for her than this."

Isilna flinches at Voronis' words, then she straightens her shoulders. "I'd rather be a drudge in a Weyr, subject to the lusts of strange men, than to be here any longer… because what's the difference?" Isilna once more calms her firelizard. "That was going to be my future here anyway." With a seemingly calm gesture for T'ryn to lead the way, she lets the Eastern riders escort her away from the remains of her wedding day.

Skarel tries one last time. "Lady Isilna, this can be resolved another way. There is precedent for the Conclave to remove a Lord Holder, even one who holds by birthright — we can certainly overturn one who has no blood in the Hold. At least give this some thought, and answer when you're not so distraught. Benden Hold is your place, and it needs you now more than ever."

With a loud 'hmmmph', Jarvys drains his wine, and clanks the empty goblet on the tray of the nearest drudge. He stalks off toward where the dragon and rider from Landing await his return. "Come along, Vintner. I'm leaving now. If you want to get the same ride home, it's time." He snorts at the whole mess.

"So much for what he said about doing his duty by the Weyr," is the only comment an unhappy-looking Lady Velanine makes.

Risdan nods firmly as Skarel speaks up, supporting his words. Voronis' continued poor behavior earns a sneer from the other Lord. "If you keep talking like that, you might not survive your wedding night. Take a care for who you insult - many fine Blooded folk have spent time at the Weyrs, and they most certainly are not harlots!" Hendra, feeling at a loss for anything further to contribute, retreats toward her husband's side, standing quietly behind him.

Aljenon watches mute for the now. A turn over towards Jarvys and there's a faint nod as he is moving to follow the gemcrafter. No matter what has been said. He is not showing much, save a rather withdrawn face-even a slight bit, forced. "Right." muttered as he moves along

T'ryn is licking a tooth as he eyes on down towards Voronis. "Sharding Bastard.." muttered before he's nodding to Isilina. An arm offered to the new Candidate. "Come on then.." A lady should be treated as such at her wedding. Whether it happens or not. The brownrider gives one look over towards the rest of his Weyr, before he'll depart with Isilina in tow.

"Lady Lessa was slated to hold" Jorxe's monotone voice calls out. "At Ruatha. She abdicated in favor of one of Fax's get. She was Searched, and sent to the Weyr. She Impressed Gold Ramoth…" He would continue to drone on, probably listing both Jaxom's line and Ramoth's, but he's been discovered. "Uncle!" The young woman grabs him by the shoulder, forcing him to stand up, and steers him toward the food the Master Baker has prepared. "Look! Your favorite! Sweetrolls." She gives the rankers around her an apologetic glance as Jorxe starts listing off the ingredients in sweetrolls. "Flour. Sweetening. Butter…."

"Skarel, you're also out of order," Lord Gregor intones, shaking his head. "I for one will not vote for the removal of Lord Voronis. This wedding was a formality, after all, the real power changed upon his Confirmation. And we all know that. He has Held well since that Confirmation, and all I see here is the fact that he's upholding his rights that have already been conferred upon him. If the girl chooses to go to the Weyr, then she gives up all rights and claims to Benden." His shaken head gives his opinion of someone who turns their backs on their duty. "While his methods are crude, his rights under the Charter," he adds, emphasizing the word to Risdan to override Nerat's objections once more, "are still in force. The fact that this silly girl can't be bothered to do her duty by her people is why we Confirmed Voronis in the first place! So, enough, all of you. She chose to abandon her people," he adds scornfully. "And she will find no help at Fort Hold."

Isilna smiles wanly at Lord Skarel. "Thank you for your kind thoughts, but old Gregor is right." The two ladies there offering her kindness as well are given their own smiles, bittersweet. "I do not think I got your name…?" she asks of T'ryn as he leads her away, her voice dwindling as the press of rampant gossipers swirls in behind them. Most of the Bendenites wear looks of betrayal and anger on their faces as she passes them. Only one or two furtively reach out to touch her arm and wish her luck in whatever her future might hold.

Risdan's disgust with the Fort Lord is clear, but as his words have not had an effect he makes good his withdrawal, curtly handing off his wineglass to a servant and leading Hendra from the Hold. He can be clearly heard to say, "There will be no business between Nerat and Benden while he holds here," to his wife as he stalks off toward his Hold's dragonpair.

Skarel calmly replies to Gregor "Your hold may have been the first, but the council rules by majority, not seniority." He frowns at Isilna's words, but says nothing further to her. And finally, at Risdan's declaration he nods.

The Masterharper sighs and nods to the knot of Lord Holders, ignoring the looks of disgust flying back and forth. He filches one of the skins of the Benden white… no, two skins… and pops the first one's cap to pour a glass when Lord Gregor simply answers Lord High Reaches with, "Yes… it does." And there are enough of the other Lords with him to ensure said majority remains with Fort and not the dissenters. The Masterfarmer looks up sharply from sampling the Bakers' wares and notes, "Lord Risdan, I'll remind you that your stricture doesn't apply to my craft, or any other." His voice is polite as he then goes back to pie-eating, because that's more important to him than any bickering over weddings or economics.

Alara watches T'ryn leave proudly. "That's my weyrmate." She offers to the other 'leaders, proud of both his actions, and his clear restraint. She knows him well enough to know what was going through his mind. "He handled himself well." She smiles brightly, and then takes a sip of the drink in her hand.

Voronis reaches into his pocket and pulls out a second gold marriage mark, this one clearly un-etched, as Isilna's younger sister, a much more biddable (and sadly plain) girl is ushered forward. She has no problem accepting the mark or the offer of marriage, because this is tons better than she would have gotten otherwise. Her sudden promotion to the rank of Lady Holder is enough to bring tears in her eyes. "So, let this be witnessed, by a Blood of Benden's own, doing her duty."

"Heard and witnessed!" call out several of the Hold guards and leading citizens.

"Blow it out your ear, you pompous fool," mutters the Masterharper of Pern to himself, before raising his glass to Voronis with a fatuous toothy smile that no one could truly believe was heartfelt. "Witnessed, Lord Voronis!" he calls in a singsong. "I'm going back to my Hall now, goodbye!" He waves with fake cheer and absconds. With a third skin of Benden white.

Greyzina looks to T'nell and exhales slowly, looking tired all of a sudden. "I think it's time we go. I don't feel right being here any longer."

"Heard and witnessed." Alara echoes, though she's not really paying attention to the new holders. She knows she'll be dealing with them eventually, but she's just glad that the older sister is out of that situation. She whispers something to one of the other Weyrwomen, and chuckles softly at the whispered response.

As the remaining harpers begin to play music over on the dancing square, it's plain they'll have a heck of a time getting anyone to dance. Most of the Benden residents tut about the departed Isilna, clucking and shaking their heads, but full of praise for her younger sister's willingness to do right by them. "It's them Landing people what put funny idears in her head," cackles an old auntie next to the old uncle rattling off the pie ingredients. "She was all right until she started spendin' time with that one feller."

OOC Note: Various IC high-ranking NPCs and an awesome old uncle were emitted by: Artemis, Bast, Nenienne, her RL hubby, Uveline, Max, Lexi, Andi, and Teallan. Many thanks for your participation!

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