Visiting Monaco Bay Weyr

Spring (in the south) - Month 9 of Turn 2715
Monaco Bay Weyr - Common Caverns
A grand stairway leads downward into the cool rock of the commons cavern, a place for socializing and relaxing, as well as an area that provides solid shelter from the seasonal storms of this area. One of the few caverns at Monaco Bay Weyr, the rock here has been worn away by centuries worth of water movement, leaving a nearly glass smooth polish over much of the room. Rocky shelves line the walls on which electric lights covered with paper lanterns rest, providing adequate illumination for the area. High above are further light fixtures, enabling a wide range of lighting options here. A natural pool occupies half of the far end of the cavern and is supplied with heated water piped in by an ingenious techcrafter. All about the room are balconies of rock with stairs leading to them and small dumbwaiters for the purpose of delivering food and drink to their heights.

Power outage during a Hatching; definitely a new experience. One that R'sner would rather not repeat, thank-you-very-much. It has the visiting Weyrlingmaster making a straight-shot to the alcohol, picking up the first thing that his fingers find (dark, strong, sloshing over ice in a heavy-bottomed glass) and downing it faster than he probably ought to. "You and me both," rumbled beneath his breath, and safely assumed to be meant for the dragon in his head (and physically out there in the field).

While Z'ki's clothing isn't of the fancy, brocaded style that many sport for the hatching, he is wearing dark, neatly tailored shirt and pants, as close to a uniform as one could get with fancy clothes. As he steps into the caverns, he runs hand over short-shaved hair, not too familiar with the area — so his gaze flickers over the occupants, noting where they're heading, passing over — but not lingering — on the harpers that are playing. He follows the crowd and lines up for what he assumes is food, but actually turns out to be the drinks. With a rueful, almost resigned, smile, he takes up a glass, then glances sidelong as R'sner speaks. "Hm? I didn't say anything."

R'sner is reaching for the next drink (wine, this time), when words are directed at him. A glance of blue eyes, a quick appraisal of the Igen bronzerider, and a soft but audible exhale that might have been a snort of amusement if he'd put anymore effort into the gesture. "No, not you." The empty hand lifts, fingers tapping at his temple. "Toith. Dragon," in case the name wasn't explanation enough. The acquired beverage is at least sipped slowly this time; no rush toward inebriation. "Ever had the power go out on you before?" wondered idly, even as he moves out of the way to allow others access to the various beverages offered.

"Oh." There's no awkwardness or embarrassment; Z'ki takes the correction in stride, likewise moving out of the way of others looking to snag alcohol for themselves. A smile lifts the corners of his mouth: "Can't say I have. As if hatchings weren't exciting enough. Actually, I'm surprised — pleased — no one was injured. That was more than good luck," he says, with a little toast and sip from his glass.

It's probably a common thing among dragonriders; inadvertently speaking aloud when it ought to be kept silent. So just as Z'ki experiences no awkwardness for the mistake, R'sner does not linger on the blunder, but smoothly moves on. He's been at this long enough, judging by the lines of his face and the tinge of grey at his temples. A thrum of agreement as the greenrider sips his wine, followed by a single nod of his head. "Right about that. Though dragons do see a fair bit better in the dark than we do. Still. Hatchlings." Maulings. "Could've been bad. Glad it wasn't." Relief, evident in tone if not in expression. Another sideways look at the bronzerider, a glance for knot and patch, for rank and Weyr, before R'sner offers, "Long way from Igen. Did you know any of the candidates?"

"Yes — Ji swears he enjoyed it and it was thrilling," Z'ki observes dryly. And given one of the Impresses' names, he clarifies, "Jizunoth, that is. Z'ki," he adds his own name, along with an offered hand in greeting to the greenrider. "I've met a couple, but I wouldn't say I know them. Ji loves the hatchings though — hasn't let us miss a one since we were able to between," there's a fondness when he speaks of his dragon, typical for riders enough to not be notable. His gaze flickers, in kind, to the other man's shoulders, looking for knots. "And yourself?"

"Toith's not terribly interested in Hatchings unless they're ours… er. Not ours," because Toith is a green, and therefore incapable of producing eggs. "Our potential weyrlings." Wine glass is shuffled to his other hand so that he can accept and return that handshake, grip firm enough to be solid but certainly not one of those that threatens to break off the recipients hand. "R'sner. Half Moon Bay Weyrlingmaster," in explanation for who he is and why he would be interested in weyrlings. "And no. Well yes. But she wasn't out there today," for knowing the candidates. "Probably for the better, given the power situation." Or lack of power, rather.

Z'ki returns slightly more pressure to the handshake as he is given; maybe he's just like that. His brows go upwards at the declaration of 'ours' before the clarification, giving a brief smile. "Ah. We've been once or twice before; I keep meeting to get back there. Are you going to be busy soon, then?" A more polite way of asking whether any of Half Moon's queens are close to rising, undoubtedly. His brow furrows again at the latter statement, clearing his throat. "Perhaps, yes. Could've been much nastier."

Is R'sner accustomed to such returns of pressure and shows of force? Whether he is or isn't, there's no discernable change in expression as his hand is returned to him, and promptly shoved into the pocket of his jacket. "I wouldn't know," admits the greenrider without much inflection. Stating a fact, and unshamed of his lack of insight. "I haven't been at Half Moon long; about a Turn? Not long enough to really learn the habits of the queens. Though the new senior's clutch is about to graduate, so shouldn't be too long before another takes to the air, right?" Right? Does he know? Probably not.

The brief shift of shoulders might suggest Z'ki doesn't know any better than the Weyrlingmaster; why would he? With a brief smile, the Igenite lifts his glass, however: "To your graduating class then," before he takes a light sip. Not a big drinker, perhaps. "I'd best get some food before this goes to my head. Good to meet you, Weyrlingmaster," he says, with a respectful nod, before he turns to try and find the line for the food this time.

"Thank you," and in this, at least, there is a measure of emotion that seems into the voice of the weyrlingmaster, a bit of pride at his charges. A lift of his glass, and R'sner see's Z'ki off with a quick toast. "Well met, Z'ki of Igen. Enjoy the feast." Which is exactly what R'sner plans to do, as well.

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