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Auld Lang Syne


Date:  October 31, 2004
Places:  Harper Hall's Courtyard, Great Hall, and Kitchen
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Sometimes spontaneous parties are just fun.  On this 
occasion, I'd noticed that Halloween and Turnover were coinciding 
and mentioned as much to Rodric's player--so we discussed the idea of
an impromptu party, and that led to this excellent event hosted by 
Harper Hall. :)  Rodric deserves all the credit for making it work!
But all the folk who dropped by helped to make it so fun. :)  The
night begins with formal hobnobbing, but ends with a snowball fight
and many drenched Personages, which is just the way every glamorous
event should close if you ask me. ;)

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The Log:

Public announcement: Rodric clears his throat and calls out clearly. "As
some of you may have noticed, today is IC Turnover! Please join us at the
Harper Hall for an impromptu celebration!" +go harper-gh or +go harper-cy.
There's food and drink and dancing in the Great Hall, and a bonfire in the
Courtyard!

You circle lazily for a moment before descending to the Courtyard at Harper
Hall.

<*> Dowanth warbles merrily to Lysseth, and move quickly out of the way for
arriving dragons.

Dragon> Dowanth bespoke Lysseth with << Mine is excited. He likes the music
they make here. >>

Harper Great Hall> Rodric stands near the doors, shaking hands with Lord
Lemos. The man moves off after a moment to avail himself of some food. A
light springy dance is playing in the background and several couples are
moving in a pattern to it off to one side. The Master turns as the door
opens once more. "Good evening, Rider!" he says blithely. "Harper's duties
to Igen, and a good Turnover!"

<*> Lysseth backwings to a landing in a place as far from the decorations
as she can get, the better not to disturb them, and lowers her neck to
permit her rider to descend in a swirl of gold cloth, green cloth, and
black fur. "Good show, Lyss," the rider murmurs in approval of her dragon's
caution, stroking the dragon's neck fondly once she's made her descent.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

Harper Great Hall> P'wert enters in carefully, smiling at Rodric's
greeting, "Happy turnover, master Rodric! Igen's duties to Harper." P'wert
grins rather broadly, "Turnover's always something to look forward too."

Lysseth> Dowanth senses that Lysseth's answer is, as is frequent with her,
crystalline: << Mine would be happy to celebrate anywhere, I think, >> she
reports with a slender thread of amusement, << so long as there was good
liquor on hand. >>

Harper Great Hall> Rodric laughs brightly and nods. "Indeed it is, rider,
it is - there's food aplenty as you can see, and the Apprentices are very
proud of what they put together out in the Courtyard - did you get a chance
to look?"

Harper Great Hall> Someone of rank, much to Rais' chagrin, has taken it
upon themselves to put something in the boy's hair and smooth it back into
what can only be described as a hair helmet. The lad, needless to say, does
not look thrilled. Every time he spikes his locks back up, the journeyrank
harper comes back by with a comb and settles it back down. Rais slouches
around near the punch bowl, watching the arrivals.

"Hey!" Comes the shout as Genevieve takes a snowball to the stomach from
one of the young apprentices, the tuft of snow in her hands being chucked
in the lad's direction soon after, though she misses horribly. Giggles
haunt from all around as the rest of the younger children go on with their
games. Vieve brushes off her warm clothes and raises a hand in greeting to
the riders, "Harper's duties!" Is the cheery call as she moves towards the
bonfire crackling in the middle of the courtyard.

Dragon> Dowanth bespoke Lysseth with << Anywhere? She must be a very happy
person, to be happy anywhere. >> Dowanth's tone turns amused, << Mine says
your's love of liquor is legendary? >>

Harper Great Hall> P'wert nods slowly, grinning, "A little, on my way in.
Amazing what a little creativity, young minds and a bit of snow can do,
isn't it?" He simply beams at the food, "Will the bakers be serving the
iced treat, here, this year?" P'wert asks hopefully. Rais' antics with his
hair is duly noticed, causing the rider to grin, and take off his riding cap.

Kassima lifts her skirts enough to pick through the snow without letting
their hems get too encrusted with white, taking some care in her light
slippers. Her path is towards the Great Hall, but she pauses here and there
to admire a snow egg. "That one looks like m'old riding jacket," she says
under her breath of one, amused. "I do like the green one--" Genevieve's
greeting gets her attention, and she turns to call merrily back, "Duties
t'Harper Hall and her Masters! Lovely work someone's done here."

Harper Great Hall> Rodric inclines his head. "Quite so - and snow is such a
flexible material for them to use, for that matter. I'm not sure what all
the items are that our Baker has planned, but there is apple pie and it's
simply divine," states the Masterharper. He casts a slightly suspicious
look Rais' way as if the young lad is standing way too close to the punch
bowl.

Lysseth> Dowanth senses that Lysseth's assent is in a neutral, grey-touched
blue: << She is reasonably happy, most times. >> It brightens to sapphire
as she quips, << My own would probably protest that 'legendary' is an
overstatement. But she is sometimes given to modesty, >> at least as
Lysseth sees it.

Genevieve laughs, smile beaming over to the Telgari rider, "Ah, I'm sure
the lads will be glad to hear you say that ma'am. Taught 'em all how to do
it this morning. Was a right lot of fun - except for poor Journeyman
Tolemach who got his clothes ruined and'll probably be a little
green-tinted for the rest of the sevenday." She grins as a journeyman exits
the Hall and moves to her side, murmuring something to her and she too
picks up her skirts - making sure they don't drag, her path now leading her
towards the Great Hall, "Ought to come inside where it's warmer, ma'am."
Nevermind that the rider was headed in that direction already.

Dragon> Dowanth bespoke Lysseth with << Perhaps. But nonetheless, I am sure
Here will have good liquor for yours. >>

Harper Great Hall> Rais is entirely too close to the punch bowl and his
eyes have that darting quality to them that promise a deed of some low
stature. The apprentice's group of cronies are all in the far corner,
cackling with laughter and watching Rais, as if he needed anything else to
give him away with the way his hand is hiding something inside his jacket.
After some hesitation he idles up to the punch bowl, and right when a large
woman turns her back on the large, cut glass bowl, Rais pours the entire
contents of a large glass into the bowl. The liquid was clear and blends in
beautifully as Rais' takes the ladle and stirs. Done, he slips under
someone's arm and around a fully laden plate to hover near the door and watch.

Kassima winces visibly at each repetition of the M-word, drawing her long
cape of thick black fur tighter about herself as if to ward it off.
"Kassima," she pleads. "Or Kassi, or Wingleader, or greenrider, whichever;
only nay *that word*! 'Twill never be either old or respectable enough t'be
a ma'am, I do assure. M'compliments to the lads in question, though. And
condolences to the Journeyman, though if'n he had t'be tinted, at least he
picked one of the better colors for it." She grins back over her shoulder
at her dragon. Starting for the Hall again, she agrees, "Aye, 'tis
m'intention. Fancy clothes just don't hold up t'snow worth spit if'n you'll
pardon m'saying so," and offers another grin with some rue in it before
ducking indoors.

Harper Great Hall> P'wert nods his agreement to Rodric, and heads for the
pie. Other food is saved for later; dessert first on Turnover, of course.
He looks up from the pie to see the last drops get poured into the punch,
and frowns, and heads towards the woman, "Ummm. Might not want to serve
that." He suggests, "Not until somebody, ahhh. Taste tests it, ma'am,
though I'm sure it's wonderful, it's just . . ." P'wert frowns, his eyes
darting to the apprentice by the door. Leaving the woman confused, he
starts to head for the apprentice.

You pass between the sturdy metal gates and into the main hall.

You push open the double doors and enter the great hall. As the doors swing
back with a muffled thud, the noise from the rest of the harper hall fades
away.


Kassima:
	Kassima is a woman gifted magnanimously by genetics: one would 
likely guess her to be younger than her actual actual age thanks to high
cheekbones and a brow lines dare not touch, and metabolism and height have
both dealt a good hand in her slender 5'10" build. Her elfin features make
a fine setting for canted eyes the color of emeralds in shadow; a shrewd
glint lightens these even when mirth does not, and the well-shaped brows
above lend eloquence through their mobility.
	For this important occasion, Kassi has dressed herself in lavish,
luxurious elegance. Fitted snug against her torso, the bodice of her gown
is crafted of a pale, summery gold brocade that carries hints of a colored
pattern within. While laced intricately up her back in lattice-design, the
front is left free from any ornamentation save for the trim of tatted lace
that edges the low-scooped bustline. Her pale shoulders go bare; the
sleeves instead swoop down low on each arm, their drifts of
near-translucent green and gold sisal pooling to her wrists. Rich
bronze-green sisal, lent a silken sheen by the metallic strands shot
through the weave, falls from her hips, split wide open at the front to
reveal an underskirt of lighter material that's dyed a shade of gold only
slightly more pallid than the bodice. Hemming both overskirt and underskirt
are lengths of thin brocade placed against a wider band of velvet ribbon.
	She's chosen her jewelry to match: a heavy necklace of gold-set 
emeralds follows the delicate line of her bared collarbones, while more of 
the green jewels sparkle beside tawny topazes in her dangling earrings. Her 
wealth of blue-black hair has been caught up in a wide cuff of gold 
filigree just at her crown, and pours down from there along her shoulders 
and back.


Rais:
A snot nosed kid. Maybe not with actual snot at the moment, but the
potential is there. Dark hair, short and yet long enough to be spikey over
his head and around his ears. Approximately 10 turns in the world, and
already those faded grey eyes look like they think they know everything.
Skinned chin, skinned elbows and, of course, skinned knees too. Not small
in build and not awkward of movement either, most days he seems to have the
confident bravado of youth. Rais is dressed in a nondescript tunic of green
and trous of dark brown with black boots that have seen a lot of wear.
There's an apprentice Harper knot on his shoulder.


Rodric:
	 Tall and well-built without being overly muscular, Rodric smiles at 
the world from a tanned face topped with a pate of curly brown hair lightly
touched with a hint of silver at the temples. Appearing to be somewhere
between his late thirties and early forties, clear blue eyes spark with
humor framed by a few telltale laugh lines above an unremarkable nose and
generous mouth.  

 	 The knot of the Harper Craftmaster sits upon his shoulder, whilst a 
pin at his collar denotes a specialty in Instruments. Upon his breast is 
also pinned the sapphire-jeweled brooch that signified Mastery in the 
HarperCraft.


Genevieve pushes open the double doors, and for a moment the sounds of the
hall spill into the isolation of this room. Then the doors swing shut on
the noise.

Vahara pushes open the double doors, and for a moment the sounds of the
hall spill into the isolation of this room. Then the doors swing shut on
the noise.


Vahara:
There is frequent laughter in Vahara, so much of life amuses her, and yet,
when not actually laughing she appears to be a serious looking young woman.
Stunning in a statuesque fashion, she's built with a fine bone structure
and is slender of limb and waist while not lacking in the appropriate
curves. Her hair is as black as any Cromcoal and she wears it back and up
in an intricately braided affair that highlights her high cheek bones and
sculpted eyebrows. Her eyes are a very striking emerald color and add much
to the seriousness of her look for they hint at intelligence and wit.
Vahara is dressed in a fashionable gown of green velvet trimmed in black
fur. If appropriate for the situation she also wears a cloak of black wool
trimmed and lined in warm black fur.


Genevieve:
	The turns have brought with them a measure of elegance to this woman. 
No longer the mouse she was in her youth, Genevieve has all the confidence 
of the well-trained Harper, and it shows. A near constant smile plays on 
her rosy lips (neither too full nor too thin, but average), bright eyes 
alert and lively with good humor. Her eyes are that very particular shade 
often seen in ocean waters, the color that isn't quite green but also isn't 
quite blue. As the sea does, the dominant shade of her eyes - blue or 
green - seems to change with her mood and what she happens to be wearing at 
the time, though there are always flecks of gold across the color, like 
light when it glints on the waters just before sunset. Her petite nose sits 
just where it ought to be - between eyes, lips, and rosy cheeks. Her figure 
is utterly average; average height, average weight, average curves, though
there's a slenderness and sleekness to her pale skin. The woman's flesh is
not wholly lacking of color and can't be given the titles of ivory or
porcelain-like, but the tint to her skin is very fair. The only noticeable
out-of-the-ordinary thing that can be noted is this woman's hair. Usually
plaited very neatly to it stays out of her way, these dirty-blonde locks
stretch all the way down to her mid-thigh, and it grows longer with each
passing turn. Here and there throughout the long tresses there is a purer
shade of blonde - gold mixed with the sandy shade that is predominant
throughout. The plait itself is thick and the hair well kept, having a soft
and near constantly clean look. On her shoulder is always proudly worn the
knot of a Journeywoman of the HarperCraft. She looks to be about 26 Turns,
5 months, and 24 days.
	My, my, my. For once, Genevieve's blonde hair is not frizzing
every-which-way. In fact, it looks as though someone has taken great pains
to secure every last strand into the correct arrangement. With four slender
mini-braids running from forehead back and criss-crossing over one another,
the bulk of her thick hair has been gathered into a fashionable twist and
secured with a lovely silver comb with small amethysts and sapphires
decorating the edges of it. From the top of the twist cascade carefully
teased blonde ringlets, touching all the way down to just below the woman's
slender bare shoulders. The pale sky blue gather dress she wears starts
about a finger length from the top of her shoulders, fitted neatly there.
The material looks soft to the touch as it fits to her torso, the white
lining at the top edge of the dress, looping at the center as decoration.
The outer sleeves hang loosely over the form-fitted inner ones which reach
to her wrists. A long strip of fabric is sitting lightly on her hips,
folded across itself at the front so that the slightly lighter blue fabric
adds dimension to the light flowing skirt that reaches to the woman's
ankles. On her feet she wears a pair of finely crafted black boots,
perfectly appropriate to this dress. About her neck is lovely necklace made
of wire and gemstones (see +detail).


Rais lurks near the door, watching the punch bowl and the Igen bronzerider
that would seem to be headed his way. The harper apprentice adopts a 'Who
me?' sort of expression and shifts his attention to checking out the
arrivals for likely marks.


---

Happy TurnOver Sign:

Happy Turnover!

The Harper Hall is proud to present the following items for your enjoyment
this evening:

A selection of cheeses from around Pern, mulled wine, apple cider and a
wide array of desserts, including apple pie, nut pastries and trifle.

Outside in the Courtyard, a bonfire has been set up, and the Apprentices
have built impressive snow displays, from snowmen to dragons and everything
in between.

Enjoy!

---


P'wert lounges against the wall near the apprentice. Carefully, he sticks
his fork in his pie, and munches on it it contentedly. Without turning to
Rais, he asks simply, "Nothing dangerous, I hope?" His voice drops to a
bare whisper, "What was it?"

Kassima is looking about her with a visitor's curious, unfamiliar interest
as she steps inside, keeping slightly to the side so as not to obstruct
others from entering while she dawdles. "Faranth," she murmurs under her
breath when she spots that array of desserts. "'Tis going t'be a temptation
t'eat m'self so round I won't fit on m'dragon, I see--" Clearing her
throat, she offers a rather more audible and clear-voiced, "Duties t'Harper
Hall and her Masters!"

Rodric beams greetings again as more people enter. He's standing by the
door, doing duty of course. "Harper's duties to Telgar Weyr and her
queens!" he responds gaily to Kassima and bows. "It's good to see you again
Wingleader, happy Turnover!" There's more smiles for Genevieve and Vahara
as well as he sweeps another bow for the Bitran Lady. "Good evening," he
greets. "Please do come in and enjoy the hospitality of the Hall!"

Vahara has been working on contract research at the harper hall and is
drawn out by the sounds of merriment. She brushes a lock of hair back
behind one ear and finds she's left a stylus there and pulls it out before
she peers at it with good humor. A curtsey goes to Rodric, "Masterharper."
and she moves to see who else has arrived for the festivities. "Kassima!
Bitra's duties to Telgar."

Genevieve enters just behind the greenrider, brushing her fingers across a
'snowball-sized' bit of moisture on the stomach of her dress. She glances
up at the MasterHarper's greeting - flashing him a smile a very brief
moment before her attention moves to search about the room and her eyes
land on the Igen bronzerider, "P'wert!" She calls - excitement edging into
her very informal greeting as she gracefully moves towards him, grinning to
Rais as she nears, "I think ond of your friends has good aim." She points
to the spot on her dress.

Rais leans back to the wall and answer P'wert from the corner of his mouth,
"Something some rider brought the Masterharper from Ista." As to dangerous,
maybe Rais has an idea, but if so, he's not telling he's just watching the
punch bowl, "Did you try some?" Is the sideways question to the Igenite.

Kassima matches Rodric's bow with a curtsey and a grin. "Thankee kindly,
Master Harper, and I do wish you the same. Forgive me for asking, but is
there a place...?" She slides her fur cape from her shoulders and gestures
to it almost apologetically. "'Tisn't the season for traveling without, but
the hospitality of the Hall is warming enough that I needn't wear it
within. Oh, Vahara!" The greenrider turns towards the familiar voice.
"Hadn't thought t'be seeing you here. 'Tis an unexpected pleasure. Duties
right back t'Bitra and her Lord, naturally."

"Not yet," The rider responds casually, twirling his fork before taking
another thoughtful bite. "Might, if you know if what's in it's good.
Thought I'd check with you first, though. No one'll be hurt, though, you're
sure?" P'wert asks, then quiets a bit as Genevieve starts to approach. He
still doesn't look at Rais, "Igen's duties, Genevieve. I had heard you'd
come back to the hall to brush up; is it going well?"

Acadia pushes open the double doors, and for a moment the sounds of the
hall spill into the isolation of this room. Then the doors swing shut on
the noise.

Rais leans forward a little bit to look at Gen, his nose wrinkling for the
dress before he says, "They must have started early. Did you get 'im back,
Gen?" And then intelligent grey eyes look to P'wert, "Naw. Nobody'll be
hurt. I know the rider, it's probably just something that's brewed out of
tubers." And tubers are good for you, right? There's a shifting in
attention now as someone across the room does finally take a cup of punch.
The man takes a swallow and looks at his cup, "Sweet tonight."

Rodric smiles warmly at Thunderbolt's wingleader. "Quite so, Wingleader, if
I may?" he holds out hands for her cloak himself and nods off to one side
of the room where a pert Apprentice is doing coat-check duty in front of a
set of impromptu coat-hangers. "And I am simply stunned by your gown,
Kassima - truly, you look radiant this evening," he compliments, flashing
another bright grin.

Rodric stands, speaking with Kassima relatively near the door. The Master
appears to be on meet n' greet duty. "Harper's duties and happy TurnOver!"
he calls out as more people drift in.

Vahara gives Kassima a half curtsey, "Always nice to see you, Kassima." The
lady might be about to start chitchatting but then she sees a particular
lad who owes her a rematch and she turns and moves through the crowd
towards Rais with a carefully cultivated look of detachment. Wouldn't do to
have the scamp thinking she's sure she can win her marks back.

"I tried, Rais, really I did. But I'm afraid I have *terrible* aim. It's
almost as bad as my instrument-crafting skills. Almost." Genevieve winks to
the younger Harper and then grins to P'wert, "Harper's duties to Igen,
P'wert. And yes. And I managed quite a bit more than a brush up." One hand
lifts to indicate the very new Journeywoman knot on her shoulder. "How have
you and Dowanth been?"

Xandriel pushes open the double doors, and for a moment the sounds of the
hall spill into the isolation of this room. Then the doors swing shut on
the noise.

Acadia walks in with an older Rider who scans the room. When he sees the
size of the crowd he gives the Weyrling a light shove forward and says,
"I'll be in the kitchen for a while. If you need to leave before I get
back, come get me." He strids off leaving Acadia alone.

Sirris sweeps through the doors followed by a few attendants, standing in a
pose that seems to be demanding attention. He stops in the doorway and
looks around for a moment, then turns back to peer outside with a deep
frown. The expression quickly fades, however, and he steps fully into the
room, his strides dignified. "Keroon's duties to all gathered here," he
calls out.

"Oh, a'course," Kassi consents with an abashed smile, passing the lush
black article to the Masterharper. "Although I feel a bit odd as a guest
t'be letting the host do me such a favor! Thankee, thankee," she then
laughs, coloring a trifle. "Masterweaver Katlynn's work. And some of her
fairest, I've always thought." She returns Vahara's curtsey exactly, but
adds a respectful incline of her head to the gesture. "Aye, on both sides.
I hope things continue t'find you well," she says before the lady in
question departs.

P'wert smiles widely at Genevieve, "Excellent. Congratulations. And, if
you'll excuse me, I'm going to go try some of that punch." Acadia is
spotted as well as the odd weyrling or three from Fort. There's a few quiet
exchanges between them and P'wert as he sips his punch, then, after each
has been spoken too, he heads to Acadia, "Glad Weyrlingmaster V'yse would
let you come, Weyrling." P'wert says with a grin, "Just a warning," P'wert
adds quietly, "You're not allowed to touch the punch."

Acadia looks wistfully at the bowl and asks, "Are you sure it has alcohol
in it? I don't smell any booze." Of course not. She's several feet away
from the bowl.

Xandriel heads into the great hall, for once not laden down with her giant
bag of things to do, she does however carry a small gitar.

For once, Rais is glad there's a girl around. In this case, Gen to distract
P'wert from too many questions about what he spiked the punch with. "I'll
get him for you later, Gen. Just point him out when he comes inside." While
Vahara pretends to not be headed towards the apprentice, Rais brazenly
sidles up to her and offers a passable bow, a remnant of his hold training.
"Lady Vahara. Harper's duties to Bitra and Crom." Then the lad offers his
arm as slick as any of the journeyranks, "You should have some punch and we
can talk about our rematch. Did you bring your spoon and your marks?"

Rodric moves off to deposit Kassima's cloak, with care, in the tender hands
of the coat-check Apprentice, then returns to the door and bows correctly
to Sirris. "Good evening, Sirris, Harper Hall is honored to host Keroon,
this evening," he greets. "May I entice you in for some mulled wine and
perhaps some most excellent cheese from Benden?" His smile waxes bright in
welcome and then he's nodding politely Acadia's way as well. "Welcome to
Harper Hall Weyrling, Harper's duties to Fort!" Finally there's a return to
Kassima. "There, all squared away, Wingleader, and while I'm sure the
Master is a talented Weaver, no small share of the loveliness is due to the
wearer."

"Give my regards to Rulana and Gherith, please." Gen murmurs to P'wert as
he excuses himself, giving a look around the room, smiling to Rais, "Be
good this sevenday - I want to have a Hall to come back to." She winks and
without any explanation, she slips out a glance cast towards the
MasterHarper before she slips out of the room.

Genevieve pushes open the great wooden doors and floods the room with the
sounds of the hall before she passes through and the doors swing shut once
more.

Sirris spreads his arms to accept the Masterharper's offer, his smile warm
and congenial. "Master Rodric, good to see you again! Naomi and I were
excited to hear of the festivities planned here. Ah...speaking of which,
she should be in here shortly. She was fussing with her dress back
there..." Another glance is stolen to the door, then he clears his throat.
"Ah...in any case, I would be glad to share such delacies with you. Thank
you for your hospitality."

Xandriel glances around the room, surprised to find she only recognises a
few people. She beelines for the food table hoping to run into someone
along the way.

P'wert snorts softly, "I didn't say anything about alcohol, did I, Weyrling
Acadia? Just that you're not to have it." P'wert smiles at Acadia broadly,
"There's other things to drink, I'm sure. Try some juice, perhaps?"

Kassima listens to the Masterharper's greetings and offers in turn as seems
fitting, "Duties t'Keroon and her Lady and Fort Weyr and her queens, too,"
with a friendly enough nod for the individuals so indicated. Her color
heightens a fraction more at the compliments; she gives Rodric a rueful
grin. "You are as kind as when I last met you, Masterharper, but I'd nay
wish t'detract from the credit due Kat. The clothes make the woman, they do
say. This gathering does seem t'be very much a success if'n I may say so."

Vahara gives a lilting laugh at Rais and resists the urge to fix whatever
awful thing has been done to his hair for the party. "Bitra's duties to the
Harper Hall, apprentice Rais. I'm always charmed to have your company.
No...I didn't bring my spoon down.. perhaps later? Punch? Is that a
personal recommendation?" The lady looks at the boy but she doesn't seem to
be speaking down to him, just making conversation. "Yes...I have marks..the
question is do ..you.. have marks? I'm not going to lose again." She allows
the young scoundrel to steer her towards the bunch bowl, her eyes look
around the room and a smile curves her lips if anyone else looks back in
her direction.

Acadia sighs and nods. "Yes, sir. I'll have juice instead." She nods toward
Masterharper Rodric but refrains from speaking since the lady in the gold
dress and gold and topaz jewelry has his attention at the moment. She get
some juice and swallows, pleased to find it nicely warmed. She drinks more
heartily and says, "This is pretty good, P'wert sir!"


Acadia:
Acadia is a young woman with short dark hair and pale skin unmarked by any
visible scars. Violet eyes peek out from under long, lush eyelashes and
arching eyebrows. She stands approximately 5'4" high and much of that is
taken up by long, muscular legs, giving the illusion she's taller than she
really is. Her slender form has only recently begun showing the curves
common to her gender. 

Acadia is wearing an old dark green wool tunic and dark brown wool pants.
The tunic has long sleeves and a vented hemline, while the pants have
flared ankles and a stretched-out drawstring waist. She also wears sturdy,
scarred boots with very low heels and a Weyrling knot with a single green
thread running through it. These clothes aren't pretty, but they stand up
to life with a roomful of baby dragons better than a dress would. 

Acadia is 16 Turns, 3 months, and 25 days of age.


Rodric looks around the room briefly, then laughs gaily at Sirris' return
greetings. "We are honored indeed, then, to have the Lady with us this
evening," returns the MasterHarper. "The wine is just here," he indicates,
"and as you can see, the table is well-laden for Turnover!" he gestures to
the long tables set with dishes that line one wall. His head inclines
Kassima's way once more. "I think it would be difficult not to have a good
time at Turnover Wingleader. It's a time of hope and renewal after all, a
new Turn."

P'wert nods in agreement with Acadia, "Good. I'm glad you're enjoying it."
He finishes his glass of punch, and sets it on a tray for clearing. Another
piece of the apple pie is taken, and this time wrapped in a clean
hankerchief from his pocket. "Alright, Acadia," Oooh, he forgot the
weyrling, "I assume he'll," He nods towards the kitchens, "Will look after
you. So, just keep in mind no punch. There's someone I need to see." P'wert
says quietly. Then, with that, he exits the hall quickly, saying farewells
to those as he passes.

P'wert pushes open the great wooden doors and floods the room with the
sounds of the hall before he passes through and the doors swing shut once
more.

The music over where some are dancing changes from bright and spritely to
slow and stately and additional couples trickle into the space.

Rais gets Vahara a cup of punch. The apprentice lad looks up at the Lady a
moment and then ladles a little more into the her glass, almost
overfilling. He's a little suspicious about how confident she sounded when
asking about his marks, but the punch should get her right off balance.
"You'll like this, pretty good, Lady Vahara."

Kassima looks towards the tables, particularly those containing wine, but
doesn't--yet--move towards them. "If'n one were of a pessimistic nature,
one might see it as the last death of the Turn's worth of possibilities
that has now passed," she remarks to Rodric, wry, "but I'm of a mind t'be
the optimist tonight; and I regret little of the past Turn, anyway. I can
only hope that this Turn t'come shall be as full of bright things. And as
singularly interesting." Her amused eyes might just flick towards the
Bitran Lady at that point. "Was that P'wert who just passed? Shells, I
meant t'say heyla t'him when I saw his Dowanth out in the Courtyard."

Followed by a bright-eyed lass of seventeen, Naomi enters the Great Hall,
her hands upon her skirt, carrying it carefully as she glides along. She
pauses a moment to hear a mutter from her companion before forested green
eyes land upon Sirris. Moving deftly forward to him she flashes a smile and
a curtsey to the MasterHarper she greets the man warmly, "Happy TurnOver,
Master Rodric and Keroon's duties, though I'm sure Sirris already gave them."


Naomi:
When standing to her fullest height, she is a somewhat imposing 5'11''
tall, and she tends to always stand straight as her mother taught her at a
young age that proper ladies do not slouch. Her long, straight, sunny
golden-blond hair cascades to her lower back where sections curl into
ringlets at the ends. On her head is commonly found a braided circlet of a
golden material that holds any stray hairs out of her face. The braided
band is only visible across her forehead for her long tresses cover most of
it. Her sparkling, forest green eyes are set beneath slightly arched, blond
eyebrows, though her eyelashes are a darker, browner color and seem to have
been made with only one purpose in mind: to bat them at the opposite sex
and render them helpless to her charms. Beneath her eyes is a
well-proportioned nose and soft, rosy cheeks. Right above her sleek neck
and chin are a pair of luscious lips, a darkish red in color. The silky
skin that covers her entire body is a light tan due to exposure to the
Rukbat's rays, though if she spent time outdoors, her skin would become a
fair and light. On her left shoulder, she wears a shoulder knot, rather
than a badge, that denotes her to be from Keroon Hold, and her rank there:
Lady Holder. She looks to be about 35 Turns, 2 months, and 28 days. 
Naomi's dress is befitting of the occasion, a sleek deep peridot green,
bodice fitting her slender torso well. The sleeves sit just off her
shoulders, golden-yellow trim touching along the tops of the sleeves and
down across the top of the bodice. A design of a white Istan blossoms has
been embroidered across the sloping bottom edge of the bodice before the
green skirt flows out about her hips, rolling its way to the floor. This
dress, however elegant, was also made to be something none to heavy for its
wearer so as not to interfere with dancing - and as such, the skirt is a
single layer and has been made 'twirlable'. She wears a pair of light white
slippers on her feet. This evening the golden locks of the Lady Holder have
been done up in an impressive collection of curls and ringlets crowning her
head thoroughly, gems of green and a shimmering diamond-hue have been
secured into the locks to accent the up-do.


Sirris:
	A virtual mane of honey-gold hair spills down from atop this young 
man's head, cascading in volume-rich waves along his neck. While thick and
certainly sporting the possibility to become unruly, he maintains it quite
well, keeping it swept back in one continuous wave, leaving his dense bangs
to fall over just above his finely-arched eyebrows. Together, they frame a
pair of earthy-toned brown eyes, so curiously soft and warm that one might
compare them to a young pup's on occasion. It's almost ironic, for the rest
of this man is large and rangy, indicitive of a life on the unpredictable
seas. He stands a rather impressive 6'8", with broad shoulders and a rather
good ammount of muscle. Nevertheless, he's slender, with the lean and
sinewy form of one who works often on the deck of a ship and the trim waist
of a male still in his youth. His features are finely pointed, but not in a
way that's akward; actually, it makes for a rugged look that suits him
quite well. The trained eye would probably guess him to be about 34 Turns,
8 months, and 17 days old.
	He wears a tunic in a misty gray, with a beautiful sort of powdery
blue-ish tint to it in the right light, trimmed in golden threads along the
hem, cuffs, collar and sleeves. The sleeves themselves are long, and the
tunic is belted closed around his body with a surprisingly plain leather
belt complete with an ornate golden buckle. A pair of close-fitting black
leggings hug his toned legs and disappear into a pair of stiff, new-looking
boots in black leather. His most prominant feature is the heavy cape
hugging his shoulders, fastened by a small golden emblem of sorts. Looking
to be of velvet, it's obviously his most expensive item. Nearly as dark as
between on the outside, and a ruby red on the inside, it gives him an
elegant look. Worn proudly on his right shoulder is the knot of Keroon Hold.


"Ah, Naomi! There you are, dear." Sirris is all smiles tonight, and he
indicates the tables with a sweeping gesture of one arm. "Master Rodric
just kindly invited us to partake of wine and cheese from Benden. The
harpers have really outdone themselves with the festivities." So said, he
turns to one of his attendants and sends them off to fetch him some wine
with a slight flick of one wrist.

Vahara takes the punch cup from Rais and sips lightly at it, "Very nice.
Yes..best punch I think I've had in awhile. Thank you, Rais. Now, when we
get a rematch I get to select your spoon this time." The apprentice from
Crom is given a look, "You don't want any punch, Rais?" Another swallow is
taken and she looks at her glass in admiration before she laughs brightly.
The Bitran lady walks Rais away from the serving tables so that they won't
hold up any lines and she looks at the door in curiosity, "I believe that's
Lady Naomi, I should try to introduce myself to her when she's free."

Finished with her juice Acadia sets the glass down and starts to circulate
around the room. She walks toward the lady with the long black hair in the
green velvet dress and offers her respects. "Fort Weyr's duties to you and
yours, ma'am. I'm Acadia, Inneth's lifemate."

Rais walks Vahara towards a corner, using his feet in front of hers from
time to time as well as a touch to her elbow to herd her like a working
canine would. "Naw, I don't care for punch that much. Yeah, uh, you can
pick my spoon. It just has to be the same size as the one you're using."
Just in case the lady has any clever ideas, you never know with Bitrans.
There's a stopping as Acadia comes to introduce herself and Rais comes to a
halt before nodding to the rider, speaking his name before Vahara has a
chance to give hers, "I'm Rais, Harper's duties to Fort Weyr. You're a
rider? That's cool."

If Vahara is aware that she's being culled from the herd for fleecing she
doesn't let Rais know it. She just follows along, sipping at the spiked
punch and laughing from time to time. A smile curves over her lips for the
rider, "Bitra's duties to Fort Weyr, Acadia. I'm Lady Vahara of Bitra
Hold..and sometimes of Crom as well. It's a lovely party, isn't it?"

Rodric beams as Naomi enters and bows once more. "Harper's duties to Keroon
Hold, Lady Naomi," greets the MasterHarper. "It's a pleasure to be able to
welcome you to the Hall this evening. Happy Turnover to you!" He grins for
Kassima's comment as well. "Indeed - I prefer to remain hopeful myself ...
and if interesting is all we can hope for, then that may well be enough."

Naomi blinks a little bit at the greeting Sirris gives her, but her
expression is soon taken by a warm smile. "Ah, how kind of him, darling."
Anyone who's ever seen this couple before would be able to read the giant
waving flags that indicate something's up. Or maybe they're just taking a
day off from bickering to enjoy the TurnOver. Green eyes flutter across the
assembled once more. "I do hope our being here isn't an inconvenience to
you, Master Rodric - it's just that I so enjoyed our last visit I couldn't
resist when I heard the Harper Hall was hosting a TurnOver party." She
looks to Kassima then with a friendly smile, "Good evening - Keroon's
duties to Telgar Weyr."

Acadia nods and says, "I think it's wonderful, but I have to admit it's the
first party I've been to in a long time. Weyrlinghood has kept us pretty
busy, and it's only recently that Weyrlingmaster V'yse has given us
permission to leave the weyr with an escort." She looks at her clothes and
the others'. "I'm sorry I couldn't dress better, but nice clothes like
yours don't stand up to barracks living well."

"It may nay be all we can hope for," confesses Kassima to Rodric, "but
'twill hope for it regardless, at least of the more positive sort. An
excitement t'take the place of Threadfall. Something t'keep the blood
stirred, the mind alert, all of that." Her eyes gleam suddenly, amusement
deepening their green. "Perhaps I qualify as a masochist. G'devening--Lady
Naomi, 'tis?" She dips in a full curtsey. "Duties t'Keroon and yourself in
exchange, Lady."

Rais drums his fingers restlessly to his side as he looks from Acadia to
Vahara and the glass Vahara's drinking out of. "Can I get you something to
drink, Acadia? Klah or juice?" The weyrling gets a choice and Rais doesn't
include punch for her status.

Acadia shakes her head and says, "No thank you Rais. I had some juice
earlier, so I'm good for now." She chuckles suddenly and says, "Inneth is
having fun meeting new dragons. She's not intimidated any longer by
full-size dragons, and likes to ask them questions."

Vahara takes another, small sip from her punch and smiles brightly to
Acadia, "I don't think you should worry..I'm not really dress for a party
either. I've been reading records all day." Evidently, she just always
dresses like this. "Did you impress in Fort's last hatching then? I'm so
sorry I missed that hatching..such happy events."

"An inconvenience Lady Naomi? Not in the slightest, indeed, Keroon is most
welcome at Harper Hall," Rodric says smoothly. "I trust the trip over
wasn't too cold? We have mulled wines if you need aught to take the chill
out of bones," he gestures again towards the tables. Then he flashes
Kassima a smile. "I trust nothing -too- exciting though - just enough to
whet the appetite."

Acadia nods to Vahara. "Yes, Inneth found me there. She's a green and small
for her size, not quite 20 meters long. She had her first firestone chewing
and flaming lessons this week, and still complains about the nasty taste."

Vahara listens to Acadia, tilting her head just a little to one side as she
does so, "Congratulations to you Acadia..for finding your lifemate. Inneth
is a lovely name. 20 meters...that still sounds very large to me." Vahara
takes another swallow from her punch cup and then hands it to Rais for a
refill as her cheeks take on a rosy glow. "Is this your first trip from the
weyr, Acadia?"

Naomi shakes her head quickly to the MasterHarper, "Nay, Master Rodric, the
trip wasn't too cold - though it is quite a bit colder here than in Keroon.
You ought to come visit us again - soon." She smiles brightly to the man,
"The company," She continues as Sirris seems to have wondered off, "On the
trip over, however, was slightly less than pleasurable, ah, but such is
life." She murmurs, winking to the Harper before she nods a polite greeting
in return to Kassima. "Yes, though I'm afraid you have me at a
disadvantage. May I ask your name?" She queries, voice kind and eyes
equally so as she regards the Wingleader.

Kassima allows herself a fleeting grin. "'Twould be preferrable, Master,
aye. 'Exciting' is one thing; 'catastrophic' would be quite another, and
if'n it takes calamity t'make one's life the stuff of ballads, I'd just as
soon pass." She excuses herself for a moment as the Harper and the Lady
talk, long enough to fetch and return with a glass of the mulled wine.
"Kassima," she answers Naomi amiably. "Green Lysseth's rider, Thunderbolt
Wingleader, currently affiliated with Telgar. A pleasure 'tis t'be making
your acquaintance on this Turnover."

Rais takes the punch cup from the Bitran Lady and scampers into the crowd,
gone for several minutes until he's padding back with a cup that's almost
full to the top. He holds it out for Vahara and then listens to catch what
Acadia is saying about her green dragon. Some of Rais' slicked back hair
has started to poke up in it's natural state.

Rodric only smiles pleasantly at Naomi's words. "Then we will strive to
ensure that the company here is of a far warmer character," states the
Master gallantly. "May I get you something to drink, Lady Naomi?" he
chuckles softly at Kassima's words. "I as well, would prefer to avoid such
words and cleave rather to 'interesting' and perhaps even 'creative' and
'exploratory'."

Acadia replies, "Yes Lady Vahara, at least since the Hatching. Before then
I'd traveled a bit with my family including our trip from Crom and the
Minecrafthall to Fort Weyr. I'd almost forgotten what the world outside the
Fort Bowl and barracks looked like."

"Well met, Wingleader. It is likewise a pleasure for me to meet so
excellent a Telgari rider. I hope all is well in that part of the world?"
Naomi inquires, interest genuine as her hands settle idly across her
stomach before answering the MasterHarper, "No, thank you, Master Rodric,
not just now. I wouldn't want you to miss out on any of the fascinating
conversation for my sake." She winks to the Harper, expression still quite
soft, pleasant and friendly. "And with Harpers about there could scarce be
a place with better character on all of Pern, if I do say so myself. And I
do."

"I've heard tell that the Masterharper has a gift for providing warm
company," Kassima offers, so guilelessly that she may even mean that in
innocence. "--Mmm. I can see the favor in 'creative,' methinks, so long as
it doesn't lead that which isn't new into automatic disfavor--but methinks
the people of Pern by and large have more sense in this age. I'm looking
forward t'seeing just what is created. Times can't be too interesting
without change in the mix." Dipping her chin in a nod to Lady Naomi, the
greenrider assures, "While methinks 'excellent' might be an arguable term
for me--Telgar itself does fare excellently. We've just seen the graduation
of as fair a group of new riders as you'd care t'meet; and our Holds and
Crafts all seem t'be thriving. Bitra in particular flourishes under her new
Lord, they say. But Vahara would be more one t'speak of that than I."

Accepting the glass of punch from Rais, Vahara curves a smile at the boy
and takes a petite sip before she replies to the Fortian weyrling, "Are you
from Crom then originally, Acadia? My family is from that area, a small
holding." Laughter rises from Vahara for no obvious reason and she says, "I
think.. maybe I'd like to step out and have a breath of air. Would you like
to take a look at the courtyard, Rais and Acadia?"

Acadiaeyes go vague for a minute, and her mouth drops open. "Oh no,
Inneth's asking about woozles again! I've got to go stop her. Will you
please excuse me Rais, Lady Vahara?" Without waiting for an answer the
Weyrling hurries outside to the courtyard.

Acadia pushes open the great wooden doors and floods the room with the
sounds of the hall before she passes through and the doors swing shut once
more.

Rais has a pair of spoons sticking out of his back pocket as he offers
Vahara his arm once more, "Bring the punch, it'll help keep you warm, Lady
Vahara. Maybe we can get up a snowball fight. Uh. Do you have a cloak or
anything?" The apprentice stops at the door, he'd have to get his own coat
and mittens anyway.

Rodric clears his throat very slightly at Kassima's comment. "It is the
duty of the Hall to foster a welcoming atmosphere, so that all may benefit
from its teachings," he says mildly, then laughs a little for Naomi's
words. "Dear Lady, if you will excuse -me- then from the conversation, fine
as it is, for a moment, I feel a distinct need to try out the Bitran wine!"
So saying he bows half-way and steps over to the table where the wines are
displayed and serves himself a full glass of something richly golden in
color. He pauses on his way back to greet another set of holders from one
of Fort's look-tos and then returns to the Lady and Wingleader. "Have you
tried this at any time, ladies?" he inquires, brows lifting slightly and
the glass turned to the light. "Amazing, sweet vintage from Bitra's eastern
slopes. An example of Bitran creativity, I believe, in the way the grapes
are handled."

Vahara looks at Rais through her eyelashes for a moment in front of the
cloak room, "Why is it I think I should just give you my marks right now
and save us all some time, Rais?" Her eyes close fully a moment and then
open all of a sudden to ask, "What was in that punch? I'm quite light
headed..Mmm. Well..just to teach you a lesson, I won't play the spoon game
until I'm sober. You should be a little more careful with Bitrans,
Rais..even adopted Bitrans. I have a dark green cloak..the one with the
black fur." A delicate finger points into the cluster of cloaks.

"Vahara?" Naomi inquires, the name unfamiliar to her. "We are all glad that
Bitra has found itself such a deft hand at managing it's affairs." Her
expression is a veil of neutrality, serenity carefully maintained, "It is
well, also that the rest of Telgar is doing as well." She takes a glance
around the room - as if to make sure Sirris hasn't gone and gotten himself
caught up in a drinking game or some such. "No, Master Rodric, I'm afraid I
have not." She murmurs as the man returns. "I'm not partial to Bitran
vintages, I'm afraid."

"Oh, naturally," Kassima agrees, and either she really did mean the comment
innocently or she's a fair actress. "One hopes t'find the leaders of every
area hospitable, a'course, for various reasons...." When the Masterharper
returns with his wine, she studies the golden liquid with some interest,
peeking into her own cup. "I don't believe that I have. Unless 'tis what
was served at that most excellent concert? Only I believe what I drank then
was a red. Would you put it on par with the Benden?" The greenrider's eyes
scan the crowd at Naomi's query, eventually finding Vahara; she nods
towards the woman in question. "Lord Vorlin's cousin," she explains, "and
kin t'Lord Crom, I'm told. Quite a pleasant and interesting personage. And
'twould suppose that many of Bitra's Lords and Ladies have had a deft
hand... of one kind or another. Does Keroon also fare well?"

Rais blinks innocently at Vahara and then laughs, "You're okay for a
/girl/, Lady Vahara. Let's go have a snowball fight instead." He darts into
the cloak room and comes back staggering a little under the cloak but
dressed in his own cold weather outergear.

Rodric tilts the glass further so that it catches the light, richly golden.
"It's a sweet white," he explains, "very different from the red at the
concert, Kassima," he notes for the greenrider. "And there is, as far as I
can tell, no other vintage quite like it." He nods towards the table. "It's
that carafe there, Wingleader, if you care to try it."

Vahara takes the cloak out of Rais's hands and swings it around before
getting it settled over her shoulders and fastening the clasp. "And
you..aren't half bad for a ..boy.. Rais. Shall we? I haven't been in a good
snowball fight since I was a very young girl."

Rais pushes open the great wooden doors and floods the room with the sounds
of the hall before he passes through and the doors swing shut once more.

Lysseth> Rais emerges from the main hall and is quickly swept up in the
bustle of the courtyard.

Vahara pushes open the great wooden doors and floods the room with the
sounds of the hall before she passes through and the doors swing shut once
more.

Lysseth> Vahara emerges from the main hall and is quickly swept up in the
bustle of the courtyard.

Grania pushes open the double doors, and for a moment the sounds of the
hall spill into the isolation of this room. Then the doors swing shut on
the noise.

Naomi's eye's follow the Wingleader's nod to touch upon Vahara and sha
'ahs', "I see. Keroon fares wonderfully, thank you, Wingleader Kassima."
She grins, "And it's only getting better with each passing sevenday." She
flashes a smile to Rodric then, "I think I'm going to see about some juice
for myself." And with that the attendant who's been hovering around Naomi
curties quickly, "I'll get it, ma'am." She murmurs and then skitters off.
Naomi laughs softly, "You know, even through all the turns, I cannot get
used to always having someone around to care for my well-being. But,
Headwoman Paola insisted."

Lysseth> Rais scampers into the snow, past the places that have been
tramped by dragons and people and into the farthest corner where the crust
is still unbroken and he takes a leap, turning to land on his back. Once
down he moves his arms and legs, making a shape in the snow while he laughs.

Kassima's eyes follow the glass. "Far be it from me t'nay sample the
pleasantly unique. Besides," and she gives a sudden, near-soundless laugh,
"it goes with m'dress, at that." Not one to be wasteful, she drains her cup
before moving to acquire a measure of the white for herself. "The name
alone is fine, Lady, if'n you'd rather," she offers Naomi over her
shoulder, smiling. "I'm glad t'be hearing it. I don't know Keroon so well
as I do some Holds, I fear, but I've ever heard good things of her."

Rodric nods a little as Naomi speaks. "I too am glad to hear that the Hold
fares well, Lady Naomi. Better by the seven-day is all the more
encouraging," He smiles and then chuckles. "Mmm - independence is a trait
not easily set aside," he muses, and then tracks the greenrider towards the
wine. "It does match, at that, you see, we've even managed to help you
accessorize, Wingleader," he says with a wink. "Welcome to Harper Hall and
Happy Turnover!" he calls out as another surge of people makes its way
through the doors.

Lysseth> Vahara holds her arms out and spins in a slow circle, face turned
upwards and pink tongue stuck out like a childs so that she can catch
snowflakes with her mouth. She laughs after a few minutes, flushed with
wine and just generally having a good time pretending she's not got that
Devil of Bitra eating at her soul. The Lady bends and picks up a handful of
snow which she starts to pack down with her hands.

Lysseth> Lysseth has made a snow-nest of sorts for herself against one wall
of the Courtyard, away from all the decorations. Her faintly luminous eyes
follow this activity with distant interest.

"Well, you would most assuredly be welcome to visit there anytime you
wished, Kassima. We Keroonians are nearly as fond of visitors as the
Harpers are." Naomi notes with a bit of laughter, smiling then to Rodric,
"Yes, though some mightn't agree with the things making it all the better.
The Holders may yet be appeased I think." There is something a hint more
serious as she regards the Harper, "And really, Master Rodric, the sooner
you visit the better. I must speak with you about the ceremony, and
certainly you can understand that there are timelimits." A smile is on her
lips for the new arrivals though her attention is soon back on the
Wingleader and Harper, her maidservant returning with a glass of juice for
the woman.

Lysseth> Rais sits up and seeing what Vahara is up to starts making
snowballs as quickly as he can. Never one to give up an advangate he lobs a
good on at the lady, aiming for her torso instead of her head out of some
respect for her coolness factor.

Grania realizes she has walked into a party. She glances from her own dusty
traveling clothes to the finery around her, and shrinks into a corner while
she gets her bearings and figures out what to do.

"The Harper Hall is ever generous that way!" Kassima laughs, turning about
with a glass of the golden wine. "Shall I offer a toast? To our gracious
hosts this evening, the Harpers; to their ever-admirable ability
t'accessorize; and to the new Turn we welcome so enthusiastically, with all
the wonder and music it might bring." She lifts her glass, but does not yet
drink. After a friendly nod towards the latest newcomers, she promises
Naomi, "'Twill keep such in mind, Lady, with thanks." One of her eyebrows
lifts at 'ceremony,' but she doesn't inquire; not at just this moment.

Lysseth> "Aaah! I'm not ready yet!" Vahara is pelted and moves to try and
give Rais a less easy target. Her first snowball disintegrates on it's way
over to the boy and so she cries out and bends to try again with more snow.

Rodric sips from his glass, clearly enjoying the flavor of the wine. "I
will certainly come, this seven-day, Lady Naomi, if speed is required," he
says lightly. "I have been busily writing music for the occasion, things
appropriately festive." He turns slightly at Kassima's laughter and lifted
glass, and his own laugh rings out bright. "Certainly, I will drink to
Harper Hall," states the MasterHarper "and to the new Turn." Glass is
lifted towards the greenrider first and then towards Naomi's glass of
juice. "May it prove fruitful."

Lysseth> Rais shouts with glee as the Lady's snowball fall apart and he
dances around her, this time hitting her with another snowball. When she
cries out he moves around again and then offers her his last snowball.
"Here. Use this one, just throw it as hard as you can at me."

"For us all." Naomi agrees with the toast, clinking her glass to his, smile
touching her lips, offering to touch glasses with the greenrider before she
takes a sip of her juice, "Speed is required, and please do not fret over
the music until you've spoken with me. A lot of our ideas for the
handfasting have been changing," She notes, "Now, if you'll both excuse me
- as delightful as this is, I'm worried my scamp of a betrothed may have
gotten himself into some trouble." Likely, from what the rumors say, in the
form of women or drinking games or card games. "And I ought to go find him.
Happy TurnOver once again, both of you." She beams to both and off she
goes, looking for the blonde Istan she came with.

Kassima seconds, smiling, "Fruitful and fortunate," and touches her glass
to each glass offered her. "I'm sure this music must be exquisite.
A'course, Lady Naomi--a pleasure, again, t'have met you, and I hope your
journey back is under clear skies. Happy Turnover indeed!"

Lysseth> Vahara makes another noise of laughing surprise, giddy as she is
with spiked punch and frivolity she spins until her eyes almost cross. The
offered snowball is taken from the boy and then she pulls her arm back and
lets it fly with all her might. It sails wide, high...arcing up into the
night and slaming through one of the shutters on the Hall.

Rodric bows, careful of his wineglass. "Happy Turnover Lady Naomi," he says
politely. "I will hold any further musical composition then until we have
spoken fur-- " and just then a snowball sails through the one open window
and hits him smack in the head. The MasterHarper stands there blinking as
white snow dribbles down his face. "Well then," he says with a rather
blinding grin. "I believe I have some investigating to do out of doors," he
says brightly and holds an arm out to Kassima. "Would you care to accompany
me on an expedition into the Courtyard, Wingleader?"

Lysseth> Rais makes an 'o' with his mouth as Vahara throws the snowball
quite well. Grey eyes trace the path until he loses it to the snowflakes of
the night and there's a *THUMP*. "Uh uh." The boy gets a look of surprise
and then spins to look at Lady Vahara and point. "Crackdust, we're in so
much trouble. You really /are/ okay for a girl, Lady Vahara."

The arrival--and descent, and ultimate fate--of the snowball gets no fewer
than three blinks of surprise from Kassima. She seems uncertain whether to
be dismayed or very entertained indeed by this development. Until her
unfocused eyes signal communication with her dragon, anyway--after that,
she bites her lips in a heroic effort not to laugh. "I do believe 'twould,
Master," she says, setting her free hand lightly on the profferred arm.
"This promises, methinks, t'be a show."

Grania, stifling a giggle, decides to investigate the source of the snowball.

Grania pushes open the great wooden doors and floods the room with the
sounds of the hall before she passes through and the doors swing shut once
more.

Lysseth> Lysseth's quiet, rumbling laughter is not so unlike the human
variety in sound, and certainly the green in her fast-whirling eyes
confirms her amusement for one who knows anything about dragons. Some
unheard impetus causes her mirth to increase to the point where she ducks
her head under one wing to stifle her draconic snickers.

Rodric finishes off his wine and sets the glass down, then leads the
greenrider through the doors and out into the Courtyard. "Indeed, this may
in fact, be .. quite a display!"

Lysseth> Genevieve comes out of the Voice Hall, closing the door firmly
behind her.

Rodric pushes open the great wooden doors and floods the room with the
sounds of the hall before he passes through and the doors swing shut once
more.

You push open the great wooden doors and step out into the main hall of the
building.

Lysseth> Vahara puts one gloved hand to her mouth as the snowball goes
through a shutter. "Oh..dear." Rais is given such a look and then she start
to laugh so loudly she can hardly control herself. "Rais!! Oh no...it was
an accident!"

Rodric heads into the courtyard and is quickly lost in the passing chaos.

You pass between the tall metal gates and into the bustle of the courtyard.

Rodric arrives with Kassima on his arm and the remnants of a snowball
smashed into one side of his hair. There's little damp spots on his tunic
too where the snow fell. "Good evening!" he carols brightly as he walks
down the steps. "I believe a delivery was made to the Great Hall, that
bears returning?" his eyes glint mischievously as he lights on each person
in the courtyard in turn.

Grania emerges from the main hall and is quickly swept up in the bustle of
the courtyard.

Genevieve slips out of the voice hall, a backpack over one shoulder -
changed out of her finery now, dressed more in defference to the cold than
to the festivities. She pauses at a half-snow covered bench to drop the
backpack, adjusting her mittens and pulling an overly-large riding jacket
with the Dawnguard patch on it about her tightly.

Rais laughs as Vahara laughs, he can't help it given the situation. He
bends down and collects snow for another snowball and hovers near the
Bitran Lady. "I'm sorry about that, Master Rodric. It was me, I think I
threw one just a little too high."

Kassima has one hand on the Masterharper's arm, and the other curved around
a glass of Bitran white. Her mouth, too, is curved--decidedly upwards.
"Somebody's doo-oomed," she singsongs all too cheerfully. Rais's claim
heightens her amusement, if anything, and she glances towards her lifemate
with a raised brow. Lysseth's soft snort causes her to duck her head to
hide a laugh, but she doesn't contest.

Rodric cants a look Rais' way, and the smile on his faces waxes all the
brighter. "Is that so, young man? In that case, I have no choice, but to
return the favor," he says and then turns toward Kassima. "I beg your
pardon, Wingleader, but I will need my arm in order to return fire
properly. I don't suppose I could count on you to watch my back?" So
saying, he disengages his arm from Kassima's hand, rolls up his sleeves and
marches over to a pile of snow, to fashion a compact ball. The bonfire
crackles merrily off to one side, casting dancing shadows along Courtyard's
walls.

Vahara blinks her eyes and look at Rais in suprise before she says, "I'm
very sorry..It was.." She's in the middle an apology, one gloved hand rests
on the apprentices shoulder as she speaks but when Rodric moves to make a
snowball she stops to look from apprentice to master and laughs anew.

Genevieve's eyes flick from one group to another in the courtyard,
amusement clear in her eyes. Looks to her like lines are being drawn. She
settles herself on the bench hands stretching to the snow that half covers
the other side of the bench, and quite quietly, unobtrusively, she begins
to fashion snowballs of her own, setting them in a pile on the bench beside
her as each is made.

Of everything Rais was expecting, this wasn't it. There's a look of
surprised admiration in his eyes as the master starts to pack snow into the
time honored missile and the apprentice sticks his chin out, arms pulls up
a little to rest on hips so that he'll be a good enough target.

"'Twill if'n you guard mine," Kassima agrees, drawing her hand back and
tipping her glass to him. "If'n I'd realized snow-fighting was on the
schedule for tonight," and her tone shades towards rueful good humor, "I'd
have worn something more suitable." Nevertheless, she stoops to scoop up
enough snow for one missile--who can guard a back unarmed?--and edges
closer to the warmth of the bonfire, keeping an eye on the might-be
combatants all the while.

Grania watches the proceedings, a bit bemused. Somehow, she'd never
imagined her arrival at Harper Hall consisting of walking into a fancy
party in her traveling clothes and seeing the Masterharper hit by a
snowball. She makes sure she's well out of the line of fire and drops her
pack, just in case she needs to dodge quickly.

Rodric packs up a few good snowballs and grins at Rais again. "Ready?" and
just like that, he's tossing missile one, right at the lad, catching up
another and darting behind a snow-sculpture with all the appearance of
being a fraction of his actual age if the delight on his face is any
indication.

Vahara cheers in her bright fashion and bends down to try and pack some
snowballs so she can join in the fun. Once to her feet with an armload she
starts to toss them randomly and with very poor aim for all that her heart
would seem to be in the game. Giggles erupt as she takes a snowball to the
top of her head, powder falling to mix with the flush from all the spiked
punch that's still glowing in her cheeks.

Rais nods that he's ready, his grey eyes shining. The first strike is a
given and the lad takes it in the chest with a "Oof!" and then all's fair
and he's diving behind a bench to gather his snowy troops for battle!

Kassima casts her wine a regretful look, but polishes it off in quick, tidy
gulps rather than the savoring she probably intended and backs to stow the
cup behind a sculpture where it might escape the massacre. Thus freed, she
aims her first snowball at Vahara and crouches to make another, interrupted
by the need to dodge--or try--incoming missiles. Her aim is generally very
good, but the shivering caused by being out in the snow in what is, let's
face it, a very *stupid* outfit for this weather may throw her off somewhat.

Genevieve is doing her best to maintain an air of absolute maturity as all
of this jouvinile fun begins, but then Rodric's just right there - not far
off behind the snow sculpture so she lifts one of the balls she's made and
she simply takes one long look at him and tosses it - for once her aim
holds true. So if he doesn't move, the snow will colide solidly with his
back, as she folds her hands in her laps, the tell-tale innocent whistle
coming from her lips.

Rodric does indeed, get smacked right between the shoulder blades as he's
about to lob another snowy missile Rais' way. His shot goes wide as a
result, cruising Grania's way entirely by accident. "Shells!" exclaims the
Masterharper as some snow works its way down his collar and he does a funny
little dance as cold snow makes its way down his spine. "Cold! Cold!" he
shouts and then laughing, whirls around and catches up a new handfull of
snow to send with red tingling fingers aimed back at Genevieve.

Vahara is hit rather well by Kassima's snowball and she laughs like hard
silver before launching one back at the Greenrider that instead veers off
towards Grania who's not anywhere near the Telgari. Hapless and still
having a good time, the Bitran lady is quick to gather up more snow, her
path leading her to take refuge behind the bench that her hero, Rais, is at.

"Hey!" Kassima protests as the back she was trying to watch gets soundly
smacked. "That's nay--" But the sight of the little dance distracts her
into snickering when she should be throwing. So it takes her a minute
before she finally launches a retaliatory attack at Genevieve: two
snowballs, loosely packed, and then she's edging towards the protective lee
of a snow-egg to try and prepare more missiles in peace. Good luck with
that, Kassi.

Grania dodges Rodric's snowball, but in the process steps right into the
path of Vahara's. Wiping snow off her face, she decides the best defence is
a good offence, and scoops up some snow. She tosses her snowball more or
less in Vahara's direction--her aim is a bit erratic.

Rais is quick to make a strategic alliance with Vahara, she might have the
worst arm in the history of snowball fights, but she's a heck of a target
with her poofy dress and snowball attracting distinctive laughter. He shows
her how he likes his snowballs packed and then he starts to wage war in
earnest, Kassima being his first choice of target at the moment.

Genevieve yelps as first the MasterHarper's snowball hits her in the
shoulde, arms pulling up to cover her face quickly, as Kassima's
retaliatory attack hit her arms. "Shells!" And then she's snatching up
snowballs of her own, launching off a bad shot towards Roddy, and then a
slightly better aimed one towards Kassima - a *slightly* better aimed one,
and that's not saying much.

Rodric is a crack shot of course, when not getting smacked in the back with
snowballs. So when he sends one Rais' way, it's on a good line for
connection with the lad's head and at good speed for that matter too. Gen's
loblolly ball is easily avoided this time and he chortles gleefully for the
dodge.

Grania packs several more snowballs, and looks around for a good target.
She's not sure throwing snowballs at the Masterharper is the best way to
get herself accepted as an apprentice, so she sends her next couple of
snowballs towards Rais and Genevieve.

Kassima gets a small supply of snowballs made and pops up from her shelter
to fire--right in time to see one of Rais's snowballs coming. She tries to
duck. The good news: she manages to keep it from hitting her gown. The bad
news: she does so by being hit above the neckline of said gown, where
there's plenty of unprotected skin, and her yelp is remarkably
high-pitched. "Aigh! Get it off, get it off!" Genevieve's snowball on the
other hand doofs into the train of her dress, a thing she'd doubtless
avenge if it weren't for the fact that one, she's preoccupied with trying
to swipe snow off herself, and two, as soon as that's done she's
concentrating her attack solely on Rais and attempting to prove that her
aim is just as lethal as it's always been.

Vahara does laugh pretty loud, it rings out in the night, but she's having
such a lovely time so maybe it can be forgiven. So much snow hits her head
that her hood is knocked back and her hair is dripping wet. "Of all the
times to be without my guardian." A murmured comment to Rais and then she's
passing him snowballs as quickly as she can.

Rodric drops the snowball he was in the process of making and hurries over
to kassima, pulling his vest off. "Here ... you need better protection than
that gown ... lovely as it is," he says laughingly and holds the garment
out to the greenrider even as eyes scan all directions for incoming missiles.

Gerome steps out of the transport wagon as it rumbles to a halt just inside
the courtyard.

Snowballs seem to be flying everywhere through the air. They're hard to
avoid really.

Rais is rolled back by the shot he takes from Rodric's arm, right to the
head. It leaves quite a mark on the boy's forehead and helps to right his
hair out of the helmet it was combed into for the night. Shaking his head
as if confused the boy says, "Where am I again?" And then he's grabbing
another snowball from Vahara's hands and zipping it right at Rodric.
"You've gotten a guardian, Lady Vahara? I hadn't heard much since I got to
the Hall." He assumes she means someone he knows in particular.

Gerome pulls into the courtyard, a large wagon full of Timber under him.
The team pulls up short, and for a moment, Gerome takes in the scene,
before he's forced to jump off the wagon, and dive for cover as a snowball
barely misses him.

Genevieve watches the expression on Rodric's face as he dodges her next
snowball, managing to get herself out of the way of Grania's lobbed bit of
snow. She snatches up a bit more of her own, lobbing one snowball towards
Rodric once more - the sound of the splat felt so good the first time, she
might as well do it again.

Accepting the vest quickly, Kassi chatters out a, "Thankee, Master; there
should be a rule, nay snow *ever* down a dress-front." She grins, though,
after pulling it on. "Our enemies are clever. Better duck!" Because there's
that snowball coming his way. She doesn't try to avenge it, though; she
aims her next for Genevieve instead... and a distance off, Lysseth begins
to uncurl from her crouch, moving as silently as twenty-five meters of size
will allow to a position within range of Rais and Vahara.

Vahara is crouched behind a bench with a young boy of about ten. She's
laughing very loudly, in an almost tipsy fashion and making snowballs in
between pushing hair out of her face along with frequent lumps of snow.

Gerome gets to his feet quickly, already having a massed a bit of snow,
which he's compressing into snowballs with the skill of someone whose spent
his entire life living in a hold where there's snow on the ground for a
good 5 months of the turn. A shouted warning to Vahara, "The Dragon!"
THough, what they can do against such a beast.. is unclear.. as he lobs his
first missile towards... well probably the rider.. and makes his way
towards Vahara and her little cohort.

Rodric is busily helping out Kassima, even though he's trying to see
snowballs out of the corners of his eyes, the several sent his way, are
probably too fast to duck with him out from under cover. "Indeed,
Wingleader - such rudeness should not be permitted" he says with a rather
wicked expression on his face. Her warning though earns a "Wha --?" a
turning of his head and, yes, *blam*, Rais' hits him square in the face and
Gen's takes him in the side. "Oooooo---agh!" is the Master's eloquent
response, mouth full of snow and vestless - cold stuff penetrating the side
of his shirt now wetly. He claws snow out of mouth and eyes and peers
about. "I'm going to -get you- my pretties!" he shouts and he scoops up
snow and darts after Rais' capering like some mad caprine.

Grania tosses a few more snowballs out at random. She dodges a stray ball,
grinning--Vahara's laughter is infectious.

Rais doesn't know Gerome from, anyone else given it's his first month at
the Hall, but he knows a good ally when he sees one and there's a yelp as
the lad turns to face the dragon. "Crackdust!" Eyes cut around, hoping the
swear will go unnoticed in the pandemonium and the lad does the best thing
he can think of. He starts lobbing snowballs at the giant green.

Graniais emboldened enough by Rodric's antics to send one of her snowballs
in his direction as she eyes the dragon warily.

Promptly gets hit again by Grania's snowball, right in the kisser again and
Rodric goes down this time, falling over into a snowbank, laughing
helplessly. "I've been undone! Betrayed! ahhhhhhh!"

Vahara is as suprised to see Gerome as she is to see the dragon advancing
and there's a stunned moment before she starts to make snowballs again,
this time for scamp of a hero and guardian too. Her hair is so wet now that
she's shivering, and yet she's having such a good time the Lady doesn't
even notice. "Rais! Look out! It's the Masterharper coming in!"

Kassima slants Rodric a half-amused, half-respectfully wary glance for his
expression, at least until his plight distracts her again. "Revenge!
Revenge!" she carols, still aiming for Genevieve and so taking Gerome's
snowball in the shoulder with another yelp. "And *more* revenge! Get 'em!"
That directive, evidently, is for Lysseth. Lyss takes the snowballs without
flinching, the white stuff leaving vaguely star-shaped spatters against her
dark hide, and very calmly arches one wing back... back... to where a
convenient drift of snow is waiting, its top situated just right for a
*forward* sweep of that wing to send it flying towards Rais and his cohort.
The stuff is loose and powdery, so despite the size it's doubtful it could
do any harm.

Grania is shocked to see Rais throwing snowballs at the green dragon, and
ducks behind a bench to watch the result.

Genevieve snickers at the call from the MasterHarper, and then snags up her
pack and makes a dash through the snow towards the Instrument Workshop -
taking Kassima's snowball to the top of her head as she moves. And then
she's in the door, safe and sound.

Genevieve heads into the instrument workroom.

Said drift might just get Gerome too, if he's near enough. Lysseth's
certainly not too picky about whom she hits.

Rais is swamped with snow just as he's turning to face the incoming Rodric.
"Aaaaaaaah!" It's a suicidal cry as the lad dives over the other side of
the bench, "Every man for himself!" Some hero he is, leaving the lady fair
to fend for herself.

Gerome sprints, and does what any good guardian would do, he leaps at
Vahara, tackling her to protect her from the snowdrift.. which of course,
sends them flying into snow. "I've come to.. Protect you?" Even though he
probably got more snow on her.. then the dragon would have.

Rodric is still laughing, helplessly, pretty soaked at this point, in that
drift. It's as merry a sound as Vahara's laughter usually is, bright and
cheerful, ringing up off Courtyard walls into the chill Turnover night air.

Grania, caught by the edge of Lysseth's deluge, shakes the snow off of
herself and quickly shapes some more missiles. These go towards Kassima,
though Grania is laughing hard enough by now that her already questionable
aim is pretty much nonexistent.

Vahara is laughing and dripping wet, pale green velvet already ruined with
snow and so many things happen at once. Rais desserts her like a sinking
ship and the dragon advances with a curtain of snow and then she's sacked
like a bag of flour. It takes her breath away and leaves her silent in the
snowdrift, blinking in surprise, her laughter lost with her wind.

Kassima abandons her shelter to jog as best her skirts will allow to where
Rodric has fallen and offer him a hand up. "The battle's nay yet lost,
Master!" she rallies. "Stand forth! Fight on! Lest our enemies descend t'do
a victory jig around your poor snowy corpse!" Of course, being out in the
open makes her a fine target, and she has to do a dance of her own to avoid
the snowballs Grania throws. She does manage to dodge, but makes herself
look utterly silly in the doing.

Lysseth sets to using tail and forelimbs to gather in more of the snow in
her vicinity. She doesn't use it, not yet, but she evidently has no
intention of being without a ready arsenal. Her eyes are a very merry
blue-touched green.

Gerome rolls off of Vahara, and offers her a hand up.. "We seem to have
been undone by the Green one.. but I hear our foes regrouping.. And we'd
best move to a safer location. " He lobs a snowball Rodricand Kassima
wards, although it's not really aimed.. more of a warning shot.. than
anything else.

Rais can't resist, he gets a snowball off at Kassima and then there's one
with his other hand for Rodric. That seems to finish him off and he starts
to get to his feet and thump the snow off his clothes.

Rodric manages to stop laughing long enough to accept that hand up, blue
eyes alight with mirth. "Indeed, m'lady Wingleader, I will stand and fight
on," he says graciously. "I would not want that scamp dancing any sort of
dance around my snowy corpse!" And so, wet as he is, the Master leaps back
into the fray, catching up a gobbet of snow and sending it Grania's way for
Kassima's sake.

You sense Rodric's fingers squeeze gently as he takes that hand up, perhaps
longer than they should, but then he's upright and making snowballs again,
so perhaps it's nothing.

Vahara looks up at Gerome and smiles beautifully for all that she's a soggy
mess. She murmurs, "You take this business seriously, don't you?" His hand
is taken and she gets to her feet, "Oh. I've lost a slipper. See if it's
over by the bench, Gerome?" Meanwhile she hops on one foot and shivers as
she draws her snow soaked cloak back over her shoulders from where it got
flipped while she was making so many snowballs. Teeth start to chatter
then, "Mmm...I might be done for."

Grania's reflexes seem to be slowing a bit--she doesn't quite manage to
evade Rodric's snowball, and it smacks wetly into her shoulder. Dripping
wet but with eyes dancing, she prepares another snowball and takes stock of
the situation. She decides that Gerome doesn't look quite snowy enough yet
and lobs it in his direction.

The warning shot doesn't hit Kassi, but it has her looking in that
direction and so Rais's snowball does connect. Sort of. It smacks against
her topknot, and she yells and tries to shake the snow out of her hair
before it can melt and drip. "We shall never submit!" she threatens them
all, though she flicks the Masterharper a brief wondering glance before
actually gathering snow. Rais gets one aimed his way, fair being fair, but
only one, and then she quite purposefully aims one to sail just past
Gerome's left. As the others start shaking snow off and such, she wonders,
all too brightly, "Did we win?"

Always the galant one, Gerome unfastens his own cloak, "Take mine, my
Lady." He gives Vahara a very bright smile, He is keeping an eye out
though, and he notices the inbound snowball. Though he's too busy offering
his cloak to dodge it, and it lands wetly against his now unprotected back.
A shiver, from the cold, then Gerome goes to find the lost Slipper,
"Perhaps we should get you indoors and dried out my Lady." Is called over
to Vahara, as he locates said slipper.

Rais seems inclined to keep tossing snowballs as long as anyone else is
interested. There's one flung over in Grania's direction as Kassima's hit's
his shoulder and erupts in a spray of powder. Then suddenly the boy is
yelling, "Hot Cider and cookies!" at the top of his lungs like he's just
invented the viola.

Grania pauses to look around (with another snowball in hand, just in case.
The activity seems to be dying down, so she holds her fire as she ducks
under Rais's volley.

Rodric gathers himself up and puts one final snowball together, special,
just for Rais and sends it towards the boy's face just before he hollers
out for hot drinks and sweets and then Master props hands on hips and hangs
his head for a moment and starts laughing again. His shirt is sticking to
him it's so wet at this point and his hair is draggling limply over his
head, steam rising off it for that matter. He grins Kassima's way and bows.
"Thank you kindly for all of your assistance, Kassima. Should I ever need
to do battle in the snow again, I'd be honored to stand with you." Eyes
flicker briefly over towards Vahara and Gerome and there's an amused grin
on his face for a moment and then he brushes wet hair back and eyes the
gaily lit Hall. "Aye. Cider and cookies sounds good Rais ... and Wingleader
- perhaps I should ask the Headwoman if she can procure something dry for
you?"

Grania brushes herself off as best she can and retrieves her pack.
Fortunately, it seems to have kept her belongings relatively dry. Cider,
cookies, and dry clothes all sound wonderfully appealing at this point.

Kassima bends in a rather damp curtsey to Rodric. "And pleased 'twould be
to assist," she assures, "hopefully more effectively. Hot cider sounds
*wonderful*... oh, shells, would it be trouble? I'd admittedly like the
gown t'be saved if'n it can be, so I probably should get out of it. 'Tis a
favorite." She glances over to the erstwhile enemies, flashing them a wry
grin: there's much camaraderie in all being soaked and cold. "What a fight
that was!"

Vahara laughs once more as Gerome puts his cloak over her, "What about
you..silly? All right. Yes, do you mind?" She sticks out her foot for the
slipper, still hopping just a little. Her eyes are merry and she voices her
agreement to Gerome, "Yes..we should get inside. I want something warm to
drink and a change of clothes. Now I really will need that trip to the
Weavers." There's a look around the courtyard and then with the shoe on
once more Vahara slips her hands around her guardians arm. "You must meet
Rais. The apprentice harper with the grey eyes there and the pointy hair."

Gerome guides Vahara towards, the.. apprentice.. although he sure looks
more like a scamp.. then an apprentice. "A pleasure to meet you, young
Rais." He says, extending his hand in greeting. "Did you bring enough
dresses.. and a maid?" Is asked of the Lady, his eyes twinkle.. and there's
merriment in him.. only wishing he might have arrived just a few minutes
earlier.

"No trouble at all, Wingleader, I'm sure Olivia wouldn't want to see such a
lovely gown get ruined, and we can't have Telgar down by one wingleader
because of a cold in the head." He offers his arm to the greenrider again.
"Indeed, that was quite the battle. Rais - my thinks young man, for hitting
me in the head that first time. I needed the exercise." Then he nods toward
the Hall. "Shall we?"

Rais chews on the snowball in his mouth and laughs at Rodric before he
races towards the kitchen at top speed, He's certainly not going to be the
last one to the cookies.

Rais heads down the stairs to the kitchen.

Grania hesitates briefly, then follows Rais.

"'Twould be hard-put t'be explaining t'K'ran that I have t'take sick leave
because of a snowball fight," Kassi admits with a grin. "And m'Wingmates
would point and laugh, I've nay a scrap of doubt. That *must* be avoided at
all costs." She detours long enough to collect that long-abandoned glass
from where she stowed it, then accepts the arm Rodric offers. "Sounds a
plan t'me."

Grania heads down the stairs to the kitchen.

Vahara watches Rais run off and tells Gerome, "That..was Rais. A blur of no
good. He's got quite the business going here, the boy could be Bitran." The
lady then nudges Gerome with her shoulder and laughs, "I didn't bring that
awful maid with me. You see how my hair is, don't you? I'm a disgrace but
at least I can breath today." Vahara calls out towards Rodric and Kassima,
"Masterharper... I'm afraid I've a confession to make. I was the one who
threw that snowball into your Hall. I'm ever so sorry about that."

Rodric looks up as he draws nearer the steps with Kassima on his arm and
catches the tail end of Vahara's words. "I assure, Lady Vahara, that you
are no disgrace," he says evenly and then inclines his head Gerome's way.
"Gerome, duties," he says simply, by way of greeting. "I trust all is well
at Twin Springs?" Then he chuckles at Vahara's words. "Well then, my Lady,
I think I owe you some payback at some point, but perhaps not this evening.
Come now - let's all get indoors before our clothes freeze to us."

Gerome laughs, "Vahara!" There's amusement, as he says that name.. and
perhaps something more. "You started that snowball fight?" He gives her
grin, noticing the hair. "Well breathing is good. Perhaps we can find
someone to fix you all up." As he watches Rais run off, "well lets head
indoors and get you dry." He nods to the Master Harper, "Duties, Master
Harper. Twin Springs is well, and that wood one of your journeymen
purchased .. is here. If you could have some of your sturdier apprentices
unload it where ever it is they want it stored."

Kassima turns about enough to cast a grin Vahara's way. This admission
wouldn't appear to surprise her at all. "You really have the most
remarkable aim, Vahara--someday I hope 'twill teach me t'do that. I doubt I
could've pegged a Masterharper through a window that way! Truly impressive.
I'm in awe." Her grin becomes impish enough to suggest she might be teasing
just a little, before she nods wholehearted agreement with Rodric's last
suggestion.

Rodric's smile waxes bright once more. "Glad to hear it Gerome," he says
and then chuckles at Kassima's compliment to Vahara's aim, before he's
leading the way down into the kitchens.

Vahara laughs warmly and blushes at the surprise in Gerome for what
happened, "It was an accident." She explains and then there's a flirting
look at Kassima, "I would think that you have excellent aim enough for a
Masterharper already, Kassima. You are stunning enough in that dress to hit
any mark you aimed for." Eyelashes bat and then Vahara laughs once more
pulls Gerome towards the kitchen.

Rodric heads down the stairs to the kitchen.

Gerome heads down the stairs to the kitchen.

You walk down the stairs and into the welcoming smells and sounds of the
kitchen.

Rodric escorts the greenrider down the stairs and across the kitchen to the
alcoves where the comfy chairs are and hands her down into one if she
allows. "Cider, tea, or klah?" he asks, with a broad grin. "And I'll fetch
up Olivia to see what we can do about your gown and something dry. Will you
be staying on tonight, or do you need to get back, so I can let her know
about a room?"

Vahara walks down from the courtyard.

Kassima's cheeks were already pink from the cold, but they shade noticeably
towards red. "What, even drenched?" she asks with a laugh and headshake.
"Methinks you're either being kind or are generous beyond m'desert,
Vahara... oh, thankee." She's evidently quite happy to be handed into a
chair. "Cider, if'n you please and 'tis warm? I'd hate t'be impinging on
the Hall's hospitality, but staying might be an idea if'n 'twouldn't be
trouble. I'm a bit over-soaked and over-chilled for the trip *between*
t'seem a very wise notion."

Gerome guides Vahara to one of the kitchen chairs, holing the chair for
her. "What would you care to drink, Vahara?" He eyes the wet dress, "though
we should get you into something drier soon.. or you'll catch quite the cold."

Rodric stands near the comfy chairs that are off to one side in an alcove.
He's moving away though, towards the hearth. The kitchen is fairly quiet
now, most of the food having been delivered upstairs much earlier and the
hearth is neatly banked, with several clay pitchers standing in ashes to
keep warm. There is a dozing worker on duty, over by the sinks, doubtless
waiting for the last of the dishes from the party upstairs. The
MasterHarper catches up a mug from where they're kept on a shelf, and
approaches the pitchers, he sniffs carefully to find the right one and
pours steaming hot cider for the greenrider. "Here we are then," he says
with a smile. "Gerome ... Vahara ... cider, klah or tea?"

Vahara does have a chatter in her teeth from time to time when she stops
fighting it, "Anything that's warm. Tea? My first choice is tea." She
settles into the chair and then smiles over at Kassima, "It really
is..was?.. a lovely gown. You had on an impressive gown at Bitra both times
I saw you there as well. Do you use the same weaver for all your things?"
Womanly curiousity as Vahara rubs both of her hands together before holding
them up to Gerome for him to warm. "Yes. Just something warm to drink and
I'll go and change. I just don't want the evening to end.. I'm having such
a lovely time."

Gerome grins in understanding. "Cider.. I've not had cider in turns." His
relatively warm hands cup around vahara's and rub them warm.. friction
building into heat.. "You did seem to be rather enjoying yourself.."

Kassima reaches up to remove the gold cuff that binds her sodden topknot,
letting that length of her hair fall down to join the rest. Setting it on
the table, she looks up to Rodric with a smiling, "Thankee--this should
drive out some of the cold, I shouldn't wonder. Is, I hope," is her comment
on the gown. "I hope it might survive--and thankee kindly for that. Most of
m'things are made by a cousin of mine, Master Weaver Simian, posted at the
Hall. He loves any commission that lets him work with fine materials. But
this one was commissioned from Masterweaver Katlynn. I have t'agree on the
time; I've scarcely spent a more enjoyable Turnover."

Rodric gets down more mugs and a tray. The one he filled for Kassima, he
places on the tray, then he's fetching up a different pitcher for Vahara's
tea. Oddly enough, he doesn't ask her how she likes it, just fixes it up. A
third mug joins those two, filled with cider and then a fourth, doubtless
for himself, again with cider. "Three ciders, one tea, coming right up," he
says jovially and then peeks under a covered plate on the counter and yes,
there's cookies, so he shifts the plate onto the tray as well and brings it
over. It's set down on the nearest table then and he makes the rounds.
Kassima is handed her mug of cider first, then Vahara her tea and Gerome
his cider, before the Master claims his own mug for a single sip. "Please
excuse me a moment - I must find Olivia to see to your room, Wingleader,
and dry clothes." That said, he steps out for a moment and is not gone long
before he returns, trailed by a rather exotic looking woman in her late
thirties. "Yes yes Master, I've had Hebba lay the hearth in the second
guest room for the Rider, and certainly, I'll just find something in
stores." She stops then, and smiles as she approaches the group. "Good
evening all ..." she eyes Kassima for a moment as if taking the Rider's
measure, apparently recognizing the other female guest as not being she.
"Shirt and trousers, or a gown, Wingleader?" she inquires with a bright
smile. "We're honored you're staying with us this evening."

Vahara watches Gerome's face as he warms her hands until the tea arrives,
"Thank you, Gerome. That was very gallant of you.. you're the best guardian
ever. I'm going to write that M'rek a note so he'll know there's a new
standard to be met when it comes to snowball fights." She bats her eyes as
she teases and then pulls her hands away to take up her mug of tea, "Thank
you, Masterharper." Kassima's given a look of gown induced envy, "I'm
jealous. Master Weavers. I don't suppose you'd consider introducing me
sometime? I've planned a trip to their hall...but one can never have enough
ins with very good weavers."

Gerome he chuckles at her teasing. "Especially when it comes time for the
bill." He takes the cider in his hands, letting it's warmth seep into him,
before he takes a sip. "I'm sure M'rek would have thrown himself in harms
way, was he still your guardian.. and he would have had a Bronze, to defend
you against that green!" There's humor in his voice..

Kassima grins her thanks to the Masterharper and quite cheerfully filches a
cookie to go with her drink. "A'course; thankee," she says again, nodding.
"Most kindly." When he returns, she nods again--this time in friendly
greeting--to the woman who seems to be Olivia, matching the other's smile.
"Shirt and trousers would be fine, madam, with m'thanks. Are you sure
'twill nay be a burden on your hospitality?" She tries to hide her grin at
Vahara's comment about M'rek without much success. "Introduce you t'Simian,
certainly," she agrees at once. "He's magnificent. The family's so proud of
him. Craftmaster Katlynn... aye, I could, warily. I haven't seen her in
awhile now, I confess--I've tended to avoid her since she started insisting
she was in love with me. She might've gotten over that by now." An amused
sound escapes her. "Mayhaps he'd have conspired with Lyss instead? M'rek
mentioned once that his lifemate is fond of the fairer sex."

The Headwoman laughs, and smiles warmly at Kassima. "No burden at all - I
usually have some thing on hand for just this sort of emergency," says
Olivia gaily and she sails off down towards stores, disappearing around a
corner. The MasterHarper settles into a seat then with his cider and
dimples around at the others happily. He's leaving a damp spot on that
chair, but he doesn't seem to mind. "There, that's all settled and we'd be
delighted to have you with us Wingleader, especially if there's any risk of
undue cold in traveling *Between*." Eyes turn toward Gerome and Vahara then
and he chuckles at mention of a certain bronzerider. "Indeed, I must
believe that M'rek would have thrown himself into the fray for your
protection, and taken whatever lumps might have come."

Gerome laughs at that, "I don't think it's just his lifemate who has that
fondness.." A nod to Rodric, "but I do believe he would do his duty." He
seems to be the only one in the room who is not soaked from head to foot..
but he still enjoys the cider, having spent the better part of the day
riding shotgun on a load of wood.

Vahara laughs delightedly at Gerome's mention of the bill and then she has
to agree with her guardian and the Harper, "Yes..I suppose you're right.
He'd not have been one to flinch at danger, even the snowy kind. But..he'd
have managed to sustain an injury and ..well." She blushes and then goes
on, "Is Ulfianth a flirt as well?" You can't say the Lady looks surprised
at that news, she laughs and takes a small sip of tea, "She was in love
with you, Kassima? That's frightfully interesting!"

Kassima runs a hand over the crown of her head, testing her hair for
dampness. "I might manage," she admits. "I've gone back after swimming at
Boll a'fore; but Boll's usually considerably warmer. What 'twas thinking
going out there in a gown of this cut, I'm nay quite sure. Oh,
Masterharper, your vest--" She finally seems to recall that, and shrugs it
off to offer it back to him. "M'gratitude for its loan. I'd probably be a
greenrider-sicle by now without it." She laughs as she nods her agreement
with Gerome, and gives Vahara a curious look, asking, "Is he
accident-prone? I've heard that he is--Ulfianth--and believe it, but
haven't seen him in action that way beyond his chasing Lyss when she rose
nay long agone. Was, mayhaps is, or at least *claimed* it; she'd been in a
relationship with Learan, or wanted t'be, only he rejected her and she
decided women might be better. Don't ask why she fixed her eye on me,
because I haven't the foggiest. It did mean she sent me rather nice gifts a
time or two."

Rodric inclines his head slightly towards the greenrider and accepts the
return of his vest. "If I may be so bold, you were thinking it would be a
fun thing to do for Turnover ... and that my sorry behind needed saving, no
matter what and for that I am eternally grateful," quips the MasterHarper
and takes another mouthful of his drink. Just then, the Headwoman returns
with a neatly folded stack of clothing - looks like shirt, pants and
perhaps something to sleep in as well. "There you are, Wingleader," she
says politely, handing over the pile. "It's the second door down on your
left as you come up the stairs, for your room - the fire's on and there's a
kettle for tea or klah if you want it. Bathing rooms are just down that way
- and if you pass along your gown to me before you tuck in for the night,
I'll have it laundered for you," she says with a nod, before eyeing the
MasterHarper rather sternly. "You'd best have a warm bath yourself, Master,
and get out of those things, or I shan't be responsible for what happens to
you." With that, Olivia moves off, leaving Rodric with a somewhat bemused
smile and a murmured, 'Yes m'am." He drinks again, attention flickering
back to the conversation at hand. "That, is quite a tale, Kassima. The love
of a weaver, certainly yields fine results though, I must say." And there's
another admiring glance for her gown, sodden as it is.

Gerome chuckles, "Headwomen.. they're the same just about everywhere." He
says, as he eyes Olivia leaving. "Yes.. that is a wonderful dress. Perhaps
not the best for a snowball fight.. but definitely one that might cause a
snowball fight to begin." He too is curious at the story.. "Quite a leap,
to go from the Master of Herdbeasts.. to a telgari Wingleader.."

"Accident-prone? No! Oh..well..maybe. I'd say he was more danger prone, but
always did seem to come out of every scrape with a new scar." Vahara widens
her eyes and then drinks a little more tea before she laughs lightly at
Kassima's story, "Attention from a weaver can't be all bad..even if you
weren't interested in it." The lady falls quiet and drinks a little more of
her tea before her mug is set down and she's pushing her hair back over her
shoulders under both cloaks. "I feel all bundled up like a child. Is the
Harper Hall always this much fun, Master Rodric?"

"'Twould be impolitic for me t'let a Craftmaster get snow-slaughtered right
a'fore m'eyes," Kassima deadpans, given away by her eyes' sparkle. "Such
are the makings of Weyr-Craft Incidents. Oh, thankee, Headwoman," as she
accepts the clothing with a genuine smile of gratitude. "This is all
terribly kind of you. I'd best nip off long enough t'change a'fore this
poor gown gets any closer t'ruination." She takes a long draught of her
cider before gathering the dry clothes to herself and standing. "Shells,
you haven't heard the half of it. She'd turn up at the Weyr and make
salacious comments about bubbly pies. Among other things. But her taste in
design has always been superb." Gerome gets a sheepish grin for his praise
of the dress. "He wasn't Craftmaster at the time, but I didn't understand
it either; I've met Learan, and we don't exactly look much alike. All bad
'twas nay--but 'tis rather unsettling when a Craftmaster offers t'invite a
couple of bronzeriders to the, ahem, fun and games if'n 'twill convince you
t'go along with it. She's a unique woman, is Kat. Which is probably why I
still like her even as I fear her. Be right back," and she excuses herself
with a smile long enough to go get changed.

Rodric winks Gerome's way. "Indeed, they often seem to share certain
professonal traits, Gerome, and yet, I swear to you, that each one is
unique." More cider consumed and the level must be getting low in his mug
because he has to tip it up higher and higher. There's a passing smile for
description of the scrapes M'rek has gotten into in the past and then a
soft chuckle for Vahara's questions. "Perhaps not -this- much fun, but I
believe that on the whole, we are an entertaining bunch and understand the
value of having a good time ... so gaiety is no stranger here, Lady
Vahara." There's one last quaffing of cider and then his mug truly is empty
and he rises as well. "May I show you to your room, Wingleader? I think I
should get something dry on my back as well, before Olivia comes around to
scold me again," he says with a grin, setting mug down near sink, though
the on-duty worker snores on.

Gerome laughs at the wink.. "I will bow to your judgment when it comes to
Headwomen.. Master Rodric. As I am sure you've made quite the study." He
eyes Vahara, and smiles, "Perhaps we should get you changed, Vahara.." He
looks in a mix of awe and shock at the Kassima's pronouncement. "Several
bronze riders.. " Then he chuckles, "most definitely a woman worth fearing."

Vahara waves one hand towards both Kassima and Rodric and then looks to
Gerome, a warm smile curving over her mouth, "Yes.. I'm freezing to death!
Velvet and wool are also surprisingly heavy when they get wet." She moves
to get to her feet, but doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry so that
the Harper and the Rider have time to leave first. "Was that more wood for
instruments, Gerome?"

Kassima gives one of her near-soundless laughs. "Aye, Craftmaster," she
agrees, offering him her arm for a change. "Aught t'spare someone the
terror of a Headwoman scolding." Gerome gets a fervent nod. "Aye. Oh, aye.
But," she adds, momentarily reminiscent, "she does have quite a talent with
red leather. Err. The crafting thereof. Into garments. I find it very, very
easy t'believe somehow that M'rek's danger-prone--almost harder t'believe
he's still *alive*, i'truth." After that belated observation, she waves
back to Vahara and asks Rodric, "Shall we?"

There's a nod, "Yes.. some journeyman with an accent bought it from one of
our Holds.. I just came down at the last minute to help deliver it.. and
make sure the accounting is done right. My brother was supposed to come,
but he's detained with the handfasting details. "A pleasure seeing you
again WingLeader Kassima.." He says to the departing besodden woman. "Oh,
he's quite danger prone.. it's a testament to his dumb luck he's still
alive.."

Rodric takes the arm solemnly and grins at the greenrider. "Thank you
kindly, once more thinking of naught but my safety," he says jokingly and
nods. "Off we go to warmer and dryer things." Merry, is the Masterharper
still, after the gaiety of the game. "Good night all - and ... ah Gerome
... do you intend to stay on as well? If so - I'll catch Olivia again, or I
can also direct you to a cothold nearby as I think we're getting a bit
short on guest rooms all of a sudden." That said, he heads off up the
stairs, with the Telgar Wingleader.

Rodric heads up the corridor to the dining room and pushes his way through
the swinging doors.

"Likewise, Holder Gerome," Kassima tells him over her shoulder. "But can it
really be called dumb luck? 'Twould think it must be terribly clever luck,
t'prevail against his tendency t'get into Situations." A grin for that, and
she accompanies Rodric up.

You walk up the corridor and push through the swinging doors.