Promotion Commotion

Eastern Weyr - Commons Cavern

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


J'em has arrived in the commons cavern finally, having not been seen in public since the flight. He has found himself a nicely padded chair and has his bandaged ankle up on a nearby chair. Currently he's enjoying a nice cup of ale, sipping at it whilst looking over some papers. Man, he always did dislike paperwork, now look at him, he actually has to start working again now.

Ur'con saunters in; he's younger and he bounces back nicely…there's not a hint of the inebriation that'd been the hallmark of the evening AFTER Darlth's latest loss. Maybe that bronze is just not greenblooded enough to catch a gold…why does he even bother? But it doesn't seem to have put much of a dint in Ur'con's mood…in fact, the bronzerider, already marked for his unconventional relationships within his wing since his arrival at Eastern, and his surprising promotion to Wingleader so quickly, doesn't seem like he's going to let himself slip into sedate, respectable mundanity any time soon. He breaks into a smile at the sight of the older man getting himself comfortable, and makes a quick detour. First, he wants some klah…THEN he approaches, "Hail, Weyrleader." He gives a jaunty salute too, gently mocking the hidebound, formal, northern Weyr he orginated in. Yeah. He's never going to be that formal with J'em again, unless he gets into a fight with him or something. "How's Syra this morning?" You old dog, you.

Weyrleader weyrleader, oh yeah, him. J'em glances up at the greeting. "Ah h'lo Ur'con, Syra's doin' well." At least she should be by now y'think? Salute is waved off, "No need fer that." He never was a stickler for formalities and stuff, that's probably why he fits in so well at Eastern. "How're you an' yers doin'? Please, join me if y'like."

Ur'con settles down with his klahmug, and mock toasts to Syra's health. At least…let's hope that's what he's doing. "Darlth stirred himself enough to go have a nice fat buck earlier, so he's fine. Me, I'm always fine. Too much fuss over flights anyway. But…I did have an idea last night. I've been talking to P'ush and he's talking about stepping down…which would leave me with exactly zero wingseconds. Nothing personal, he just wants to concentrate on his craft more than the paperwork."

J'em chuckles quietly, "Ah, glad t'hear y'all're fine." As for P'ush stepping down, the man nods, "I see, well that's nay very acceptable now is it? Gotta have some wingseconds t'help with th'load." Yes indeedy, to redeem sanity push the load off on someone else, err, I mean share the load, yeah! "So, y'got yerself any 'seconds in mind?" he man asks before taking a drink of ale.

Ur'con nods a bit, "Aye, of course. Of course." He digs about in his pocket, and pulls out not just a bit of paper with a list of names on it…but a couple of knots as well. Without their dragonstrands woven in yet, of course. "I was thinking, his daughter, P'ushme and her brown Pullyuth actually….though there are a couple of other possibilities. Sh'owt and Twisth are perfectly capable and good with the paperwork. But what I was thinking is with our mixed wing, we really need someone who can help with the integration of the nonriders."

J'em listens, nodding a bit. "Aye, well, both of them're good folk I think. What're yer ideas fer th'integratin' the nonriders?" He's all ears, better than working on paperwork all day. Another sip of ale and a brief shift in position in his chair. "Y'know yer wingfolk best afterall."

Ur'con seems bemused enough to continue to distract J'em from his paperwork. It's the least he can do. "I was thinking, actually, of pinning one of these on a non rider… so they can give me a hand with the crafters."

J'em ohs softly, "A nonrider 'second." Now that's…interesting. "Ne'er thought 'bout that." Of course, his wing doesn't have nonriders so he really never had to think about that.

Ur'con nods a bit, "It's a bit unconventional…but as it happens, I happen to have a crafter who isn't a rider. Competent, good with paperwork, and best of all, seems to enjoy telling people how to run their lives. It's perfect, if you ask me. Deligation being the better part of leadership, anwyay."

J'em nods, "Well then, unconventional works fer me." He chuckles softly. "Who might th'lucky person be?" Or unlucky, whichever way they see it. Hey, he likes crazy unconventional things like nonrider seconds and old fart weyrleaders and stuff!

Ur'con laughs, which is a strangely joyful sort of sound. Ohhh, he got his way and he likes it! "I was thinking about TechCrafter Fiona. She's already responsible for keeping most of our eletric going…and it's a thankless task. Personally, I think she should be rewarded for all her hard work." And bossiness. And never you mind they've been feuding almost constantly since Ur'con arrived. Ahem.

Enter Fiona, face smeared with oil as she moves over to the buffet line in a very 'foood' zombie manner.

J'em nods approvingly, "Aye Fiona is a very good worker, yer smart t'choose 'er." Yes, J'emmy approves. He glances over as the mentioned person enters and gives a chuckle, "Speak o'th'devil…" He wtches the food zombie and considers. "Mebbe let 'er eat first." Yes, cause hungry women are scary!

Ur'con catches sight of Fiona, as he follow's J'em's gaze. And then breaks into a bit of a grin. "Indeed. Everyone deserves a bit of food before they get a good shock." He settles back in his chair, shooing his pair of annoyances…er…flits off so he can get comfortable. Heh. Don't the bronzeriders look good and comfy and smug over there at that table!

Fiona stuffs half a sweetroll into her mouth before she even reaches the bronzeriders' table, so her words come out as, "oo fanded oo falk iff me?" How couth. But she's not sitting, it seems, until her wingleader acknowledges, "Fober et?"

Ur'con chuckles a bit, but his eyes are sparkling. "Aye, I'm perfectly sober. Why don't you come over here, Journeyman. I was just discussing with the Weyrleader, what we were discussing after the flight." He waves her over. No, seriously, come here.

J'em is glad someone can make out what she said cause he certainly couldn't. "Aye, Fiona Lass, c'mon o'er an' join us. We were jus' talin' 'bout ya." And the older bronzer takes another swig of ale. He shuffles the papers around all official-like..or something, and proceeds to await the techie's response to the invite.

Fiona gives Ur'con a narrow-eyed glance and swallows down the roll, "You sendin' me away?" She closes the distance to keep from making this a big public issue. Her eyes glance to J'em, it is the right of the weyrleader to assign the crafters in his Weyr. So now she's waiting.

Ur'con uses one booted foot to shove the chair out, so she can sit…and he does point. Sit down. "Carenath's gonads, Fiona…we have got to do something to sweeten up that dispostion of yours!"

Mmm, sweetroll, J'em will have to have him one of those later. But for now he says nothing more, must keep her in suspense, at least until she sits down. The weyrleader even crosses arms over his chest to try and look all that more serious, let's scare her a bit, muahahaha!

Fiona looks between the two, more startled than before, but sits. She doesn't touch her food, though, "What are you bronzers up to?" She glances at Ur'con, "I recommend things with sweetener."

Ur'con glances at J'em again, and chuckles, "Should've gotten some sweetballs before, eh?" Oh well…it's not like he's wooing a new ladyfriend! He picks up one of the elaborate knots, meant for a wingsecond, from the table, and then is blunt about it. "Fact is, I was trying to tell you last night. I'd been thinking, that with P'ush wanting to retire…that I needed a new wingsecond. Actually, two…and I'm hoping his daughter P'ushme'll take one of these. But the other thing I think the wing needs is a liason between the riders and nonriders. I'd like you to be my second wingsecond, Fiona. You've got a good head on your shoulders."

J'em gives a chuckle, "Aye, Lad." Then when the wingleader asks Fiona the question of being wingsecond, J'em gives a soft smile. "Yer one of th'best qualified Fiona." A swig of ale, and, aww darn, his mug's dry. Ah well, the alemug is set aside upon the table for now as he glances between the two.

It's good to be the Weyrleader, as a rather buxom young woman from the kitchens come scampering up with a teasing curstey…and low-cut blouse…and a tray with little minature sweetrolls and a pitcher of ale, to freshen his snack. Mmhmm. Weyrgirls, they're all the same!

Fiona's brows rise, move in and out in a few curious motions. She looks from Wingleader to Weyrleader to Wingleader, then at the knot, "Are you joshing me? Because I'm really not in the mood right now."

Ur'con stares at Fiona for a moment, and then notes, "Have you ever known me to tease about anything truly important, Fiona?" He wags the knot again, "Certainly, it's not conventional…but I've J'em's blessing to ask you." He wags the knot again, seriously. "I was going to ask you … but even I realized I wasn't sober enough the other night."

Well, J'em did have a way with the women, well, when he was younger anyway. He smiles ever so sweetly to the weyrgirl, "Thank ye m'dear." He accepts the offered snack and ale and sends her off with a wink. "So, Fiona, whatcha say, hmm? I'm willin' t'try anythin' once conventional or not."

Fiona eyes the knot as if it might just bite her before uttering a flat, "No… not when you realized it was serious, anyway. What's involved?"

Ur'con grins, "A sharding lot of paperwork, the ability and duty to organize and hear the troubles and problems and suggestions from the crafter half of the wing, and answering to me if there's something come up. That doesn't mean you can ride rough shod, but I can't imagine as a journeyman you don't have the common sense to know when something's beyond your depth."

J'em will let the two wingmates talk about requirements and business stuff like that, he's got sweetrolls and he's busy popping one into his mouth at the moment. Mmm.

Fiona continues to eye the knot darkly for a long moment, then she reaches for it, "Fine. But you owe me." Owe her what isn't clarified, poor Ur'con. Then her gaze flicks to J'em, "Weyrleader."

Ur'con snorts a bit, but nods, "You keep telling yourself that, lass. I refuse to own your old troubles, but you can keep on paying the tithe to em if you like, Wingsecond." He offers a rather formal salute, and then offers a rather more warm smile.

J'em gives her an ever so sweet smile, or something like that, "Congrat'lations Wingsecond Fiona." Then he refills his alemug and proceeds to set the pitcher down and pick up another miniroll to munch on happily. Eyes go from platter to wingleader to wingsecond, "Want one, they be good." But they're his! Oh wait, he can share he supposes.

S'dan comes in with his hair a bit disheveled from his helmet. His riding gloves are tucked into his belt and he runs a hand through his hair. Evidently his Wing has just come back from a long sweep. This is the first time he's had a chance to adress the new Weyrleader. Upon seeing J'em with his new WeyrLeade knot on, he just stops and salutes. Then he laughs. "Sucker!" he calls out. "No, really, the knot looks good on you, J'em. Congratulations!" He glances around to see if Syra is anywhere. "Ah, let me know if you need any help…like a place to hide out now and then."

Fiona quirks that one evil brow at Ur'con, "No. You owe me for taking up your slack, Faranth knows you'll still spend most of your time potting, as always." The wingsecond's knot is in her hand being examined oh so thoughtfully for a moment before she reaches for one of J'em's sweetrolls. one more for her, right, "Thank you, Weyrleader J'em."

Ur'con snorts a bit, bemused. "A wise leader knows how to pick his helpers, my dear…deligation is the better part of leadership, or so we were schooled as bronzelings at Telgar. Congratulations. Genuinely, I'm quite honored to have you."

J'em is a sucker, isn't he? "H'lo S'dan, how were sweeps?" As for the congratulations and teasing he just grins. "I couldna 'ave kept 'im 'way from goin' after 'er e'en if I wanted to, y'know how Fenny is with Aro." Protective, evil, possessive, etc. "Come join us S'dan, Fiona 'ere has jus' accepted 'second position from Ur'con 'ere, an I got some nice ale 'ere redy fer sharin'."

S'dan blinks. "A…a non rider for a WingSecond? Is that legal?" Is this another joke or an honest question.

Ur'con snorts at that, amused, "Dunno. Is having non riding crafters and a wherhandler in a wing 'legal'? Besides, for the moment, P'ush's daughter P'ushme is my likely candidate…going back to the old way of havin' two wingseconds. That way the paperwork's spread out."

Fiona actually gives S'dan a hurt look before purposefully replacing her old knot with the new, even if she'll have to add the craft designating tassel later, "And how are you, Wingleader S'dan?"

S'dan grins, "Fine, thank you, WingSecond Fiona!" He gives her a thumbs up sign. "Congratulations!"

J'em shrugs a little bit, "'Tis diff'rent, I admit, but Ur'con's choice makes sense y'think?" He grins over at Fiona as she replaces her old knot. "Welcome t'th'ranks Fiona." He gives her a wink.

Ur'con just looks pleased with himself. If he EVER wanted to get back at Fiona and her busybody ways, this is PERFECT. And actually, he looks like he's proud of himself…it's not exactly a backhanded compliment. He's not known for laying it on…or being less than utterly genuine. Even if it does irritate Fiona to her very last reserve nerve. "So sweeps were good…Syra seems to have survived according to J'em and his ankle here…how /did/ you turn that, Weyrleader?"

S'dan looks at J'em, worried. "You hurt your ankle?"

Fiona actually blushes a little and is suddenly very interested in her food, wherry this and tubers that, she starts eating through it carefully.

J'em eyes the ankle briefly, then chuckles quietly. "Well, 'twas a'ready sprained b'fore. Healers've been on me t'keep it up an' stop walkin' on it." He smirks, like that's ever gonna happen. "Kids an' their toys an' all. Guess I aggravated it when I was helpin' Syra t'th'guest weyr." More like carrying her but anyway. "It takes us older folks longer t'heal sometimes or somethin'." Ha! So there, the injury didn't happen during the flight, he's not gonna tell what happened during that time.

Ur'con ahhhs a bit at that, and chuckles, "You know, you're acting like you're an old man, J'em. My mum's going to come back to visit some day, and then chase you around with her cane…to remind you of it." He flashes a bright grin, "She's definately your elder."

S'dan chuckles. "Don't ever say the word "old" around my fahter!"

Fiona swallows her last bite before sliding her attention back into the conversation once more with a simple question to S'dan, "Your dad's still alive?" Oo, more wherry! She chews through another bite before glancing at J'em, "Well, stay off of it so it so it heals, and /you/," Ur'con is singled out, "You still owe me an answer to my last question the other night."

"Alive an' kickin', I'll bet," J'em grins, "I really oughta go pay 'im a visit sometime, acourse now I gotta wait 'til healers let me loose." He chuckles.

Ur'con notes, without a hint of sarcasm or tease, "Lass…I can't even remember your last question. Forgive me…goldflights are hard on us both." Well..how's that for unbridled honesty.

S'dan rolls his eyes and sits down. He helps himself to a meatroll. "Mm! Tasty! Yes, T'burk is only 84 TUrns."

"Eighty four? Impressive." Fiona goes through another bite of wherry tuber surprise before glancing at Ur'con, "How'm I supposed to just get over my… issue?"

Ooh, questions and issues, this could be interesting. J'em arches his brow and listens to the two Phantasm peoples. "Care fer some ale, S'dan?" He's got a pitcher and will proceed to wave down that cute buxom weyrgal again for a second mug if S'dan accepts.

J'em (and S'dan) are SO in luck…the girl comes skirting back past, and if anything, her shirt seems to have gotten a little more open. Those are some impressive…pectorals. Those are. "Weyrleader. Wingleaders." Ooooh, the batted lashes!

Ur'con doesn't seem to notice…he shakes his head a little, "Lass. Fiona." He might never call her 'lass' again, but who knows. "You keep trying to treat me…and likely every man you run across…as if we were the ones who caused you pain or embarrassment. Do you know how insulting that is to /me/, at least? I'm not the one who caused you pain…shards, I'm not even your brother F'ndo, and he's not near as bad as you think he is." Ugh. Bronzeriders will stick together, won't they.

S'dan smiles up at the pretty serving girl and gets a good view…of the tray she's presenting to him. "Why, thank you!" he says and takes a few of the fresh and spicy meatrolls. "Could I get some water please?"

If one didn't know better, they might think Ur'con was the only person at the table the way Fiona's eyeing him, "No, Ur'con. I know /why/ what I don't know is /how/ and you sure as shards seemed to think you could tell me then."

Ur'con sighs a bit, and shakes his head. And then goes quiet, unusually for him. "That's inside you, dear. I don't know if that means you need to take some time and think about it, or talk to someone who apparently speaks your same language, or what…but you…it's eating you up. No one likes to see it…not for a perfectly lovely young woman."

Aww, no ale? Ah well, more for J'em and he smiles ever so sweetly up at the weyrgal and looks over the, umm, the platter, yes. "Thanks m'dear." And then he'll glance back to his tablemates, oh yeah, ahem, they're still there, and he listens to the conversation, though doesn't offer much at the moment.

Alas for J'em, but the girl's gotten herself recalled to the kitchen for a bit of a talking to…leaving the awkward silence to linger between Ur'con and Fiona. Wow. Talk about awkward. Promoted to wingsecond and then bickering in public with your own wingleader! Ur'con rises, abruptly, and leaves…but only to go ditch the klahmug and get his own glass of wine, though he takes his time to do so!

S'dan gets a big glass of water, with ice, from a younger lad who comes over from the kitchen. Replacement, eh? He just says a soft, "Thank you," and takes the glass with a smile. He drinks down half the glass before cringing and setting it down on the table while he rubs his forehead.

Fiona snorts darkly, "Does anyone speak my language, Ur'con?" Really, this is Fiona being open, gasp, shock, horror. When Ur'con gets up she just glowers after him, "Sure, just walk away from me." Hmph. She crosses her arms, looking more than a little sullen.

J'em glances from Fiona to Ur'con then to S'dan. Hmm, he'll pick the safe person and narrows his brow at his friend S'dan's cringe. "Y'alright S'dan?" Of course, it's probably just brainfreeze or something. "Y'shouldna drink somethin' cold that fast." The weyrleader takes a swig of his ale and even maybe pouts just a little as the young man is sent out in replacement of the pretty busty gal, aww.

Ur'con returns, slowly, with his glass of wine…and then sets the wineskin he brought with him down between them, "Fiona…this should be a really happy day. Why don't we both just try and let bygones be bygones…shards. Feel like I hung a baby wher round my neck…and it was supposed to be a compliment!"

S'dan rubs the roof of his mouth with his tongue and takes in some open mouthed breaths. "No…just brainfreeze…Dad taught me how to cure it." Then he look sup at Ur'con and says, almost sharply, "Ur'con, sit down! Fiona, what's the problem?"

Fiona looks back at Ur'con and snorts, "A baby wher'd make you cuter." She glares down at what's left of her food as if it had somehow offended her, then back up at Ur'con more calmly, "I need your help with this. I, obviously, can't do it alone."

Ur'con looks back at Fiona with a more or less typically helpless male look. "Fiona, I wasn't the one who slapped you in the face and then gave you a serious liplock. If you rode a green, I'd accuse you of ignoring her going proddy on you. Obviously, we both need some help, because I don't know how to help you. I hardly understand what's really WRONG. Seriously…it's going to affect our working relationship if something doesn't get sorted out."

J'em isn't the best with relationships, and he may be getting a tad bit tipsy but he offers to the quarreling pair, "Maybe y'should slap 'er then kiss 'er." Yeah, like that would help, silly old bronzerider.

S'dan looks back and forth from Fiona to Ur'con as he sips at the cold water. "It was sure hot and dusty today. Didn't get to, uh, lighten the load of any more of our cashe of the purple proliferation." He speaks calmly and carefully as if he has a headache. "Now…as I understand it, Fiona…Ur'con values you enough as an individual to bestow upon you this…very honored position. The man has faith in you. So do I. I just don't have any way to really show it. I also have a lot of faith in Ur'con and in J'em. J'em in particular. I've known him for a long time and he has a lot of integrity and perseverance. What you need to do isjust understand that you can't change you they are in all their little…well, personal periferals that make then the unique people they are. Or me, for that matter. In other words, there may be small things about us that you don't like or don't undertand, but we have enough in common, and we all have enough common interests and goals that we should all be able to give and take a little and still be able to get along and work together." He looks at the two men and Fiona. "Agreed?"

Fiona opens her mouth to say something to Ur'con when S'dan's words hit her like a slap to the face. She turns slowly to look at him, somewhere between anger and shock, "S'dan… that has nothing to do with it at all. Of course I can work with him. You. All of you. It's… personal." She gives Ur'con a warning look before she sighs, "Just… can we talk some time, Ur'con… about it all. Please?"

Ur'con does blink a little at S'dan too…that might be the most he's ever heard S'dan say in his entire stay at Eastern! He's duly impressed. But he looks back at Fiona for a moment…and the nods. "Yes. We /can/ have some time to talk. My weyrhutbarnthing's door is open to you any time."

Ah well, okay so his idea wasn't the best, the weyrleader shrugs a bit and stifles a yawn. Hmm, yes, now to finish that pitcher of ale. He refills his mug with the last of it and grns a little. "Pr'vate dishcussion kin solve lotsa things." The man blinks briefly, "Y'should give it a shot Fiona, looks t'me like Ur'con'sh tryin' t'make it right."

S'dan releases his hand from around the glass he's been holding. He spreads his hand as a gesture to them all. "See? Nice and calm. I like that. It is two issues here, not one. " He leans back in his chair and seems to relax. "This is the way to work things out." There is a flicker of sadness across his face but he manages a smile. "When everybody gets to talk and everybody listens…well, things can get better. Then we can all work together."

Fiona nods once to Ur'con, "I know but… somewhere a little more public but still private? I don't… I'm not /good/ at this, I'm really not." Obviously. The other men's words seem to be ignored.

Ur'con sighs a bit, "Fiona…with J'em and S'dan here as my witnesses, I'm not about to leap on you and ravish you…that's bad manners at best, and morally reprehensible in my eyes. I will not be harming ANYONE that I invite into my HOME. This is why I keep saying that you need to stop treating me like I'm…some sort of criminal."

Yeah, not all ronzers are horndogs looking for innocent women to ravish. Only J'em, oh wait, he's not either usually. "Mebbe try a walk on th'beach y'two." The weyrleader offers before taking another swig of ale and leaning back lazily in his comfy chair, this is one issue even a weyrleader can't help solve.

Fiona lets out a frustrated groan. Nothing she says seems to come out right. "That's not… gah!" She nearly rams her head into her plate before she realizes it's there and catches herself on the table, not that it stops another dark groan, "The beach might work. I'm just… I wouldn't be asking if I thought that, Ur. I'm just not… /ready/ for that yet."

S'dan hands Fiona a clean cloth napkin while looking away.

Ur'con nods a little…but agrees finally. You know what? Women are crazy. Why can't he be a bronzer with a dragon fond of catching greens with male riders or something? "The beach then, Fiona. Whenever you like."

"Thanks" Fiona at least sounds sincere before scraping the last of the food off her plate, "Can we… now? or soon?"

Ur'con takes a big, deep breath, and then nods, "Sure…let me grab something and we'll go." He's had…some klah. And some wine. "And we'll go…" He gives J'em and S'dan a LOOK. You guys? Utterly unhelpful. Thanks.

S'dan just smiles at Fiona. "Welcome to the world of riders, Fiona." His tone is warm and not a bit embarrassed or accusing. Rather more sympathetic and well, downright friendly. "I snell. I need to get a bath." He rises and picks up his glass of water to drain before he leaves. "I'll see you all later!" With that he salutes his fellow officers befoer he departs.

Fiona takes advantage of S'dan's departure and J'em's sudden preoccupation with things not her to grab her tray and take it up to the end of the line for once before moving towards Ur'con, "The wherry's good… thanks. Really."

Ur'con waits until she's done with putting the tray away, to heft the wineskin onto his shoulder…no use wasting perfectly good wine! And a couple of glasses…that might be appropriate. It's almost an afterthought that makes him grab a shredded wherry roll…

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