A Party at the Lighthouse (3/3)

Writers: Sia, Iluva, Heather, Halyonix
Date Posted: 17th August 2025

Characters: Sareya, Aydhara, N'mar, T'erin, Calonice, Poranta, Kalavra
Description: The Barrier Lake Weyr candidates throw a clandestine party before the hatching.
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 8, day 17 of Turn 12

Sareya

Aydhara

N'mar

T'erin

---In the Lighthouse---

"This is what I'm talking about!" Aydhara exclaimed as she set another wine bottle down on the table. She rifled through the bag and pulled out a multi-tool that had a corkscrew. With the practiced ease of a delinquent, she pulled the cork out of the bottle with a loud 'pop'.

“Ay, tell me you brought some decent wine,” Poranta called from her perch against the wall. Her gitar was slung casually over her lap, her fingers plucking aimlessly while she drained the last of the glass in her off hand. She grimaced at the aftertaste of the inferior vintage. If she didn't Impress again this clutch, she thought, she was definitely going home. At least at the Harper Hall she could get a decent drink.

"It's decent enough to get drunk on, but not so decent that my parents are going to put me on dragon bath duty for the next month." Aydhara said, "Though if they don't notice right away, I'll either be a weyrling and can't get in trouble, or I won't and I can cry until Dad stops trying to lecture me. And this one I stole from my brother's weyr, so drink at your own risk."

Temrin shot a sideways glance at Aydhara. He’d heard the Weyrwoman’s Second had children at the Weyr near him in age, one a brownrider, and the other a Candidate. Rumors at the Hall had always made dragonrider parents out to be absent, and yet, she talked about her mother and father as if they were very close.

Not to be outdone by the Weyrwoman’s daughter, Sareya was nearby, sipping on the wine and hiding a scowl at the taste. She hated drinking but she wasn’t going to let Aydhara run the scene. Sareya had grown up around a gold dragon too! Except that she really couldn’t figure out how to insert herself into the conversation. Didn’t they have anything _interesting_ to talk about?

Calonice rolled her eyes at Aydhara's claim of a plan to escape consequences for her theft. She refilled her mug and wandered up the spiral staircase, exploring the lighthouse as she sipped her drink.

Neymar leaned back against the wall, watching the game still in progress across the table. Half-filled cups of what was mostly ale were arranged in loose wing formations at either end, with small, lightweight wooden balls arcing through the air at the other teams’ cups - some lobbing, some outright whipping them out of frustration.

It was barely a game, really. Teams rotated at will, in or out, whenever, as they pleased. A few of the newly Searched candidates were surprisingly good at it, too.

His own team had long scattered into other nooks of the party. Neymar was more focused on the half glass of ale in his hand, letting his gaze drift out of habit. It just felt good to get out. It had been a while since they let loose, and he was comfortably buzzed.

On the far wall, a firelizard crept along the food table like a poorly trained assassin. It moved delicately at first, tasting plates one by one - until that led to finding one dish suitable of destruction.

“Hey, check this guy out.” Neymar smiled, gently nudging the Candidate next to him. “He's having the best time.”

Slate looked up from the abandoned half-finished plate of pastries, a piece clasped tightly in his foreclaws as he licked the crumbs from around his mouth. This was his plate now. He had been so sneaky. He made a face at Neymar, his eyes whirling an orange of warning.

“Is he… is he afraid you’re going to take the plate?” Temrin asked Neymar.

“Yeah, looks like it.” Neymar answered, although the orange in those particular eyes felt more alarmed and angry than might have been necessary. “I'm not gonna take it.” He held up his free hand to show Slate it was empty, and therefore safe.

“I'll take it.” Kalavra announced as she stomped toward the food table. Her familiarity with this lizard might have been why she walked right up to his orange little eyes with her hand outstretched expectantly. “Slate, you're being a nuisance. Go. Go on, shoo!”

No, this was his plate! He knew they were after his goodies! Slate hissed like a baby feline and lunged at her fingers, nipping the skin on one before he scrambled away with a pastry clutched in his little forepaws.

Kalavra jumped back but he still sliced the tip of her finger with his nasty teeth. She shrieked in pain, a high-pitched yelping sound that carried, and then yanked her hand back “Ow, Slate! You _monster_!” she scolded, even as she felt tears sting her eyes.

Whirling around on her heel, she ran past a few other candidates, clutching her freshly-painted fingers to Temrin. Kalavra sobbed softly, her mascara smudging, “Temrin, help. Can you help me?!” It probably wasn’t disfiguring, but it helped her to look at someone cute whose father was also a Healer.

“Let’s get into the light where I can see a bit better,” Temrin said, pulling the handkerchief from his back pocket and wrapping it around Kalavra’s finger. He didn’t mind holding her hand one bit. “It’s just a little nip,” he said, once they were near a light. “It just needs a little bandage around it to keep it closed for a day or so.”

Kalavra let him lead her to the light like they were heading to the refreshment line at a Gather, drying her eyes with the uninjured fingertips of her other hand. “You think so?” She said hopefully, wincing slightly at the fabric, but otherwise recovering nicely. “What a monstrous little creature.” She cursed under her breath. How could something so cute be so vicious? “I don't know why they have to be so mean about it. I mean, you _know_ someone would share their pastry before the night was over.” It wasn't all terrible - having Temrin hold her hand with such care made her heart pound a little. He was a darling creature. “Thank you, Temrin. I think I'm okay.”

He looked into her eyes. “Any time.”

Kalavra's cheeks pinkened slightly, though her smile never wavered. “Want to go get another drink? I think it'll help.”

Temrin smiled. “Absolutely.”

Neymar was still reclined against the wall, though after watching the commotion he wasn’t content to stay there for much longer. He strolled over to the refreshment table where Slate hovered over his pastries like a mother with her clutch, carefully avoiding the blue firelizard as he popped a mini meatroll on the end of a toothpick into his mouth.

“Hey buddy,” He said encouragingly, showing Slate another piece of meatroll in his palm. “I’m just gonna move you over here, okay. Then you can enjoy your amazing snack in peace.” With the bravery or stupidity of a man Turns his senior, Neymar offered him the meatroll and scooped the plate of pastries up in his other hand at the same time, carrying him with slow albeit easy precision to the other side of the room to the window ledge.

Just as he was about to set it down, Neymar sensed the impending blow of firelizard teeth the second before he made contact.

It happened lightning fast, all in one motion: a flash of the biters, the balance of weight on the plate shifting threatening, and in one swift, deft flick that was more impulse and instinct, out the window Slate went, spinning as if on a giant deliciously decorated discus, the glow of the bonfire planted far enough back in the night to pose no danger as he disappeared into the dark below.

First there was the meatroll, a delicious offering. And then he was being lifted into the air on his plate, him and his pastries in danger. He lunged for the hand grabbing for them and only hit empty air. He scrambled to hold onto the plate as it gained speed and spun, hurtling through the air and into the darkness of the night.

To those in the lighthouse, Slate's shrill scream cut through the air and faded away.

For those on the ground, around the bonfire, the scream grew louder until the plate shattered near the group below. Slate, being just a few months old, wasn't smart enough to remember that he could both fly and /between/ until it was almost too late. But /between/ he did, reappearing above the lighthouse party with a shriek and barrelling into Aydhara's arms, crying like he'd done nothing wrong. Aydhara didn't catch much in the jumble, except the possessiveness around snacks and the disorienting rush of cold air and darkness.

"Aw, Slate, buddy! What happened to you? Poor thing." Aydhara cooed gently, holding the little firelizard and rubbing his back as if soothing a baby. "Which one was mean to you?"

Now that the deadly threat had been dispatched into the dark, Neymar's shoulders relaxed. At least the little guy could fly and /between/, anyway. Turning back to the party, he clapped his big hands in a single shot of sound. “Okay, who wants shots?” He called, the half bottle of rum suddenly in his hand there as if by magic.

From her new vantage point on the narrow balcony on the upper half of the lighthouse, Calonice peered down at the bonfire. Her eyes locked on the magnificent green dragon who had lit it. Elation and wonder filled her. Soon, she would hopefully have one just like that.

Last updated on the September 2nd 2025

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A Party at the Lighthouse (3/3)