Stew Party: Welcome to Ridge Wing!

Writers: Aaron, Corrin, Duskdog, Halyonix, Heather, Iluva, Shawna, Sia, Steel, Suzee
Date Posted: 9th October 2025

Characters: T'gyrlan, A'drios, A'brevan, R'enh, L'kayric, M'kall, M'yvak, Rh'din, Nosarre, R'bharra, C'uren, L'kav, J'hael
Description: Ridge Wing welcomes their newest members at the wingsecond’s monthly dinner party
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 10, day 28 of Turn 12

T'gyrlan

It wasn't the sort of party he threw during the Interval. Those were all together wilder and drenched with booze and questionable choices. He treasured those days, but things were different now. He was a winglea-- wingsecond, only recently assigned to the wing, only recently beginning to redeem himself after four dark turns of injury and anger. So these days T’gyrlan hosted Stew Parties.

They were cozy affairs up in his weyr, where he invited members of his wing each month to “cook” together and enjoy an evening of good food, drink, and company.

This month the newly graduated weyrlings -- full riders now -- would be attending for the first time.

---

The evening air was sharp and clean after the day’s rain, the stone ledges of Dragonsfall damp and gleaming in the sunset. T’gyrlan’s weyr, a beacon of warmth and light, stood ready to receive visitors.

The “cooking” was born of practicality, (a steaming vat of stew, while wonderful for feeding a lot of people, was a bugger to fly up to a weyr,) but it had become a treasured ritual-- part of the bonding. The kitchen staff laid the groundwork, sending up the meat and veg in big reed baskets, but it was tradition now that all early arrivals rolled up their sleeves and joined the wingsecond in chopping and dicing and filling the large copper pot in the kitchen. It was light work with many hands and it was a great time to catch up on gossip and have a small glass of wine. Some people came early on purpose.

C'uren was one of those people. "I am here!" he announced after he slid off Roeth, already rolling up his sleeves. "Put me to work, Wingsecond, sir." For C'uren, cooking was a love language and what better way to show his new Wingmates how excited he was to be in the Wing than to help cook for them!

"Good man," grinned T'gyrlan, pulling him into the already bustling kitchen. "You can take over for me on tuber duty. I need to finish spicing the cider. I take it you've cooked before?"

"All of the time! On the ship, I trained with the cook." Sometimes. But who cared about experience, right? C'uren fell into story time to entertain his fellows as he got to work. "We had these peppers from Sunstone area. Spicy, spicy, spicy, my friends, spicy..."

A'drios had dived right into these parties the moment T'gyrlan had mentioned them. He had only been in Cyan Wing -- or whatever they were calling it now -- for a few brief drills before he had been moved to Cobalt-now-Ridge, but he had been sorely disappointed to miss out on the alleged party life. He would never have passed up the opportunity to bring the party to where he was.

He had made a habit of showing up early to help with the preparation. He had never been a cook, but he had grown up on a farm, and he knew his way around a knife and cutting board. He was more than happy to help get everything ready.

J'hael was already at work chopping an onion and wordlessly pushed a knife towards A'drios.

The greenrider smiled, took up the tool and a nearby vegetable, and wordlessly got to work.

"Is that how you handle your fingerroot then?" M'yvak purred in A'drios' ear as he joined the greenrider and J'hael in the food prep area. The bluerider had his sleeves rolled up. He winked at both men as he took up a paring knife and began slicing.

"Oh, I'm far more careful with mine." A'drios grinned back. "I can show you sometime."

L'kav waltzed in around his usual time with a wooden crate clinking in his arms and wolfish smile stretched wide-- partially for the sight of those hardworking men packed shoulder to shoulder, and partially because Gather-Casual was written all over his attire.

Only C'uren here out of the rookies so far. Pity. Not nearly enough of them to admire the careless fall of his tunic, the neck left ostentatiously open, and the thin undershirt offsetting the thick dark thatch of his chest hair.

"My, my," L'kav purred to the trio, plucking cloudy bottles of ale from the crate. "I asked for Gather best and here you are-- dinner and a show."

M'yvak, winking at L'kav, tilted his head nonchalantly in C'uren's direction, before commenting loudly, "Why, C'uren, that's quite the tunic."

The newly graduated brownrider beamed brightly. "Thank you, my friend! Gather best, right? That's what the invitation said. And Roeth and I, we will not disappoint."

---

M'kall arrived early. The elder bronzerider was brimming with anticipation. He'd casually fed some tidbits of information to the new Ridge riders about the "dress code" for the evening. He was in a pair of casual pants and tunic, but he fully anticipated some showing up in their gather best and he couldn't wait. A little hazing was good for morale, he thought.

Paskith touched down on the ledge just long enough for Rh'din to dismount before the blue was gone again, leaving room for the next dragon to land if or when they wanted to.

"... Hey." Rh'din greeted, offering a nod to the nearest rider as he entered. "Faranth, it smells good in here."

"Doesn't?" grinned T'gyrlan and he strode over to hand Rh'din a mug of warm cider. "Just wait 'til you try it. Between the baskets the kitchens send up and our own experimentation, I think we've worked out a pretty knock out recipe by now."

"Thanks!" Rh'din accepted the cider with a return grin. "... I might have to ask for it later, if it's not a trade secret."

L'kayric arrived right on time, dressed in best gather clothes. Nothing flashy, as that wasn't his style, but definitely something very nice and cleanly pressed... because that's how he had been told to dress. He had a polite smile -- he was genuinely glad to be here, glad to be earning the Wing camaraderie that his grandfather had always talked so happily about -- but his face slowly fell as he realized how casual everyone else looked. Had he misheard? Misunderstood? His cheeks reddened, but he managed a nod and to his wingmates and a brief fake smile as he resolved not to dwell on it. Maybe nobody would notice if he just acted normal? "Hi everyone, how's it going? I hope I'm not late..."

M'kall's eyes lit with barely concealed laughter as he watched L'kayric enter, dressed far above what anyone else was wearing.

}:I do not understand your pleasure with this,:{ Sanderveth piped in.

**It's a little harmless fun,** the veteran bronzerider assured his lifemate as he brought his mug of klah to his lips to hide his laughter.

T'gyrlan did not laugh, but there may have been just a shade of amusement in his smile as he welcomed L'kayric in. "Looking sharp," he said, handing the young man a mug as well. "Come on in and make yourself at home. The food should be ready shortly."

C'uren let out a wolfish whistle when he saw L'kayric. "Sharp, my friend, sharp!"

"Right on time," L'kav smiled warmly. His mug raised to L'kayric in cheerful greeting, an abrupt lack of embellishments twinkling on his cuff.

R'bharra had made a habit of showing up for the food and little else. He never felt right doing much proper socializing, but he could hardly pass up a meal, and he also did not want to give anyone an excuse to come bother him about whether he was feeling all right or needed any help with anything. He was among the last to arrive, as usual, and he slid into a seat with little more than a nod to whoever that was sitting across from him.

A'brevan slid into the weyr almost late, a steaming basket under one arm, "Sorry I'm late, I just got a scathing lecture that you can't rush an oven from the kitchen staff, but I have cornbread."

"My mother always said, if you're going to be late, bring cornbread," said R'bharra.

"_Cornbread_!" M'yvak exclaimed, hurrying from the food prep area to snatch the fresh basket. "This is perfect."

"What's cornbread?" C'uren asked.

"It's a type of bread." Rh'din tells his wingmate.

"A strangely specific piece of parental wisdom," A'brevan said, chuckling.

---

As always, the stew turned out hearty and rich, the sort that warmed a rider straight through after a long day in the air. Soon everyone had a bowl and the hum of conversation took on an easy rhythm. Laughter sparked from one corner, a story about a close miss in the morning’s drills from another.aa

T’gyrlan sat, savoring both the meal and the hum of voices around him. It was almost a Turn now since he rejoined the fighting wings. Cobalt-- Ridge Wing, was beginning to feel like Home. _This_ was what he’d missed in those dark Turns-- belonging, fellowship, the thrill of being one of the pack instead of alone with his restlessness. He let the warmth settle in his chest for a moment, then tipped his mug toward the new riders seated across the table.

“You’ve made it through your first full month in the wing. Four ‘falls. Not an easy thing, and you’ve handled it well.” He leaned forward, amber eyes bright. “Tell me-- is it all you dreamed or feared?”

Rh'din blinked, considered. "A month? ... Huh. It's... definitely been a lot." He offered. "And I'm always glad when 'fall's over. But... it's also never a bad feeling, when the wing rises together."

R'enh entered and without fanfare grabbed a bowl of the warm stew. He pulled the small bottle of hot sauce he favored after his first taste and tossed in a couple of shots before finding a seat across from his 'second. He smiled at Rh'din "The first times seem to take forever but each time we make it through is a victory. Especially if the 'thread is dead and no one is injured."

Nosarre had just dipped her spoon when she saw it; R’enh drowning his stew in a wash of scarlet. The stew was supposed to be comforting, not an exercise in self-immolation. Still, the sight rattled her enough that when the attention shifted her way, her answer came out sharper than she intended.

"I wouldn't call it either. It's a thing I must do. It's cold, it's miserable, and then it's over."

L'kayric inclined his head towards Nosarre sympathetically. He _got_ it, really -- she wasn't entirely wrong -- but then, she'd always seemed to have a harder time adjusting to having a dragon at all than most of the rest of them had. "It's miserable sometimes, yeah, in the moment. But I'm proud to be out there, sir," he responded to T'gyrlan. "I always knew it would be hard, and I guess you don't really understand exactly how hard until you've lived it, but... it's worth it. I can't imagine doing anything else."

R'enh smiled after L'kayric's comment. "Me either," he nodded, "and if it weren't hard anyone could do it. But she's right. It is cold and miserable while we're out there. Sometimes though, it's worse if you or your dragon are scored. And when Mnoranth and I, and all of you, come back in one piece I consider it a victory." He softened his tone as he looked at the young woman. "That's all I was saying."

"A victory indeed!" C'uren added in brightly. "The danger is a rush, yes, but after it's all done, we're heroes and have survived another day!"

Nosarre schooled her expression into one of pointed neutrality-- both because R'enh was her Wingleader and because snapping at C'uren in front of the entire Wing would be gauche.

L'kav grinned at the young brownrider. He wasn't sure what some of his wingmates were always going on about - he, for one, was always a fan of this boy's enthusiasm, his own fist hitting the table to punctuate C'uren's cheer. "And R'enh's right-- if it weren't hard, _anyone_ could it. And not just once. 'Fall after 'Fall. Any rider worth their stuff can fly a good 'Fall. But the trick is repetition. If anything, the misery and shit 'falls are what makes that perfect win so _good_."

T'gyrlan shot R'enh the briefest look of concern during Nosarre's bleak assessment, but his expression smoothed and warmed as the other new graduates chimed in with more enthusiasm. For a while he was content to let the conversation swirl around him, nodding gamely along as the veteran riders chimed in. This was exactly what these nights were about-- having a fine meal and a good time, all while taking the pulse of the wing. Finally, he lifted his glass. "Well, whether it was a misery to overcome or a feat of heroism to execute, you each rose to the challenge. Repeatedly." He nodded at L'kav as he echoed his point. "So tonight we drink to you. Ridge Wing is all the stronger for your presence. Welcome!"

"Thank you, sir!" Rh'din responded. "It's like C'uren said. Parts of it might be harder than others, but there's nothing I'd change, especially my Paskith and my friends in the wing."

"Heard and witnessed, my friend!" C'uren boomed as he raised his glass.

Nosarre poured herself another drink.

R'enh's eyes twinkled as he lifted his own drink.

Last updated on the October 18th 2025

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

Stew Party: Welcome to Ridge Wing!