Later

Writers: Eimi, Yvonne
Date Posted: 6th February 2007

Characters: Zebrekhan, Tsaera
Description: Zeb and Tsaera have a quick moment together at the Hatching Feast
Location: River Bluff Weyr
Date: month 1, day 13 of Turn 4

It had been fairly easy thus far to avoid Everlyin, but Tsaera knew that she couldn't hide behind her rank and the niceties it required forever. But perhaps a little while longer... she took a sip of her watered wine and approached Zebrekhan where he stood next to the wall, watching the dancing. "Haven't seen you in a while, Master Crafter. How've you been?"

"Rather bored, to tell the truth," Zeb said with a dramatic sigh. "Does this mean now that the Hatching is over I have my drinking partner back?"

"Absolutely." Sitting on the Sands all day drained her and made her irritable. It was hot enough at River Bluff without being stuck in a stuffy (albeit large) cavern. Tsaera smiled and stretched. "And I'll be able to get back into the sky. It's always such a relief!"

"I can imagine," he smiled, admiring the way her dress tunic flattered her form. Some women never seemed to age. "I don't think I've ever seen you dressed up so prettily, Tsaera."

"Thank you." Tsaera smiled in spite of herself. Everybody liked a complement. "And really, you just haven't been around here long enough. Hatchings, graduations, official meetings or Conclaves if I'm invited... like it or not, people judge you by how you dress. Like the brooch?" She pointed to the pin holding the loose overtunic closed over the light gold shirt beneath. "I had it specially commissioned from the Smith Hall. No matter what folk say about him, Daynar does fine work."

Zeb leaned in close, _very_ close, and inspected the brooch closely. Fingering it lightly he raised mischievous eyes to meet the Weyrwoman's. "Absolutely stunning," he grinned. Tsaera grinned back. "I knew you, of all people, would appreciate it."

His eyebrows raised slightly. "Are you so sure I was talking about the brooch?"

"I'm sure that I'm talking to a man who knows quality when he sees it," she shot back.

"Indeed I do," he nodded, reaching down to take her hand. "I could use a drink. How about you?"

"Shards, yes. But make sure that it's watered wine, please. White."

"Watered down? Are you afraid you would make a spectacle?"

Tsaera sighed. "There is a confrontation that I've been avoiding, and when I do face it, I'd like to do it sober."

"Who would confront you at a Hatching feast?" he asked incredulously.
Who would _dare_?

The Weyrwoman smiled and sipped her wine. "Did I ever mention to you that I've have children?"

"Ah," Zeb nodded, perfect understanding. Even a Weyrwoman's knots couldn't protect her from family. "Well, if you need a weyr to hide out in, I happen to have one all to myself."

"I may just take you up on that. Everlyin is... well. Did you attend the Hatching?" Tsaera asked, changing topics. "My grandson Impressed.
The second of the bronzes, too!"

"Metallic dragons run in your family then," the crafter grinned. "Congratulations. He Impressed well!"

"I hope so." Tsaera's smile faded slightly, her own worries about Felarin- now F'lin- echoing the issues that Everlyin had harped on ever since her son had come to the Weyr. Zeb noticed how her smile had taken on an almost forced quality. "Are you sure you want water in that wine?"

"I'm not a coward, Zeb. I'll not hide behind an artificial high." She sighed. "Besides, I'm in my daughter's bad books already. It'll only be worse if the next time I see her, I'm inebriated. I gave up alcohol officially, you know? After I was poisoned at the Conclave."

"That would lead one to lose their taste for the stuff," Zeb nodded. "I could find you a mug of ale instead, you know." She seemed to have little problem drinking alcohol in that form.

But she shook her head. "White wine is all right."

"Watered-down white it is then," he nodded. "Don't run off and hide while I'm gone now."

"I'll do my best," she said, grinning as he left her. Zeb cut a good profile as he made his way through the crowd toward the wine table.
Good, broad shoulders, a confidant walk and a cocky tilt to his head... Tsaera let her mind wander and imagine what might, might just happen that night. And then she spotted Everlyin, who was quite obviously looking for her. Her daughter was pale and her eyes wide, and Zeb was banished from Tsaera's thoughts as her admittedly somewhat latent motherly instincts came to the fore. Tsaera gulped down the rest of her glass and approached her daughter. "Everlyin?"

Everlyin's chin trembled. "What am I going to do?" she asked plaintively. Anger Tsaera had expected, but not this. Her daughter was usually so... put together. She looked fragile, suddenly.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" Tsaera put an arm around Everlyin and led her out of the crowd. "They all left me. I don't know what to do..." Everlyin pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes to keep back the tears. "First my husband, now Felarin. He's going to die."

"He's not going to die," Tsaera shot back, then sighed. She glanced over her shoulder to see that Zeb had returned to where she'd been standing earlier. Their eyes met, and she mouthed, 'Later,'. Zeb nodded his understanding. It might be much later by the look of things. Well, he would offer her a reason for distraction or a shoulder to lean on when she was ready. For now, he had a couple drinks to enjoy.

Last updated on the February 9th 2007

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