Logs:Appearances
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| RL Date: 20 February, 2015 |
| Who: Alida, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two heavy drinkers talk of their plans, deals. It doesn't go well. |
| Where: HRW Rider's Lounge |
| When: Late evening of day 3, month 1, turn 37 (Interval 10) . |
| Weather: Snow |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Riorde/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated |
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| Just a couple of days after the 'debacle,' Alida is still showing her face to the public...but not much. It's not a big departure from her usual habits, truly, though this time, nobody in the Lounge chooses to even bother to try and associate with the blueriding 'pariah.' In fact, a couple of those pounding back the drinks are at times talking a little too loudly about the blonde's 'fuck up' and how K'del's going to wring her neck, while other riders either only glance at the Glacier rider, or just avoid her utterly. And Alida? She's seated at the very back of the place, her features a mix of set and uncaring as she sips deeply from some mixed drink lowball glass. The woman veritably radiates 'fuck off.' R'hin hasn't been seen at the Weyr, which is not a surprise to the bluerider, given that up until recently they were meeting daily at the Hold. It's not until after Turnover that he shows up at the Weyr -- and not to dally about, Leiventh appearing above the Weyr, and angling directly for the rider's lounge. He's still stripping off gloves, flight jacket still zipped up, as he stops a couple of places in to survey the crowd. That's a habit, and even as he gaze passes over Alida, it continues, until he's gotten the lay of the land. Only then does he stride, deliberately and directly, towards the bluerider. It's unlikely he's oblivious to the mood she radiates; more likely, given it's R'hin, he just blithely ignores it. "Think it's your turn to buy me a drink," he says, unzipping his jacket, grinning down at her. The look given to 'Mister Smirky' - once she notices R'hin bearing down on her - is frosty at best, Alida choosing to remove cold green eyes from bronzerider to tabletop...reconcentrate on getting very tipsy. To his 'greeting' comes another cold look up - this time into grey eyes - then a quick fishing out of a coin from her pocket, the wooden wheel flicked uncaringly at him in time with her dark grunt, "Now piss off." Sip. With a sudden widening of grin, R'hin leans forward and adeptly snatches that coin off the table before it rolls off. Her victory seems certain when he turns towards the bar, whistling as he goes. He's there for a while, long enough that she might be assured of her privacy, but eventually, he's striding towards her again, this time with a bottle and two glasses in hand. Uninvited, he takes a seat, setting the bottle down between them, and the glasses beside. Thank Faran... Oh. Damn it. That's the look on the bluerider's face in tandem with R'hin's actions as she continues to drink and keep herself appraised of not only where the Wingleader is, but of the state of the room around her. It's a Guard thing. The blonde appears about ready to get up and leave when the pest approaches her little table, but instead settles back down into her chosen seat, Alida remaining silent and emotive as a brick wall. Maybe it's those glasses and the bottle he bears that win him her sufferage. For *now*. Meanwhile, the often taciturn woman polishes off her latest drink, nudges the dead soldier off to the side to meet its two mates in the 'empty graveyard.' R'hin doesn't say anything, just splashes liquid from that bottle into both glasses, nudges hers nearer, and with a silent toast in her direction -- accompanied by familiar, easy grin -- downs the contents in one hit. That done, he shrugs out of his jacket, and throws it over the chair nearest him. The shirt underneath is duty, well-worn, and plain, suitable clothes for a Hold laborer of some description. The glass she's awarded is lifted smoothly enough, sipped from with pointed concentration by the woman, who continues to look between her drink and the man across from her at the table. As long as R'hin appears to be 'tolerable,' Alida remains mostly-neutral, simply noting his manner and mode of dress while remaining silent. Hooking an arm over the back of the chair he's seated in, the bronzerider seems more interested in the other occupants than the bluerider with whom he shares the table. Occasionally, R'hin'll turn back to refill both glasses. It's the second -- or is it the third? -- glass that he says, "Talk is, they're going to hold a trial. Three, four days." As that news is delivered, pale eyes flicker back towards Alida, finally. His second or third, her first...from him, since Alida has less body mass than the bronzerider, she has to pace her consumption. Those pair of riders once being too loud have quieted down a little with R'hin's appearance at Alida's table, but they're both working towards drunk, and still making enough noise...though not about Alida, anymore. At their 'private' little table, those words are the first thing the man's said to evoke much more than the reflexive emote from the bluerider, though all she mutters this time is a tart, "Gotta keep up apprearances." A swig is taken, hard green eyes flicked to greys before the woman rejoins, "He's dead, no matter." Period. "He isn't any use to us dead. Dead can't talk," is R'hin's rejoinder. After a beat -- accompanied by thoughtful look -- he echoes, "Appearances," in precisely the same tone as she used. "I've heard the stories. I was there," at the Hold. "If you didn't get to talk to him before, doubt you will now. If there's more of them..." he grimaces. "Ought to keep an eye on your exile wingmate. I'll see about the others." This, apparently, deserves more alcohol for contemplation, reaching for the bottle. Sip, scowl, sigh. "Dead's got uses...just not many." Snerk. There's a dark look not directed at him for R'hin's words of getting the prisoner to talk, Alida noting just a little pissily, "Nope..." before drowning her sorrows somemore....and sneaking in a quick rejoinder of, "Now that ya got what ya likely wanted outta' me, I'm sure y'll run off ta K'del at some point in time ta report." Snork. "You ferget; nobody wants ta be seen with me hanging about 'em, these days...invisible 'r not." She pounds back the last of her glass, shoves it over roughly towards the bronzer for another. "Already done." Shrug. "What the fuck would I do that for? Not like he hasn't already torn strips off you, I imagine," R'hin's shoulder shifts, though he is interested, grinning suddenly. "Figure yourself some big pariah, huh? Well, you do radiate fuck off, pretty good. But," he pauses to refill her glass, nearly to the rim, "That's rarely stopped me before." His taps his fingers on the table. "What you ought to do is find some way to get back to the Hold... plead your case. Maybe they'll let you talk to him before they off him. They still owe you a favor, after all." His brow goes up, as if to wonder, don't they? "Fer the sake uv the Weyr, 'r at least the sake uv Savannah 'r yerself..." Alida notes with dark glibness, accepting the pour of booze with a grunt. "No need ta figure...though not completely, no." Her own grin is a black little death's head thing, soon concealed behind another sip of whisky. As for 'getting back' to the Hold...well, Alida can't help but jerk her gaze up to the bronzerider and bark out a loud and scoffing hit of black humor that lasts all of a quarter of a second before she nearly-glares laser holes right through his skull. "Say it straight, R'hin: What *you* think I ought ta do. Move yer own agenda forward...an' if the bluerider goes down in flames...oh well, at least it ain't me." 'Me' being R'hin. Though her alto is kept intentionally low, the vibrating intensity of it still amply conveys much of Alida's fury, disgust, betrayal, and self-disgust with, "Now why the fuck would I use up any potential 'favor'" (cue the scathing bitterness) "on you?" R'hin gives a snort for that, dismissive. Apparently he doesn't think it needs any more words, or defense, since he's dismissing it out of hand. His head tips, as he regards her for a moment, soberly serious. "Didn't think you'd be one to back out on a deal. Kept up my end of things -- till you got sent away from the Hold, anyway. And, I'm saying it because I'm willing to help. Leiventh and I could take you -- in and out. No one but you, me, and this liquid--" he lifts his glass, squints at the contents, then downs it, "Would know. I mean, I know I'm selfish, but I'm not that selfish." It's her latter comment that earns a sharp shake of his head, hands pressing against the table. "Not on me. Thought we already had this conversation? Or, are you keeping it for yourself? To get some pretty from a Lord Holder, some day? Seems to me," he takes a sharp breath, "Our job ought to be protecting the Weyr, and protecting our riders. If that isn't something you're interested in, you should've set me straight the other day." Now *that* fires her up, Alida glaring more daggers at R'hin while she grumbles darkly, "Fuck *you*, R'hin. I *kept* my word." Getting him and a few Savannah riders into the Hold. Just because they're ALL out now doesn't count. "Willing ta help... help *yerself*, you mean!" the bluie growls low, her whole form somehow puffing up with her growing anger. "I'm sick ta death uv' being used!" The glass in her hand is unknowingly squeezed as a fist forms about it, the blonde pale skin starting to pinken a little at her throat, her eyes starting to narrow and leap with inner fires. "Seems like *all* uv' 'em: Weyr, Hold, Craft, protect their own asses first, and at the expense uv others, if necessary. DON'T give me that bullshit." Glare. "I've showed my loyalty, my...consideration fer the greater good..." By this time, Alida fairly spits the words out, her bile bubbling quickly to the surface...while outside, Ilicaeth quickly alights upon the narrow ledge to the Lounge, his deep growl audible within. "I've seen what I ultimately get fer it, too..." And with no warning, the testy woman jerks to her feet, slams back the rest of her drink, and thumps the heavy glass down resoundingly upon tabletop, which draws enough startled and/or considering stares from all around. And off she strides, creating a bit of an invisible 'bow wave' with her rage that cuts a narrow path through the small crowd towards the exit. Those hands of the bronzerider's, pressed against the table, flex a little as R'hin straightens, pale eyes meeting Alida's directly. "I've never hidden my agenda from you, Alida," he says, with an even tone, even if there's an undertone of heat at her response. "I gave you my word last time. I didn't betray your trust, and I upheld everything you've asked of me. But," he stands as she does, "If you're sore about K'del slapping your arse, don't blame that shit on me. You fucking drink, you serve your time, you go fuck some guy, and you get over it, and maybe when you've stopped wiggling around and take your lumps, we can have a conversation." Some of that speech comes in low words as he paces her -- oblivious to, or more likely uncaring of that mood she carries with her, determined to drive the point home. Drunk is no time to try and argue in any way with Alida, and she steadfastly ignores the bronzerider in favor of hurling herself aboard Ilicaeth's neck, and taking her leave of the entire sharding Weyr in a dragon-directed blip Between down South. If the blonde remembers R'hin's parting words the next morning, she keeps it to herself. |
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