Logs:Before Iovniath's Flight
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| RL Date: 11 April, 2009 |
| Who: Eila, K'del, Leova, T'rev, Yuliye |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del celebrates his turnday. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 6, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern. Eila's eyebrows quirk just a little she chuckles a soft sort of chuckle. "Could just start following Tiriana around if that's the sort of interesting you're looking for." Except then her eyes are widening a little and she's cupping a hand over her mouth and between her fingers she groans apologetically, (although not without a faint, breathy laugh), "I didn't say that! Oh." Onward to other things, please: "you know Leova? She was a weyrlingmaster of mine. Friend, too," she has to add, and then ticks off on a finger, "-- and L'vae's my wingleader. Odd how things like that work, isn't it? Small world." For matters Kelerith-related, she just has another small sigh, and reverts to her standard, "But at least now he's older, he's getting /better/." Right? That's all that matters, right? Laughing, T'rev shakes his head. "That's okay, I know Tiriana. She's from Telgar and I Impressed there, so I knew her for a couple of turns. Plus, y'know, I Impressed with Rev. I mean R'uen. Fort's Weyrleader so -- yeah. Get plenty of Tiriana stories." He winks over at the bluerider, looks up at the barkeep as the klah is brought and he smiles at the man. "Thanks." Payment is made and T'rev curls a hand around the waiting mug, pours the brew in. "Yeah, Leova's -- a friend," T'rev says carefully, looks down at the mug. "Mecaith caught Vrianth the first time she rose," he adds, voice steady. "L'vae's a friend too though ah -- we met after one of Vrianth's flights." He laughs a little sheepishly. "Pattern there see. Vrianth. Mecaith's kind of got a thing for her." He blows across the surface of his mug, nods a few times about Kelerith. "Yeah, older and wiser, right?" K'del has been out on the Ledge for - oh, much of the day, drinking beer with buddies, most of whom seem intent on buying the pitchers of beer themselves. Now, however, the turnday boy himself makes the wander in, heading for an empty spot at the bar which, conveniently, happens to be not far from T'rev and Eila. The barkeep has someone else to serve, after delivering T'rev's klah, so he drums his fingers on the counter while he waits, and glances around idly. Eila! T'rev! "Eila! T'rev! Hello!" The bluerider doesn't seem quite so horrified after T'rev's reassurances, and she lightly rolls her shoulders backward; nods, and turns that hand-over-mouth into a hand-through-hair, and eventually she just seeks out her glass again and drinks. Once she's available to speak again, there's no traces of anything other than genial 'you-know-someone-I-know' in her voice and she says with a grin, "small world that revolves around Vrianth, maybe? Only Kelerith's never caught one of her flights, so." Maybe it's a joke? By the soft laughter, it is. Then: "K'del, hey! Heard it was your turnday today from a little birdy!" Since you can't make it out to the patio without noticing the festivities. "Happy birthday," she offers, lifting her glass to him. "Yeah, focal point there," T'rev says with a little laugh. "And who knows, maybe someday," who goes on about Kelerith maybe-catching-Vrianth. He takes a sip from his mug, looks up at K'del's approach and casts a sunny smile towards the younger bronzerider. "Hey K'del! How's -- oh hey! Happy turnday. You gotta let me buy you a round," he says cheerily, hand held out to Cadejoth's rider. Something though, beyond him perks his attention and brown eyes go towards the entrance of the bar, the ledge just outside. Leova heads in from the patio ledge. K'del is standing at the bar not far from T'rev and Eila, waiting on the busy barkeep. The greetings - and, in particular, /birthday/ greetings - of the other two draw a goofy (tipsy) smile from the young bronzerider, who says, "Thanks! Both of you. I-- yeah. Just celebrating out there, with a few people. Birthday's got to be an excuse for something, right?" Totally cool; birthday? Not really a big deal. Yeah, right. He accepts T'rev's hand, and though his head tilts slightly for the other bronzerider's shift of attention, what he adds is only, "Wouldn't say no to that, thanks." Somewhere between T'rev's hailing of the birthday boy, and the birthday boy's reply back, Yuliye's attention is caught, the slender brunette peering way down along from her own seat at the bar surrounded by a trio of equally hot friends dressed to the nines. Studio 54, welcome to Pern. Though he might not see her or her dazzling smile now, it won't take long after her call out to the rest of the bar, that alto pitched clear and high, "Seems like we gotta turnday boy on her hands! Next round's on me if y'all think he deserves a turnday spanking." Humor in words gives way to a bubbly laughter and a finger wave to catch K'del's attention. Eila blinks, points out, with a flash of a grin for T'rev's own laugh, "I didn't mean -- and that would be cheating, you know, it's not as though we can retroactively pretend like we met through one of her flights if we didn't. Though it might be good for a laugh." Anyway. The bluerider gives her head a shake as though to clear it of cobwebs and musty things, and turns on the birthday boy with a swing of her feet. Birthdays: totally cool. "How old are you now, K'del?" She tilts her head back, thinking. "Seventeen? You were, what, fifteen when we were candidates? -- woosh, time's flown, eh?" A sudden face pulled for the thought of birthday spankings, and she motions for the door with a stage whisper, "quick! Hide while you still have the chance!" T'rev shakes K'del's hand firmly smiling widely still. "All right then, name your drink, K'del," the bronzerider continues jovially though his gaze is flickering just over the younger man's shoulder like he's trying to spot someone coming in from the ledge. Yuliye's hail though brings his gaze back inward and T'rev laughs again. "Oho, well what d'you say, K'del?" he continues merry, then releases the other man's hand and turns back to Eila, shoots her a brief, warm smile. "I hear you," he tells her simply and reaches over again, aiming to give her shoulder another light pat, before he pulls his klah mug towards himself. It takes a moment for the greenrider's eyes to adjust, a moment spent rubbing bare arms from the cold: relative cold, it must be, just the cave's shadow after the sweltering sun. But someone else enters from behind her, someone taller, hurrying her along and then she's in the Snowasis proper instead of just the edge to the ledge. It's become a familiar gesture, that casual glance towards the bar to see who's working, who's not, this time extending along the line of stools. Studio 54? Leova will find herself one of those nooks instead, even if she has to slide over an abandoned and not-yet-bussed drink to do it. K'del's grasp on T'rev's hand is equally firm, and after a moment's thought, he says, "Just beer'd be fine. Don't want to drink myself out of a good time, later tonight. Thanks, T'rev." Eila's guess at his age draws a nod, and, "Seventeen, right. Shells - two turns. Time flies." That's /all/ he gets to say, however, before Yuliye's announcement has his head swivelling, followed by the rest of him. Pink flushes his cheeks, but his expression is otherwise not outright embarrassed; he gives the woman from Crom a considering glance. "From you? Guess I'd volunteer myself!" Happy, happy day. Yuliye isn't above dangling a carrot and reeling it back. Her laughter brightens her face, those hazel eyes set sparkling with fulfilled amusement: "Keep dreaming, kid." There might not be a spanks on the horizon, but she does extricate herself from her cohorts in order to stalk a slinky path to the trio at the other end and inserts herself by K'del - in between people if she must with an elbow braced on the counter. "Seventeen?" If she'd heard about his birthday, she certainly doesn't need confirmation on the age that's been bandied about. "Yuliye." She has no free hand, but the greeting extends to both Eila and T'rev with turns of her little chin. Eila's just finishing tilting up her glass, finishing the rest of whatever-was-sparkly-and-pale, and returns Yuliye's greeting with an inclination of her head. But all this talk of drink has her idling twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers, and then she excuses herself to catch up with the bartender and get a refill; there's a drink in it for K'del, too, if she's got the marks for it in her pocket. She'll stay for a while longer, catch up with the bronzeriders and exchange pleasantries otherwise, but not for too long, and then she'll slip out with a quiet farewell. "Beer it is," T'rev agrees readily and signals the keep, mouths 'beer' and puts the marks down on the bar, while gesturing towards K'del. Yuliye's approach is marked by another brief glance, appreciative, but the bronzerider's focus is caught again by movement near the entrance and his eyes stay there this time as Leova enters and he marks her path into that nook. Up goes his mug, several long drinks taken from it as if for fortification and then he smiles around at the group. "T'rev," for Yuliye's greeting, "bronze Mecaith's. Pleasure t'meetcha. And seventeen? Shells K'del, I was your age when I Impressed," he adds with a laugh. For Eila, he has one last smile as he pushes away from the bar and out of the potential Yuliye/K'del sandwich. "'Scuse me, there's someone I need to catch up with," he notes and with a quick refill of his mug from that pitcher, he heads across the bar to lean against the edge of Leova's nook with a lopsided grin and a ready: "Hey there." K'del manages /not/ to look too disappointed for the disappearing carrot, and just grins at Yuliye, instead. "It'll be my pleasure to," he tells her, all wide eyed and not quite innocent. At all. Ever. "And yes, seventeen. K'del." That last would, presumably, be his name. He looks a little rueful for T'rev's comment on his age, nodding, his mouth opening to say something more - but it doesn't quite make it out before the bronzerider heads off towards Leova's nook. So. K'del accepts the beer placed in front of him, and goes back to considering Yuliye. Yuliye leans into that counter; she's a talented leaner, having mastered the art of maximum body shape-age combined with absolute innocence and that completely casual air. That, 'I have no idea why you'd be staring where you shouldn't be' look. "Seventeen. I remember seventeen," she says, her drink shifting hands so she might free one to push back K'del's blond hair, allowing that finger to just linger that one second too long at the tip of his ear. "Tell me, what you've done today already, how you've celebrated, and all the dreams you hope to fulfill while you're seventeen, Kuuh-dell?" "Evenin'," is what Leova greets the Fortian bronzerider with, a deliberate echo of his own Nerat drawl. That, and a half-smile, a nod towards the bar: "Innerestin' company you been keeping. Don't he look proud?" Not that it's full-on evening, yet, but give it time. "Evenin'," T'rev drawls back, face merry, though there's a certain keenness in his eyes as he takes in the greenrider. "K'del? Yeah. Good guy. Met him a while back in here, actually," he drawls out by way of answer. "Don't know the girl though," with a nod for Yuliye. As Eila departs though, he gestures towards the bluerider. "Eila I do know though. We both got caught up in Leisath's flight down Ista-way. One of few times Mecaith's gone after a green who ain't Vrianth." He takes a breath, nods to the seat across the way. "Mind if I join you? Happily get you a drink," he offers too. " And K'del shifts, so that he, too, can lean, though his is actually casual, and looks it: not quite cool enough, not quite enough to not look awkward. He doesn't react, to her fingers in his hair, on his ear, except to raise his eyebrows and transfer his mug from one hand to the other. "Slept in," he begins, this hardly exciting litany, "wandered down here to have drinks with friends, and here I am - still. Not so exciting, but it's been nice. Supposed to have dinner with the family tomorrow, and-- dreams?" He laughs. "Does getting laid a lot count as a dream? No, nothing specific. Trying to focus on taking things as they come. Suspect I'm too young for promotion, even yet." Even at /seventeen/. "Suitably uninteresting for you-- Yuliye?" He tastes the name, tests it. "Did you now," and Leova eyes the toffee-haired teenager, borrowed accent slipped somewhere by the wayside. The teenager and... can she refer to him as his companion? Yet? One corner of her mouth curls up, and a tick later, that smile deepens. But she defers, "Don't know so much about /her/. Eila'd be another story," only T'rev's gone on and she's drawing patterns with a forefinger in the pooled condensation left by that abandoned glass. Not-quite-patterns. "Sit. S'why I came in, this early." A beat passes, the hand about his ears dropping to play with the stem of the girly drink she carries, all toxic in its pinkness. For his raised brows, there's her own too, fazed more by his lack of reaction than his dreams, though that gives her the opportunity to dimple about her smile and lift one shoulder in a 'cute' shrug. "Suitably interesting enough. About the same as my day. Slept in, wandered the halls, met with a few of the Weyr's ranking crafters for lunch and now, I'm here. With them-," a hand gestures idly over her shoulder to the trio of pretty girls she's left behind. "Do you need another drink?" Patterns, not quite, on the table, traced in left-behind liquid. T'rev watches their formation, then offers jovially: "He told on me," and slides into that seat, mug set down and hands wrapped around it. He might've been about to say something else, but he looks up at her at those words, something complex flickering behind his eyes and the chipper expression he's been maintaining starts to slip away, seriousness coming to roost. "How've you been, since I last saw you?" is what he asks next though, eyes on her face. K'del's gaze follows Yuliye's hand towards the trio of pretty girls; they, too, get a briefly appraising look, but, really, his attention is fairly quick to return to the one in front of him, pink drink and all. "And what is it that you might do, to make it a more interesting day? This day, any day?" K'del indicates his mostly full drink with a shake of his head, appending, "And no, I just got this one, but thank you. Nice, all these people willing to buy me drinks. Should be my turnday every day." His eyelashes flutter as he laughs, though it's not exactly a funny joke. "If he hadn't? Wouldn't be here." This early. Leova's gaze lifts to her companion even as her shoulders slip back, forearms resting on the small table's edge rather than, quite, braced. Where the not-quite-patterns intersect, they thicken with collected volume. Where they thin, they begin to dry. "Holding up. Getting decent hours in the infirmary," without prepending /dragon/, it being the one that matters. "You?" While K'del's gaze drifts off, Yuliye's own passes sidelong over her shoulder to find where T'rev went, but given the nature of nooks, gives up the search as fruitless to return all that charming attention onto the one in front of her. "If I hadn't told you my name, I could think of enough pleasant ideas to make our night a lot more interesting, but alas. One more of these, please." It doesn't matter if the bartender's busy, she'll flag him down with a finger that waggles in the air that then drops to indicate her pink drink that's nowhere near done. "Sometimes, I get nice dragonriders like yourself, to taxi me to far off distant places I might otherwise never get a chance to see. " "Helpful then," T'rev says with fondness in his voice for Mecaith and his eyes narrow for a moment, a low chuckle in his voice. "So much heat ..." he murmurs softly, passes a hand over his forehead and looks down at his mug, makes the spiked klah swirl around and around. "Good, glad t'hear it," he says, looks up again, smile back. "Was worried for a bit." He offers this up lightly enough, though the corner of his mouth pulls up, a touch self-deprecating. "Interesting cases, or just the usual? As for us, things're pretty good. Still no end in sight to our little fabric problems, but there might be somethin' about that soon. Wing's good, though there's been some issues with folks wantin' to dial down on drillin' with it bein' Interval n' all. Had a few good chats with R'uen lately. Made some new friends." "My knowing your name makes a difference?" K'del's tipsy. Not enough to slur his words, but enough that he sounds just slightly stupid as he asks this question. He's not really helping himself; he does look cute doing it, though. He takes a swig from his glass, and swallows it, then adds, "One of the benefits of being in a Weyr, I suppose. We're always willing to explore new places, try new things. Though - never did say that /I/ was nice." Flutter. But, also, "What is it, that stuff you're drinking? It's very--" Pink. To K'del, Cadejoth is a distant rumble (is that snow in the distance? Ice? Just cold?), a twang of metal against metal. « D'you need to keep drinking, K'del? You're fine as you are! » To Cadejoth, K'del projects, « Shut up. It's my /turnday/. I'll do whatever I want, Cadejoth, and don't you dare try and stop me. Besides, Yuliye's kind of cute. Maybe... » "It is." Admiration colors her sweet voice as she regards the pink drink now lifted to the light. Yuliye fails at answering questions posed of her, for the most part, picking, choosing, blithely bypassing what she wishes. "It does." Pause; enough to think or pretend to think with a tilt of her head and a finger to her chin. "Buuut, we could start the night over, you and I. Use aliases, pretend the first ten minutes didn't happen." Being shorter than him makes it all the more easy to lean forward and look up with affected naivety softening all her features. "Hi," she murmurs, all huskily, "I'm Junie." To K'del, Cadejoth projects, « I don't like her. » The image of Yuliye wavers; darkens. « You should stick to the others. » Milani. Stronger. Other women. Any of them. And the ice - it's there again, more visible. « Don't. Please. » He says that, and goosebumps rise up the greenrider's arms. She doesn't rub them this time. Isn't looking towards the bar either, hasn't since those first few comments: Yuliye could be giving K'del a lap dance by now and she wouldn't see. At least, until the cheering started. Leova says, "Good to hear that too." And: "More or less the usual. Don't think it makes sense, dial down the drilling? Some, anyhow." And, at last, with a long look for not just his expression, "Chats." She's studying him instead, as though she could see old bruises beneath T'rev's skin, never mind hers. T'rev sets his mug down very deliberately and sets it aside. His hands rub together for a moment, then turn over, backs to the table and extend across it towards Leova. Maybe it's for those goosebumps. Did he actually see them? Or is it the oddity of dragon minds bouncing things back and forth and that increasing chill that's sweeping through the Weyr, but largely mental? "Mm, we're still drillin' five days out of seven. I can see how they might want to cut back a little and focus a bit on other things. Not down-time, but other tasks. I'm thinkin' it through. Talkin' to people." She says chats and he sees the way she studies him and he draws a long slow breath. "I can tell you 'bout that if y'like, but it ... it ain't what I came for. Leova --" he starts and then stops, gaze going inward. For a Weyr that's been on edge all day, the release finally comes late in the evening, when the sun is heading down behind the clouds rolling in from the west. It's then that Iovniath, waiting patiently on her ledge for so long, finally takes off toward the feeding pens, a pulse of pure cold howling out from her and over the Weyr's dragons. She streaks over the bowl to the corrals to slice down a herdbeast. And thus does all hell officially break loose. K'del's mouth opens, his brows narrowing questioningly, but Yuliye's transformation into Junie forestalls actual comment. Can't ask Junie what Yuliye means, after all, right? He sets his beer down, reaching to take her hand - if she'll let him - and squeeze it warmly. "Junie," he says, whether or not he has the hand, tipping his head into something between a nod and a bow. "A pleasure to meet you. And I am--" suddenly frowning, actually, and glancing away. Outside. Oh look, he's gone pale. To K'del, Cadejoth is aloft, alight. He's all white and cold and /alive/, the chill burning through his metal, sparking and ringing out. To Cadejoth, K'del projects, « What are you doing? » A pause; then, a shuddering realisation. « You were supposed to warn me! We agreed. We're not staying. We need to /go/. Stop that, Cadejoth. STOP IT. » It's too late. Cadejoth is-- there's no regret from the bronze, just a dragon on fire with cold, with Iovniath, who looms so heavily, gleaming in his thoughts. No apologies. (Cadejoth to K'del) Oh, she'll let him! Suddenly all pleased again, not that there was much difference between her disappointed and pleased tonight, but still, Yuliye-nee-Junie is about to take one dainty sip from her glass when K'del goes pale. And in going pale, turns away. That's not happy. "Are you- ok?" All those words. Her fingertips rattle against the tabletop, that pooled water shaking as the surface shakes, a miniature earthquake until her fingers splash right into it. Her hands rock back on their heels. Wet fingertips should ice over, but don't. "T'rev?" And then Leova says, "/Don't/ reckon that's what you came for either," that with certainty she surely mightn't have with another man. "You going to go?" Go. Chase. Go. /Leave/. "Iovniath," says K'del, through gritted teeth, his hand suddenly squeezing Yuliye's as though he wants to crush it. "Cadejoth -- we /agreed/." His gaze falls back on his companion only briefly, utterly apologetic, not to mention furious - but that's probably not got anything to do with her. "I'm sorry. I have to-- /fuck/." At least he'd already set his drink down. He releases her, finally, head shaking, and runs. Fuck. |
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