Logs:Boreal Is Coming
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| RL Date: 19 September, 2014 |
| Who: Lia, K'del, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lia plays poker, while K'del and R'hin play distraction. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 11, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
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| Autumn put up a pretty good fight today, trying to keep winter at bay. There wasn't any new snow and while cold, the cloudless, sun-filled day has done wonders for Weyr morale and given the Snowasis' night business a boost. The bar is relatively packed, several tables filled with people participating in an impromptu poker tournament. One of the seats is filled by Lia, a reserved smile keeping her expression serene and her hand close as she considers the others at the table. Poker's not a game K'del plays often, and tonight's no different; he's hovering about the edges to watch, rather than participating, his expression largely obscured by the glass of whisky he's been nursing, slowly, this past half hour at least. If his presence is off-putting to some of the players, the general lack of seating gives him an excuse... and he does keep shifting, hovering here for a time, then moving on to stand behind someone else, instead. Now? Now, it's Lia's turn. The poker game isn't the only game in town, so to speak -- there's been a darts game between Savannah and Glacier, though it seems to have devolved into a game of inventive insult-slinging instead. Under guise of getting another round of drinks, R'hin's found refuge at the bar, leaning against it with body half twisted to watch the poker-game-in-progress, though he's made no move to join as yet. Instead, once he secures a drink, he moves on over to K'del's side, remarking in a casual undertone that can no doubt be heard by the Boreal greenrider, "The games at the rider's lounge are so much more cut-throat," with a low-voiced laugh. She'd have to be singularly unobservant to have not seen K'del make his way around, standing behind various players and when it's her turn to have the Weyrleader's favor (in such fashion as it were), her hand falls to the table, as to be unseen. The final card is turned over by the dealer and the greenrider exhales a short laugh, "The river'll get you ever time." Lia slides her unturned cards into the center and considers the chips she has left. One of the Snowasis' barmaids weaves between the various crowds, pushing behind K'del and R'hin with a tray of pitchers for another table way beyond there. Some beer splashes onto the ground near their feet, but she doesn't stop. "The riders' lounge always does have a different atmosphere, doesn't it? Different--" K'del might say more, but he's both conscious of the way Lia hides her cards, and then, forced to take a step in towards her as that barmaid pushes past. It puts him in immediate proximity to the greenrider, and even though it lasts only a moment, he's quick to apologise: "Sorry, sorry." At least the beer is the only thing that hits the ground; K'del's whisky stays in its glass, well away from greenrider heads. R'hin barely notices the spill; that is to say, he's rather distracted by the barmaid rather than what she's doing, and some of it probably splashes on his boots unnoticed. "Hm?" belatedly he's turning back, only to notice the apology isn't for him, so much as the greenrider, a low (rather suggestive) chuckle escaping him as he notices. The round folds with a bluerider taking a rather measly pot. "It's ok." She doesn't turn around when jostled, and certainly doesn't look to find K'del behind her. She already knows. The dealer looks to Lia expectantly, then slips his gaze up to find K'del and R'hin, possibly overhearing some of their conversation enough to respond with a quip, "Different isn't always better. You in or out, kid?" He asks of the greenrider, who responds with a careless toss of her ante into the pot. "Have you ever seen me out, F'gor? Give me something good this time." The barmaid, on her return, sans pitchers, has the temerity to tweak R'hin's left butt cheek before sauntering back to the bar. It's important it's the left one. "Never said it was," is K'del's blithe answer, made even as he's glancing back at R'hin, abruptly amused by the other bronzerider's expression - and that chuckle, too. "Different is just different." The Weyrleader doesn't move on from Lia's proximity, though at least he's no longer in her personal space. He does keep glancing over her shoulder, though, as if in the continued hopes of seeing her cards. "Barmaids are better down here. Might need to do something about that." Except that the lounge doesn't really have barmaids. "Kid?" R'hin snorts at that. "F'gor, she's old enough to be a mother several times over, don't think you can call her a kid anymore. And--" that moment of defense passes swiftly enough, suitably distracted by K'del's suggestion. "That could be a good idea. I'd consider trying to steal that one." A tip of head indicates the passing barmaid. Certainly, the Savannah Wingleader's suffered worse indignities, and it does get his attention. With her goal met, the barmaid leans on the counter with her ample gifts on display for the next man who should walk up. Somehow, he decides to get a rather expensive concoction and tip handsomely on it. Somehow. From across the room, should she catch R'hin's eye, the blonde will favor the rider with a sassy wink. "You're a kid to me too, kid. I remember when you Impressed that bronze of yours." F'gor finishes dealing and levels R'hin with a look. "Don't you be sassing me just because you're back here and a wingleader to boot. I remember the dressing downs y'got back in the day. Now hush. You're distracting that pretty one beneath you from counting the cards. Oh yes, you think I didn't notice, did you?" Flushing up her neck, Lia doesn't deny it. Or confirm it for that matter. "Want me to fold then, if that's what you think?" The greenrider twists to look behind and up at the men behind her, "What say you two?" "And I remember when you gave me sass the whole time I was Weyrleader. Turnabout," R'hin says, without a trace of apology, and a gleaming of pale eyes to suggest he's enjoying the banter with the older rider rather more than might be otherwise obvious from his words. Brows flicker upwards for a moment, glancing at K'del, before he turns attention on Lia, a surprised chuckle escaping him for a moment. "Don't," he encourages her. "Just to show him up, whether your cards are good or not." And he might have seen them, but it isn't obvious in his expression. "Aww pshaw with you." F'gor waves the bronzerider off dismissively, "You're just still mad my Mienth almost caught Teonath that one time and almost, almost supplanted you." This causes titters around the table, breaking even the most solemn of pokerfaces. "If your blue could chase and almost catch my green, I will never count cards at your table again," says Lia with a laugh, though there's still no actual confirmation that she's currently counting cards. Right? "Raise." Two people fold, leaving three left at the table meeting Lia's raise. The flop appears with an ace, three, and five in varied suites. To Leiventh, Daehyeth's thoughts project suddenly, « Monaco Reachian bronze. Monaco bronze. Reachian bronze. Weyrleader bronze. » Each title is said then discarded, as if the green is testing each one out against the dragon she bespeaks in fluid, liquid tones. "Almost," R'hin's eyes go upwards. "I almost once knocked your teeth out, and I almost once definitely nearly slept with your daughter--" a pause, as if he has to stop and consider. "--was it your daughter? I can't remember. We'd had so much to drink, and I..." it's like he's forgotten there's a game for a moment, though pale eyes flicker downward, a tiny, pleased twitch at the corner of his mouth as Lia presses on. He makes a small, nearly inaudible murmur to K'del. In contrast, Leiventh is silent at each of those titles, though the cold winter winds of his thoughts do stray towards the green, thoughtfully considering, even if he doesn't share his opinion aloud. (To Daehyeth from Leiventh) "My mother. That's who you slept with." F'gor takes as good as he gives, and sometimes beats himself up for the audience's benefit. "She said she'd had better. I told her you'd probably had worse." Lia's two cards fan in the slightest way, just allowing the men behind her to see -- almost as if on purpose. Two aces. But her next bet is conservative, preceded by a placid, "Raise." The others follow suit. It's only after her bet that she remarks, "Careful, old man, you don't want to give off the impression that you have friends, do you? At the rate you're bickering with Leiventh's rider, you might be giving the impression you're getting soft in your doddering years." All fifty of them. To Leiventh, Daehyeth's thoughts dance backwards, « Weyrleader. Reachian. Monaco. Monaco Reachian. » If dragon thoughts could be breathless, the green's thoughts carry the illusion of it in a wind that dances over a spring valley: nature's exhale, and then her decision. « Reachian. » A beat. « She'll win. » "Well, I was trying to spare you the gory details, but yes. She taught me a great deal, most of which I've passed onto your daughter. I wish I could say I was the only one," R'hin sighs, as if denied, grinning at one of the other players, "Am I right, N'ven?" With a shake of his head, he adds, "She'll snare herself a very happy man one of these days." He nods as if it were the most natural thing. His hand rests on the back of Lia's chair, allowing him a casual glimpse of the cards. Eventually, he steps in, with an abrupt and certain: « Dragon, » as if that's all that need be said. Still, the shifting of winter winds suggests he agrees with her assessment about Lia, at least, even if her rider doesn't hold all that much interest for the bronze. (To Daehyeth from Leiventh) "You assume," says Lia, as the turn of a 'five' elicits a wince from the greenrider. And then her words pause, as she assesses the situation, considers each other player in turn in a great show for those who know of her cards. "Stay." But someone's caught her disconcernment and N'ven, who can't be distracted from the task at hand, smirks and tosses in a hefty bid. "Raise." It's only then that Lia resumes speaking in the most nonchalant of knowing ways, "You make the poor assumption in thinking his daughter prefers men." "Oh," R'hin exhales at Lia's nonchalance, as if the idea had never occurred to him. "Perhaps we should find out? We could each proposition her, just to see, I mean it's good to know for sure. Except if you win it'd be a huge blow that I don't think my ego could take," the Wingleader allows with a purse of lips. "What do you think, F'gor?" Lia, with a purse of her lips that quickly thins, meets N'ven's raise, and glances at her cards again, as if ascertaining she's made the right choice. If she loses, this'll be the third in a row she's lost: a poor fate for a card counter, for sure. "Leave my daughter out of this," F'gor starts, and then rethinking, shakes his head. "Oh g'wan with the two of you. I'd like to see the two of you try to get her skirts off and not run away crying." Oh, father of the year. Lia pauses to consider the state of the table. "Raise," another of her small raise, followed by a larger one by the next player, until it's her turn again and she pauses, then matches. The river falls, inconsequential. The ending is only slightly painful for some, but Lia wins and this time, she rises. "I'm done for tonight." "I appreciate your blessing, F'gor. It means a lot." Well, actually that's overstating things, if the curve of lips from R'hin is any indicator. When Lia wins, he barely seems surprised, though there's a dutiful clucking of tongue directed to the older bluerider, before pale eyes flicker towards Lia with a sudden, guileless grin. "Since you're a rich woman, perhaps you'd care to buy me a drink?" To Leiventh, Daehyeth stills in the face of the step in, the abruptness that carries such certainty in his one word. She floats light motes about that word, turning letters into a dragon by elongating one letter, rounding others, casting shadows with her lights and 'Dragon' turns into an actual dragon. « Dragon, » she agrees. « Mine? » The toddler-like temerity with which she claims Leiventh, if for a moment, is followed by the sensation of laughter, and into the skies, the lightly feathered green dragon rises. The brisk winter chill in the cloudless skies means the moon highlights every curve of her dancing form. Lia gathers her marks, sliding them into a waiting pouch. Her turn finds R'hin there, though K'del long gone, and those brown eyes of hers levels a good look at R'hin, studying his face and the stance with which he carries himself. "I'd hazard you probably get free drinks enough on your own merits or lackthereof, without propositioning wealthy women for their hard earned marks. But the next time you go to this rider's lounge of yours, I might be convinced to accompany you." He watches -- his attention can be felt -- but he dares not come any closer, breezes chasing the tail of the green as she soars into the skies. « No. » Again, there is a finality, a certainty. And yet Leiventh considers, and after a moment, something rushed and brief and heated preceding the addition of, « But perhaps one day. » (To Daehyeth from Leiventh) For his perhaps, Daehyeth has amusement. « Perhaps, » singsong in return carries a complete lack of conviction. It's a tease that is dismissive of that one day. In kind, she turns his negative into a different word by sliding in a 'w' there. Now? But without waiting, she's up in the air, soaring past the high edges of the Weyr and towards one of the moons, turning into a draconic silhouette against the silvered light. (To Leiventh from Daehyeth) "But I'd remember if I'd propositioned you before," R'hin continues, after pale eyes have met hers, a low laugh escaping him at the accusation, though he doesn't seem to deny it. As to her latter proposition, his hand drops casually from the back of her abandoned chair, as he says, "There'll be a game later in the seven. I'll have Leiventh tell Daehyeth. Though -- I will warn my wingmates that you," a gesture at the table behind him, something amused creeping into his voice, "Are going to be a challenge. We do so like those." The staid bronze remains unmoved from his position on the rim of the bowl, though he does watch. Tempting, she may be, but not enough to stir Leiventh from the throne he's claimed as his own. (To Daehyeth from Leiventh) Lia's, "Of course," is of the blandest variety, sardonic simply for the complete lack of emotion in it. "Warn Savannah that Boreal is coming for them." The greenrider saunters off, leaving a table behind that picks up in the aftermath of her win with another round. R'hin can't but help the snort that escapes him, one of both surprise and doubt. Of course, it doesn't stop him watching the greenrider's retreat, before he heads in the other direction to seek out K'del again. |
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