Logs:Bro You Later
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| RL Date: 23 June, 2015 |
| Who: V'ros, A'rist |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'rist is leaving on a bronze dragon and he doesn't know when he'll be back again! |
| Where: Winter Warmth Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 1, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, B'stean/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Language! |
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| It's a late, dark, foggy night and unbearably cold, but V'ros'-always-warm-weyr is suitably so. He's, unsurprisingly, alone inside the weyr, sitting down at his slim, worn desk, staring at a collection of scattered puzzle pieces. His chin is cupped in his hand, fingers curling around his mouth, and his brows are knitted in consternation, his gaze below, focused. Any visitors wouldn't be greeted by Zmeyth, because he's off courting greens up on the Weyr rim. Lythronath is not courting tonight. Lythronath is busy tonight. Lythronath is busy taking A'rist to V'ros' ledge. He lands. He stays. For once, he doesn't taunt Zmeyth about being in his territory. For once, he doesn't roar to let everyone else know that he's in Zmeyth's territory. For once, Lythronath just waits. And A'rist goes straight in, A'rist who, studiously, hasn't seen his friend in a good week now, even when normally they'd at least brush shoulders accidentally in the caverns, he goes straight in like he owns the place. Straight up to that desk, barely managing to strip his jacket off his shoulders. And thus standing over V'ros and his puzzle, he declares, "We're going to Ierne." The legs of V'ros' chair, that had been suspended while he leaned forward, rap noisily against the stone floor when they land. "Huh?" He looks up. "You're.. going.. to Ierne? When? Why?" One arm bends on the desk, on the puzzle pieces. "Seems.. sudden." A beat. "Irianke.. do that?" Nod. Nod. And then, to the question, "No." It sounds almost like a question itself, except backwards; the upward lift is at the beginning, and A'rist wrinkles his nose and draws his eyebrows together. "That's what I thought, too, but." He shrugs, and reaches to rub at the back of his neck. There are marks there, under his shirt, that look alarmingly like teeth. "K'del, I guess. And F'manis, maybe. And... well, me, now." V'ros is respectful of his friend enough not to speak, and when he's done, he just grunts and gets up, reaching for a half-drained bottle on the floor by his desk. "Drink?" he offers, but takes the first pull himself. He grimaces and holds the bottle out to A'rist by the neck. "What're you.. gonna do? There? Like R'hin or something?" He might see the bite marks, but he doesn't mention them.. yet. "Not like R'hin," answers A'rist, reaching for that bottle, but just holding it in front of him to consider it. "They've got stuff for us. Stuff to keep us busy. Send us out and around I guess... I don't know. B'stean'll tell me when we get there, I guess." The next thing to get a long consideration is V'ros. A'rist stares with as little apology as Lythronath. "See something new, though. Be somewhere different. Come back when we figure it's time." "Fuck." V'ros doesn't hide his confusion. "But.. Ierne? Fucking Ierne." He scrubs both hands, now bottleless, over his recently shaved head and blows out a loud, gusty breath. "Isn't that where.. Tiriana is? Aren't.. man. Man. We'll.. miss you.. have to come drop by when we get a chance," is only half a life, being that Zmeyth will likely sing from the spires about Lythronath's departure. "How much's.. when it's time?" "Yeah. But Iovniath's no pushover or anything, so maybe she'll be good for us." A'rist shrugs. It's when V'ros says the phrase 'miss you' that the bronzerider lifts that bottle to his mouth, takes a swallow, hiss-coughs at it, and then offers it back to his friend. "I don't know. A few months at least. Maybe more. Wanna be back before Roszadyth goes up, but otherwise... Anyway, it's not like we can't come back now and then either, I guess." Although he's not sounding sold on it, somehow. "You think.. Niahvth is? That new one.. Roszadyth?" V'ros is legitimately interested. "Huh," as he takes the bottle back, "you.. think she'll be.. senior? You just.. want to chase?" His eyebrow jump up just before he takes another long pull from the bottle, swallowing loudly. "Need something better," he mutters under his breath, wiping his mouth with one hand. "Something'll work. Haven't been to Ierne.. except a handful of times and then.." He shrugs. A'rist shakes his head. "I know he doesn't respect Niahvth, and I know Irianke thinks the fact that she's a gold will control him." It makes him blow air through his lips, half fart-noise, half runner-noise. "There's been all of o- no, two dragons Lythronath'll mind of his own, without my being right there. Maybe three, but... used to be there was another, anyway. I don't know. It doesn't matter." And he tucks his arms tight across his chest, and rocks on his feet. "This is our Weyr, right now anyway, and we got as much right as any other bronze to chase here. Won't chase much there, I don't think." Then, an amused quirk of an eyebrow to V'ros' bottle. "Maybe they got better liquor there, too. Hot places normally do." "Thought golds have.. influence.. what.. ever." V'ros takes along drink, longer, and belches, before passing the bottle to A'rist with another grimace; whiskey burn. "You think that.. new gold.. the weyrling one.. she'll do?" He looks confused, but then, it's Lythronath they're talking about. "Good idea, that. Don't need to.. piss Tiriana off more'n I heard.. K'del did," is punctuated by a grin. "We'll get tired of the cold and.. pass by. Try that booze." A beat. "Real.. fucking surprising.. huh." "They do," says A'rist. "If your dragon's all there. I mean, it's not like he doesn't feel it, it's just... I wouldn't trust just that, if I were her." As to the weyrling gold, A'rist shrugs. And moves over to lean his hip up against the edge of V'ros' desk. Yes, he's almost sitting on it. "I don't know about her. They're different, that's what I know. He and Hraedhyth were the same in lots of ways, and he and this one aren't at all. Who knows. Maybe we'll stay in Ierne, I don't know. Traders were a no-go anyway, so what do you want." Then, the eyebrow, again. "How much of that you had?" "Zmeyth talked to.. once." V'ros' shrug is lame. "She's.. young." As for his bottle, if A'rist isn't going to take it, he'll just set it down on the desk amidst his puzzle pieces. "Stay in Ierne? Think K'del would.. let you? He's sending you. Might have plans." He meets A'rist's eyebrow gesture with a facial shrug. "Been drinking off.. and on.. off and.. Snowdrift went to Nerat for a gather. Zmeyth didn't want to go. Olsveth is.. uh, glowing," he admits. A'rist shrugs. "I think any place we can find a place is going to be better than being out of one." He's rubbing at his neck again. Except not. This time, his hand covers up the mark neatly. It almost just looks like tense muscles. "When you come to Ierne to visit us," decides A'rist, "first time, I'm gonna have so much tail lined up for you, you'll fuck for two days and get over this shit. That's going to be my goal." V'ros' arms, once skinny and now toned, cross over his chest. "When.. you leaving?" He is a little more serious for that question, reflecting his own doubts in his voice, but manages a half-smirk for the latter part of A'rist's promise. "Think I need it that bad? Zmeyth.." He snorts. "Looking forward to it.. already," showing a bit of teeth. "Bro," says A'rist, hopping off the desk (so much as he can, considering he was only partially sitting on it) so that he can do a circuit and examine all those pieces laid out, "you're sitting at home drinking and doing a puzzle. Faranth, if I'd known this was going on, I wouldn't even have said yes to this." But there's something wry in there. Not sad, not yet, but... "We're going tomorrow. Maybe tonight, I don't know. We're gonna aim to get there in their morning, though. I'm trying to figure out if I want to sleep one more time here before then." A confounded expression contorts V'ros' face as he looks down at the scattered pieces, and then he shrugs. "Don't know what else I'd do with Zmeyth camped out all but on Olsveth's ledge," he grumbles, doing another pass over his short-shorn hair with one hand . "Damn." He holds out that same hand, offering it to A'rist for a handshake. "Won't be the same." "Get a girl, V'ros," says A'rist as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. That hand is clasped, not as a formal business handshake, straight on, but upward, as if A'rist might pull him into a hug. Except he doesn't. He just shakes his friend's hand around a bit. "Guess that's kind of the point," is delayed, thoughtful. "They advertising them.. down at the docks now? One for a.. orange fruit? That easy?" V'ros' laugh is rich and easy, and while A'rist isn't suited to pull his friend in for a hug, the brownrider leans forward to press shoulder to shoulder, clapping the bronzerider on the back heartily. "Make us proud.. yeah? Clear skies, for now," he says, stepping back, releasing that hand. A'rist gets bro-hugged, and seems surprised by it. But he doesn't run away or anything. V'ros even gets a back-smack in return. "Yeah. Yeah, I will." He steps back, too, when released. And he's almost out of sight when he thinks to turn around and call, "Don't let Neianth on Lythronath's ledge too much." V'ros gives A'rist a thumbs up and calls back, "Zmeyth'll keep it warm." |
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