Logs:Bronze Entourage
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| RL Date: 3 June, 2014 |
| Who: Azaylia, R'hin, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del and R'hin escort (pick on) a vacationing Weyrwoman in Ista. |
| Where: Main Beach, Ista Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 12, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
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| Main Beach, Ista Weyr The coastline of black sand stretches out in either direction, tropical waters lapping ceaselessly against the subtle decline of the main beach that rests at the base of the plateau cliff. To the northeast, water from the upper pool cascades over the plateau's edge, its destination shrouded in the lush fronts of the jungle's edge and a hint of blue-tinged mist. The Sandbar, Ista's seaside tavern, stands to the south beside the long branching structure of the docks. A day away and already Hraedhyth's erratic drums have settled into a much easier rhythm, still heard despite the distance between Ista and High Reaches. Whatever Azaylia's feelings on the matter, the queen has little inclination to keep her whereabouts a secret, flames projecting the soothing heat of dark sand. It's autumn, say the locals, although the afternoon's heat is a welcome change for the 'Reachian pair, the visiting Weyrwoman making camp beneath Hreadhyth's spread wing. Effectively shielded from the sun as well as hidden, Azaylia gives herself away with visible legs. It is perhaps (but probably unlikely) coincidence that another pair of Reachian riders are at Ista this warm afternoon. The pair of bronzes appears high in the sky, taking the time to enjoy the warm updrafts on their slow descent. The angular bronze greets the local watch pair not too long before they touch down on the warm sandy beach. R'hin seems inclined to take his time divesting himself of helmet, goggles and jacket, with a breath of relief at the warmer air, slapping a companionable hand against his bronze's hide before he steps away, shading his eyes to squint down the beach before seeking out K'del's gaze with a grin. Leiventh's acknowledgement of Hraedhyth's presence is subtle but present, cool winds stirring those flames marginally. Cadejoth's acknowledgement of Ista is a triumphant one - and then, why shouldn't it be? It's a beautiful day at Ista, especially so in comparison to the High Reaches, where winter has already set in. He's even slower than Leiventh to make his landing, and does so without much heed for anyone else, spraying sand up this way and that to his rider's consternation. "Ugh," says the younger bronzerider, laughing, as he clambers down, rather quicker to remove those outer layers. "Must be the Istan in him. Crazy dragon." Aforementioned crazy dragon rattles a merry length of chain in Hraedhyth's direction: hi, toots. The day has already been filled with an exhausting amount of swimming, flying and even running when Hraedhyth can find the space. Her eyelids remain closed as the two appear from on high, though her drums are paired with a pleased snarl of greeting, thick tail sweeping the sand back and forth. It's the sprinkle of sand spray on her dark wings that gains Azaylia's attention, legs pulled in and replaced by the goldrider's squinting face. "She's not going up yet. You can leave." A jab at the two as well as their dragons, for entirely different reasons. Luckily it's meant to be playful, if pointed, spoken through a stifled smile as she walks out from under Camp Hraedhyth. "The Istan line was generally more violent than crazy," comes R'hin's perhaps not-very-wise commentary given their surroundings. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt as he regards Cadejoth with a flicker of a smile. "Though that doesn't mean they're mutually exclusive. But," with a wider grin, "At least they have their drinks sorted. I was thinking maybe we could talk to the bartender at the Seven, see whether they're interesting in your wine -- since Monaco didn't pan out." He gestures down the beach, coincidentally in Azaylia's direction, and affects a fairly convincing amount of surprise at the goldrider's presence. "Well, well," he chortles, glancing at K'del. "As far as I know you're not the Weyrwoman of Ista, kitten. Surely she wouldn't throw out two old bronzeriders looking for a drink?" Leiventh settles down into the sand, content to enjoy the radiant heat, though gleaming eyes watch. Does K'del abruptly look at Hraedhyth at mention of the violent Istan line? It's only for a moment, and... well. The queen in question is twice-descended from Cadejoth's line. It rather diminishes his supposed innocence when Azaylia announces herself, and R'hin replies; ultimately, K'del shows his teeth in a cheerful enough smile. "We're from the High Reaches," he puts in. "Where else but Ista, once winter sets in? Relax, we're not here to stalk you, Azaylia. Thirsty men." A pause. "Thirsty men, with wine to sell. Did you want to join us, since we're all here?" It's terribly magnanimous. The 'Reachian Weyrwoman is all suspicion in ivory straps and string, easily adopting the beachwear and modesty of the locals. "Am too. Would too." Azaylia so cleverly tosses back at R'hin, such wit the first hint that she may already have a head start on them. With crossed arms, "There was Monaco, but." But. At K'del's invitation she makes a smooth turn, a snub with a bright smile as she looks to walk back beneath Hraedhyth's wing, "Girls onl--" The gold lurches into motion, finding her feet and stomping toward the water, a curl of smoke her invitation for both bronzes. Once the shower of sand ends, Azaylia can only laugh in the ruins of her one-person picnic, "Looks like I'm not as busy as I thought. Sure." "Especially since Monaco is off limits," R'hin adds on the heels of K'del's words. There's a light-heartedness to the older bronzerider's tone that, if it's forced, he hides well. A flicker of brows if followed by a dark chuckle. "Well, well. Is our illustrious Weyrwoman drunk? Confused about which is her Weyr? I think," with a nod towards K'del, "We should definitely take advantage. Ask for bigger weyrs. Maybe an extension for the rider's lounge. Maybe a wing lounge for Savannah...?" He hesitates, like that is the point at which he might be pressing his luck? For Hraedhyth, there's a tip of head, quiet, respectful gesture from the bronzerider, as he nears. K'del does not offer Southern as another alternative - but then, he has responsibilities, there. "You know, I think she might be," the younger bronzerider answers R'hin, studying Azaylia with the hint of a smile lurking about the corners of his mouth. "Maybe she'll buy us drinks," he suggests. "Since we clearly have some catching up to do. Come on, Azaylia; we won't abandon you, even if Hraedhyth will." Cadejoth shakes some sand out of his wings and launches himself into a glide, all the better to follow the queen in her trek towards the water. "Mind you, if you want to stage a hostile takeover of Ista... not sure I'm opposed, as such." "I'm not drunk." Azaylia argues as she dusts herself free of sand and turns to salvage what she can of her quilt and basket. During her tidying, she finds a length of sheer fabric, securing the gold wrap around her hips. "I was just enjoying myself. Something you're always telling me to do," A glance is tossed over her shoulder at R'hin. "And you," K'del, "Just... you." Warm sand and cold drinks have restored some of her strained patience, and Azaylia maintains that good humor. "I won't be buying anyone drinks if you two keep ganging up on me..." Though she'll claim both their arms in a link if they let her. Snapping his fingers, R'hin seems to agree with K'del's suggestion. "Yes, good one. Drinks on the drunk Weyrwoman. Actually, I'm sure that's actually the name of a drink here." Leiventh doesn't follow the other dragons towards the water; he seems content to soak up the heat from the sand, eyes lidding against the afternoon light. "Who said we're telling you to stop?" the Savannah rider counters, letting Azaylia slip a hand into the crook of his elbow, though he's setting a good pace, as if keen to find the bar. "Me what?" K'del is all affected innocence, except for the way he lets his mouth break into a grin. "'You're amazing, and I'm so glad you're here to keep me company?'" It's no doubt deliberate that he makes no reference to his present Acting position: that's not an issue for the moment. Instead, he allows his arm to be claimed, stride lengthening to match R'hin's as they head for the bar. "Always liked the strange drink names here. Here, and at Boll. It's always a shame to drink beer at these places." Rest well, dear Leiventh. No doubt Hraedhyth intends to shake herself dry near the older bronze once she's had her fill of the water. She may try and convince Cadejoth to join her. Who's ganging up on who? "If there is I want one." Azaylia declares with a breathless laugh, keeping her bronzerider entourage close. K'del's grin earns him an amused twist of her lips, "Maybe the second part. Even if I still think you two are trying to babysit me." Or whatever their secret agenda might be. With a sudden blink and soft lilt, "You're selling wine?" Agreeably, R'hin says, "Half the fun is ordering. Though awkward if you're doing so in front of your children, so beware -- yours aren't far off that age," he adds in an undertone to K'del, wryly. "Babysit? No, I already have two girls who are more than a handful. Indulge might work? Encourage?" His eyes go skyward as if trying to determine the best description. Leiventh seems unbothered by threats, maintaining his position as sentinel of the beach. Cadejoth... Cadejoth may well be easily convinced. He often is. Besides: this is fun. "Don't remind me," groans K'del, good-naturedly. "Couple more turns, and they'll be drinking, not to mention asking to Stand. Anyway, we're escorting you, Azaylia, nothing more. Reminding you of your lighter side." None of which answers the question of the wine: that takes longer, even until they're approaching the bar. It's studiously casual, really, the way he says, "Been growing grapes for turns. Out on the islands. Finally got a crop worth selling. Now-- drinks." Azaylia's lighter side is the culprit behind that impish little smile, "You sound like a pair of old Uncles." Or so says the youngest, with eyes bright enough to dull any actual sting. Her hands are mirrored, sliding up to take a tighter hold so that she can attempt an affectionate tug inward, "I know, I know... I am happy you stopped by." Yes, both of them. Mention of K'del's crops nearly stops Azaylia in her tracks, visibly startled, "When did you..? Turns." Turns! "Why didn't I-- you knew about this, didn't you?" All eyes on R'hin. "Me? How could I possibly know?" All innocence, and well-practiced, is the eldest of the group. "Speaking of escorting," R'hin's eyes wander as they leave the beach, and he unceremoniously (and unapologetically) slips his arm free of Azaylia's hand when a brunette catches his eye. "Forgive me, I must say hello -- save a drink for me, though. I'll catch up." If not a round. His stride lengthening, he catches up with his target, falling into step with her, head bent low to talk, demeanor casual and comfortable as if talking with an old friend. R'hin's so-abrupt departure has K'del blinking, brows raised - and then a scoffing noise. "Some escort he is," he says to Azaylia, "Abandoning ship at the first distraction. Never mind." He will lead her on towards the bar, tugging if he needs to. "Drunk Weyrwomen all 'round," is his instruction to the bartender. It's only after the man has turned to comply that the bronzerider adds, calmly, "No one knew, really. Just about. It's been a-- side project, that's all. Easier, when I wasn't Acting Weyrleader, of course, but I've enough family that it's still worked out." There's a noise of protest in Azaylia's throat for R'hin's abandonment, "That's so rude." She doesn't sulk for long, "Bronzeriders." Oh, hello K'del. His loyalty earns him both hands on his arm and a recovering smile, "It really does sound bad." Cheek resting against her own shoulder, the Weyrwoman's gaze loses some of that earlier haze, if only for a moment, "...alright." He does come from vintner stock, she knows that much. 'Bronzeriders' only earns another grin from K'del, who is patently unbothered by the implications. "It sounds awful," he confirms. "Especially once I've got one on my arm and one in my hand, mm?" That edges well past 'cheeky' and into something rather more self-satisfied, and cheerfully so. Even so, he's relatively serious as he adds, "R'hin only knew because he encouraged the idea, way back when. Wanted to see if I could make a go of it, before I went... public. Or linked it too much to the Weyr. If Cadejoth doesn't win, I'll seek permission to turn it into a more active venture. Official." Azaylia needs little encouragement, gentle voice quite the contrast to, "Or that you're willing to share a Drunk Weyrwoman with the rest of the bar." Her own smug smile shrinks some, a huff given at R'hin's name, "Of course he did. And if he hadn't, he'd have found out on his own." Because R'hin. It's the last bit which startles Azaylia, pleasantly so. "...thank you. It doesn't sound harmful, but... still. I appreciate that." Almost as much as she appreciates her drink when it arrives. "No," says K'del, almost sharply, except that he's still smiling, so it can't be too serious. "No, I'm not willing to share at all. You'll have to get your own. So will they." Of course, he's ordered one for both of them, the drinks now slid across the bar towards them: no sharing necessary, hurray! Taking up his, he lifts it into a toast towards the goldrider: "That's what R'hin does; it's what he's good at. Good for High Reaches. But--" That's not the toast. "To the future, mm? May everything work out for the best." It's easier for Azaylia to focus on only K'del, although her warm buzz is slowly beginning to fade. The more it does, the more her gaze edges toward careful observation... only to be cast aside as she picks up her drink. "He's just so..." There's a shake of her head, abandoning that challenge in favor of the toast, "To the future. Better than the past." The genuine hope in her words is burned away by drink. It's not her first, and certainly not going to be the last. There's no argument from K'del on the subject of R'hin - just a laugh, low and warm. "Better," he confirms, instead, after he's taken a deep sip from his own glass. "Stable, solid, and satisfying. However it goes." There's emphasis on that 'however,' but the bronzerider doesn't linger. Instead, he gestures towards a nearby table, aiming to escort the goldrider along with him. They do, after all, need to get in a good few drinks before R'hin gets back. It's only fair! |
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