Logs:Brown and Pretty
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| RL Date: 8 February, 2010 |
| Who: Inviere, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del meets Inviere. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 12, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Tiriana/Mentions |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. 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. The weather outside is frightful-- and that's only part of the reason why the Snowasis is so crowded at this rather in-between point of the afternoon, too late for lunch and too early, still, for really serious drinking. Much of the rest of the reason probably relates to the general inclination towards alcoholism that High Reaches has, though K'del, who has managed a whole booth to himself despite the crowdedness, isn't holding up his end, his beer mug empty and alone, the rest of the table spread with documents. Working! How quaint. Inviere enters looking like maybe she's had an opportunity to clean up a little before the dinner hour -- her hair is dry, but her complexion has the unblemished pinkness of a recent scrubbing. She stops to one side of the entrance and looks around; her gaze, landing on a fairly packed bar, reflects some inner disgust, maybe, at the lack of potential seatage. Then, aha: an empty seat! She beelines for K'del, casual-like, and comes to a stop at his table. "I always thought the Weyrleader would have his own office." "Ever sat in a room on your own for ten hours straight?" retorts K'del, likely exaggerating if the twitch of his expression is anything to go by. His gaze lifts only in the wake of his words; he sits back, tips his head, and gives Inviere a thoughtful, considering glance. "Got me at a disadvantage," he adds, then, fair eyebrows raising, the soft hint of country-Tillek in his voice all the more audible for his casualness. Inviere, still standing, lifts an eyebrow and a corner of her mouth in sync. "You ever been paid to look pretty?" she says in answer to the first, with a toss of her hair for punctuation. "I've done more work in the last three months than I did in 24 Turns." Her smile goes wan. "Glad it's someone else for a change," she says to the second. K'del, for all that he is being polite, does, of course, give an appropriately appreciative glance to Inviere, as she tosses her hair. "No," he says, though, elbows on the table and fingers threading together so that he can rest his chin atop them. "Sounds as though it was about time you had a taste of it, then." It's not intended as cruel; there's even sympathy in his expression. "Anyway. Was asking for your /name/. Not fair when everyone knows me already." Inviere's smile spreads to show even teeth, now, her wide eyes hardly narrower for the lift in her cheeks. She slides into the seat across from him and puts her arms on the table, casually displacing paperwork. "Life's not fair, they tell me. I'm Inviere. Mind if I sit?" Nevermind that she already IS. As she sits, K'del has to shift his gaze again, though his chin remains where it is. The paperwork? Doesn't even warrant a glance, displacement ignored. "/You're/ Inviere." He's heard of her! But his tone is otherwise unreadable. "Would be rude for me to say no, now, wouldn't it? Since you're here... you've had a change in job, of late, at least, haven't you? Suiting you better?" Inviere angles her head slightly, regarding the Weyrleader out of the corner of her eyes. The smile remains fixed, but her amusement takes on a more perplexed tone. "What does /that/ mean, /I'm/ Inviere? Surely your grunts don't /all/ attain infamy." A shrug, then, and a more straight-on gaze. "I've gotten used to rude. I'll go, if you want. You're the Big Man around here, after all." Maybe a little innuendo there? "...I don't know. Did you smell me coming from across the room?" K'del lifts his chin from his hands, dropping arms to the table as he leans backwards against his chair, a distinct flicker of amusement crossing his face. "You can stay," he says, magnanimous. "Was only teasing. And no... but /you/ came up in conversation. Anyway, don't get that many... girls like you arriving." Beat. "One hears." Her last comment goes unreplied to, never mind that it was in response to his own question. He's too busy adding, amused, "Anyway, surely half the weyr'll tell you that pretty girls are always my business." "Yes," says Inviere, propping her cheek on one palm. "I suppose one does." Still propped up on one hand, she grabs a piece of paper with the other, looking at it without really seeing. "That's not your only business. Isn't this an awful lot of homework for someone who's-- well, what are you, like, 12?" It really can't be anything confidential, the way K'del doesn't even blink as Inviere grabs up a piece of his paper. Then again, it would probably be fairly stupid to bring something that important into a public place, anyway. Wing reports... just not that interesting. What he does react to his her remark about his age, though even then, it's just a twitch around the eyes, a narrowing of his smile; very faint. His response is a study in hard-won evenness. "Don't much try to make friends, do you?" Inviere's gaze flicks up. She puts the paper down, her hand settling over it with fingers half-splayed, as if retaining possession for the moment. Her teeth retreat behind her lips as her own smile takes on a more somber, appraising cant. "Chalk it up to lack of practice." She shifts off her palm, straightens up. The next bit trips out awkwardly, even a little defensively: a cover-up for genuine feeling? She is the type. "I didn't mean anything by it." Whatever K'del reads into this response, it shifts his expression yet again: not /friendly/, not 'all is forgiven', but certainly measured rather than actively pissed off. "Okay," he says, even in a more natural way, this time. "Hint: people generally like you better when you're not making fun. Tiriana's example is not a very good one, for this kind of thing." Inviere, who doesn't really /do/ the whole subtlety thing, visibly darkens. "Because /that's/ such a nice thing to say," she fires back. "I'd think you'd be used to it by now, anyway." Ignoring that first comment - which is probably a fair call, and it's hard to imagine he doesn't know it, whatever his initial intentions were - K'del frowns at the second. "Being used to something doesn't make it any nicer. Anyway, it's irrelevant." Inviere's eyebrows make for her nose, her mouth flattening out in an incredulous line. "Irrelevant? Pardon me, milord: /you/ drew the comparison." She scratches at one cheek, an almost comic gesture, and maybe one meant to soften the blow. Indeed, after a second's passing, she does sort of deflate and level him with a dull, weary look. "...sorry," she mutters at last. "You're right. I'm not good at this." Clarifying; "My age." Is irrelevant, presumably. But K'del lets that go, looks awkward, even, his expression a smile that's just a little bit out of place. That doesn't mean he's not wary, though, as he suggests, "Perhaps we should start again. I'm K'del. It's nice to meet you." "Oh," says the woman to this correction, a touch of additional color rising in her face. She meets his smile with a thin one of her own, her posture suggesting that she is still adversarial, but tractable. Maybe. "Hello, K'del. I'm Inviere. ...and I feel really stupid doing this." There's a moment of silence, and then, "Me, too." Feeling stupid is in, apparently. "So. Let's say we've done all the pleasantries and... move on or something. So. Um. Had a good day?" Given her posture, it's no wonder he's still, oh yes, quite hesitant. Inviere thinks about that last for a second, fidgeting with the edge of that paper still in her fingers. "Eh," she says. "I didn't finish it smelling like wet manure. That's a win, right?" "Definitely," declares K'del, with a grin. "And... the work day is done - for you, at least - so you can now stay nice and warm and clean. Guess I'd call that a win, too." He scratches at the side of his face with one hand, then adds, "My day was okay, too. No disasters, anyway." Inviere makes a pleased, polite sort of "Hm" sound, and then rearranges her arms so she's elbows-down on the table, her forearms up at an angle and her fingers clasped. "You know," she says thoughtfully, "I don't think I've actually found out what dragonriders /do/ all day. I mean, I've seen the washing and the oiling and such, but-- the rest of the time? Do you... sit and commune, or soemthing?" Apparently unable to control himself, K'del laughs. "Sounds nice, that." Shaking his head, he drops his hand back to the table, fingernails drumming at it idly, an apparently unconscious gesture. "We drill, both to keep alive the traditions so people still know, next Pass, but also for different situations: search and rescue, that kind of thing. We ride sweeps over the coverage area, looking for trouble, or where we can help. We deliver messages, carry cargo... all kinds of things." "Hm" becomes an interested "Huh" as Inviere considers this. Her attention drops to K'del's drumming fingers, guided, in all likelihood, by the same reflex that has him drumming in the first place. "I always thought there'd be... more." She looks up. "I mean, if you're going to have /songs/ written about you, and all." "Sometimes we save small children from... dunno, dangerous things?" But K'del doesn't sound convinced enough of that to really sell it. "Found a lost kid, once. Mostly... songs are for /Pass/ dragonriders, I guess. No one writes about hidework, or convincing holders they should still tithe so we can eat." Inviere can barely stifle her laughter. "Small children." She clears her throat. "And kittens, too, I bet. Here, I'll write a song about it right now. Let's see." Her eyes roll up towards the ceiling, the tip of her tongue jabbing out -- not unattractively -- to touch her upper lip. "Rider, rider, save my kitty... It's sort of brown and... really... pretty..." Barely able to hold back his own laughter, K'del offers, "It likes milk and cream and... and all thinks nice." Beat; he looks visibly thoughtful, and then, triumphantly: "If you save him now we'll give you rice!" A strangled breath later, he adds, "Reckon we're on to something. A new wave of harper songs!" Inviere isn't really able to keep it together, either, and as the Weyrleader comes to the end, she slaps a palm against the table, then bounces it up into a pointed finger leveled at him. "Genius!" she cries, when she's able to breathe again. "Could you tell I'm harper trained? That's Daddy's tuition hard at work." She wipes a tear away, girlishly, with the very tip of one finger -- which she inspects for dirt or makeup, hard to tell. Still amused, though his laughter has abated, K'del declares, "Not having had that kind of advantage... must just be naturally talented, I reckon. Should've gone to the Hall along with my brother. Guess if I'd done that... no thrilling, dramatic, romantic dragonrider life for me." That's wryly said; thoughtful, even, despite the joking thus far. Inviere shakes her head. "It's really too bad, that they'll never plumb that deep well of talent." She smirks, throws her hands up in resignation. "Ah, well. Turns out saving the world has its drawbacks after all." Sensing an impending close, perhaps, she looks around the room. "...well. I suppose I ought to let you get back to not getting written about." "Sad," says K'del. "Seems most things do." His head half tips forward, not quite a full nod, but enough, perhaps, to suffice. "Actually, I have to excuse myself: all this needs filing, and I've dinner plans to worry about. So I'll take my leave, and you can keep the table." He reaches to start gathering up his papers, adding, "Was nice to meet you, anyway. Inviere." Inviere looks momentarily startled. "I guess I /did/ come here to eat, drink, and be merry." She smiles real big-like, watching him get his stuff. "I'm one for three. Good to meet you, Weyrleader." Eh... "K'del." K'del's mouth is already part open with a correction when Inviere makes it for herself; he looks pleased. "Enjoy your evening," he tells her, firmly, as, papers in hand, he scoots his way out of the booth, then heads off across the room towards the internal exit. |
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