Logs:Brownrider Down
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| RL Date: 1 July, 2013 |
| Who: D'kan, G'mli |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: D'kan finds his mentor crying into his cups. Sort of. Not really. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 2, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Follows Logs:Campaign_Colorblind by a few hours. |
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But not for long. D'kan stomps the snow off his boots at the door and looks around. While the dinner hour is quickly approaching, the bushy haired brownriding mentor is still pretty easy to pick out. The weyrling does not ask to sit, just slides right on in across from G'mli, his dark eyes quickly taking in the items on the table and his mentor's appearance. "Rough day?" he asks before starting to remove his scarf, bundling it with his hat and gloves, which are then tossed onto the booth's bench. "Hrmph!" is G'mli's initial response, brows drawing down to ineffectually glare across the table, mustaches blowing out slightly before he wets them again with another drink of beer. He makes more rumbling, grumbling noises while staring at the rest of the beer, then takes another drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Shardin' women, D'kan," he growls in a low, slurred voice. "Can't trust 'em. Can't reason with 'em. Can't even... even..." Train of thought leaves the station. He shoves the pitcher of beer roughly across the table toward D'kan, nearly tipping it. Righting the pitcher with minimal effort, D'kan moves it to the end of the table against the wall, managing to miss dragging his coat sleeve through some of the beer already on the table. He waves off the passing bartender, declining a drink, then glances at G'mli again before giving the bartender the "cut" signal. No more beer for G'mli. "Soooo... who turned you down this time, Gim? Please don't tell me it was that bluerider from Polaris. She looks so much like my mother, the thought of you and her like that..." The rest doesn't need to be said, right? The sound G'mli makes next might actually be a growl, but he's far enough into his cups at this point, that nothing much comes of it. Aside from a rumbled insult that sounds something like, "Stuff your sack with firestone and light it." The rest of the grumbling is drowned in the last of the beer from his glass, but when he looks for the still slightly sloshing pitcher, he gives it a look that clearly says, But it's too far away. And so he sits, eventually looking at D'kan again. "Not her, you nitwitted hatchling." Pause. Voice drops to a low rumble again. "Azaylia." It's a good thing D'kan isn't drinking anything, or he may have choked to death right then and there. Instead, he stares blankly at G'mli for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. Then he squints, brows drawing in. "Wait. No... you didn't proposition Azaylia... did you?" he asks with hope and fear. Blustery indignation is the older brownrider's first response, until understanding works its way through his beer-addled brain, at which point G'mli gives D'kan a blank stare of his own. Then a grin, indicated by suddenly twinkling eyes, precedes a booming series of laughing guffaws that fill the entire Snowasis. "Now there's a thought," he teases, a meaty hand slamming the table. It would have been better if it hadn't landed in a shallow puddle of beer. "No, you firelizard kisser," he continues a moment later, drunken mirth mostly under control. "I merely suggested, uh... well." Grin fades as recollection begins. "Well, I just thought... y'know. Maybe she'd like a, uh. A recommendation. For 'er choice in... Weyrleader." Shifty eyes glance toward that pitcher again, contemplating. D'kan stares at his mentor for a good long while, trying very hard to comprehend G'mli's explanation. Perhaps fearing to. Finally, he takes a slow breath and leans his forearms on the edge of the table. "You recommended yourself, didn't you," he states quietly, dark eyes twinkling a moment as he fights a grin. "Nice one." He also glances at the pitcher of beer but doesn't grab it himself, not quite up to enabling the other rider just now. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess she didn't go for it." "Didn' go for it," G'mli repeats under his breath, just before leaning to the side, just able to grab the handle so he can pull the pitcher back toward him. After a couple small spills, he manages to start filling his glass again, then holds it with forced concentration so the last few drops will fall where he wants them to fall. "She was shardin' insulting, 's what she was," he rumbles more loudly, placing the empty pitcher on its side. "Implyin' that... that brownriders can't... the Weyr... doesn' want us." Which just killed all the leftover mirth, as he blinks quickly at the last of his beer. D'kan watches all of this, from dripping beer to drooping brownrider, with a mildly stoney expression. "That doesn't quite," he begins, then stops to give G'mli a puzzled frown. "Implying isn't saying, right? I mean..." Whatever he might mean, the explanation is kept to himself. After all, it would probably be lost on the sloshed rider, anyway. "Tell you what. Let's get you back to your weyr. You probably wouldn't want all that extra work anyway, right? When would you get to hang out down here again?" He's already started donning his winter gear again and slides out of the booth as he finishes talking, then moves to help G'mli to his feet. Grudgingly, the brownrider allows himself to be hauled up, somehow managing to put on his hat, if crookedly, gloves and scarf are nowhere to be seen. Not that he's the one looking for them. There is a look for the last of that beer, but soon enough he's successfully steered toward the falling snow. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Brownrider Down"Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 03 Jul 2013 22:19:01 GMT.
Oh my gosh, I'm in stitches! Poor G'mli! And the insults were hilarious. "Stuff your sack with firestone and light it"! And my favorite, "Firelizard kisser".
This was really great, and I like how an NPC's experience might help shape or influence a PC's. So awesome. XD
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