Logs:Can't Win Them All
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| RL Date: 2 January, 2015 |
| Who: V'ros, H'kon |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: In the wake of a flight, V'ros and H'kon talk. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 9, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Chilly. |
| Mentions: Madilla/Mentions, Sa'zl/Mentions, Makita/Mentions |
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---< Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RJs) >----------------------------<
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier
or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them
instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large
enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the
cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters
down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open
space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet,
and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's
offerings.
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven --
only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they
add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the
centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling
and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end
of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an
array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows
are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
H'kon M 35 5'4" compact, brown hair, green eyes 34s
V'ros M 21 5'8 Slim, Brown hair, Brown eyes 0s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl
>---------------------------------------< 15D 9M 36T I10, autumn morning >---< It wasn't H'kon who brought the liquor bottle to the ground weyrs this morning, after green Kharyth shrieked her proddiness in the bowl, and took to the skies. It was the bluerider Sa'zl, the bluerider who now is celebrating Yggdratth's win, who shoved the bottle that had made the rounds, despite the hours, into H'kon's chest just before grabbing hold of Makita. H'kon holds it now against his chest as he makes his way into the caverns, doesn't now partake as he did (in moderation) in the groundweyrs. His face is set in strict determination while blue and brownriders take to each other's company, or make their own escapes. But after a while, the green eyes that had been trained so specifically on the ground before his feet have to shift up. Because he's been walking in step with V'ros since they'd exited. "Did you want?" The bottle sloshes as it's held out, just a bit away from his chest now, in offer to the younger brownrider. To Zmeyth, Arekoth only reaches to the younger brown in echo of his rider's attention, making his way up to the rim, rather than from the ledge where he'd been resting before Kharyth's call. « Who even flies so early in the morning? » Flights are terrifying things on the whole, and yes, that was V'ros tippling from the bottle when it made its round in the ground weyr. He leaves as soon as it's done, somehow managing to fall in step with H'kon, even despite the hour, despite his hunched shoulders and dark, brooding gaze that sweeps back and forth as he plods along. Even unconstrained lust isn't a thing he gives into easily, apparently. His eyes flick to H'kon, then to the offered bottle, before one hands closes around the neck and pulls it in for a lengthy swallow that makes him grimace afterwards. "Shi-it," the younger man exhales and holds it back out to the wingsecond. Zmeyth is busy backwinging through the bowl, taking his loss much more graciously than one could think of the brown. « Females » he says lustily, a blend of sweet heat and his normal dark bass. (To Arekoth from Zmeyth) H'kon accepts the bottle back mechanically, and tucks it right back where it had been, against his pec. A few more steps, during which H'kon's gaze finds its way back to the floor before his feet. A bit of a nod is the only thing to warn that there are about to be more words, and those are wry: "One way to wake up." To Zmeyth, A flash of pink glow over winter cold, colder now than its norm, is agreement. And frustration. « Yggdratth had a head start. On her ledge already. No manners. » They don't look suspicious, one bit, walking with one broody and one staring at the floor. "That's an understatement," V'ros says with a bitter laugh, allowing that much to spill over from his internal boiling pot. "Couldn't rise at night or.. in the evening?" But that's a rhetorical question, his hands shoving their way into his jacket's pockets, and if possible, he looks more gloomy than he did before. The other brown may sense the surprise, the sharp crackle and pop of Zmeyth's mind as he processes that bit of information. Yggdratth had an advantage? Zmeyth's voice grates, now. « I should try that the next time. » No manners at all. (To Arekoth from Zmeyth) "Taking advantage of morning wood, I suppose" stays wry, brings a chuff out of the brownrider, a sharp, one-sided grin that soon fades back under control. But any discomfort in his tone seems unrelated to those words, to the fact they were shared with more than his dragon. The bottle is passed back over to V'ros, even as he shifts his course to avoid a kitchen hand carrying a tray of rolls to one of the tables, prepping for breakfast. «Yes. You should. » Arekoth's pink aurora flares yellow at the tops of its ribbon, amusement overtop the rest. « I'm sure Yggdratth's wouldn't mind in the least. » If only he had eyebrows to wriggle. (To Zmeyth from Arekoth) Morning wood - the mere mention makes V'ros blanch and glance aside, at H'kon, with rounded eyes. "Uhhh.. uh.. right.. yeah, that.." He cringes and tries to pull up his collar, higher, so it has a better chance at masking the reddening of his cheeks; to be a rider full and be not yet initiated (for mating flights anyway) is an awfully embarrassing state. "Not all. Not.. us. Just.. them." Sa'zl and Makita, and all the others who are finding release after the recent flight loss. "What do you do? Drink?" His question is more conversational than deeply interested, as he side-steps his way out of that particular path, as H'kon does. A gusty sigh: « He can't have them all. He can win them all. He'll lose. » Zmeyth is sure of this, of Yggdratth's inaptitude; another boastful comment by a less than experienced dragon, though much more at his ease with the topic than his rider appears to be. (To Arekoth from Zmeyth) "Mm," is agreement. Just them. Those getting that sweet and generally anonymous release, just now. "No," to drinking. "Not now. I've a weyrmate. And alcohol does not encourage control." The bottle recoils into his chest again, held loosely. "Before that, if there were one willing, afterwards..." He shrugs. "We are riders." The same way he might have said, 'It's not a big deal.' "It often eases the dragons, also." Poor Arekoth. To Zmeyth, Arekoth projects « And even if you lose, » Arekoth's pleasure in the sentence comes through before he's even finished it, « at least yours will have won the night before. » "You don't go to her?" V'ros asks, more interested about that, and slides the older man a curious glance. "It's not not a big deal to.. everyone," he mumbles, ducking his head again, so his chin disappears in the folds of his collar. "Can't just.. just.." His brooding eyes seek out the faces of the countless lower cavern women - because men haven't entered his mind yet - walking around, going about their days. "You just.. they just.. find a corner and.." His disgust may be mixed with a bit of yearning, his eyes dropping away. « Him? No. Never. » And Zmeyth sounds smug, amused about that. « He will never win unless I do. » (To Arekoth from Zmeyth) Sharing the effects of his bond with his dragon is easy, especially when they are still so closely linked, after the flight. Sharing details of his bond with his weyrmate... makes H'kon hesitate, and at length, settle on, "There are complexities." V'ros' problems, those are easier, too. "You do not go to anyone. But there will be those who need the same as you. Flights, even losses, are far more about the dragons and their riders than two people. I have found." V'ros seems to get that the other brownrider doesn't want to discuss his weyrmate, and leaves it at that with a considering look in H'kon's direction. "I'm not.. I don't like.. guys.. and no one.. I'm not.." He sighs and shoves a hand through hair that's grown out far longer than his normal close-shave. "I don't think I can do that.. yet. Not.. it's still new. I'll just.." Be frustrated. Because nothing says masculinity like torturing yourself in the baths while pretty, young things soap up their goods. "There are women who ride blues and browns also," is H'kon's simple solution to that. But he doesn't press. In part because his voice and cadence has become more and more his own, and less and less influenced by his dragon. In part because he's nearing the exit to the bowl. That bottle is held out to V'ros again, this time with more purpose. "I've no need for this." Free booze. "It will pass," he adds. "On its own, or on your own." And that's it, the last bit of advice to bring the ephemeral conversation to an end. H'kon is leaving. « Better get practicing, then. » A parting jibe, but good-natured at least. Arekoth is suddenly focused on the short figure leaving the caverns. (To Zmeyth from Arekoth) |
Comments
Tela (16:40, 8 January 2015 (EST)) said...
Does V'ros realize the magnitude of getting so many words from H'kon? :O
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