Logs:Charmer
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| RL Date: 20 February, 2015 |
| Who: V'ros, Laine, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: V'ros meets Laine. Edyis meets Laine. V'ros and Edyis still aren't friends. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 1, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snow. |
| Mentions: Tevrane/Mentions, X'vae/Mentions |
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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. Outside, fog has fallen, mixing with the snowy slush in the bowl, creating a cold mess that chases many riders inside on this winter's night. In the Snowasis, there's the usual rousing games between the wings going on. Snowdrift's engaged Taiga in a never-ending poker game, and many stiff shoulders are crowded around the table nearest the dart board to watch. But at the bar, one foot up on the lowest rung on the stool closest to him, one of Snowdrift's brownriders is in repose, arms folded on the back of said chair. V'ros' dark eyes dart down the bar, towards the bartender, as he patiently awaits his turn to put in an order. He doesn't look unwelcoming per se, but he definitely doesn't look like the type of guy who wants to talk your ear off either. From that crowd of shoulders, a young woman emerges; nudging her way backward with a cheerful series of "s'cuz!"es and "pardon!"s, she successfully wriggles her way out from under a Taiga brownrider's arm. One raised voice trails after her (something about a bet to be settled?) and Laine cups a hand to her ear and feigns misunderstanding, all the while talking swift strides backward, toward the bar. "What's that? Mend your net? Couldn't catch that!" As she propels herself in reverse away from the crowded poker game, she comes up against the bar--and, unwittingly, tripping up across V'ros' propped leg. Laine flails, catching herself on her elbows, and whirls around with a breathless: "ho! Sorry! Hey there, feet!" A chivalrous man would try to catch her, make a movement, or at least pretend to try to catch her, but this youth - he barely looks old enough to drink - blinks at the girl as she catches herself at the bar. "Uh." V'ros straightens away from the stool, giving it a push inwards, like it might solve the problem that just occurred. "Sorry.. about.. that." He shoves a hand self-consciously through his short-cropped hair and hunches his shoulders down in his jacket, staring openly at Laine. "Are you.. okay?" he asks with knitted brows, though he sounds less concerned and more confused. Eyes bright, as though her breath had left her at the sheer excitement of it all, Laine grabs that pushed-back stool with both hands and leans forward on stiff arms. "Hi. Hi!" From here, she turns her head and gives V'ros one very thorough once-over. Then meets that open stare. "I'm fine, but," She stares back, wide-eyed, and abruptly Laine breaks out her Very Best Smile(tm). "But, favour, would you? Check my six o'clock; is there a dorky-looking bluerider coming after me?" She does a not-so-subtle jerk of her chin back at the poker audience. Laine's enthusiasm is matched with a steady, anxious gaze. "Uh." V'ros shifts, uncomfortably. "You mean X'vae?" he asks, brows hiking, but he obliges by looking behind them, pretending to absently scratch his nose at the same time; nothing to see here. Coincidentally, there's no bluerider, X'vae or otherwise, coming towards them. "Think you're in the clear." His hands promptly find themselves tucked in the pockets of his pants. "What'd you.. do?" Now, he's curious, and even inclines his head slightly towards the girl. "V'ros," him. "Is this X'vae fellow all lanky and floppy-like?" She awkwardly flaps her hands in what's presumably an imitation of the bluerider in question. When she realizes V'ros isn't looking, she (unsubtly) careens her head around to follow V'ros' nose-scratching gaze. Confirming there's no one behind her, she turns back to V'ros. "Phew. Thanks. Be my alibi. Laine." She speaks in rapid-fire, words tumbling out like she won't have enough time to say them all. And she drags out that stool and collapses into it. Tipping her head toward the rider, she taps her nose: "didn't do anything." Winks. Yep; subtle. Lanky and floppy. "X'vae? No. Not.. floppy." Beyond that, V'ros doesn't look particularly certain. That she moves the stool and sits down makes his brows knit further. He flicks a look to the bartender who is walking their way, and then back down at Laine. "Hey." Lifting one hand up, he signals his need of a drink, or three. "What do.. you do, Laine?" he asks distractedly, just before leaning forward and ordering two ales. "Need anything?" comes his aside, to Laine; it's a polite gesture. Grey eyes sweep across V'ros' face. If those eyebrows did any more knitting, they'd have an afghan; perhaps recognizing this, Laine straightens herself, shuffles her stool, settles herself more demurely (but only a little). She even graciously allows the man time to order his drink before she leans in and requests a whiskey, neat, but only like, a middling-good one, nothing top-shelf, okay? "I lost all my marks to the bluerider back there betting on the game," she explains. Which also suggests V'ros might be paying for this drink, too, but she blithely glosses over that: "Weyrtanner. Well, tanner. Okay, apprentice. I'll only get the 'weyr' bit if I get good enough." The brownrider remains staunchly silent, eyes to the wall, on matters of betting and marks, but pays the bartender promptly when he returns to put their drinks on the bar. Prodding the apprentice's drink closer to her, V'ros takes one of the ales and has a lengthy drink from the mug. "Ah," he says, licking the foam off his lips, "New to the Weyr. Apprentice tanner. You good.. at that, yet?" He asks, regardless of her words, and turns to watch her plainly over his cup. "Plenty of use for tanners around here." The apprentice accepts the drink with a gracious bob of her head, and wraps her hands around it, fingers laced. "New-ish. Been here about a turn." She takes quick little sips from the whiskey, watching V'ros with big eyes over the brim of her own cup. "I'm... okay. But if you've got a hide you need braining, I'm your girl." She spares her cup long enough to jab a thumb backward at herself, then grins easily at the rider. "And you? What do you do? Apart from the dragon thing. What's your thing?" "I'll.. remember that," but his tone implies he'd rather not. V'ros doesn't return the grin, shifting on his feet and giving the table of poker players an indescribable look. "Snowdrift rider. Brown Zmeyth's. We're good at.. search. Rescue." His eyes drop to Laine again, his expression inscrutable as he takes another swallow of ale. "Not sure beyond that. Only been a rider for less than two turns." He shrugs, unconcernedly, and continues to favor her with his attention. "Where you from?" Laine processes this new information, drumming her fingers against her glass, that smile unwavering even if V'ros' tone is quite apparent. As for search and rescue: "Huh! Useful, that. So you do good work. Hard work, I imagine." Then, almost rhetorically: "Rescued anyone famous?" And, reaffirming that she likely wasn't looking for a real answer, she moves on, happily pronouncing: "Don't worry. You'll figure something out." Since he seemed so concerned. As for his last question, she tips her head back and forth, noncommittally. "Nabol, first. Igen--well, tanner hall--for a few years. Back and forth. Here, now. Are you local? You look local," she decides. "No," deadpan. "Just some sailor that's going to die soon." And V'ros surely doesn't sound remorseful about that, or concerned for the sailor's future. "We do alright." He is definitely not anxious, not by her assertions or his own lack of reaction. It's only in finding out where she's from and where she's been that any spark of life disturbs those steady, dark eyes of his. "Nabol and Igen. Quite a history," but it's not his place to explain, so he doesn't, tipping his head in the affirmative. "North of Tillek. Small holding. Wool exports," jerking his mug, and it spills, which makes him frown. That responses catches her up, and Laine hesitates--that smile tripping, just barely faulting--and she takes a sudden interest in her whiskey. "Oh." Swirls the amber liquid around in the bottom of her glass. "Bit cavalier, aren't you?" Her gaze sweeps back up to V'ros and she visibly reasserts herself. There's an eyeroll, dramatic, for her 'history'. "It's not that great. Just means I have a lot of clothes. Cold/hot/cold. Takes a toll on a girl, eventually." There's something else, there, too: a wobbling pause in her voice. She forges on with a quick drink. "Sheep, then? D'you miss it?" At the bar, Liane's sitting on a stool drinking whisky and V'ros is standing near, drinking out of one mug with another still on the bar top. "Cavalier? Never been called.. that." But finally his lips quirk, perhaps in irony of what she just called him. "Lots of things. Not that." Her keen interest in her whiskey draws his eyes down to her glass, while his lips find his mug. "No. You misunderstood. History.. here. Nabol's recent.." He winces, barely. "Thieves. Igen's.. affinity for High Reaches," and any humor or disapproval gets covered up by his ale-filled mug, which he's suddenly so thirsty for. Snorting, he shakes his head. "No. See enough.. uh, beasts as is." Dragon and all. "Starting to get the feeling," Laine tips her head forward, "That most you lot have a touch of the cavalier in you." She gestures with her drink; "you lot" seems to mean the whole of the 'Reaches. It's spoken sincerely, lighthearted, especially on the tail of V'ros (near-)smile. "But. I feel like you'd have to. Place like this." She wobbles her head a bit, hesitant but still bright-eyed, gaze fixed on V'ros as he almost-but-not-quite finishes his sentences. "Mm. The Nabolese thieves." She fixes him with something a look that's a little stiffer, a little brighter, suddenly. "Heard anything... new? On that front." Another sloshing gesture with her drink, almost-too-casual. "Just curious." Edyis detangles from a group of riders as they enter from the patio, knocking snow loose as the group divides. Some headed to join in the poker game while others aim for the bar. It is the talk of Nabol that draws dark eyes to the brownrider and company. "I'm curious too actually, last I heard they had all been caught." The Nabolese woman waves down the bartender and orders something dark and spicy smelling. Intruding upon the conversation with a casual smile studying the younger woman curiously, then V'ros in turn. "Can't say.." V'ros hesitates, but appears to power through. "That I'm like.. everyone else." Whatever that cryptic message means. He's listening aptly, and on the verge of responding, when Edyis interrupts their casual conversations. It makes him immediately stiffen and turn a cold stare on the once-record keeper. "Edyis," he greets stiltedly, and turns back to Liane. "No. Nothing. Guards took them to Nabol Hold and Lady Tevrane.. she's supposed to.." He shrugs, unhelpfully. "Not sure we'll know until.. they tell everyone else." More of those half-finished sentences. Laine props herself on her elbows, eyebrows twitching up, expectant, as V'ros starts--stops--starts--and she sinks back in disappointment when he visibly hardens again. Laine turns; she greets Edyis with a half-wave, half-drink-of-whiskey, but her grey eyes are still firm on V'ros. "Mm. Hmm. She's s'pose to..?" Laine prompts. Her expression says she knows the answer, but flicking her gaze between Edyis and V'ros, she looks as though she want someone to put it into words. "Laine," she offers, as a last, to Edyis. A sidenote. "Relax V'ros. I keep my promises." Whatever that is supposed to mean, her brows furrowing at mention of Tevrane. "She still hasn't given verdict then?" She flashes a smile at Laine's introduction. "Edyis." She offers as her rum arrives, studying V'ros. "Didn't quite take her that long to settle the matter of Esvay. Perhaps it is a different situation. I wondered but haven't had a chance to ask... Were any of the bandits men who had been amongst Rone's conscripts?" "Go ask R'hin, or K'del." It's slow and with sarcasm that he replies to Edyis, giving her a single glance that conveys too much bad blood; promises or no. "Don't know. All I've heard is she has them. Nothing else. They could be dead already. Quiet affair." V'ros shrugs indolently, because these things don't concern him as much, or so his facade communicates, even if he did get attacked by said thieves. "Laine's a tanner apprentice here. Edyis is a.. waitress." Surely, that's not a smirk that he tries hiding behind his mug. Laine flicks a look between Edyis and V'ros and back again. She's still got that smile, though it's some faded now, for all that she's not sure what they're talking about. And then Edyis goes and says the thing about Rone's conscripts and Laine's smile flickers once again--recognition, perhaps. Nevertheless, blithely, she says "Sure we'd've heard something by now, in that case. Blood's hard to hide." This is followed up by the tail end of her drink. Empty, now. Shells. Now, too-brightly, missing the cue of V'ros smirk-that's-not-a-smirk she turns her attention up to Edyis: "Waitress, hm? Here? Off-duty?" "Don't let his prickly exterior fool you, he's actually a real charmer." She stage whispers to Laine with a carefree smile. Maybe a touch of payback for the waitress comment, just a touch. "I work up in the Riders' Lounge most nights, but yes I had the night off. I was supposed to be meeting someone here, but it looks like I've been stood up." She scans the bar again. "Tanning? You do leather stuff like Riding gear or just turning the hide to leather?" The brunette murmurs curiously around the edge of her glass. Charmer earns a snort, inelegant as those go. "Glad to know you've still got that stick up your ass." V'ros' smile is wan to both Edyis and Liane, before he sets his mug down and passes the other down, so it's sitting in front of the tanner apprentice; whether she wants it or not. "Well met.. Liane." He nods to her, and flicks his eyes towards Edyis, briefly. "Edyis." And then he's off, walking towards the table full of Snowdrift and Taiga riders, to immerse himself back into their midst. Laine chokes back what might be a startled laugh, following V'ros' sudden departure with a bright look. Swinging back to Edyis, she drawls, "Charmer. Sure," with a curling smile, not showing much concern for Edyis' ego. She also accept that drink, but stands; there's a man emerging from that group of poker player--a gangly bluerider--who's got his eyes fixed on Laine, and she steps neatly around Edyis so's that the other women is between them. "Pleasure to meet you, Edyis, but, uh," Laine jerks her chin toward the rider heading their way, "I'm doing some debt evasion right about now, so will you pardon me?" Edyis shakes her head watching the brownrider head off and offers a friendly smile to Laine. "I hope to see you around, and don't mind him. He just... isn't quite housebroken." Mischief sparking in those dark brown eyes, "Sure thing, I can take my exit that way." Grinning as she heads off. If she happens to make it harder on the man collecting debts? All the better. Laine grins, too, and slips out the other way, with a thankful nod for Edyis. Ale in hand, of course. |
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