Logs:Detente
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| RL Date: 20 February, 2013 |
| Who: Brieli, Z'ian, N'rov, Alida |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Brieli and Z'ian have a pleasant, if vague chat for people on the opposite sides of an issue. N'rov comes on a visit and is territorial. Alida is smirky about PDAs. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 1, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A blanket of cold, dense fog fills the bowl with its oppressive presence and obscures vision. |
| Mentions: Hraedhyth/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
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| It's a foggy, chilly night that lends an air of mystery to the bowl and the environs of the Weyr, and drives people indoors - not that the winter normally won't drive people indoors, but everyone's much less inclined to go wandering around when you can't see very well. This has the Snowasis busy, but no more busy than usual, with people taking late dinners at a few tables, but mostly... drinks. At the bar, there's a few stools empty, mostly around Brieli; the goldrider perhaps inspires a wide berth as she sits and drinks, watching the crowd, probably listening, doing whatever other nefarious things she does while pretending to sit and look bored. From the bowl comes another from the driven indoors crowd. Hitting the pegs by the entrance first, Z'ian loses his hat and slightly damp jacket in order to access the warmth of the room more rapidly. He pulls off his gloves and shoves them in the outer pockets before heading towards the bar. It looks like he won't be a member of the late dinner group, instead here for a drink at the end of a long day. Those empty stools around Brieli are noteworthy perhaps and they do cause the bronzerider to slow some, but they don't prevent him from taking up one of the spots there. If there's a thought in his head as to what terrible deeds he's suspecting the goldrider of, it doesn't translate in the polite, silent nod of his head towards her before he orders his drink. "Weyrwoman." There's no tracking the bronzerider from the entrance, not tonight anyway; Brieli's more interested in the conversations nearby - maybe the discussion over cards at the table near the bar, really too low to eavesdrop on. It takes up enough of her attention, that and drink both, that she doesn't quite notice Z'ian until he's nearly sitting down. Her drink is in hand, so it's easy enough to raise it a touch, tilt it his way in both salute and greeting. "Evening," she returns, low and easy. "How are things?" It seems sincere enough, interested. It's an easy sort of busy tonight, so it's not long before his tall steaming mug arrives. Something hot and vaguely alcohol scented, obviously not hitting the bottles hard this evening. Z'ian leans back in his seat, holding his drink close to his chest. He glances past the goldrider to the table discussing cards, picking up a few snatches of their conversation before shifting his attention back towards Brieli once more. To her question he rolls his eyes to the ceiling briefly, lifting his shoulders. "Good and bad. But what isn't?" There's a wry smile, not all doom and gloom honestly. "And yourself?" The drink before Brieli looks like rum, but that's more or less what she always drinks, no big shocks there. The conversation behind them seems to be about the state of the Weyr, but it's difficult to tell... and who doesn't talk about the state of things these days? There's a faint quirk of her lips for Z'ian's eyeroll, and she likewise shrugs, in a way that's meant to be diffident. "About the same. I suppose 'frustrating' might be a good word as well." She wrinkles her nose girlishly before taking another drink. "I can't say as I've found myself frustrated exactly. Not lately." Z'ian muses before lifting the mug to his lips. He looks past her again; eyes vaguely distant, likely thinking if there's one word he could make use of. When he lowers his drink, he taps one finger on the countertop. "I was outright 'dumbfounded' sometime last seven. But that passed after the surprise wore off." It could be about the state of things or it could be a totally innocent conversation about life in general, it is hard to tell. "Iesaryth? I haven't been to the sands lately, but I hear she's doing well?" After her sip, setting down her drink, Brieli arches one fine brow down the bar Z'ian's way - do tell! She has to admit, "I don't like being surprised. It means I haven't thought of something, or Iesaryth hasn't thought of something... and that's a bit terrifying, to be honest." She even mimes a little shiver, smirking a little at her issues. "And she's all right. She and Hraedhyth seem to do all right with the grounds and the clutches together. She's not quite... bored, but they're less interesting to her as eggs than their potential, I suppose." The bronzerider nods his head, "Yeah, I've never done well with surprises. In my experience they're almost always the harbinger of something unpleasant." His mug remains held close to his chest with one hand, while the other continues that mostly idle tapping on the counter. It's soft, soundless really and probably not terribly annoying. "I'm not a good forward thinker, so maybe it wouldn't have been so startling to a cleverer person." That has Z'ian pursing his lips briefly before he gives his head a quick, distracted shake. "I heard it's next to impossible to tell whose is whose. Can they tell the difference?" He asks, curiously before laughing quietly. "They're more interesting once they hatch. Except for the whole 'Feeeeeed meeeeee' thing. Later on, after that." "Depends on the surprise, I imagine. But... mostly." Brieli sets down her drink, if only to make rings on the bartop, all intersecting. With a sidelong glance, she tells Z'ian lightly, "Keep talking about it and I'll be forced to find out. If you'll tell." She has a faintly amused smile about her for that, if wry. As for the eggs, "She says they can tell the difference, not that she's felt the need to tip me off much. There's certainly no real... uniformity? None to any of them. Nothing that you could use to link them up easily. And given Iesaryth doesn't have to deal with the feeding, she's not worried about that. She just wishes they'd talk back." A pause, before, quieter, "I said that they might listen though." The slow steady thrum of his fingers against the wood of the bartop pauses for a moment as he lets his own gaze slide down to hers, considering. The usual open expression that Z'ian wears is guarded, thinly though while the little tiny (okay maybe average sized) gears of his mind turn. "Afterwards. Though I gather you'll hear from someone else first." His smile is curious then as he looks away momentarily. "I've noticed that eggs don't come with a stamp on them letting you know which dragon they came from. Go figure." It's a light joke that proceeds the few seconds of quiet between her last words and his response to them. He's regarding her again before finally answering, voice pitched just a touch low as well. "I think they just might listen." Knocking back the rest of her drink before signalling for another with her empty glass, Brieli tells Z'ian, with a grin, "I hear all kinds of things from all kinds of people. Some I don't like and some I do. But I listen. Hopefully, I've heard. Or I will. But it doesn't mean hearing from another perspective doesn't have its value, yes?" She slides the glass across the wood for the 'tender, with a hollow sound. "No, the eggs don't. Which makes me wonder how they know, but Iesaryth is somewhat mysterious on that score." Glancing back his way at his last, she has to smile slightly again, nodding. "I'll tell her. It doesn't make it more interesting, I think, though." Z'ian laughs low and ducks his head, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "I just..." He takes a long draw from his mug before finally setting it down on the counter. "I have a friend that I want to protect." There's a pause from the bronzerider, the briefest flicker of internal conflict before continuing. "And I got the answer I wanted and needed for that, but then something else along with it that was surprising. Disconcerting. And now I just plan on finding out how far it goes, if it's deep at all. It might not be anything." There's an easy roll of his shoulders. "But for now, that's all I feel comfortable saying. It's trickier to get in trouble for something no one told you that you couldn't do." For Iesaryth and her eggs, he cants his head to the side and slides his gaze her way once more. Steadier now, "My boys mother tells me she'd always know them. Maybe it's that mothering instinct." When the bartender brings Brieli's next drink, she considers Z'ian's words for some time while looking into it; not long enough to be awkward, but long enough for one to wonder a little. "That's either selfless, or you have a vested interest in protecting said friend," she notes, tone light again... but the flicker of dark eyes his way might indicate she has a few guesses. "Disconcerting. Well. I will assume that if it's something that threatens the Weyr, I would be informed. And yes, forgiveness than permission, all of that. I wonder why, though, you think you might get in trouble?" Dark eyes gleam briefly, and she agrees, "It's possible. I have none of it. I barely remember my mother." "I don't think I'm selfless." Z'ian begins, running his finger along the edge of his mug. "My friend is protected. He also doesn't know." That he's protected? That the bronzerider is up to something? It's possible that it's both. He takes a long breath and produces a slow half smile. "It's just a conversation that might not go so well." That he's not accustomed to talks that aren't clear and cut is obvious. "Taking care of some cracks in the foundation. Consider it being informed of general maintenance with an update afterwards." He pulls that almost finished drink back towards himself once more, "It could change if you have children. I don't have anything other than speculation; I'm never going to be a mother." The man comments lightly with a quick grin. "If you don't intend for him to know, that's somewhat selfless. Doing something for your friend, for the greater good, without reward. Not everyone is interested in that." Brieli pulls her glass towards her, but doesn't yet sip, looking down into the dark liquid. Conversations not going well however - that has her aiming a curious glance Z'ian's way, brows arching again. "Interesting. Both conversation and maintenance both. There's certainly cracks enough to be patched." That has her grimacing, lifting her booze. "You speak to K'del often, yes?" Quite as if they hadn't been talking about him AT ALL. "And it could, but I don't see it in the cards soon. I'm young." "I'll talk to him about it when it's over too. He's not totally unaware, just of this part. I don't want him to get himself in trouble. He's a good man, I'm just not sure he'd be objective here." Z'ian lifts the mug to his mouth and tips it back, draining the last of the still warm liquid. "Maybe you're right." But he sounds just a touch doubtful. The broaching of K'del's actual name comes with a positive nod and sidelong glance towards her, "When we get the chance to. These days." With his drink now empty, he slides it across the bar to be refilled. Thoughtfully, "You are. Put it off for awhile, if you're able to. A long while. I think I would have been a better father if I hadn't started so young." Considering the bronzerider's words, Brieli has to ask, "Is anyone ever totally objective?" She's sitting at the bar - what else is new - next to Z'ian, who has an empty mug across the bar from him. She has a glass in hand, mostly full, though she's working on that. There's a card game behind them, and a reasonably full Snowasis on this foggy night. Flashing a grin, the goldrider says, "Maybe I am. Or maybe you've some motive I can't sort out." As for the former Weyrleader, her words come slowly, but they do come, "I've been thinking a lot, considering... what his place is in everything. I'd like to talk to him about that but... yes, perhaps understandably... he doesn't seem to necessarily want to discuss... anything." Maybe she's hoping he'll pass that on? Shrugging, "There's no reason I can't, I don't think. I don't see myself as the 'mom' type, personally." "No. But some are better suited for certain situations than others." Z'ian who is probably relatively unsure he should even be having this conversation at least seems to be certain of that. The bartender comes along with a replacement drink and he slides it across to himself again. The bronzerider leans back in the stool. The subject of motives elicits laughter from him, "I'm not a complicated a man. I'm certain it won't be difficult for you." Falling quiet and thoughtful he raises his hand to his face and begins to rub at the light layer of stubble there. "We've all been raw since the flights. K'del more than others, maybe." There's a steadying breath, "All things considered. I'll mention it to him." There's no promise of delivering anything hanging there. "I wonder how many people really do? It's better to take time and give it thought, regardless of your ultimate decision anyway." "I suppose that's true..." Brieli purses her lips a touch as she sets her glass down - no sense in drinking anything straight all that quickly. With her own quiet laugh, she tells Z'ian, in a tone that sounds somewhere near honesty, "I don't know. I ascribe complex motivations to everyone. And wouldn't a complicated person want to deny that? See, this is how I... this is what comes to mind." She'll sober a touch at the change in subject, and if she's not sorry, she does a good job of looking regretful. "I don't think I was... helpful. So I'd appreciate that." With a sidelong glance and a grin, "And I appreciate the advice from the experienced." One of the cluster of riders entering the Snowasis is wearing the knot of Fort, not High Reaches. It's not that N'rov /swaggers/, but there's a conscious assurance in his stride, anything but furtive. He even has a consciously-casual nod for the bartender to go with that, and pauses to check out the card game along the way. Because it is /along the way/: his next steps take him quite purposely in the direction of the bar, or more precisely Brieli's section of it, and towards the foaming mug that's just now slid by her abandoned glass. And yes, he's got an eye on Z'ian too, but... casually. "Wouldn't it take a complicated person to ascribe complex motivations to otherwise uncomplicated people? Sometimes a sheet of paper is just a sheet of paper." Z'ian shrugs easily for that, but there's some faint amusement tugging up the corners of his lips. It becomes obscured when he brings the mug to his mouth, taking in a long drink of the warm liquid. It's during this that he notices N'rov's approach, flickering his gaze towards him momentarily. "I'm not sure that I'll be helpful, but he's not unreasonable. Frustrated maybe." A throwback to the word she'd used much earlier in their conversation, it comes with a flash of a smile. "Don't worry about it." The 'Reaches bronzerider doesn't exude much, he's exceedingly casual in a way that suggests he's not used to not being confident so there's isn't much posturing going on. No one at High Reaches probably ever gets the kind of smile that Brieli has for N'rov as she notices him, turns to watch him approach, openly admiring. When he's close enough, she lifts a slender hand to his chest briefly, lingering there before she can tear gaze and fingers both away and turn back to the bar. Again, either she's a really good actor, or she's really that into the Fortian bronzerider. She can be polite; "N'rov, this is Z'ian, Tsanth's." There's a 'be-nice' note there in her tone, wonder why? "Z'ian, N'rov, Vhaeryth's." That guy. Back to her glass, she mutters, "It's never just paper." In a more conversational tone, "Not-unreasonable is a good start." It's that welcome that has N'rov relaxing in a way he'd no doubt like to think is imperceptible, though the resulting smile threatens to edge into smirk territory as he leans an elbow on the bar next to his girl. The welcome, and the warning. "Z'ian," he greets moderately enough. "What should I have heard about you? Or Tsanth, whichever," because his easy shrug admits that he's coming up blank. Oh, okay. That guy. It's not like Z'ian wasn't beginning to have a clue about the Fortian's rider's identity when he showed up, but it's the introductions that seals it. His gaze flickers with recognition, but the bronzerider manages a mostly polite smile. Whatever passive-aggressive antagonistic remark that he could have produced is thrown to the wayside. Probably indefinitely. N'rov speaks and he tries to press his lips together, keep it in. But the laughter eventually comes out anyway. Amused and light, "Oh, nothing. Really." He flashes a glance towards Brili, grin slow and sly. "Oh, darling. Sometimes a piece of paper is just a piece of paper." He pushes that stool away from the bar and gets to his feet. Graciously to the other rider, "Have my seat." Rolling her eyes for that incredibly helpful greeting, Brieli takes a sip from her glass, shooting Z'ian something of an apologetic look over it. It doesn't stop her from leaning into N'rov a little, though. But she does have to shake her head a little at the laughter, possibly amused herself - but definitely not showing it, looking down into her drink. That is, until Z'ian speaks, gets up; she tilts her head, brows drawn together thoughtfully. "That doesn't sound entirely right..." she says, mostly to herself. As the Reachian bronzerider offers up his seat, "Off for the night? Or just elsewhere?" "Not surprised," N'rov says amiably, though that grin of Z'ian's adds subtle tension to his jaw that's only accentuated by the endearment. /Not/ that he's gritting his teeth or anything, particularly since that would make it pretty hard to drink his own beer now that he's claimed it. A swallow later, he's wiping the foam away and assures, "No need. I'm comfortable." Particularly with Brieli leaning in like that. He even goes so far as to look interested, politely interested, in the prospect of the other bronzerider's answer to her question. "It depends. I might stop by a friend's and see if she's back in for the night. If not, I'm self-entertaining." Z'ian has an easy smile for that as he quickly drains the rest of his mug. He slides it across to the edge of the bar and sends his payment along with it. It probably doesn't help the situation that the Reaches man has only a deeply amused grin for N'rov's response to their introduction. He manages to keep the laughter in check though and flickering his glance up and down the younger man, "Keep telling yourself that, kid." Brieli gets a lazy salute of two fingers to his forehead before he heads to the door, picking up his hat and jacket along the way. To Iesaryth, Tsanth's mindvoice comes tumbling in like sand being knocked down a tall dune. There's laughter there and some apology. « He'd like me to say sorry on his behalf. Sometimes he can't help but needle. » "N'rov." It's quiet, barely even any emphasis on it, but the intent is likely obvious. To him, anyway, if not to the other bronzerider; Brieli's paired it with a flicker of a glance up at the Fortian, one fine brow arched. It doesn't go much further that that - if she's displeased, she's not showing it. For Z'ian, an amused echo, "Self-entertaining. I'm sure that's been helpful over the turns." What comes next though? There's no reacting to, not even that lazy salute though - technically - she should return it. But once Z'ian's gone, just over a whisper, "What was that about?" To Tsanth, Iesaryth is the tide reaching the sandy beach, eternal, heavy with underwater weight... but still, in her light tenor; « She understands. » That jibe surely would have hit better if N'rov hadn't gotten that wholly entertained gleam in his gray eyes. "Enjoy your... self-entertaining," he offers the older man, though given Brieli's nudge, he leaves off most of the overtones of 'while you can.' It's her eventual whisper that draws him back from watching the man's departure, back to her. Just as quietly, "The kid thing? It's a secret sign that /really/, what he wants is for me to grow out my beard." There's a reasonably busy Snowasis on this foggy night, with a few card games going, a few tables doing hard drinking. Brieli and N'rov are both at the bar, the weyrwoman leaning into the Fortian bronzerider as he leans on the bar next to her. Seats are open around her because... well. People know not to bother Brieli if she doesn't want to be bothered. Right now, the tall dark goldrider is looking off towards the exit to the caverns, rolling her eyes dramatically. "That wasn't what I was talking about and you know it." Her drink's only half-finished; she gets it nearer a quarter. There may be a 'no drunkenness' clause to this whole Candidacy thing, but Alida is quite good at holding her liquor...and so pads into the Snowasis for a couple stiff ones after she's done with her workout and dinner this eve. The look of mixed dourness and leftover surprise at her new position are evident upon the young woman's features, but still she cannot be other than she is...and casts her level green gaze all about to take note of faces and habits. So N'rov leans in to drop a kiss by that tall dark goldrider's ear, as long as she's looking so conveniently in that direction. "It's that, or a secret sign that he wants me to quiz you about that 'darling' thing, which I don't plan to bother with. Though we can talk about him if you /want/ to. Or the paper. Or... have I mentioned that you roll your eyes like no one else in the whole wide world? It's quite charming." His face is newly shaven, as it happens, and he's certainly talking low-voiced to Brieli like that's a particularly engaging sort of habit. Brieli seems quite engaged by N'rov, quite unlike she is by... oh, just about anything. It's likely why she's not making her customary survey of the room now and again; distracted. It's also maybe why she has to put down her glass. That's also not likely her first drink. "No, that's fine. He's one of K'del's, yes? I thought maybe I'd mentioned?" A pause, then looking up into grey eyes, "The whole wide world? Really?" It's somewhere between teasing and amazed, but she's grinning. One of the guys at the card game might roll his eyes, but no one's making any comments to him. Kissy-face in a bar? Say it ain't so! The sight of a clean smooch laid down upon what looks like a weyrwoman's face by some other rider is little reason for Alida to study such more than once, the guard having seen a helluva' lot more in seedier dives in her time. A twist of lips into a faint smirky smile is all for Brieli and N'rov as the candidate passes by them, but she's more intent on finding some small table at the wall that she can place her back to, and have a drink in relative peace. "Ah, one of those," and it's N'rov's turn to straighten and glance towards the exit too, like that would shed some new light on the man, at least before her dark eyes draw him right back. "And yes. Really. I'm quite the connoisseur of eye-rolling, by now," he claims grandly. "Actually, I've been thinking about branching out into," only it's then that he begins to draw her elbow slightly away from the bar, and catches sight of Alida at last. "That one /smirked/ at us. What a coincidence." At least it's whispered. The smirky pale girl gets a flicker of a flinty look from Brieli, only lingering head-to-toe because of the white cord at her shoulder. Half the eggs are hers; perhaps it stands to reason she has some interest in whoever's been picked up for the clutch. "One of those. I'm making friends," she tells N'rov with a wide grin, letting him draw her away from the bar, though she'll take her drink with her. Glancing back Alida's way as she slides from the stool, she has to laugh, dark eyes bright, "Wouldn't be the first. Or last, if you keep being so personable." Coincidence, hell! It's partly due to Alida being a bit of a nosy knob...one could also call such 'attention to detail.' Leaving the bigger knots to their fun, the palest-blonde woman soon enough finds her place in the world - well, at least in the Snowasis - and seats herself in a smooth motion after placing her chair's back against a wall. Positioned so, the guard can monitor the crowd while feeling secure enough to imbibe and relax some. Ohhh... "Fuck me..." the young woman murmurs purely to herself as she takes notice of that look Brieli awards her out yonder, her expression moving from relaxed ease to something like latent...something. As a bar wench approaches, she orders something purely with a few complex finger motions, the femme who serves her looking in confusion at such until the guard clips off in a low alto, "Whiskey 'n klah, on the rocks." "/Are/ you," says a smiling N'rov, who's likewise taken his beer along with him (could be he's been allowed to run a tab, given that no one's hunting him down about it), but navigates with practiced ease. "Lucky them. I wonder if they recognize it... Do you have a jacket? It's above freezing, but the fog's thick enough to chew, and I don't know if I can chew and be 'personable' at the same time if we should run into anyone else. Perhaps it requires more practice." There's a moment's more attention that Brieli can send Alida's way, dark eyes hard and face expressionless, if it's getting a reaction; she seems to like that. But then it's back to N'rov and the weyrwoman is a different person. One that's presumably paid for her drinks or likewise has a tab, as she's finishing her drink, putting the glass on the bar. "We'll see if they do," she tells the bronzerider mysteriously, grinning as she moves away from the bar and closer to the bowl. "By the door. And should we just tell anyone we run into we've important business, then? I have things in mind that seem fairly important at the moment." Alida recognizes, and intrinsically understands that hard and expressionless cast to Brieli's eyes and features...and as such, casts the same chill and dead look back to the weyrwoman...unfazed, since she isn't bothering to approach the a-social candidate. For a strange moment, they mirror one another, at least in outer expressions, and then a small throng of merry-makers pass between the two femmes, the seated woman by the wall moving on to other things to peer at...like the ass of some guy hunched over the bar-proper over yonder. After a good long moment perusing those round, tight cheeks, the guard recollects where she is, and a fractional hint of a blush scoots over her cheeks. It's only in following Brieli's glance that N'rov notices the pale girl again, and then it's to give her an appraising glance in passing, one that narrows through the moment it lasts. But his priorities are elsewhere, altogether too agreeable with, "Exceedingly important business, to be transacted in a timely fashion, lest there be... penalties." By the time they make it to the door, he's abandoned his emptied mug on an empty table, the better to help her with that coat and get out of there. |
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