Logs:Distributed Anger
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| RL Date: 14 November, 2015 |
| Who: R'oan, Ka'ge |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ka'ge questions R'oan's intentions |
| Where: The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 4, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Dahlia/Mentions |
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>---< The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr(#533RJs$) >------------------------------<
Despite its subterranean locale, the creamy wall paint, pale woods, and
frosted glass give the cavern a light, airy feel. Oil lamps reflect softly
in the polished wood of high-backed booths, glimmering through the opaque
glass dividers that help lend intimacy to the seating arrangements;
round-backed booths carved from stone, lined with deep, terra-cotta
colored padding and the addition of strategic, lyric shapes painted in a
subtle red shade. The sweeping, half-circle shaped bar with its top of
smooth stone, backed by cut-glass-fronted cabinetry flows gracefully into
the soft lines and mellow colors that dominate the Glass Fountain.
All the atmosphere aside, the main attractions of the room are clearly the
massive, multi-pronged chandelier that hangs from multiple chains from the
ceiling and the re-worked leak - which no longer resembles a leak at all,
having been channeled through glass to become a beautiful piece of art. A
curving wave and a series of glass bubbles guide the water past a bank of
glows, allowing the light to shine through the water and turn it into a
sparkling fountain. From its dark, dim, shabby history, the Glass Fountain
has become an elegant place with lattice-stands to hold the menus with
their selection ranging from typical 'bar food' to high-end dishes and
fancy desserts.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Ka'ge M 17 6' toned, black hair, blue-green eyes 0s
R'oan M 41 6'1 muscular, blonde hair, grey-green eyes 4s
----------------------------------< Exits >--------------------------------- It is rather quiet in The Glass Fountain, as the sickness continues to spread through Fort Weyr. Many people have elected to avoid being in unnecessary crowds, self-quarantining themselves when possible while others have fallen sick or are at the besides of those that are. None of these apply to R'oan, who has claimed his usual stool at the bar, not that he really need to fight for an empty one. He has a glass of dark liquid in front of himself, making his way steadily through it as another tense night settles on Fort. From being seen rarely for months now, Ka'ge has become a much more ready presence in the Weyr since Dee fell ill, though it seemed to take him a full twentyfour hours to be informed of such since it was that long before he managed to appear in the infirmary. Tonight, following one of his very-brief visits to the junior weyrwoman, the young bronzerider finds himself wandering into the Glass Fountain instead of back into the bowl. Unhurried pace brings him here, attention towards the lines of bottles behind the counter. He stops once he's reached the bar, pausing with a gloved hand on one of the stools and the other raised to claim the attention of the bartender. He never looks at R'oan, never glances his way, but given he's only two stools away, it's unlikely he's unnoticed. "Rum." He grumbles once asked, but fails to manage to take a seat there to wait for it, preferring apparently to stand. R'oan does look, his hooded grey eyes sliding sidelong to flick over Ka'ge and seem to dismiss him just as quickly, finding his glass more interesting, it seems. That he'll pick up, twisting it briefly before he tilts back all of the liquid. "Another one over here," he tells the bartender, but unfortunately for him, Ka'ge is getting served first. Ka'ge curls his fingers around the glass, picking it up and then setting it down with the unintentional abruptness that almost threatens to lose a few drops. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then changes his mind instead to simply down the glass' contents as a shot. Gloved fingers shove the glass back towards the bartender's side of the bar in that request for a refill as he's coming back anyway to refill R'oan's. But then he's back to the short nerve of wanting to speak again, speaking more towards the bar than to the older man, with his free hand tugging down the peak of his hood. "Bored tonight? Nobody to visit?" "Just another night," R'oan answers dismissively, dry even as he lifts his refilled glass to gesture around the nearly empty bar. But he's looking back at the younger man, something subtly tense in the line of his shoulders even as the rest of him appears careless. "No difference to you, then." Ka'ge concludes quietly from under the lip of his hood, leaning on the side of the bar. His calm voice doesn't match the words he gives, but he's clearly come here with some intention, "Whether you fuck her or you don't. Whether she makes it or she doesn't." R'oan exhales what might be a laugh, his gaze sharp on the younger man even as he asks carelessly, "Isn't that what you are there for? To fuck her, to care." Ka'ge reclaims the glass as the deep brown liquid sloshes back to the brim. Held in front of him, he hesitates after R'oan speaks only briefly before taking it back too. He grimaces, takes a breath. "Yeah, I care." His tone is terse with that, as if it's an unfortunate thing, though his volume never rises even as he continues, "You couldn't just be one of her flings, could you. Had to fuck with her feelings too. What are you playing at if you don't give a shit?" "Aren't I? She wanted you, didn't she," R'oan counters, that laugh only tinging his words now with a dry edge as he casts a look over the young bronzerider. "Feelings or not-- She wants you. Just take your victory and leave me to whatever it is I am playing at." That, apparently, is getting drunk for the moment since he lifts his own glass in a long sip. "Victory?" The bronzerider's brows raise and he chokes a brief, harsh laugh, "When you're invited regularly and I'm not? Sounds a little backwards, don't you think?" The humor is lost quickly enough, the glass set down, his fingers tapped on the bartop. And then, superficially calmer "And I guess it was by accident you were at the springs to catch her." "What are you looking for me to say, bronzerider? Run back to her bedside, talk to her," R'oan dismisses, setting his glass down on the bartop after draining it and pushing to his feet. Ka'ge turns to face R'oan when he stands, finally studying the older man, the far more experienced rider with those darkened blue-green eyes of his, "She's a little... feverish." He excuses her 'reasonings' with a slightly sickened half-grin. "Some sort of truth would be a good start." Lacking apparently in good judgement, the young bronzerider sets himself in R'oan's potential path. R'oan's gaze slides sharply over Ka'ge as he steps into his path, a slow lift of his brow in a question, a challenge. Does he really want to do this? But the brownrider does answer with a dry, "Do you want the truth, then? I told her that I had nothing to offer her. That we had no future. It was always going to be some young bronzerider like you." "The guy she can't have. Cliche." Ka'ge's humored tone is looking for a fight. For all the outs R'oan's given him, he's yet to move, stirred up already by circumstances and history, "And runnershit." "Well, you know me," R'oan drawls, but apparently he has had enough of this game, because he does move to brush past Ka'ge and towards the exit. Ka'ge reaches to grab his sleeve as R'oan moves past him, to stop the brownrider and turn him back to face him, "Not well enough, clearly." The rumbled words would come in tandem with a cross punch towards the other man's face. It seems as if R'oan may have let him have the shot. Or at least, he doesn't try to defend against it. His fingers lift to the lip that bursts open, touching the blood there, before he questions of the younger man, "Satisfied?" Ka'ge releases R'oan's jacket with the abrupt effort of untensing those clenched fingers and the finality of a shove, angrier now than he had been before. The lines of his face give him an ugly sort of look, made worse by the darkening effects of his attire. "No." He snaps, stepping backwards to create even more distance. "I'm not." And with all that, he has nothing else to say. No witty conclusion. Just a red-face following a poor decision, he turns to just leave. |
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