Logs:Drink Club
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| RL Date: 28 December, 2013 |
| Who: N'dalis, N'rov, Reesa |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Despite Topics That Cannot Be Discussed, and general bickering, drinks are had. Yay. |
| Where: The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 8, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, E'ten/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions |
| Normally at this time Reesa'd be camped out with the Hematite riders, enjoying a few beers. It seems since her transfer into Jasper there's not so much of that happening; instead she's seated at a table by herself, a couple of beers warming on the table, waiting for N'dalis' arrival. Khiabeth's conversation with Suraieth was fleeting and full of the sensation of cold beer and fuzzy memories to encourage said company. Suraieth has puzzled over this concept of beer, something she does with great frequency: riders do such /strange/ things for pleasure, things very unlike that which she does. But her N'dalis is approving, and so she consents to his presence, here, for now, while she rests after Malachite's extensive - and exhausting - drills. Dal wipes a sheen of sweat from his brow as he enters the Fountain, using a handkerchief rather than the back of his hand. "Reesa," he greets. "Hey." Reesa, naturally, greets N'dalis with a beer, practically pushed into his hands. "You could've at least had a bath first," she says, though it's a rote - expected - complaint, rather than a genuine one. "Though, the way the weather's going today I wouldn't mind a dive in the ice lake later, if the girls are accommodating." The /girls/ being their respective greens, of course. "Ice Lake?" That would be N'rov, who's poked his cheerfully scruffy head around the divider from the neighboring booth. At least he's clean, though he could use a shave. "Dal. Hello. Used-to-be-wingmate, hello to you too." N'dalis is clearly grateful for that beer, lifting it immediately in a toast before he takes a long drink from it. "Perfect, thank you," is his first remark, his next being an unspoken, but obviously apologetic, glance down at himself. Well. It could be /worse/. "N'rov. Is Jasper the enemy, now?" He seems genuinely curious. Reesa looks rather pleased with N'dalis' approval of her choice in beer, lifting her own in response and taking a gulp. The lackadaisical response to N'rov's intervention is pointed: "Hello to you too, air-head. And no, he's dark because I'm no longer a toy in his wing to play with, is all." She waves her hand, vaguely, and the words that follow are casual at best: "Plus, he's stuck with a renegade for a Wingleader-" "I'm sure they're /someone's/ enemy," but N'rov's got an easy shrug as he addresses the other man. "Possibly even two someones'." With that he retreats, so maybe he's given up; but no, it's only long enough to snag his own mug and then he's hanging around the edge again. After a long drink, he slews a look toward the other greenrider. "Look, Reesa. Just because I haven't hit you or fucked you doesn't mean you have to sour the beer." N'dalis, almost smiling which is at least something he does /more/ often these days, gives N'rov a searching look, and then waves a hand towards the booth: does he want to sit properly? Not that the smile lasts, oh no. "Play nice," he tells them both, in a tone of voice that is probably very like the one he uses on his five-turn-old son (so there). "No politics, no arguing, no insults. Please. Don't we have enough of that already?" "Two someone's," Reesa echoes, with wide eyes. "How fascinating. Please tell me more?" It's the latter that makes the greenrider laugh: "Oh, /please/. You only wish. Even Khiabeth has better standards than that." It's N'dalis' tone that makes her roll her eyes in his direction, and she expels a breath, "Yes, dad," with an upward curve of lips. "I'll play nice, for the sake of beer." And only beer. "Not tonight, dear, I have a headache," is what N'rov has for Reesa, and a smirk; for Dal, once he's disappeared again to return with what's left of the /pitcher/ (seems whoever he'd been drinking with had left it about a third full) as well as his mug, "Shove over. I suppose I can give it a try. Though," and it seems he can adopt a paternal or at least avuncular tone of his own, "If you're going to be that way, you should say /please/." Lifting his own beer, N'dalis seems determined to ignore a lot of things: "To beer," he says, almost cheerful all over again, quite as if any tensions never happened. "And sunny summer days, at that." He sidles further in, creating space for N'rov, and then adds, "How /are/ things going in Jasper, though? More settled?" Another roll of eyes is the teenager's typical response to the bronzerider, but Reesa at least refrains from responding, perhaps out of respect of N'dalis' request. "To beer," she's easy enough with echoing, lifting her mug. /She/ doesn't really move to make things any easier for N'rov, but then that's likely not so much personal as habit. "If by settled you mean it's like one of those bugs nests that's been kicked over and stomped on, yes. Although I'll admit, constantly being on the edge of impending violence does have a certain... thrill," the greenrider admits with a wide grin. "Sure you won't join me?" to N'dalis. Besides, N'rov's slid into that offered space by N'dalis, and so there's no need. "Beer and summer," he can agree, filling up his own glass mug before setting the pitcher down again. "Bug-stomping. Tasty. Are they the biting or the stinging kind? And how /do/ you like bugs, Dal?" "I'll pass," says Dal, rather fervently, with a firm shake of his head. "Not my kind of thing at all." Which rather serves to answer both of his fellow riders, doesn't it? "I'm glad Malachite has stayed largely out of everything. Except having opinions, I suppose, which is..." almost as bad. "Reesa can keep the bug-stomping thrill. And N'rov can keep the renegade side-eyes. /Politics/." /Ugh/. "I will just stay out." "You're the peacemaker, you'd probably help out a lot, all things considered," Reesa says to N'dalis. Nevermind he demured; the idea's in her head now, and it makes her lean forward with sudden interest. "I'll buy you one beer a day if you transfer. Spot you credit at Dice. Buy you /decent/ clothes." Each of the offers are thrown out one by one, with a spread of hands as if to indicate he can take his pick. "Don't you think it's a good idea, N'rov?" in her sweetest voice, though looking for support from him is an odd way to go about it. "He'd be /perfect/ for it. Keep that lot in line, the way he kept all those weyrlings in line. Speaking of, I /hear/ you're going into the junior assistant weyrlingmaster program. At this rate, you'll finish before N'rov. He's only two Turns ahead of you." "You're the peacemaker, you'd probably help out a lot, all things considered," Reesa says to N'dalis. Nevermind he demured; the idea's in her head now, and it makes her lean forward with sudden interest. "I'll buy you one beer a day if you transfer. Spot you credit at Dice. Buy you /decent/ clothes." Each of the offers are thrown out one by one, with a spread of hands as if to indicate he can take his pick. "Don't you think it's a good idea, N'rov?" in her sweetest voice, though looking for support from him is an odd way to go about it. "He'd be /perfect/ for it. Keep that lot in line, the way he kept all those weyrlings in line. Speaking of, I /hear/ you're going into the junior assistant weyrlingmaster program. At this rate, you'll finish before N'rov. He's only two Turns ahead of you." "Good luck with that." Whatever N'rov knows, or has at least witnessed, of renegades... by his smile it might as well be nothing at all, though there's momentary tightness to his jaw. "Careful, Dal. She'll try and turn you into the next E'ten. But then..." His smile reappears, briefly secretive. "How's that going, by the way, Reesa?" Reesa's sudden enthusiasm seems to rather bewildered N'dalis, who gives her a lingering, raised-eyebrow glance. "Wouldn't it be less fun for you, without all... impending violence?" he counters, carefully, sounding just short of amused about the very idea. "I think the weyrlings will be just enough for me, whenever we get them." Of E'ten, he makes - very deliberately - no comment. Beer is abruptly very important. A roll of eyes, of course, is the blonde's answer to that attempted verbal poke. "Why don't you ask your boyfriend?" If Reesa seems pleased, well, it's probably due to the fact that N'rov has to /ask/. For N'dalis, there's a bit of a pout: "I mean, it's nice in the /short/ term, but I wouldn't want it to last forever. Don't you want to challenge yourself, stretch yourself, be all that you can be?" She must've read some of those guard recruitment posters the last time she was at Fort Hold. "Well, it's not like you've moved in together," N'rov points out, as though that's somehow important. But when he follows up her speech, it's with the aside, "What do you think, Dal? Does she get a finder's fee or something?" "A peacemaker, in a shattered wing," sums up Dal, with a shake of his head. "Is that all that I can be?" It's a moment later, as he picks up his mug again, that it occurs to him to add, "Not that you've moved in with /your/ girl either, N'rov. I may not have a great deal of understanding of these weyr relationships, but I understand that that's perfectly acceptable." "Well, it's not like you-" Reesa begins to counters kind of offhandedly, until N'dalis steps in, earning a pleased smile from his fellow greenrider. "Peacemaker is just to /start/, in a few Turns, you'll be leading, I'm sure. You're not going to leave me alone with all those-" a pause to consider the best way to describe her now-wingmates, "-/people/, are you?" she's doing her best wide-eyed look, though it's probably hard for her to look entirely innocent. "See, we live in different Weyrs," N'rov kindly 'illuminates' the other man, with the smoothness of one who's had to field such a comment many a time. He spares an amused eye for Reesa's show, then turns to N'dalis, for surely this is a matter of grave importance. "We can't do that without betraying all we hold dear and," stabbing someone in the back, if his dramatic tone is any indication, but no. "Transferring. They, however, don't have that getting in the way. Or at least they wouldn't if they actually wanted to... but as you say, it's not for everyone." Dragon> It's the tiniest of imbalances, though one that ripples out with Elaruth as its definite source; a tug of /something/ like hurt or fear or anger before equilibrium is restored. (To Fort dragons from Elaruth) Dragon> To Fort dragons, Isyath, of course, is curious /and/ nosy, and so almost immediately she sends out a quizzical note, loud enough for others to hear, before following that ripple to its source. Perhaps it's Suraieth's influence, or simply the passage of time, that allows Dal to present an expression of pseudo-fascination as he's illuminated by the master - this is all new to him, no really! "I see," he murmurs, wide-eyed. "Or perhaps you just don't love her enough to give up Fort. Or-- I'm sorry." He's gone pink beneath that skin that has been further darkened by the sun. To Reesa, "Why are you so interested in having me in Jasper, honestly?" Dragon> To Fort dragons, Vhaeryth had been /sunning/. But still, tiny though it was... he /listens/. That 'lame' that's muttered under Reesa's breath might, or might not've been intended to be heard by the others. But then again it's probably overshadowed by N'dalis' response, earning a brief open-mouthed stare of awe and admiration, quickly followed by a stifled cough and darted look N'rov's way. After a gulp of beer, to N'dalis, matter-of-factly: "Because you're- you're /you/, and I think you'd help more than harm, and that's what that pile of knuckle-draggers needs." Dragon> To Fort dragons, Adiulth is curious - when it comes to those he knows, pausing in both observations and conversations to sense if everything is alright. Dragon> To Fort dragons, Khiabeth's far to invested in sunning; it's warm and she's sleepy, and she's trying to ignore the stirring that follows. Dragon> Perhaps it's embarrassment that keeps Elaruth quiet, no response given to anyone, and only a sense of a more vast expanse of mist and distance given in apology. (To Fort dragons from Elaruth)</i> Even with the earlier questions, N'rov must not have expected /N'dalis/ to have turned traitor, for that greenrider gets a look from cool gray eyes. "Apology accepted." Reesa, though, he can still make a crude gesture at her and her cough without actually having to glance her way. Into the mix, lower-voiced, "Any idea what Isyath's twigging on, with Elaruth?" Dragon> The quiet only serves to make Isyath wait, attentively: like a cat waiting for the mouse to poke its nose out of the hole. It's only a matter of time. Or, let's face it, only a matter of time until she's distracted by something else. (To Fort dragons from Isyath) Though he's obviously even more embarrassed in the wake of that /look/ from N'rov, N'dalis seems relieved by the verbal response - enough so that he can duck his attention back towards Reesa and actually pay her serious attention. "I'll... think about it," he promises. "Su just commented on it, too." His brow furrows. "Heard some people say, recently, some of her behavior suggests she's going to rise?" That crude gesture gets a smile from Reesa, and a cruder if perhaps more subtle response. "I'd prefer it if you use two fingers, next time, but we can talk about that later," she says sweetly. For the latter: "No idea. Khiabeth's sunning; she's not bothered." And neither is, apparently, the blonde. N'dalis' response has her smiling. "That's all I ask. Think about it." "She's going to rise," says Reesa-ignoring N'rov, "and it's just a question of when. When we're out of the Weyr, though, that's the important thing," at least in front of his onetime wingmate. Although, "I don't think E'ten wants it, despite what they're saying, but there's always Adiulth to consider." He reaches for the pitcher, tilting it in an offer to top off N'dalis' glass before his own. "I don't want to offend Taria," says N'dalis, clearly still thinking about this whole wing thing. "And Jasper's not historically easy on inexperienced riders. Unless things are changing..." He breaks off, just in time to extend his mug towards N'rov with a nod of thanks. "Do you think Bijedth will win again, given everything?" "Adiulth will chase," Reesa says, as if she's some expert; the idea of E'ten becoming Weyrleader is certainly of interest to the greenrider, judging by thoughtful purse of lips. "Things /are/ changing," she adds, pointedly, though whether that's merely direct response to N'dalis' musing, or to the discussion of Weyrleadership as well is hard to say. "Elaruth seems to like him," the greenrider says cautiously. N'rov certainly doesn't offer the same courtesy to Reesa, but he doesn't fill his own mug all the way despite there still being beer left in the pitcher, and when he sets down that pitcher, it's roughly within grabbable range for the girl. "N'muir, he does right by this place. He works hard." /He/ doesn't mention what N'muir might or might not have been. "Better Bijedth than anyone else, the way I see it. And with all deference to our delightfully fecund Weyrwoman, would you inflict her on E'ten?" N'dalis considers his beer for several long seconds, then sips, swallows, and finally remarks: "At least E'ten would be... well, he's N'muir's Wingsecond, so there would be some kind of continuity." It's obvious, though, that all of this deserves much more consideration... and that Dal doesn't necessarily see himself as having a valuable opinion on the subject. "In any case, I don't imagine it's really up to any of us. Unless that old story about the opinion of the Weyr mattering is really true?" It'd be hard for Reesa not to notice that slight, and a polite person would ignore it or simply reach for the pitcher... but this is Reesa, and she settles for sticking her tongue out at him. "/E'ten/ can handle himself." Unlike, presumably, some people. "Besides, even if Bijedth didn't win, N'muir wouldn't leave." She drains her glass, and pushes across the table, leaning back. "I imagine we'll find out shortly, if it's true or not." "Continuity's something," is all N'rov will say to that. Though then he does turn to Reesa, his brow darkening, and it's not because of her tongue. Not when he says, seriously this time, "Why wouldn't you think he'd leave? If things did go down badly. Why would he stay?" N'dalis stares at his drink again, for one second, two seconds, three. Then, his gaze lifts so that he can glance from Reesa to N'rov and then back again. "Where would he even go?" "There'd be somewhere." N'rov hasn't looked away from Reesa. "You really think that's set in stone, the two of them?" A pause, like Reesa's considering, and it's the most serious thing yet, "Yes." She doesn't say /why/ she knows it to be true, but she seems certain. "Why?" N'rov asks, flat. "I no longer have any idea what you're talking about," admits N'dalis, though he doesn't seem too fazed by it: there's more beer to drink, see. "Because I'm special and amazing and I know things," is Reesa's breezy, confident answer. "And I need more beer if we're going to continue to be bestest of friends." She pushes up, clambering out and straightening before wandering over towards the bar. Apparently /N'rov's/ beer isn't good enough. N'rov rolls his eyes, but he's in no hurry to preempt Reesa's fetching whatever she's going to fetch. Instead, while she's gone, his voice drops. "You all right, Dal? All this /mess/ going on." N'dalis' gaze lifts after Reesa, contemplative and bewildered both, though he's quick enough to glance back at N'rov when the bronzerider speaks. "Honestly," he admits, "I hardly notice most of it. Or I just stay out. I'm not... I've no stake in any of it. So I'm fine." He sounds relieved, too. "Though I guess if I /do/ consider Jasper... we'll see." "That seems like the safer way to go," N'rov says without judgment. Though, "Should I be trying to recruit you to Hematite? If you're thinking of jumping ship anyway." "Does /Hematite/ need a peacekeeper?" N'dalis wants to know, the corners of his mouth turning up. "Do /you/ need some non-peacekeeping?" N'rov counters with a laugh.
"I need a b--." 'Beer', presumably, but also probably 'bath' and other things. Dal's interrupted, of course, by Reesa's return; a bemused glance gets aimed upwards at the greenrider, rapidly hidden behind his mug, which he drains. "Break? Bitch? Hey, Reesa, nice aim." N'rov grins before getting back to business. "Beer? Weyr with a bath? Piece of bread? Help me out, here, I'm reaching." "/I/ need a weyr with a bath," Reesa's bemoaning as she slides into the booth again, reaching to fill up her glass. "Making eyes at Shevena is increasingly difficult; I think her eyesight's going." Or she could just be exaggerating. N'dalis decides, after setting his mug back down on the table, "I think we all need a weyr with a bath. Maybe you'd better make Wingleader or something, Reesa. Throw some clout around. No, I think /I/ just need another beer." "Fine, if you get a weyr with a bath, I'll take it instead," N'rov says, still watching the little beer-puddle progress towards him with fascination. He does relent and reach past N'dalis for a napkin, the better to make a dam. "But in the meantime, beer all around." At least they can agree on that? "I'm sure E'ten will make Wingleader before I do." Maybe that's why Reesa's not living with him- waiting for that big diamond... bath! But the idea, nonetheless, makes her smile. "Okay, let's make a pact. When we're drinking, we each get to nominate a topic we can't talk about. Keep it all friendly like. Dal?" She invites him to nominate, first. "If E'ten becomes Weyrleader, he could give you Jasper," suggests Dal, with the kind of lazy smile that suggests he's far from serious. "I... don't know. What kind of thing are you thinking about? I don't really mind what we talk about, as long as you two aren't murdering each other." He refills his mug. "Save it for later," N'rov advises. "Your turn to pick, Reesa." Dal hadn't suggested E'ten give Reesa /Hematite/, after all. "I'd rather have the weyr-with-a-bath than the wing," Reesa replies, blandly. She snaps her fingers, "There you go. No murdering talk. Fine with me. I pick that we don't talk about the Weyrleaders because that's boring and I'd need more than beer for that. N'rov?" "No talk about the Weyrleaders," agrees N'dalis, without hesitation. "Works for me. What shall we not talk about for your sake, N'rov?" All eyes on N'rov. "I'll save /mine/ for later," N'rov says, borrowing that same bland tone. "You know, for when I really need it. When you two have me pushed up against the wall and I have no other recourse whatsoever, when it's that or live in ignominious shame." "That's completely against the spirit of the thing. You're a terrible drinking buddy, N'rov," Reesa protests, complete with hands on her hips, though it's far less effective when she's seated. "Cheer up, Reesa," N'dalis suggests. The two (or is it three?) beers he's had by now have probably relaxed him a fair amount; he's certainly smiling more. "He'll use it, and /then/ we can blindside him with all the other topics he doesn't really want to talk about." "Terrible," N'rov agrees, and then agrees some more, "See? It's all part of Dal's fiendish plan." He even reaches over to clunk his mug against N'dalis'. "Besides, it's two against one, so I really do have no hope." "You know- you should've been a harper, Dal," which is apparently a huge compliment from Reesa, given it's the second time tonight he's made her stare at him in surprise. "Okay, fine. You win this one, bronzerider. As for the next drinking game..." yes, she's already got /that/ planned out. She /would/ have to mention the 'Harper' word. Dal sort of pauses, his expression stiffening awkwardly, and though he attempts to recover with a smile, his words are a little stilted. "Oh no, not me. My wife, /she/ was the harper. I just learned from her." And, rather more hastily, "The next drinking game?" The other man may not have finished his drink, but that's no excuse for N'rov not to slide the pitcher towards Dal anyway. Clearly, the man needs more beer. "Yes, Reesa. I can't /wait/ to hear what you have in mind. In the interests of... wait, can't talk about that." "Well, first we each get to pick a person in the crowd. Then, we have to uh," Reesa's restored to gesturing to get her point across, not from alcohol intake, but because it's more expressive. Clearly this is going to be a long night. /That/ may be taking things just a little too far... Reesa gets a long, long look from Dal. "No," he says. "No, I think I'm just going to have one more beer, and then I'm going to go pick up my kid. Because otherwise you'll have me paralytic on the floor and then no one will be happy." But one more beer? Totally fine! "Can't talk about /what/, N'rov?" The look Reesa gets from N'rov is shorter than Dal's, but barely. "I can't talk about it," N'rov explains to N'dalis, "because /we said we wouldn't talk about it/." Nobody talks about Drink Club. Now N'dalis is receiving the pout from Reesa. "Ten more beers." She's an ex-harper; she immediately sets herself for a hard negotiation. Then, after a glance at N'rov, "Ohhh. I get it. He doesn't want us to talk about..." she points down in the general crotch area with a vague wave. "I mean, /I/ wasn't going to bring it up, but..." It's a pity N'dalis can't count in binary. "One more beer," he reiterates, though that thought is quickly set aside so that he can bite back what might even be laughter. "I suppose-- no, I will not make that joke; you're safe, this time, N'rov." "Don't worry about /your/ bringing it up," N'rov tells Reesa blandly, only to turn much more dramatically to N'dalis. "Or wait, was that the joke you weren't going to make? Because if it was, sorry for stepping on your... stepping on a joke." He's not so buzzed as N'dalis, perhaps, but then he also isn't the victim of Reesa's pout. "One more beer after this one," Reesa concedes, leaning over to refill N'dalis' pitcher. Better get used to that phrase; she's planning to use it a few more times tonight. "Oh, go on. Or will this cross over into the Do Not Talk About That Area phase?" The look the blonde gives N'rov is kind of amused, for once, snorting faintly. "No, that's not what I was going to say, but I think your version is better," declares N'dalis, approvingly. "Though I wouldn't say 'never'... does it count if Khiabeth is the reason--" He's blushing. Alcohol and N'dalis have never been especially close friends. "It better not," N'rov tells the blonde, though he /may/ have lost track of which non-beer-phrase goes where. "If it does, we're in a whole lot of... trouble," though he does look speculative when he drifts off, so there's that. N'dalis may be blushing, but evidently that's all the more reason to ask, "Never about what, Dal?" There might be a sidelong look at Reesa sneaked in there. But they couldn't possibly be co-conspirators, could they? "You know, if you two were related and one was the dad and one was the son, you'd so be the dad. But you'd be the hot one." That's for N'dalis, because apparently Reesa thinks that's pertinent to the conversation at hand, or maybe she really just does like any mention of Khiabeth, or just because N'rov. Also pertinent: "I need to go pee," as she surges to her feet and takes off. This is very pertinent. "/I'm/ the hot one," N'dalis tells N'rov, sagely. "I'm glad we've cleared that up." It's much more important than glancing up after the fleeing-for-peeing Reesa. Clearly it's also more important than answering N'rov, who eyes Reesa's retreating back. "Have fun," he wishes her. To N'dalis, "I have a suspicion she /likes/ dads. Are you happy now?" "E'ten isn't a dad," points out N'dalis. He drinks some more beer, though it seems to be something he's doing mostly by rote at this point. "Yes, but he's dad-like. He's just awaiting the offspring. He'll be /ready/," N'rov assures N'dalis. "Sort of like Adiulth, all sensible and everything. So that's a good thing, right?" This time, N'dalis does glance in the direct Reesa ran off in. "Can you imagine Reesa as a mother?" he says - and yes, he's laughing at the very idea. Well. Chortling, at least. "So I suppose it's for the best that E'ten is prepared. Just in case." N'rov's looking too, in that way that would look so suspicious if anyone were looking at /them/, and now /he's/ laughing too. "No. Luckily for the world, nobody's going to make her, right?" He stretches enough to make his back pop, shrugs, and pours beer all around. Less rhetorically, "And how's the sensible thing working for you?" "I'm beginning to think having another beer was not terribly sensible, but..." But Dal takes another sip anyway. Reesa and N'rov are Bad Influences. "It's fine. It's good. I have a good life. You should try it sometime." "Yeah? It's not a boring life?" N'rov says this with real curiosity. "I don't think I could swap. Maybe the wing part, but I'm pretty sure Vhaeryth would care," and the little matter of Suraieth, "and Shani would have your nuts. But what's so good about your life?" More with the drinking. "It's /quiet/." Dal doesn't seem to have more of an explanation than that, though his eyes are shining and he really does seem perfectly content. "It's exactly what I wanted. Purpose, my boy, my green, /my/ life. And--" He glances at his beer. "Now I need to pee too." "Well, if you like that sort of thing," N'rov allows generously for N'dalis' happy, happy life. "You go on." And pee. Because first comes drinking, then comes peeing, it's just how life works. But when N'rov has to pee... /he'll/ have no one left to tell. |
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