Logs:Gossip Girls
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| RL Date: 27 June, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The two gold weyrlings get together for a drink and end up talking about boys. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 2, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'rov/Mentions |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr 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. Late in the day, weyrlings are freed! Freed to do as they like! ...Which, more often than not, has been sleep, or work, or catch up on work they apparently should have done in turns before. But slowly, slowly, they're all beginning to get used to the hours and the workload and the running. So it is that Brieli is determined to have an evening out tonight, despite cold winds and snow across the bowl. Even if there's only one drink allowed, she'll have that drink, damnit. Coming in from the ledge, stomping off her boots, she glances back to her companion as she takes off her hat reluctantly. "So, has she managed to... to get a beast yet?" Delicately put, so as not to offend. Azaylia is, for Brieli's sake, not wearing her rediculous fur coat as the two look to seek refuge from the light snowfall. The black wool jacket is slimming, though not nearly as warm without years of musk and mold acting as insulation. "She has, actually." The answer is weighed down with fatigue, but the weyrling's good nature shines on as she follows her friend further into Snowasis. "It's not so bad. Hraedhyth really, really likes the hunting part. And even the eating." Words turn lofty as she tilts her head, "Not the killing, though." Certainly not like the nightmare bronze they're familiar with. "You know she'd be happy to share with Iesaryth, until she's hunting for herself." Brieli still has her shapeless black wool coat - perhaps a sight better than the big furry thing, but not exactly the height of fashion either. Undoing it slowly as she looks for a table in the busy bar, she grins a touch, looking Azaylia's way. "That's good - I thought she'd like the hunting. Though it's good about the last bit." There's a shudder as she's likely thinking of the same bronze - then sshe spots a couple of seats at the bar proper and she's off to snag them, calling over her shoulder, "That's kind of you - of her, I mean. But there's not much to share, is there? She needs to eat a lot." There's a bit of that same exhaustion in her tone - chopping meat does get old. Azaylia mimics the other weyrling before she's overwarm herself, though shedding the jacket so quickly saves her from mild discomfort. "Yeah, I..!" But her own words are cut off in a squeak, surprised at Brieli's speed before she's following after. "Hrae could at least catch her a wherry? Iesaryth isn't that much younger." Says the optimistic and sudden dragonet expert. "We think she'd be alright... trying to eat off the bone." There, a second opinion. Another know it all. Jacket is placed atop the stool, sitting atop it and folding her hands together on the bar in front of her. Dark eyes roam the surroundings as well as the weyrfolk socializing or soliciting within. "It's been forever since I've been here." As if early weyrlinghood left oodles of time for barhopping. With an apologetic smile as she tosses her own coat on the stool and slides up onto it, "I didn't want us to lose them." And indeed, just behind Brieli and Azaylia are a couple of annoyed-looking wingriders, but you know. You snooze, you lose. Trying to wave down the 'tender, Bri muses, "I suppose she could. I doubt it's the eating that's the issue so much as the gliding itself. She's so frustrated about not being able to do it. I half-expect her to leap up and follow the others any day now. Someone's put ideas in her head." Like Iesaryth needs anyone else's ideas. With a sigh, she agrees, "I know. Since just after you Impressed, for me. -- Oh! Something warm and alcoholic please. Not picky." Not tonight, anyway. It seems Azaylia has evolved into the amazing shrinking weyrling at the disgruntled wingriders. Leaning forward, she ends up folding her arms atop the bar rather than just her hands. "I don't know if I like them gliding in this weather." Worry overrides fear of arguing with the Weyrlingmasters, though that easily morphs into playful concern. "It wasn't Hraedhyth, was it?" Though it would be poetic justice, the older gold putting ideas in her younger sister's head for once. Possible, though not likely. "Longer than that, even." Brieli's exclimation gives her ample warning, straightening up as much as her crossed arms allow. "O-oh. Ah, same for me. Please?" Following the other weyrling's lead, curious but not terribly thirsty for liquor. The bartender nods and goes off to make drinks. Watching her friend shrink into the bar, it takes Brieli a moment to clue into the reasoning for it, after the riders pass by to try their luck elsewhere. With a grimace, "Don't worry about them - it's every man for themselves in here." And looking around, it's true - space is at a premium. But she's quick to move on. "I suppose we have to learn - they have to learn, I mean. It's not as if the weather here will get better." As for Azaylia's question - that brings a laugh. "No. Though that would be fitting, I think. No, Vhaeryth." It's the first time she's mentioned the Fortian dragon's name, but she doesn't elaborate either. Teasing, "What, you weren't a barfly before? Drinking and picking up boys?" Azaylia is easy to reassure, especially when being timid is so exhausting. The wingriders are ther furthest from her thoughts, especially at the unfamiliar dragon name. Fatigue could be the reason for her gaze losing focus, though the true cause is revealed in her surprised words. "Hraedhyth doesn't know him." But then that isn't much of a surprise. The weyr is large and her gold has not yet blossomed into a beautiful social butterfly. A giggle at that thought, coaxed further by the other weyrling's question. "You're not allowed to drink as an Apprentice. And boys..." Azaylia's brows hike up, measured exhale escaping pursed lips, "...I guess it depends on the craft." Perhaps it's habit that has Brieli so cagey, maybe it's her naturally reticent nature regarding information about herself - or maybe she's just sort of embarrassed. As their drinks come, she looks down into the mug, some sort of hot chocolatey thing with whipped cream and all, so her newly short hair covers some of her face. "Mm. I don't think she would. He's from Fort." That likely warrants an explanation, so; "I met his rider the night of the hatching. The one here." Azaylia's giggle has her glancing back up, brows arched in disbelief. "You didn't break the rules at all? And not on the eyes or the face, but the craft?" A flash of a grin, amused. Chocolatey smelling and whipped creamy goodness warrants an investigation from Azaylia, finger gathering up some of the white fluff and tasting it. Sufficiently sweet, she pulls the it closer for now. "Oh." She murmurs, not finding fault with this information and yet oddly intrigued. "You've mentioned him before." Briefly, but it isn't as if Brieli has all of Fort at her beck and call. "I-I mean," Or does she? "If he's the same one from before, that is." Pleasantly surprised at the tidbit, it keeps her face preoccupied enough not to obviously flounder at the question. Don't panic. "Yes. I hear Harpers are a lot more strict. I- w-well I don't know if I broke any rules," In matters of the heart, "But there was a boy." A moment to correct herself, glancing at Brieli and then away, shyly. "A man. It wasn't a big deal, he... we weren't in love, or anything." She lifts the cup and blows on it, pausing with it centimeters from her lips, "We just slept together." Sip. And a delighted squeak for such a minimal burn of alcohol on her tongue. "A little, yes." Brieli stirs a bit of the fluffy cream in before taking a spoonful of it on its own, apparently not wanting to risk sticky fingers. With a quirk of her lips, "The same one, yes. There's not a lot of them lounging about, though that might be nice." After a sip from her mug, she'll confide, like it's worth secrecy, "We've been writing, since I came back, more or less." But that's really nothing compared to Azaylia's bombshell - well, it's a bit of one for the other weyrling. She has to set down her mug, wide-eyed. Not at all judgmental, just surprised, "Really. Well. It's not like that doesn't happen. Hasn't happened." Her tone might as well be admission. She was a bad hold-bred girl, apparently. Azaylia takes a moment to contemplate what it would be like to have a lot of boys- no, men lounging about. Fortian in particular. Hm. "Writing?" Well that alleviates any fear of dragonet-warping or rule breaking that she may have had. "Brieli..." She begins, as if revealing some grand secret about the secret itself. "That's kind of romantic, isn't it?" The grass is clearly greener in this situation, gold weyrlings far more interested in each others bits of gossip. Though the older of the two may straighten up ever so slightly, eyes widening just a touch, "What? No, what? It's not... that hard to believe, is it?" Especially given that Brieli has similar to report, "He was a... not nice person, it turns out." Another sip, this time filling her mouth with a chocolate bite and effectively silencing herself on this matter. Surprised, "Is it?" Brieli looks as if the romance of the situation had never occurred to her. A little sad, really - because there is something about the long-distance, lack of time and scribbled letters that is a bit like a harper song. "Maybe I never thought about it because I keep mocking him," she muses, but that's just pushing him into the mud, isn't it? With a blink, she too straightens, reassuring, "Oh! No, no - I was just surprised that you'd be... forward, I suppose. It's not bad. But for that. Oh, Azaylia." With a purse of her lips, "That happens too. Forget it. There'll be nicer ones. Or you can wait till he comes crawling back and ditch him." She clinks her mug to the other goldrider's - a promise. And then, she'll turn the conversation to less fraught subjects, stories of friends' romantic failures from the past - more entertaining than theirs - until drinks are finished and it's time to brave the bowl again. |
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