Logs:Hematite Bonding
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 17 August, 2015 |
| Who: N'rov, E'dre, Cece |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hematite hangs out at The Glass Fountain |
| Where: Inner Caverns, Fort Weyr / The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 7, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: X'vin/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, Eden/Mentions, Eryn/Mentions, Elayne/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, C'stian/Mentions |
  |
| Summertime is supposed to be happy times: the roads are clear, and if the harvest isn't in yet on the northern continent, fresh provisions are an easy flight away. As it is, even without keening for a queen, even this long after their disappearance, not knowing can be harder. Hematite's been roaming tonight in pairs rather than in one big boisterous bloc, stopping by this group and that, keeping it as low-key as they get. N'rov's been making the rounds with Cece; now the bronzerider breaks off to pause by E'dre, staying on the outskirts at first as though there's no hurry after all. Maybe there isn't. E'dre's been settled at a table close to the bar. With no children to go home to and a weyrmate who is often as busy as he is, E'dre seems to have no problem with staying out a bit later than he has in the past. He's got a glass of whiskey in front of him that he's been idly sipping at as he watches his wing move about the place. Hematite hasn't had the heart (or perhaps those transfers have worked) to do anything too out of line. E'dre offers N'rov a twitch of a smile as he shifts back in his chair. "How's it going, wingsecond?" "Hanging in there. Like a new-hatched firelizard in the littles' pictures," N'rov's got one of his more elongated drawls for this one, "clutching a branch all dewy and rainbow-eyed, not shrieking out of hunger at all." He's also got a discreet nod for one of the transfers over there by the bar, who hasn't yet gotten used to living it up wth his Hematite counteparts; the brownrider doesn't look to be so far gone as to need to be cut off, yet, but there are some occasionally-audible mutterings about bets. People may be placing bets on E'dre's eventual level of inebriation but for now he's got the slightest hint of redness to his cheek so he must be nursing the glass in front of him. "Sit down," he tells N'rov, waving to the chair across from him. "I think everyone's finally calmed down," he continues, keeping his voice lower as he leans forward to talk as discreetly as one can in a room full of nosy wingmates. "And hopefully... we can get some normalcy back in the Weyr." He rubs his thumb along the rim of his glass as he glances away from the bronzerider. "If we can, anyway." Him, the new transfer, they're all betting fodder; N'rov's kept his marks (and favors) to himself tonight, though, and glances at the chair seat out of more than habit before helping himself to it. "Not like our part changes," he supposes, and pauses to catch a server's eye about a beer before looking back at E'dre. "Though I'll be a shell of a lot happier when," a lot of things, probably, but he settles for, "the storeskeepers aren't cranky. When a man needs socks, a man needs socks." She's quick, quick enough that he can drink to that. Cece seems to have bet heavily on the new transfer as she walks up to him, slings an arm around his shoulders, and convinces him to do shots. E'dre watches this with a smirk. "Cece can drink all of us under the table. He's doomed. What's his name again?" E'dre asks, looking back to N'rov with lifted brows. "I can't remember. I'm a horrible leader." He laughs rather than feeling truly bothered by that as he tips back the rest of his whiskey and slouches back in his chair. "New socks and they gave you issue? Probably because you're you. Send a sweeter face kid to do it for you next time. They'll probably send 5 pairs back." Which gains her a would-be surreptitious hiss of, "Cheater!" that just isn't quiet enough, but the new brownrider looks thrilled anyway. N'rov just shakes his head. "T'fart," the bronzerider deadpans right into a slow smirk at his boss. "Yeah, yeah, and they'd all be too small. Pint-sized," which means he has to lift his glass again. "Aren't you pint-sized?" E'dre asks oh-so-innocently as he waves the barkeep over and places an order for a darker style ale. He blinks a few times, essentially having to think that name through for a moment before it hits and E'dre bursts out laughing. "If I call that man T'fart in public I'm blaming you because now it's all I'm ever going to think when I see him." He rubs at his eyes, still chuckling as he shakes his head. "They're all working well though, aren't they?" Those new transfers. "I haven't had as many complaints of late. So people must be used to it." N'rov's got a low laugh for that, holding up thumb and forefinger to mime a still smaller shot glass by way of answer, and that's even before E'dre cracks up and then he's joining the older man. "Seems like. I don't think we'll have to toss any more back," unlike that late, unlamented rider with an unsavory predilection for, among other things, getting up early and getting them up too. "But we'll see when winter sets in. If C'stian and I can get things squared away before they get to you, so muh the better." "Thank you for that," E'dre says, meaning it and giving N'rov a serious look. "I needed both of your support these last few sevens more than ever and you came through. I appreciate it. With Hattie back as a Weyrwoman, I should be able to regroup and refocus." He takes a few hearty sips of his ale as he takes a moment to soak in the general atmosphere of the Fountain. He must like what he sees as he looks back at N'rov with a grin. "We're holding it together, aren't we? I think Hematite's improved. I'm proud of us." Under that so-serious look, N'rov's looking somehow boyish, reaching up to rub the back of his neck; "Hope so," he says. "From your mouth to Faranth's... nose. Better enough to bring your kids back, you think?" E'dre doesn't hide the flash of pain that crosses his face at the mention of his children. "Ah, no. I think Ebeny and I will let them settle and visit them more, perhaps, if things settle down. When the weyrlings' graduate and a Weyrleader is confirmed...," he trails off, downing what remains of his ale in that silence. "It wasn't fair to them to constantly leave them in the nursery." He clears his throat and glances towards the bar, signaling for a refill. "What's your take on X'vin and Flint?" he asks abruptly. He drinks, N'rov drinks, with a grunt of acknowledgement and no more questions. "Don't like the way he came in," he says frankly. "Didn't like the way he was taking Lilah in hand, though put him up against her High Reaches bedwarmer..." There's a curl of his mouth for the appellation that might well have been sent his way, over there. "Bit of a gladhander. But then, maybe it's a 'got to know him' and I havent, yet. You?" "What I know is he rubs me the wrong way," E'dre replies dryly, "It pissed me off, his stepping out of where he should, making political plays." He shakes his head and cradles the ale that's been delivered in front of him. "Wish I could say I've made an effort to know him better but I haven't. I haven't had the time nor the capacity to want to." He sighs and shrugs. "Can you blame me though?" He sips his ale and then glances over when he hears Cece's cackle. T'fart has sprawled face-first on the bar, limbs loose and askew. "Glad I didn't bet." "Yeah, no. And," but then N'rov's turning to look, and then he's rising. "Fuck. Watch my beer. All we need is for him to piss his pants," before he and the helpers he's about to co-opt get the poor man home. |
Comments
Faryn (10:04, 21 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
I almost wept at the name T'fart, I'm not going to lie about it. This was good. Also, for X'vin's peace of mind: *heavy sighing* Hematite.
Leave A Comment