Logs:In the Deep End
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| RL Date: 5 February, 2013 |
| Who: Brieli, Nicky, N'rov, Oreithiya |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Brieli is not all that nice to Nicky, but gets some info out of him. N'rov and Rei visit from Fort. Vhaeryth listens for eggs. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 12, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Iolene/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. It's as busy as it ever is in the Snowasis, with weyrfolk crowding the tables and bar to get inside and out of the freezing night air. It's certainly warm enough in the bar, between bodies and the warmth of the caverns, despite the drift of snow that comes in from the patio with the entrance of a new person. Though there's lots of people ordering at the bar itself, there's few people sitting at the stools; Brieli is one of them, her red coat hung on the wall nearby, dressed stylishly as usual, though short skirt is supplemented with tights on this chill evening. She has a glass, half-filled, set before her that she toys wil idly, dark gaze sharp, clearly listening. After finding his way across the bowl, Nicky enters the Snowasis, bringing one of those drifts of snow in after him. Once he's inside enough to feel the warmth he starts peeling off the necessary winter layers; his curls are freed (and left somewhat squashed) from a bobble-topped hat, gloves are stuffed into his coat pockets, and then said coat is removed. He finds a hook for it near to Brieli's own, and while he doesn't automatically recognise who the red coat belongs to, he /does/ see the goldrider on her stool. With a slightly shy, somewhat crooked grin, he approaches her and gently clears his throat to make his presence known. "May I have a seat, Weyrwoman Brieli?" Though the weyrwoman might notice comings and goings from the bar, Brieli doesn't seem particularly interested in the young man's; no one she's looking for, that she needs to track to see who sits where and with whom. It's enough time for her to finish her drink, though she's signalling for another as Nicky arrives. It's not until the throat-clearing that she notices him, not until he asks the question that she turns around. Glancing from him to the stool beside her, "It doesn't have anyone's name on it. Free bar, last time I checked." As if it might change at any moment into a feudal bar. "Thanks, ma'am." Nicky grins lopsidedly at Brieli, before hopping up onto the stool and resting his hands on the edge of the counter. He places his order, waits for it to arrive, then hugs the steaming mug of cider between his calloused fingers for it to cool a little before taking his first sip. In the awkward, silent interim, he tilts his head slightly to look at the woman beside him, giving her a gentle smile as he makes a hesitant attempt at conversation. "I'm learning my way around a bit now, ma'am. Your Weyr is quite impressive." Shrugging diffidently, "I think they're happy as long as you're ordering." Brieli neatly avoids how she feels about company, but as the bartender returns for Nicky's order and with hers, she slides it back. "Make it a double." Silence isn't awkward for the tall dark girl; she seems comfortable enough without talking while they wait for drinks, taking a long sip as soon as hers arrives, topped up. Glancing sidelong down the bar, her own expression neutral: "Impressive," she echoes. "It's a bit much in places, I find. Some people find it a bit terrifying at first. Too many people, too much noise." The blush that creeps across Nicky's face, and the quick way that he looks down at his drink to hide his awkward, dimple-cheeked grin, suggests that Brieli may have just hit the nail right on the head. He chews on his bottom lip for a moment, perhaps trying to come up with a diplomatic sort of answer. When those braincogs have turned and he's worked out the right words, he says, "It's c-certainly much bigger and busier than anything I-I'm used to." A double beat pause, during which he slides his mug closer to him. "My h-home's small, but the Smithc-craft's hall got me more used to bigger places." Resting her elbow on the bar, chin in hand, Brieli stares across the bar for a long moment, taking another drink, eventually; setting the glass down. She glances over Nicky's way with faint disbelief, eyeing that blush, the grin with flinty dark eyes. The stuttering might bring a bit of an eyeroll, but as she turns away slightly, crossing long legs, it might be missed. "Big and busy, yes. There's been no fights here in a few weeks, so that's something, at least. Transfers," she asides, sighing. "Where are you from? Is it on the map, or too small for that?" "Far Reach, ma'am. I'm n-not sure if it's on all the maps, but we get a good number of t-traders stopping by in the warmer months. The sort of caravans that herd animals for the Beastcrafters? We've got ovines. L-lots of ovines. Up in the 'Reaches mountains." Talking of home brings an element of confidence back into Nicky's voice. He raises his mug to his lips, blows gently on the still-steaming surface of his cider, then sips. "A-and you, ma'am? Were you born here, or did H-igh Reaches become your home after you Impressed your lifemate?" "Mm." Whether Brieli's heard of Far Reach or not is left to that non-committal sound. She turns the glass slowly before her rather than drinking from it right away. Rings cross the bartop. "Beastcrafters. Azaylia will be happy to talk to you about that. She was one. The wool, however, is appreciated." She can at least allow that, glancing Nicky's way again briefly, faintly bemused. "Do you listen to gossip? Talk around the craft complex at all?" Shaking her head a little with a quirk of her lips, "I am not from here. Iesaryth found me at Monaco. They had agreed to send us back shortly after the hatching. I've been here since." A lift of her glass, as if to toast, but her smile - such that it is - is a sardonic one. Nicky cants his head, curiously. "O-Oh, I didn't realise..." Clearly! "Weyr talk doesn't always get to us up there, s-save for the... r-recent events." The last two words are dropped down in pitch to be almost a whisper, spoken with some degree of difficulty as Nicky doesn't seem too keen to say them out loud. "I-I hear a bit more here than I did there. People talk, if they hang around to get their runners shod, b-but they don't always talk at me." He shrugs one shoulder gently, sipping again on his cider. "May I ask what M-Monaco is like?" "Well, you've been here for a little while, though, yes? Enough time to keep your ears open, unless they chain you to the forge. Which would be unfortunate if there is another fire." Brieli seems to consider the issues that might cause, as ridiculous as that may seem. "Recent events." The weyrwoman likes to repeat things; this one in particular entertains her. "Which recent events? How recent? Flights?" She glances over Nicky's way, arching fine brows. "And no one needs to be talking to you for you to listen. Monaco is... hot. Humid. My hair frizzes. There's a lot of jungle, and beach. Iesaryth quite likes it." "Flights, ma'am. /Th-that/ sort of thing makes it e-everywhere, I reckon." Nicky winces uncomfortably at Brieli, trying to mask the awkwardness with a hint of a smile. "I-I heard someone talking about it j-just the other day. He was talking to my u-uncle, though, about... /things/." Things he's deemed unsuitable to repeat, it would seem, and he's eager to snatch up the Monaco conversation thread. "I've read about jungles - they s-sound a nice change from the snow and cold in this p-part of Pern!" Completely comfortable with the conversation - and she'd have to be - Brieli has her own smile - well, smirk, really. "Two flights at the same time. I don't think it happens often, yes. I hear the one here was brutal, but well. That's Hraedhyth, isn't it?" Nicky's mention of things does interest her though - she looks over his way thoughtfully. "Do tell. What sort of things?" It's the first time she's really looked all that interested; she's softened the smirk into a faint, faint smile. "There's all sorts of jungles. But the greenery is nice, if you can get used to it. The beaches. I don't know if my hair would survive living there, though." Slender fingers brush through dark curls, as if the talk of humidity alone affects them. Nicky shuffles in his seat as he shifts his weight at the prompt to relay what he overheard. His fingers clutch more tightly at the mug before him, from which he drinks before answering. "I-I don't want to stir any trouble, ma'am - I-I'm still new, I don't want to be sent home in t-trouble, or anything..." He looks at her with a worried sort of glint in his brown eyes, chewing anxiously on his lip. "My folks'd flay me but I'd be worried most about letting my uncle down, miss Brieli. M-might I -" He pauses to draw in a sharp breath, bolstering his courage, "t-talk to you about jungles and beaches in Monaco, instead?" "No one gets sent home in trouble all that often. Especially if the weyrwoman has no issues with them," Brieli notes lightly before finishing her drink. With a little wave for the bartender - empty again - she glances Nicky's way curiously. "And how would you let your parents or uncle down by keeping the Weyrleaders informed? I'd say it's one's duty to the Weyr, when they live in one." Just a little bit of her philosophy that might be pointed. As he gathers his courage to ask, she sighs quietly, looking back to her empty glass like she really wishes she could just refill it herself. The 'tender comes along eventually. "If you must. I haven't been back much since the business with their rider who murdered our Weyrwoman. But do ask of the beaches." Nicky looks torn. Duty, or morals?! He drums his fingers on the bar counter, chewing his lip and looking off into the kitchens as his mind whirrs through the possible consequences of each. "I'm k-keen on upholding my duty, ma'am, I'm j-just wary of being labelled a gossip. No-one likes a gossip, but if I was t-to just be informing you, without... um, without anyone else knowing, that wouldn't be bad, would it?" He looks hopefully over the rim of his mug, before drinking from it. "Th-then perhaps we could talk about beaches, or whatever you'd most like to talk about, ma'am." When the bartender's refilled her glass, Brieli looks relieved, in sharp contrast. Apparently, she hasn't had enough to drink for this particular night, or this particular conversation. Once she's taken a drink, only then can she offer a brilliant smile, if briefly. "I don't mind gossips, as long as they're talking to me," she tells Nicky, tone amused. "But I do know how to keep a secret, if that's what you're asking?" Arching her brows before she turns back to her drink, "I don't inform on informers, so to speak. But yes, then ask what you like. I know most people don't travel much." Most people. Not her, not now at least. Leaning a little way in towards Brieli, Nicky lowers his voice to share the little bit of information he overheard. "H-he was saying... h-he, um.. he didn't have a very high opinion of... of brownriders, ma'am. I-I didn't hear it all, b-but... but there was something about... about bringing someone in, or s-someone back to, um... I think he said to 'fix things' - it was hard to hear, over the bellows, th-then I had to start hammering." Which is a pretty good sound-blocker at the best of times. Then he leans back, looking uncomfortable. "I-It's just what I heard him say to my uncle, ma'am." Brieli is kind enough to lean in to listen, maybe closer than she absolutely has to, but her hair smells pretty nice, so why complain? There's just a nod before she's quick to lean back as well, one hand still around her drink. "Was that so hard?" she asks Nicky, seeming entertained. "That's not the first time I've heard something of the like, nor is it like to be the last. There's always... well." Another faint smile. "You can't make everyone happy. Even if someone came here to 'fix things', as if they're broken - someone would be unhappy. It's the way of things. You have to accept that sort of discussion, to some extent." Tilting her glass his way briefly, "I appreciate it. Have you always had... that problem? With speaking?" "Problem, ma'am?" Nicky looks a little confused - and relieved, too, that his nugget of information went down better than he'd believed it would. "I-I don't -- /oh/. /That/?" He bites on his lip, shrugging his shoulders. "It's mostly when I'm... when I'm f-feeling a little... um. Uncertain? N-nervous, sometimes. Or excited. I'm not sure. It doesn't happen all the time, just... j-just sometimes. I'm sorry if it b-bothers you, ma'am, I-" What would have been a stammered extra syllable is bitten back on with a good deal of effort, and Nicky takes a moment to swallow and clear his throat, before speaking more slowly. "I can't always help it, ma'am, but I t-try to stop it." It just makes him look like a fish out of water, gulping down air. "Problem." Brieli doesn't seem like she means to be all that blunt about things, seeming more or less matter-of-fact about her questions, for all they might seem a bit... judgmental. She does listen to the explanation, though her expectant expression likely does little to ease Nicky's nerves. She regards him for a long moment before just shaking her head, going back to leaning on the bar, chin in hand. "It doesn't bother me," she says finally, taking more time with this glass of liquor; "Some things, indeed, can't be helped. But perhaps throwing you in the deep end--" Here, she glances over her shoulder, back to the rowdy bar, "Will get you over it." Nicky continues speaking in that slower cadence, trying hard to stifle potential stuttering before it happens. "I'm glad it doesn't bother you, miss Brieli." His drink is drained, and he waves for a replacement, right as the deep end comment comes up. "In the deep end, ma'am? I don't -" He looks over his shoulder to where she's looking, confusion clouding his brown-eyed gaze. "I'm not sure I understand?" « Coming. » Vhaeryth's cheerful about the announcement, for all that they look to have /baggage/: the human kind, soon disposed of. Because he's heard about the festivities there, and clearly what High Reaches needs most of all is yet another warm body. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Oreithiya has arrived. Quick to reply, perhaps a little grateful, « Good. » Iesaryth is not bored; she has her ledge and her thoughts and the bowl to watch, and Vhaeryth to visit, perhaps? But her rider; she needs help. Bored. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) That, Vhaeryth can decides, can surely be fixed. It's not long before he gets there, either, offloading rider and human apprentice to eye the snow with disfavor and huddle beneath the overhang. Falling is one thing, but must it fall on top of him? (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Behind Brieli and Nicky, who are sitting at the bar, is a loud and raucous Snowasis, crowded on a cold night with several card games going on, conversations happening over and around them, people passing in and out regularly. The goldrider is leaning on the bar with one elbow, chin in hand, looking rather bored as she tells the young man next to her, "I mean, coming here. To High Reaches generally, and to the bar specifically. It's had a bit of a reputation of late. Wild parties, fistfights. If you have issues with... nerves, it's an interesting place to pick." She'd say something more, but there's that weird half-there expression riders seem to have on occasion - and she grins suddenly and widely. Kind enough to point out where her rider is off dealing with something tedious - loud tables, a long bar, the smell of alcohol - Iesaryth can offer her ledge, still. There's no snow falling on her, and room enough there for both of them. It seems polite, if Vhaeryth will make sure Shan is saved. That melodrama has something of Aishani there, something that might show in the way she leans on the the bar, like - really? (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Not exactly garbed for the weather, for all that he's got on a sweater and heavy Fort-knotted coat that add bulk to his light frame, a snowy figure enters from the patio and pushes his hood back, snowflakes lingering on his eyebrows before he wipes them, too, away. "High Reaches, check," he says to the girl behind him. "Remember, your own ride back." /He's/ heading for the bar like he's hungry for a drink, only it's not the bartender he's aiming for. "Oh! I d-didn't realise... I just thought it would be somewhere... um..." Nicky's eyes are wide as he surveys the scene from where he's sat beside Brieli, nursing a fresh, steaming mug of hot cider and looking not entirely relaxed. He doesn't quite look as bored as the goldrider, who he continues speaking to in a forcedly slow, determined manner. "I was just p-pleased to have found somewhere warm and with drinks, without getting lost." The Fortian rider approaching the bar gains his attention briefly as he sips from his mug. "I-I... I've never been to a wild party. Not even a gather, really. Not a proper one." In contrast, the short, dark-haired Oreithiya is garbed in thicker clothing; jacket obviously borrowed by the ill-fitting cling to her frame. In her arms, a package is clutched, fingers curled around it's edges. A dusting of snow sprinkles the top of her head and shoulders like confectioner's sugar, giving her pause at the entrance to dust some of it off before feet perchance to track too much of it into the Snowasis. "I remember, thank you." Voice is peasant, contralto, and not at all put out at having to find her own way. Coal-dark eyes then turn from her ride to take in the bustling place. Trailing after N'rov only to take in the wake he leaves behind, but it does bring her closer to, well, everyone. Already turning around, smiling in a warm way that very nearly seems out of place for the somber goldrider, Brieli picks out that snowy figure, dark gaze following him through the crowd, intent - drink left unfinished on the bar. Despite all of her attention seeming to be on the man approaching, she's apparently still listening to Nicky. She just sounds a little... distracted. "Well, it's warm and there's drinks. I think there's only been one fight here. And stick around here long enough, I imagine you'll be to one. Turnover's coming. That's usually a bit of debauchery, even for someone like me." That last, she mostly aims at N'rov, dark eyes bright. "Right?" There might be a flicker of a look for the Oreithiya he's brought with him, but it's brief. Maybe less distracted than focused elsewhere entirely. N'rov's stripped himself of his coat before making it to his girl, saying, "Bound to be dancing on tables, don't you think?" as he keeps it hooked by one hand. Not that he doesn't spare his own glance for Nicky, the kid about his height, coltish much in the way he'd been. Lower, teasing, "You like the curly hair, don't you." It's a distraction: he's aiming for her abandoned drink, of course. Or, no, it's a feint, the better to wrap his arm around her waist instead. At least moving closer makes room for Oreithiya to get by, pure consideration. Nicky cants his head curiously as he watches the interaction between N'rov and Brieli unfold, giving the bronzerider a crooked, gentle smile as a greeting. Oreithiya, in his wake, is given much the same - though there's more of a blush to his cheeks when he does it for the apprentice. "I think Turnover here might be very interesting, miss Brieli. I'm looking forward to it... though maybe I'll just watch the debauchery. I-I'm not sure I'm up to, um, taking part in that sort of thing." The blush deepens and he half-hides his expression behind his cider mug. The downfall of height comes when Oreithiya makes it to the bar, quite like a fish out of water. A hesitant glance given to the bartender before greater height is achieved by the balance of weight on her toes. "Water, please," she requests, shooting a glance at N'rov, then to Brieli and finally to Nicky. Lips curve to slight smile, dark head dipping in quick, respectful acknowledgement. "Evening, ma'am," contralto is a whisper against the tide of voices, but loud enough to be heard at least. N'rov's well-played greeting to the 'Reachian goldrider earns a quick grin, yet attention is caught by Nicky. "Debauchery?" Query is asked mostly of Nicky, though dark-eyed gaze sweeps enough to the rider pair to include them as well. Once again, Rei's out of her depth, here. Done and done. Vhaeryth's hide is cold, of course, for all its fire-in-glass looks, but he'll warm up. They'll warm up. Promise! ... Not that he can resist, then, twisting his head around to see if she looks any /different/. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) "Not me. But someone." Rolling her eyes at the bronzerider for that comment, Brieli doesn't stop N'rov from reaching for her or her drink, though she seems demonstrably more pleased with the former, leaning back against him, slender arm over his. Handing over her drink with her free hand, "I was just sitting here minding my own business." As if such a thing were possible. And if anyone in the bar might glance over at their weyrwoman and her choice of company, she's pretty much ignoring that. To Nicky, dryly, "Have a few drinks, you might change your mind." Oreithiya gets a nod in return; an explanation. "Welcome to High Reaches. And parties here. Turnover in general." Not that she looks like she gets up to much of that sort of thing, but who knows. He might be cold, but she's not quite as much; Iesaryth still doesn't mind. If it's too cold, there's room inside, only less to /look at/. She doesn't think she should look any different, but she might be starting to, just a little. Just a little bigger. She resettles herself, in case she can hide that at all. Ahem. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Drink /and/ girl, bonus. It's enough to prepare an errant bronzerider to glance idly around, less deflecting off those glances than drifting past. "This, by the way, is Rei," N'rov says conversationally to the nearer grouping. Once he's sampled the offered drink, holding it loosely between his fingers so Brieli can snatch it back if she likes, "I found her alone and friendless, deserted, roaming the Bowl and calling out, 'Help me, help me, I need to get to High Reaches Weyr, for only it can be my salvation.'" "N-not for me," Nicky is quick to respond to Rei's question - but then he loosens up a tad with a smile, when Brieli suggests having a few drinks. "I've heard it helps," he nods, gaze coursing slowly down to settle on the goldrider's drink. "Perhaps when it's Turnover, I'll try some then." N'rov's introduction of the apprentice girl has Nicky giving her a gentle, warm smile, and he extends his hand towards her in greeting. "I'm N-Ni--." He pauses, takes a breath to half the stutter with eyes closed in irritation, then continues and corrects himself: "/Nicky/." Oh such words! Rei's water arrives at the right moment to cause a sputter to send a ill-omen'd spray that she tries to catch with one hand, freeing the package she'd clung to until this moment. "It was just like that," comment, dry. Dark eyes shoot daggers at N'rov, yet twinkling with humor'd light. "Beastcraft apprentice," addition given for both Brieli and Nicky. Water glass is transferred to the hand that caught the bad effects of when a sputter meets beverage so that a cleaner hand is offered to Nicky. "Well met," greeting is offered. Firm shake with calloused hand, before bending to make a quick dive and fish for her package. Cheeks flushed from the quick bend and straighten (bend-and-snap, anyone?), dark strands of hair flutter around her face. "Actually, I'm here to deliver this to one of your beast crafters, from one of ours." Further explanation offered in case need arose. Vhaeryth doesn't seem to /mind/ any increase in size, even defers going inside, because yes, there's the /looking/. He aims to sneak a cold nose under her wing: don't hide! (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Brieli has to let out something that sounds suspiciously like a snort at N'rov's last; her drink-less hand lingers over his for a moment, not to take it back, but to pass it on. She's had enough, perhaps. "Liar. No one's ever said anything like that, much less at Fort. But it's a pleasure, Rei, regardless. Just ignore him," she tells the girl, presumably meaning the bronzerider, for all that she seems incapable of doing so. She even offers the briefest of smiles. And if she glances up at the man with her, rolls her eyes for Nicky's introduction, it might be easily missed. "Beastcrafters. It's like I've been hearing that all day. He's not a beastcrafter--" A gesture from one apprentice to the other. "But his family raised ovines?" Eyeing the package, "The craft complex... well, I'm sure Nicky's gotten used to the way there, at least?" Questioned, and now offered up as guide. There's bubbly seafoam amusement for /cold nose/, and hiding; Iesaryth doesn't want to /be/ different. Doesn't like the idea that they all watch for differences, though Vhaeryth is somehow excluded from that. He's allowed. She just does so many more /interesting/ things than... wait for eggs. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) N'rov himself may not snort, but he's definitely got a smirk, not contradicting Brieli's rejoinder in favor of watching Rei with package-reclaiming. "Ovines. Beastcrafter. It's as though it were meant to be. If only someone could possibly save her from being lost in the snow, in the dark, futilely seeking out her goal until at last she staggers and falls, buried beneath a white and deathly blanket." Finally his gaze slides Nicky's way again, not that he turns his head or anything, just peeking. "I wonder who that could possibly be." "Yes ma'am, I've learnt my way there, and no ma'am, I'm not a Beastcrafter - though there's some in my family who are." A blush darkens Nicky's cheeks when he hears N'rov's statement, and bites down coyly on his bottom lip as he listens to the poetic description of Rei's possible death-by-snow. It leaves him wide-eyed and blinking, and near speechless for a moment or two, before he chips in with: "I-I'm training to be a f-farrier. Part Smith, part Beastcrafter... not apprenticed to e-either, though." From looking at the actual Beastcrafter in their midst, he returns N'rovo's gaze with shy curiosity, before looking down into the drink still left in his mug. No? Hm. There's a distant fire-crackle that would have the bronze rather self-satisfied, if it weren't for this. « Different from yourself? » he half-asks, half-speculates, and sidles so he can tilt his headknobs towards her belly and listen. No, surely she does more interesting things than wait for eggs. (Waiting. For anything. So tedious.) Perhaps it is that the others cannot see them so well, what she does. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Proverbial footing is gained only to have the foundation sent rocking again with N'rov's words. Oreithiya gives the bronzerider a good frown for his shenanigans, though laughter comes light and easy to Brieli's advice. Dark eyes glint once more with humor, "I shall, ma'am." Never let anyone say that Fortian politeness slipped from her lips. Talk of her demise causes spine to straighten and shoulders pushing back. "I am sure," glance bounces from goldrider to bronzerider to Nicky and back again, "I would love direction, though I would not say I was in dire /need/ of direction." It would not do to have any here think this beastcrafter is weak! "A farrier?" the apprentice questions on the heels of finishing her water and hefting her package. The blushing and coy earn him an look of near confusion, dark brows drawing in over dark eyes. "I'd best be finding the person I'm supposed to be," finally said, a touch uncertain. To N'rov: "Thank you for the ride." To Brieli: "Nice to meet you, ma'am. Your weyr is," beat, "cold. But beautiful." To Nicky, "If you've time, I'll take that direction now." Without further ado, easy steps are taken, weaving herself through the crowds as Oreithiya exits. Nodding soberly at the important points - white and deathly blanket, yes absolutely - Brieli does have to agree with N'rov, "Destiny. My ability to converse intelligently about anything like that is sadly limited." Her gaze sharpens as she regards Nicky with that faint disbelief again, but it's leaning closer to dubiousness. Is he for real? She's seriously wondering. Slowly and patiently, "We mean to say you should show her - our visitor - where the Beastcrafter offices are. Very near the forge. Yes?" The goldrider nods toward Rei encouragingly - and looks rather pleased when the apprentice takes the bull by the horns, as it were. "Good luck," she calls after the girl, noting to her bronzerider, "She seems resourceful." That's approving. Brieli likes that sort of thing. (Until she doesn't.) He might have a right to be self-satisfied, if fire's warmth includes even Vhaeryth tonight. Iesaryth has to consider as usual before answering, wanting to get it right, if she is to put it to words. « Yes. Different from myself. » She'll allow him to listen, for all it's amusing to her, for all she's certain he can't hear anything. And: « Perhaps. » She is glad he knows this, at least. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Why not: N'rov winks at the would-be farrier before eyeing the apprentice, though the younger man just might miss it as he glances down. "Not in dire need," he informs Brieli then. "Definitely not. And look, she has fine posture, too. I wonder if they train for that. I'm pretty sure they didn't when we were candidates." Only something about her tone, talking to the younger man, has him considering them both well beyond Oreithiya's escape from his line of sight. "/Oh/." Which is Nicky's word of the day, apparently, as the penny of realisation drops following Brieli's explanation. "I..." He looks over to Rei, looking a little uncertain at first, then shrugs his shoulders and nods. "Yes, ma'am, I think I can show her the way well enough." When the Beastcrafter looks ready to leave already, Nicky drinks down the rest of his cider as fast as he can. The empty mug is nudged across the bar to be collected by the 'tender, and he bobs his head politely to the Weyrwoman and bronzerider. "It was a p-pleasure meeting you, sir." Turning on his awkwardly-large feet, he goes to retrieve his winter clothing from where it's hanging beside Brieli's, before calling after Rei. "W-wait - I'll show you!" Those coltishly long legs do him good as he trots after her, slipping on his coat, bobbled hat and gloves as he goes. "Always so dramatic," Brieli tells N'rov with some little affection in her tone now, reaching up to brush dark curls from his forehead - though there's something far too amused in her smile; look who's talking. Glancing back in the direction Rei's disappeared off in, "It'd be something if it were only the Beastcrafters who worry about posture, wouldn't it?" It's enough to have her missing Nicky's realization and uncertainty both until he's saying his farewells and dashing after the dark-haired apprentice. And if the goldrider looks relieved by that, well. N'rov's not likely going to blame her, right? Much, anyway. "It /would/, though I suppose I could make a case for it." N'rov's looking after the pair of them, running off like that, and suddenly says, "It's pretty late to send her over, not sure what her journeyman was thinking." He watches for a moment more, but then a muscle tenses in his jaw, and he deliberately turns away. Back to Brieli-Shani, back to lightness, mostly: "And I'll own the drama, how else am I going to entertain you? The thing about you and destiny, though, is I /suspect/... you don't believe in it." That last, he says it like a secret. A dramatic one. "I suppose it is." Brieli-Shani turns a little on her stool to watch him a moment or two, lifting fingers to brush along N'rov's jaw, right there, where it's tensed. If people are watching, she doesn't care. It's entirely possible she doesn't even notice. "Worried?" Her brows arch questioningly; no judgment if so. And with a slow, wide smile, "You have a remarkable ability to /entertain/ me, drama or no. And..." She'll actually think about that for a moment. "I believe in something," she allows, eventually. Quietly. "Why else would I end up here? Of all places." Typically, she can't let lightness be on its own. Trying to shake it off, sliding an arm around his neck, "Do you believe in it?" "No," but N'rov sounds neither utterly convinced, nor convincing. His eventual smile back at her, though, that's another story. Once she's worked it out, "Fortune, maybe." It's an answer for both, gray eyes flicking briefly past to the watchers before dropping back into her gaze, leaning forward just enough to make the embrace easier. But, "What was with the kid?" That smile. Shani's easily drawn into it, into mirroring it, despite the fact that it probably won't do a lot for her reputation. "Not quite the same thing," she agrees, sliding her other arm around N'rov as well, dark gaze on his gray. But then, questions about the kid. That gets a bit of an eyeroll again, a shake of her head. "I have no idea. He asked to sit with me and just... It's like people that invite abuse just gravitate to me." So clearly, she can't be blamed for it. If N'rov's getting the edge of the counter wedged into his spine, he doesn't seem to mind, and at least shoulders-up don't seem to be paralyzed as he fumbles back to set the mostly-empty glass down without really looking anywhere else but her. "I get messing with them," does he ever, "but... Why don't we go back to your place." Totally his original thought. Someone's like to start muttering something about getting a room eventually, anyway. Shani nods slowly, not all that interested in anything but him herself - then just slides off her seat and to get her coat. "Stay tonight." It's more of a demand than a request, but at least if he can't, she's definitely about getting out of there quickly. |
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