Logs:Just Another Exciting Dinner
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| RL Date: 12 February, 2013 |
| Who: Xhaeon, Z'ian, Alida, Ceawlin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A lot of introductions and some unpleasant undertones. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 13, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snow |
| OOC Notes: Okay, maybe some language. |
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| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RJs)
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
The living cavern is still densely populated for it being the end of dinner and Z'ian didn't arrive with his wing. They're already seated at one of the long bench tables. How unfortunate for him! It's slim pickings along the buffet line too, so the bronzerider strolls past that food and stops by the hearth. Stew it is. Taking up a bowl, he fills it close to the top before scanning for an available seat. His wingmates wave him over, even going so far as trying to sit closer to one another to create a space. He shakes his head, silently declining the offer to partake of the crowded dinner. Instead he finds a smaller table that's actually not occupied. Dropping into one of the chairs, he kicks feet onto another slides his bowl onto the wooden surface. Well now, someone else is eschewing the louder and more populous tables, too...and said guy is approaching the hearth before her. Alida simply slows down from her crisp, almost martial stride towards chow, and observes the unknown Z'ian as he ladels up his own bowl of stew...the blonde woman simultaneously gauging his demeanor, capabilities, and perhaps intent in one long, gestalten peer. Once the man strides away to his own private little table, 'lida makes her own approach of the stew kettle, ladeling up a big bowl of the nourishing stuff into her previously procured bowl, then looking all around for just one more unoccupied table. Notice how nobody invites the new gal in 'town,' especially given her rather cool demeanor and the porcine stickers at her hips. Chaulk it up to being oblivious. With more than a couple of people filling the living cavern, Z'ian isn't paying a huge amount of attention to the people around him tonight. Not even his wingmates as they make obscene gestures at him from across the way. Well, alright. He does notice them to a degree, looking up to stare over with a vaguely amused expression crossing his face. Shaking his head, he laughs quietly under his breath and turns away from them to pull his bowl of stew close to him. There are other empty seats at his little table, they don't look like they're going to occupied any time soon. She looks as if she might be torn between sitting down and simply avoiding the throng of humanity altogether, Alida vaporlocked for a couple of seconds as she simply stands there beside the hearth and stares at her limited options. After those spare moments, however, the woman simply blinks once, and stirs herself to action, impelling her form slowly towards that remaining table with only one body seated at it...finally taking up the chair farthest from the seated Z'ian in a low scrape of wooden chair legs against stone floor. Not a word or look emerges from the pale-blonde femme, her eyes scrupulously kept to the food before her on tray, which she methodically begins to scoop into her silent mouth. There's a few spoken obscene comments directed towards Z'ian from the other table, he rolls his eyes upwards. But he doesn't actually shout anything back across the cavern at them; the bronzerider is taking the dirty humor in good stride. When the blonde woman takes her seat across the table from him, he remembers some semblance of manners and drags his heavy boots off of the furniture. "Oh, evening." He greets, flashing an easy, friendly smile. "Sorry, I try to remember not to put my feet on things. Sometimes I forget." Taking up the spoon again, he gets a few bites down before saying something again. "Z'ian, bronze Tsanth's. Yourself?" It's as simple an introduction as there can be. Oh Faranth: it speaks...and towards her. There's a small twitch at the corner of one of those clear, deep green eyes, and finally they rise from Alida's food to stare in very neutral fashion at Z'ian. Nothing can be read upon the woman's poker face, his flashing little grin meeting not a speck of human emotion of any kind...though he does get a low grunt in return. And just as her gaze drops again, and a spoon of stew is lifted towards her mouth, Alida inwardly sighs again as the bronze rider once more speaks, leaving her no time in which to rudely stuff her mouth and thusly not have to answer him at all. "Well-met..." a rather pleasant alto issues from 'lida's throat, her plaited head bobbing fractionally across the table in just-passable politeness before she attends to that stew again. Nope, nothing of her own name is forthcoming. Z'ian waits for the usual supply of name that comes after saying 'Yours?' to another person. That's actually what one would consider just-passable politeness these days. However the lack of manners from the unknown woman doesn't seem to faze the bronzerider, he takes another spoonful of the stew. Eventually though, he drops his elbow onto the table and taps his spoon against his mouth. Once, twice. "You look like you could be a... Hogitha? No, how about Uborla?" He muses out loud, staring across at her with intense scrutiny. "Oh!" Sounding excited, he produces a pressed lipped smile. Gotcha. "Argula." She knew it... He just couldn't take the hint. When Z'ian starts spouting off those nouns, Alida cannot help but look up at him from her spot at the seat across from him, a vague hint of irritation twitching over her once-emotionless features. A low huff of another grunt emerges from her, but finally the woman does respond back in clipped alto tones: "Nope." Oddly, it sounds as if she knows what he's talking about. Cue another long stare and following bout of silence before the blonde returns to silently shoveling stew into her mouth. Z'ian's mouth curves and his smile is a more radiant display. Because see, it's not that he can't take the hint. It's probably more that he just can't resist the urge to needle rude, sullen girls who sit at his table without introducing themselves. "Aw, nope? Alright, well don't worry. I've got plenty of time to guess." He's far from any expression of annoyance, instead it's just a touch delighted when she gives him that long stare. Swallowing some more stew down, the bronzerider leans back and once again drops his boots onto the opposite chair. Heavily. "Dandioala? Unirella?" Quick on the heels of Z'ian's list comes a deep baritone of Telgari accenting, rattling off yet more names: "Saranathilia? Corasellica? Siananananara?" Xhaeon's rattling of "na"s in that last name sound kind of like the Batman theme song, but hey, what can you expect? The big smith lands himself next to Z'ian, plate in front of him and klah to a side, grey eyes so innocent from bronzeider to guard and back again. He gestures with his fork towards himself, and says his name slooowly, drawing it out: "/Xhaeon/." Yeah, she thought so... and the slightly long-suffering look now settled blandly upon Alida's features speaks just such of Z'ian's behavior towards her. Still, even after his continued guessing, the young woman simply attends to her own devices, continuing to eat her stew with unparalleled focus and disinterest in much else, her demeanor once again cool and unruffled, distant and disinterested. And then comes yet another gadfly - swimmer guy with the grey eyes - Xhaeon's new presence inciting Alida to eat the rest of her stew at faster velocity. All he gets for his drawled introduction is a slight flick of eyes at their corners to him, and a murmured alto, "Well-met." Grunt. The Telgari accenting snatches the bronzerider away from his needling of the yet-named woman, he's focusing an interested gaze on the young man. "Z'ian." He returns, also drawing his name out long. "Bronze Tsanth's." His eyes flicker down to where there would be a shoulder knot or something, "Do I know you already?" There's a hint of doubt in his voice, like he's not entirely sure of it. "Oh, this Argula. She doesn't want to do proper introductions so I just figured that I'd name her myself. I'm not doing such a great job though..." He trails off, darting a mock-sad glance towards Alida. "It's probably because I have sons. I guess my choices just aren't girlish enough." Xhaeon adjusts the neck of his sweater, because it's bunching and uncomfortable, and switches free hand to lift his klah-mug, taking a too-hasty sip and cursing under his breath when he finds out the hard way that it's still too hot to drink. It's okay. He has food on his plate to console his burnt tongue with. So he shovels at at least half the pace of Alida's quick-march inhalation of food, lifting mobile eyebrows up in something of an acknowledgement of her well-met. Oh hey, check out the bronzerider modeling appropriate behavior! "Oh, Z'ian," between bites, "Smithcraft's regards, and my best to your Tsanth." At the question, the man cocks his head to a side and glances askance at the bronzerider. "I dunno, man. You kind of look familiar..." He's doubtful, too, but he's a man and thus full of different things (but at least his eyes aren't brown, yaknow?) and doubt must be one of the many. "Oh. /Sons/. That explains it. I think we should call her..." Another bite wolfed down, head tilts to a side, a surprisingly masculine gesture on the man. "Arissa. Arissa? Alissa." See? A names are popular with the womenfolk.
"Smithcraft's regards. Ah!" Z'ian looks like the lightbulb just went on over his head, cheap swinging pull chain bouncing around and everything. "Are you here straight from the Hall? My brother, Malachi, is one of the Masters posted there. We look sort of the same." He waves one hand at his face. "Except I'm the more handsome brother. Don't worry, he's not here now, you don't have to lie." He flashes the Smith a crooked smile before spooning more of that stew into his mouth. He must be close to the end now, yes? "Alissa. I like that one, she looks like an Alissa. I used to know this girl named Eliss-" The slapping of the cord down onto the table draws his attention. The bronzerider doesn't startle so easily though, nor does he seem to be rattled by the false smiles and unfriendly speech. When she gets up, he follows her with his eyes. "See, Alida isn't too good on manners. But that's alright, those folks out at Pars have always been sort of strange." He shrugs his shoulders and finishes up the bowl. "She'll come around, I'm sure of it." Right. "Master Malachi!" Yeah, Xhaeon lightbulbs too, in that brainless male-bonding sort of way. "He's an awesome guy. He makes some tremendously awesome sho..." Baritone fades away in light of Alida's commentary, and his affable expression twitches, more amusement sliding in rather than just friendly jibing. "Backwoods hillbillies," he slides his own words after Z'ian's, sage and sotto-voiced. Louder, "I was just talking with a Harper about the sad lack of traveling Harpers to educate holdfolk, especially in the little backwater ones." He may even pitch that to follow Alida, and he's certainly watching her as she goes, too, 'cause hello, he's a dude. "So you were talking about a girl named Eliss-something," he prompts Z'ian, without rhyme or reason or care in the world except the next mouthful of stew. (And storytime.) Did someone call for a harper? Yes? No, not really? Ceawlin's shining (and so punchable) face not what you were looking for? Too bad! Because the boy's making a mad dash for the living caverns, bringing through the twisting tunnel the flurry of snow and comical expression. All that's needed now is The sky is falling! The sky is falling! to come busting forth from thin lips. But that's the wrong story here; rather, the harper gets ahold of himself, dusts snow off pale hair and the shoulders of his shiny (new) leather tunic and adjusts his instrument that's slung across his back. Seriously now, it's a good thing everyone's seated, or there'd be some short-person complexes going on. That being said, the harper /does/ do more than burst into the living caverns, bring in a mountain of (maybe not) snow; it's rather like Xhaeon summoned him. "Smith!" chin-nod to the one dude he recognizes. The others get... curious looks. "What was that about Harper?" Maybe he caught a word. Nothing but Alida's erect back and strong, shapely shoulders greets the typical verbal diahrrea from the two boys she leaves behind, the guard having heard much much worse from others before. At least she's being left alone for once, and the returning independence is a heady reward in its own way, the holder simply shrugging off what just happened and living in the now...which includes inhaling the heady scent of a freshly-baked loaf of bread some kitchen worker deposits atop the hearth. Funny how the formerly snide and surly blonde quietly thanks the kitchen help - given 'lida's previous encounter at the table - and actually offers a hint of a half-smile to the likewise-smiling server, who soon enough vanishes back into the kitchens. No matter, she's soon ripping off a large chunk of said bread to go with her second bowl of stew...and abutting her back to the farthest part of the hearth in order to keep warm and observe the room as she once more dives into her food. Green eyes roam in quiet, subtle fashion, and soon take in the entrance of the Harper kid, his focus on the Smith with the mouth over there at yon dork table. Xhaeon is a dilligent listener. He looks properly abashed at the foot-kick, ducking his head in acknowledgement of the proper place of hillbillies. "Mmm. Long, dark hair..." His (slightly glassy-eyed) gazing off is abruptly cut off by a barked, "Harper!" Bluff hale, smile spreading easily at Ceawlin's arrival. "How about that? I was just talking about you." He'll aim an elbow towards Z'ian, as if the bronzerider somehow lost ALL sight facilities and didn't just start talking to the kid who just BELTED through the living caverns. He makes belated introductions, 'cause he's zen like that. "Harper, bronzerider. Bronzerider, Harper. His brother's a master back at the hall! Legendary." With the women, guys. With the women. So belated it's heartbreakingly laughable, too: "Uh, was someone chasing you?" Ceawlin ran in awfully quick. He half-rises, consternation creasing his brow: "There's not a fire, is there?" Listen, this could be serious business! Grey gaze slides to Z'ian: "Maybe she started it." The invisible fire, that is. Bold chin gestures towards yon heathen woman in the corner, heckling it up like the youngest crone. "Ceawlin," Ceawlin supplies, thin-smile for Z'ian and his outright accusations! For sooth! "Caught red-handed," the harper continues, veering towards the very male table to continue this conversation. "/Yes/." Wait! Fire?! Someone chasing him?! "I mean, no. No fire," does Alida get the shifty-eyes from the harper for this? Maybe! "No one's chasing me. I seriously am finally /free/ of my stinking -- " Z'ian is now the object of the squinty-eyed look, " -- classes and I heard that dinner tonight is beyond the pale." When Xhaeon further introduces the bronzerider, the harper's smile only widens, not quite reaching the frigidness of cold blue eyes, but comes close. "Bronzerider!" It's all about titles here. Instrument is carefully set down, the harper pulls up a chair uninvited. "So what's with the chick?" One little hand (compared to the giants at the table) waves off in the direction of the pink pachyderm: Alida. For just a moment, it might appear as if said heathen woman propped lightly against the hearth might just respond in verbal kind back to Xhaeon and his compadre over there at the table, but quickly enough Alida recalls that spewage invites more interaction, and she just does not want to deal with that crap right now. So, only a bland roll of green eyes and a hum-drum cast of features greets those tossed out words beyond her, the Pars hold femme simply eating, occasionally peering about, and keeping to herself, in general. Until her gaze wanders back over Harper dude, that is, and catches him waving his hand in her direction. Yeah, of course they're blathering about her. Boys. Suddenly having had quite enough of being sized up, put down, and otherwise prodded, Alida simply pushes up off the hearth - her food still in hand - and steps smartly off into the thinning crowd; the beast returning to her lair, most likely. "Legendary." Z'ian says it dryly. But the amusement is there, tugging the corners of his lips upwards. He's composing himself at the notion of anyone saying that his so-serious older brother is a legend. But hey, he doesn't have to work with the guy. Clearing his throat he glances from the exuberant Xhaeon to Ceawlin and back again, catching that elbow with a grunt. "I don't think she started any fire." And while the bronzerider isn't beyond being a general pain in the ass himself, he does try to moderate the situation somewhat. "Just Z'ian, please. And I won't call you the Eavesdropping Harper Kid." Seems like an easy trade off to him. "Her name is Alida, supposedly. She comes from Pars Hold. Xhaedon would like you to go there and educate all the backwater people on having more manners. Think you can handle it, Ceawlin?" He asks, leaning back in his chair. There's a lift of one eyebrow as the woman disappears and he shrugs his shoulders for it. Situation moderation? Properly deflated, Xhaeon is, fwumping back into his chair with a glimmer of too-sharp amusement: a facade pierced, perhaps, deflated back into the mellow guy. Ceawlin's mania was catching, see. Grey eyes watch Alida as she steps off into the crowd, and bemusement follows. "Legendary," he mentions sideways to Z'ian, though a grin fights to twist his lips from the flat line he's attempting to remain. "Xhaeon," he hasn't the least problem with baldly correcting his name from Z'ian's statement, gesturing with his fork... when he realizes his plate is empty. "Whups. Excuse me." He pushes back from the table, stands up, goes to reload his plate. He just happens to not come back. (He was distracted! Did everyone not see those legs going by? Not Alida's, either!) "Not a kid," Ceawlin corrects -- just call him the harper with the coat (or expressions) of many colors -- "And deal." Amusement glitters in icy gaze. "I'm sure if I did that, I could lead them all merrily off a cliff as I'm not a good teacher. Composer, musician, records-keeping, I'm your man." Turning to give Alida and her exit a good look, the boy shrugs. Z'ian's alter-name should be vicodin: too much calming of the mania! As Xhaeon gets up to leave and head off as well, the harper turns back to Z'ian. "Now, the question is, whether or not Xhaeon is really just wandering off to get a better look at the girl." Which girl, he doesn't say. Xhaeon? Xhaedon? Who the fuck can keep track of all these crafters, they're like swarming bees! Z'ian's eyes narrow when he realizes he misspoke on the other man's name. He doesn't get upset with the correction, after all, he probably wouldn't want to be called Z'orro or something. The bronzerider's bowl is empty too, he glances after the Smith and then back down at his empty dish. "Maybe we'll hold off on sending you out there. I think we want at least some of those backwater people to stay alive, I hear they farm the food we all eat." Just a small observation. "I'd say the answer is that he probably went off to get a look at some girl, yes. Hopefully it wasn't Alida, she was a bit off." "She did look a bit special," Ceawlin comments, settling down into something that appears less manic and more normal; which isn't to say all that inviting per se. More excruciatingly formal. "I'd recommend that," he answers, shooting the bronzerider a side-long look. "It's such a shame that we have to consider the fact that they farm our food." The deadpan, dry way the words come out of his mouth makes it hard to tell whether it's a joke or not, but Ceawlin came into the caverns for one thing, and one thing only: food. Galvanized, he pushes up from his seat and grabs his instrument. "Oh, and if you encounter falling rocks, coming from the sky, it wasn't me." Again, humor is encased in such dry tone that delivery might come seconds after words are processed. With the tip of a proverbial hat, excruciatingly exact in execution of formal respect, the harper wanders off. In search of that bountiful feast called dinner. It /is/, after all, the reason for the exuberant entrance! If he encounters falling rocks, coming from the sky? Z'ian can't help but send the Harper a relatively concerned expression. "There's something wrong with young people today." Because after that dinner, he's starting to feel a little old. If the bronzerider plucks some hair off the top of his head and checks to see if it's grey, well, don't pay mind to him. Meanwhile, he's going to get more stew. |
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