Logs:L'vae Doesn't Like Bullies
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| RL Date: 7 April, 2008 |
| Who: L'vae, N'thei |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 6, Month 12, Turn 15 (Interval 10) |
| The game was about like the others. No one plays for real marks, not piles and piles, enough that a weyrling could stay in the game as long as they played smart enough. Talk was mainly of the coming winter, some blonde laundress, F'rint's sixth child being born, and a question or two about what Kevruth of Telgar thought he was doing at the Reaches, no direct answer ever laid on the table as some very lewd jest takes its place. There are a few jokes at L'vae's expense, the big boys teasing the runt, but everyone seems just fine-and-dandy with a weyrling in their midst. By the end of the night, with several pints in him and a few more marks than he started with, N'thei has gotten mellow and quiet and relaxed. The last hand ends, the marks are collected, the cards belonging to F'rint, and everyone starts their separate ways. Not the Weyrleader, though; he stays slouched low in his chair at the curtained-alcove table, shakes hands with those departing, looks fit to be here a while yet. L'vae is all smiles and light words to those departing, apparently cheerful despite his seriously dwindled stack of marks. At the edge of his seat when the others go, he turns a look back to the table - to his still mostly-full pint of ale, and then to the obviously settled N'thei. There's a moment of indecision where his broad smile fades a touch, but he ends up sliding more deeply into his seat and reaching out for his glass. "You made out quite well tonight," he comments pleasantly. "Quite?" N'thei plays the word over again, shakes his head with merry eyes but sober gesture at it. Fingers play down the stacked marks in front of him, make them exceptionally tidy in their rows before he starts to drop them into his mark purse with a wooden clinky-plunk. "You? Broke?" That while he beckons to a barmaid with his mark-hand, deposits money to her with a nod to his mug and L'vae's, mute transaction. That smile of L'vae's smirks to one side, watching the tidying a moment before his eyes drop to his ale. He takes a pull. The question on his own state has him chuckling, setting the mug back to the table. "Nearly," the weyrling answers with wry humor. It easily only takes one hand to stack up the pathetically small remainder of what marks Lou started with, and he lifts the short tower between thumb and fingers to tuck it away. A glance going after the barmaid, he looks back to N'thei with a nod of his head. "Thanks for the drink." And with more apparently coming, he perhaps feels obligated to lift his current mug and take a longer gulp. N'thei, sage; "You'll either get better or you'll get in debt. Recommend the former." His eyes size up what remains of L'vae's liquid assets, brows climbing-- at least until the barmaid provides a more pleasant-looking distraction. He informs in all seeming seriousness, "I love bodices. They ought to be a uniform." Under cover of the comment, he waves off the weyrling's gratitude with a brush of his fingers. "Mm. Does seem the better option." Eyes sideways to N'thei, the weyrling slides his elbows onto the table. Hangs a little of his weight into his shoulders. Another, lazier glance is given after the barmaid. "Really?" Turning back to the weyrleader, L'vae continues flatly without a crack of a smile. "I can't imagine it'd be a good look for you." N'thei gives over a bland look, one reluctant to leave certain jiggling bits of anatomy. "Ha. Ha. Ha." Speaking of bodices, here she comes back with new drinks and a shy-looking smile at the weyrling before she shuffles off all bright-cheeked and swish-hipped. Just about to get his drink to his mouth, the bronzerider remembers, "You got me in it with Shanlee, I'll have you know." L'vae returns the barmaid's smile with a beaming one of his own and quietly murmured thanks when she delivers their drinks. As she swishes off he works again at the remainder of what he's already got in hand, eyes rolling to N'thei over the rim. He takes his time drinking, rolling his lips on the moisture afterwards. "Oh?" The weyrling's gaze slide back to the mug, tipping it to eye how much is left. "From what I understand, you were already /in it/ with Shanlee." "No." N'thei says it thoughtfully the first time, like he hasn't decided whether or not that's actually true yet. Behind him, while this mulling process continues, pretty barmaid wipes down a table; quite the view. "--No. We get on pretty well when we ignore each other, then along comes a weyrling." Along comes a spider. "And makes it sound like I'm taking credit for what I didn't do. If you're going to go mucking about where you shouldn't, lad, at least have the decency to clarify." L'vae frowns down into his ale. "I'm sorry. How thoughtless of me." He finally gets around to finishing, the now-empty mug carelessly deposited towards the center of the table. The weyrling's eyes come to N'thei, completely oblivious to the barmaid behind. "I shall try to remember not to give you the benefit of the doubt in the future." A thin smile curves on his lips. "I suppose my... surprise may have muddled things." Agreeably, N'thei deepens his nod and responds with a hearty, "Indeed." He tips his mug toward L'vae, apparently grateful that he doesn't have to supply words like 'thoughtless' to the conversation. "We'll not make a big deal out of it this time, but keep it in mind, neh? It's like my mentoring advice." Unduly proud of the forthcoming revelation: "If you really can't help yourself asking questions where you've got no business, at least don't go muddying the waters." Toasts his own wisdom. L'vae's eyes are cool and his smile brittle. He rocks back, elbows sliding from the table and replaced by the light press of his palms at the edge. "Why thank you, sir," flat again, for the allowance of 'this time'. The weyrling does not join in on the toasting. "Improve at gambling, don't muddy the waters..." he recaps with the slightest lift at one corner of his mouth. "Any other advice you care to share, tonight?" N'thei drinks long, must get through a good half of his mug in that one toast. After swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he's all settled to meet L'vae's gaze across the table, merriness behind his eyes to combat the weyrling's frosty looks. "Nah, I think the rest you'll pick up as you go along. With your attitude? People are bound to put you in your place quick enough." There's a quiet moment where L'vae's smile grows slowly onto his right cheek, folding dimples, and then he laughs. Not loud. The low sound stays mostly in his chest as he looks away. To that mug the barmaid recently brought, so he can tug it over more squarely in front of himself. "We'll leave it to them, then." An idle comment, said with a coil of darker humor. He starts in, eyes flicking back to N'thei over the rim. "Do you want to talk about your problem with me?" N'thei raises his eyebrows dubiously behind his own mug, his hands steepled to maintain it right around mouth-level, weight partially resting on his elbows. "It's not an offer I'm like to make again, so take advantage of it." He's braced. L'vae's mug lowers. "It's not like to do any good," he says lightly, assuming. Maybe it's the booze, but he's definitely tempted. Eyes hold a long moment on the weyrleader, his smile shallow. "I dislike bullies," is what he finally says. The weyrling's jaw tightens briefly and then he drops his gaze away and takes an almost moody swig of his ale. He swallows, lets the weight of the mug dangle a little at his wrist, and returns a smile to N'tehi. N'thei starts off with a shrug, a quick one-shouldered number. "Depends on what you mean by do-any-good. Not likely to make any big changes, but might make you feel better, clear the air." The bully comment is met with surprisingly lengthy consideration, a drink in the middle of it while he contemplates L'vae more seriously. "Do you think that's what I am?" He's not denying it, but his head-cocked, prompting smile admits nothing. L'vae's eyes are steady while the other man contemplates. At the question, his chin tips up a fraction and his lids close a little more lazily narrow. "I think that you have acted like one," he answers smoothly. There's another twitch of a smile. "I don't think I'll presume to know what you are. But I've little evidence to the contrary." His eyes drop closed a moment, shoulders lifting. "So." "When?" Simple enough question. N'thei waits calmly for an answer, wears a partial smile, finishes his drink. "With Leova," L'vae starts, and the weight of the words may be an indication that that's nearly enough for him. Instead of drinking from it, the weyrling reaches his mug down to rest it on the table. "And in your position towards Crom. I have got that straight now, I believe?" His eyebrows lift, smile gone crooked. Ahhh Leova; the light-bulb goes on. "But you weren't there, were you. Still, I could see how a man might get the wrong idea if he were already inclined thataway." N'thei makes no excuse, indeed accepts the accusation with nodding good grace. "Doubt as you have got that straight, but it's too complicated for six pints." Eight really, but who's counting? "Only one thing to say to both bits, lad. Leova and Crom are both still standing." "I was there," L'vae says quietly, a touch of a frown on his brow. But he blinks the thought away. "Your wanting to burn it, that's what I have straight. Never mind complications - that one thing is clear enough," he insists a bit stubbornly, leaning forward in his chair. "I don't care if it's still standing." And his hand that's not cupped about the mug balls into a loose fist. It takes him a moment to remember himself, but he does. His shoulders hit softly against the back of his chair as that free hand slips off the table to his thigh. Tension ticks back in his jaw but he covers it by taking a long drink of ale. Standing slowly, care taken with the minutiae of simple movement, N'thei straightens himself out entirely before he shakes his head at that briefly balled fist. "I don't care if it's still standing either, least we have that in common." A couple of extra part-marks toss onto the table, one of them rolling on its edge then wobbling to a stop in a puddle of spilled liquor. "Tip the barmaid for me." He's on his way out. L'vae is mute, angling a glance up as N'thei stands. His expression is blank, but he sort of folds even deeper into his chair. His legs cross, away from the weyrleader, as he watches the mark piece roll and wobble. No more words are given, merely the abrupt jerk of his chin as he nods acquiescence to seeing about the tip. |
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