Logs:Lilah, Acting?! (Nooo!)
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| RL Date: 1 July, 2015 |
| Who: N'rov, E'dre |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: N'rov and E'dre discuss things. Kind of fight (argue?) and then general ranting. |
| Where: Inner Caverns, Fort Weyr / The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 2, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Winter |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, C'stian/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, Elise/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Kyouri/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Nala/Mentions, T'rev/Mentions, X'vin/Mentions |
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Despite its subterranean locale, the creamy wall paint, pale woods, and
frosted glass give the cavern a light, airy feel. Oil lamps reflect softly
in the polished wood of high-backed booths, glimmering through the opaque
glass dividers that help lend intimacy to the seating arrangements;
round-backed booths carved from stone, lined with deep, terra-cotta
colored padding and the addition of strategic, lyric shapes painted in a
subtle red shade. The sweeping, half-circle shaped bar with its top of
smooth stone, backed by cut-glass-fronted cabinetry flows gracefully into
the soft lines and mellow colors that dominate the Glass Fountain.
All the atmosphere aside, the main attractions of the room are clearly the
massive, multi-pronged chandelier that hangs from multiple chains from the
ceiling and the re-worked leak - which no longer resembles a leak at all,
having been channeled through glass to become a beautiful piece of art. A
curving wave and a series of glass bubbles guide the water past a bank of
glows, allowing the light to shine through the water and turn it into a
sparkling fountain. From its dark, dim, shabby history, the Glass Fountain
has become an elegant place with lattice-stands to hold the menus with
their selection ranging from typical 'bar food' to high-end dishes and
fancy desserts. E'dre shouldn't have, but he has, fallen asleep at a back table in the Glass Fountain. The lull of conversations around him must have caused the brownrider to nod off over his meal. He's got one elbow propped up on the table, his chin cupped by a hand, and is fast asleep with his head tilted to the side. There is a small group of older Hematite rider's heading out of the Fountain, laughing and talking loudly as they go. Cece glances over her shoulder and elbows Y'ral, "Should we have woken him?" she queries. The bluerider playfully shoves Cece forward. "Nah, let the man sleep. It'd be awesome if Ben comes looking for him here and he's passed out over a bowl of soup and a half finished beer!" The Hematite sniggers follow their leaving. Even better if the man's weyrmate finds him with a bowl of soup, that beer, and N'rov. The incoming bronzerider spends some high-fives for his older wingmates, but doesn't linger; he's here with a different friend, after all, and one who isn't Hematite at that. Which doesn't mean that N'rov doesn't keep an eye on E'dre; it's just that he's got a job to do. First is encouraging the Carnelian rider with a few more words and a clap on the back; next is seeing him not only approach a pair of crafters, but manage not to crash and burn in the first five seconds. (N'rov can only do so much.) Then, at long last, N'rov can ease into the booth right by E'dre and... reach into his pocket for a charcoal-stick. Someone needs his cheek written on. A smiley face would do. N'rov won't have a chance to write on E'dre's face because the brownrider stirs at his arrival. "Don't try anything," he snarls, lifting his head and slamming his hand down on the table in one movement. "I'm not /that/ light of a sleeper," he continues to grumbles as he straightens and looks around with blurry-eyes. "Eden was up with a fever and with Ben having the weyrlings..," he shakes his head and grimaces. "At least she didn't puke on me. I hate when they puke on me." He sighs and ruffles his hand through his hair as he blinks a few times and lifts a brow at N'rov. "Not that you can relate to any of that." He seems prepared to go, lifting up from his chair and then he changes his mind and plops back down. "I wonder if it's safe to drink still," he muses as he gazes at his half-finished beer. Spoiling the bronzerider's fun. N'rov pauses with his hand still inside his jacket, then smoothly substitutes a pair of dice, which he promptly rattles in his closed hand. "Shush, you'll wake the natives," he tells E'dre in all seriousness. But since the man's drink had survived that slam with just a little jouncing, he adds, "It wants you to drink it. It doesn't want to be wasted. It's waiting." While he's at it, "It also wants you to go get yourself a nanny. Ben's busy, you're crazy tired, N'muir has his whole weyrmate thing going on," it's heavier than that, way more important than that, but they're men talking here, "and you've got to pick your crap." The natives seem to be no more than a group of Carnelian riders playing a rowdy game of dragonpoker and clearly far in their cups. "Dunno why they don't take that to Dice," E'dre grouses, still grumpy (or is he always this way?) enough to glare at the group. "Yeah, a nanny? That's what the nurseries are for. I'm supposed to move someone in to our weyr full time for the other things?" E'dre queries, looking less grumpy and back to more resigned to his fate. "Yeah, N'muir has a /lot/ to deal with. I hope Lilah and he can get along. I hope /I/ can get along with her." He scrubs at his face and reaches for that beer to down in a quick few gulps. "I've got to help this Weyr," he counters. "No time for anything else." He gives N'rov a pointed look. "No visits to other Weyrs and their flights, okay? I need you here. Focused. If you can do that. Being here. Focused." He sounds doubtful on that ability has he continues to stare at N'rov. "Dice is a sucky place to land," N'rov grumps. "And this one's too fancy, Anyhow, you could move the kids into the nurseries at night if you want," see, he can be flexible, "whatever doesn't keep you up. Since you're busy helping the Weyr and all." He eyes E'dre, all set to continue when... "/No/," E'dre's is flat and that hand almost slams down on the table again for emphasis. He saves himself from that by sliding his hand to grab that now empty beer and lift it to signal a refill to the barkeep. "You become a father first. Then you tell me how to raise my children." He looks away from N'rov and rubs at the back of his head fiercely as if he could scrub his sour mood away. "Maybe she was right," he mutters to himself. He can't continue that line of thought when his refill is here. The girl hovers near N'rov, brow lifting. "Drink?" she queries. The tilt of N'rov says 'what he's having' without having to say it; he barely waits for her to be gone before, "'Right'?" "Forget it," E'dre returns as he moves to drink half his glass. That's not the better of his plans as the alcohol seems to enhance his foul mood rather than ease it. He watches as the girl returns with a glass for N'rov which she hands over. E'dre fishes out marks to give her for both his and N'rov's drink. "Why're you here?" he asks, trying to change the subject. "Fuck, man." And then there's that drink, which mean N'rov has to thank him; still, "Not like I was saying, move 'em into the wher's den. Just give yourself a night off." He drinks, grimacing. "And it's not like I'm trying to chase down any golds." He's about to elaborate when E'dre gets going again. "You say that and yet you keep happening upon those flights," E'dre replies blandly, not looking as frustrated about it as he originally was. He taps his fingers on the table as he glances at N'rov. He's trying to keep his cool. "With N'muir distracted, Lilah in charge. What're you going to do?" That sounds more like a demand than a question. He better do "something". "Yeah, because I plan for a queen to rise over fucking Lemos, because they do that. All the time. I've got one scheduled for tomorrow over Ruatha." N'rov eyes him. "Last I heard, you were saying to 'focus.' Still waiting for what." "I'm sure you do," E'dre eyes N'rov back. This isn't going as well as it could. Or maybe it'd never go well. Fatigue and beers are sharpening all of E'dre's edges. "Waiting for what?" he seeks clarification. "You focusing? You should've done that turns ago." "Did you have anything special you wanted me to focus on," N'rov says with deliberation. There's a momentary tic to his jaw. "Because I don't think you mean the top of this table, or the top of your head, or making bets on which of you blows up first." E'dre rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand as he listens to N'rov's deliberate speech. He rubs and rubs and rubs, trying to loosen the growing headache that's forming with no avail. "We need to make this wing be something better. N'muir doesn't have the time. And we're full of a bunch of jackasses. We've got a new group of impressionable bronze-and-brownriders' as weyrlings. If we want to lead, we need to do better. "Help" me make them better." "Not to mention the new fucking wingleader," N'rov points out. "Who's been riding his bronze all of how many Turns? That makes everybody look good." "What?" E'dre shakes his head. "I don't know. That's besides the point. Maybe we "need" fresh perspective. I've half a mind to approach N'muir and ask to reorganize "all" the wings. Toss people all over. Make them learn to work with all sorts. No more Weyrleader's wing for turns and turns. The Weyr hates Hematite. My weyrmate hates us. Something should change." He finishes that beer and the girl walks over to offer a refill which he declines. She hovers near N'rov. N'rov might not even see her. He's staring at E'dre, no longer wholly in his seat, gray eyes burning. "Remember a little something called loyalty? It pisses me the fuck off when you make like I've been gallivanting all over the place not doing shit. Fuck getting the tithe back; forget getting Boll back in the same place or Ali back safe; all the rest of the work these Turns, who cares. Yeah, and our wingmates, remember them? Most of 'em work their asses off for this place, and we get ragged on and have to take it." E'dre leans back in his chair and faces that penetrating gaze of N'rov's as the bronzerider lets loose with his feelings. He listens without interrupting and waves the girl away. The rest of the Fountain seems to have quieted and somehow is now looking their way. A quick glower from the Weyrsecond draws them back to their own conversation. All traces of anger are gone from E'dre's face and what remains seems the slightest bit contrite. He won't apologize, but the tone of his voice has softened and he sighs. "I know, I know," he agrees, "but we still haven't rebuilt our reputation. If Lilah is going to be Acting Weyrwoman, it'll be harder on us. We'll never be able to show all that we do. Right? 'Favored by the Weyrleader'," he quips, "and the 'Boys Club'. Remember cheating at Dice? And look at what happened to Nala -- what I did. Maybe I'll give up my knot." He means that last part. Whatever N'rov might have said about Lilah, "We weren't the fuck cheating," the bronzerider swears, hard and uncompromising. "No one cares what we do or don't do," E'dre's hand forms a fist on the table. "They care about what they think we do!" "They think what you let them think." That's sharper yet. "What I let them think?" E'dre interrupts, lifting his hand to silence N'rov. "Do you think I run around dictating things to people? I barely have a half-decent reputation at this Weyr myself "without" the drama brought on by our wing! I was a sharding "weyrwoman" and I'm damn near being one now!" "Lilah got a wild hair that we were cheating, and nobody smacked her down for it." N'rov's shrug is brief and all the more cutting for it. "And that let everyone buy into it who wanted to. Because it was easier. They didn't have to face they got out-thought." "Hattie got her under better control. I think Elise being gone has helped," E'dre states, trying to find a diplomatic take on that. "I'd have to ask C'stian how he fared with her. But she hasn't been as outrageous as she was back then." "Probably did, but did she make it right? And now look." It's not just N'rov's beer that's bitter. "Now what?" E'dre asks, taking a thumb to dig into his temple. That headache is back and the slumbering Wroth can't be blamed for it. "N'muir's got Hattie to deal with. I get that. Now get him to tap you Acting so you can do what needs it." N'rov sets it out there plain. E'dre's brows shoot up at that and his hand drops to the table. "Why would I do that?" he demands. "That'd be stupid. I haven't been able to get along with Lilah. We can maybe be civil. I'm-- up to this point--," he splutters and raise his hand and turns in his chair. "Whiskey!" He looks back to N'rov, "Fucking Acting? You're crazy. You do it." "Then, fuck, someone else. Someone who'll..." N'rov stares at him. "Yeah. Right." "Who?" E'dre's tone is incredulous. "C'stian? Why don't we have the Weyr run by a weyrling. Lilah's too young as it is! She needs someone older to help her. Someone she respects." He taps his forehead and sighs. "I think N"muir is the only one who could do it." "T'rev. If his sharding wing hadn't," and now N'rov's the one to slam the table. "T'rev is totally untrustworthy. That man'd go heading off to /any/ goldflight," E'dre counters. "Shag every single greenrider he could lay his hands on. Totally not what we need." That whiskey is supplied for both the men before the woman heads back to tend to other patrons. E'dre reaches for it and glances at N'rov as he holds it in the air. Ready? Gulp! N'rov's jaw tightens; but then, look, whiskey. He takes the shot. "Put Y'ral in charge," E'dre tosses N'rov's way. "He can charm almost anyone." That whiskey's done a good job of pinkening his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. All traces of anger seem to have gone away. "The Weyr'd hate to see me do it. They need N'muir." N'rov snorts at their wingmate's name, even more dubious than the alternatives. "Yeah they do. N'muir knows what he's doing." He won't hear it any other way. "He used to," E'dre agrees, "but he also isn't young and his health hasn't been great. With Hattie stepping down, and if that is.., I don't want to think about it. Fort isn't Fort without N'muir." His eyes have gone a little glassy. That can be blamed on the booze - maybe. "Don't even talk about it," N'rov says it hard and low. "He's fine. We've just got to keep it going in the meantime. If that means you and Lilah passing notes, that's how it has to be." "Fine," E'dre agrees, sighing and suddenly looking older as he slouches in his chair. "I'll do my part. When I want to kill her, you'll have to bring my sanity." He eyes N'rov then, something else coming to his mind. "Why does Ben dislike you so much? Weren't you one of her assistants for awhile?" This time, N'rov's snort is more of an honest laugh. "Right. If I can find it." He leans over like he's going to look in E'dre's shot glass, then stacks it with his own, looking up only when the other man continues; when he does, there's a furrow to his brow. "Yeah, I was," he says, though his expression doesn't clear. "I wound up wanting to get back to Hematite, though," he says it like 'get back home,' "and never did finish the essay to get out of junior assistant. Almost did, before things went down." Things with Aishani, not that it hadn't stalled out long before. "I think it has nothing to do with the assistant program," E'dre answers slowly, doing his best to enunciate and keep from slurring. A few beers and a shot shouldn't cause it, but even so, this is too important to slur over. "She's had more than a few people fall out of that. You either like it or you don't." He shrugs at the end of his statement, unwilling to delve into that topic and he glances at N'rov to make sure the bronzerider doesn't want to "go there" either. "Yeah, you'd think." With their shot glasses squared, N'rov's just got what's left of his beer to look moodily into. Between drinks, between glances at the other man, "Seems like she thought like I was spying for N'muir or something. Like I was trying to trick or make a fool of her. I'd try to help, like that thing for you guys' weyr, or even just little things; and yeah, there was that time I hit on her after whatever queen that was," here he checks on E'dre because that was Turns ago but not forever, "but none of that made any difference." "She's sensitive," E'dre allows and seems to want to leave it there. "Goldflights," E'dre grins at N'rov, "I think we took some swings at each other over one once. Didn't we?" He really stands now and prepares to leave. He levels a look at N'rov. "We good?" Draining his glass, N'rov sets it down; it's enough of an answer as any. It's when he's risen that he adds, "Just keep telling me what needs getting done." Because they're good, but the rest of Fort... they'll have to see about that. |
Comments
Faryn (23:49, 1 July 2015 (MDT)) said...
This is pretty much the only thing I could picture while reading this:
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