Logs:Meeting People
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| RL Date: 19 January, 2013 |
| Who: Ceawlin, Kinory, Quinlys, Taikrin, Z'ian |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quinlys introduces Kinory to the Snowasis, as promised; they run in to Taikrin and Z'ian, and later, Ceawlin. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 11, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Meara/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 a dusky evening some weeks after Quinlys's offer to chill at the Snowasis that Kinory's finally proposed as a suitable day and time to meet for their little outing. The weyrling has made a surprising effort to look more aesthetically pleasing than her usual appearance of a plain girl wrapped in sweaters and trousers a bit too large for her petite frame. A faint touch of cosmetics lends a faint blush to her cheeks, dark accents along her wide eyes and a slight stain of red to her lips. Tonight's sweater is actually fitted properly, a deep crimson to contrast her black, sort of dressy slacks. She's pretty enough, to be sure, but her manner still screams 'uncertain.' Hesitation keeps her lingering near the entrance as she glances from head to head - should she grab a table? Is the bluerider already here? What's the protocol for this sort of thing? Fidget. Off-duty, Quinlys is wearing figure-hugging trousers and a low-cut, cleavage-enhancing top, with no real concession to the weather - though surely she must have a coat around here somewhere. She's not immediately obvious when Kinory enters, most likely, but a few moments later, a crowd of riders hanging about one of the tables parts, and the bluerider moves confidently through them, heading straight for Kinory. "You made it," she says, delightedly, indicating the bar with a tip of her head. "And you look great. Can I buy you a drink?" Kinory's expression stays frozen in confusion for another few seconds once Quinlys heads toward her. She must be on auto-pilot when her head nods once, twice about that drink. Finally: "Yes, I made it. So did you. And so do you. Look great, that is. Um." Perhaps she should have foregone the blush - she seems well-equipped to stain her cheeks simply by stumbling all over her own speech, completely sober. Deep breath; "A drink might be nice. Thank you. Though perhaps, a small and weak one might be best, " she finishes, somewhat wryly. Quinlys seems utterly unfazed by the blush and the verbal stumbling; she's already leading the way towards the bar, and reassuring Kinory, "Don't worry about it. I have no intention of getting you drunk, I promise, but there's a lovely space between sober and drunk that will make this all easier, I swear." The grin she aims at the younger woman is probably intended to convey her cheerful thanks for the compliment, but when she opens her mouth again, it's to tell the barman, "Something fruity, please. For both of us. Not too strong. Have you been here before, Kinory? Much? At all?" Kinory follows her to the bar, tentatively glancing around the venue with cautious, appraising eyes. "I'll take your word for it, " she replies haltingly, shaking her head briefly. "Not really. No. Not at all. It's - " A hand waves to indicate the room, the people, the atmosphere, " - new. Very cheery looking, though. I've heard it's a good place to relax and people watch." Leaning forward a bit on her toes, she tries to get a better view of the barman mixing their drinks, fascinated. "We like it," says Quinlys, though no sooner are the words out of her mouth than she seems to at least partially regret them, given her expression and the way she so hastily adds, "Anyway, it's a real High Reaches place. And you're a High Reaches rider, or close enough, so it's definitely time you had your introduction." She leans up against the bar, propped up on one elbow, her gaze sliding from Kinory to the barman, then back again. The barman? He glances up once, seeking out Kinory's gaze with a friendly smile, which is thankfully something Quinlys misses entirely. "A real High Reaches place, " Kinory echoes, unable to resist adding, "as opposed to a supposed High Reaches place?" Her giggle is small, but her eyes dance a bit; it might not be the funniest joke, but hey, she's trying. The weyrling brownrider happens to lean away from watching the barman mix drinks just as he looks up and smiles at her. Despite automatically returning his smile, flushing and quickly looking away, she appears more embarrassed than shy or coy. "Is this one of your favorite haunts?" she asks Quinlys, apparently finished with observing the drink mixing. Quinlys does notice the flush-and-look-away routine, and her gaze slides towards the barman as a result, expression showing a sudden realisation that she quickly tucks away again. "You shut up," she says, teasingly, turning her gaze back on Kinory. "Using my words against me; not good. Not good at all! But yeah - it is. I like hanging out here after work, or on my restdays. Not all the time, but some. There's always someone to talk to, even if you're not into cards or dice or darts or anything. People come here to have a good time, so there's no... pressure, I guess. For me. Even if I just want to sit and watch." Kinory's open smile is much more genuine than the one she just directed at the bartender. "No pressure people-watching, cards, dice, darts ... I think I'm starting to see the appeal, " she says cheerfully. "Not that I've actually played any of those games yet, but darts have always sounded sort of fun. It's fascinating to me to watch people do things like that. Or drink mixing. Things I've never done that seem to require some skill and practice." But it doesn't necessarily follow that the people themselves fascinate her. The drinks are, just then, slid across the bar towards them; Quinlys slides a few small denomination marks across the bar in return, then offers one of the bright pink concoctions to the other woman. "Cheers," she says, lifting her glass. "To the appealing Snowasis. You're-- do you want me to introduce you to some people, while we're here? Or should we just watch and listen for a while? Either's fine, I swear." Kinory's appraisal of the very pink beverage is tentative at first, but quickly enough turns into a pleasantly amused, "Do they come in other overly bright colors, too?" Accepting the glass, she raises it in the bluerider's direction and echoes her toast. There's a moment of consideration after she takes her first sip in which she glances briefly around before confessing, "I still feel a little out of my element. I'd like to watch and listen with you, if that's okay." Dark eyes settle briefly on a table, then a booth, then return to Quinlys with raised eyebrows: Where should they sit? The drink is definitely more fruit than alcohol: sweet and very easy to drink, though no doubt it could become dangerous in large amounts. Quinlys takes a sip of her own before considering Kinory's reply, then draws herself away from the bar decisively. "This way!" Her destination seems to be a recently vacated booth not too far from one of the overcrowded tables, where a group are playing cards, and equally not far from the dice board. "Perfect vantage point," she declares. Kinory pulls from her drink in moderation as they head to the aforementioned perfect vantage point, settling gingerly into one side of the booth. She certainly isn't guzzling the pink stuff, but her sips are semi-frequent, a telling sign of nerves that will eventually be temporarily put to rest. "Thank you for suggesting I come out here, " she says at length, casting a sheepish look down at her glass before glancing back up at the weyrlingmaster. "I don't think I would have been brave enough to try something like this on my own. It's intriguing, though." A collective round of noise briefly floats over from the card players; someone must have just gotten a really, really good hand. Or a terrible one. "It's my pleasure," says Quinlys, firmly. "You're the only non-native in your group, and that-- it's pretty obvious you needed the push. I'm happy to oblige. This is home, now, after all - right?" She takes another sip of her own drink, then lets her gaze slide towards the group of card players. "That's H'tram," she says, indicating a man in his early thirties now looking terribly smug. "Bronzerider. Impressed-- same clutch as the former Weyrleader. He likes cards. And the younger man next to him, the really pretty one? That's M'yez. Green Siyavath. He Impressed in my clutch. Not as good at cards, but he likes the company. Just... hanging out." "Right, " Kinory answers. She follows the bluerider's glances and takes in the people being pointed out with varying expressions. Smug bronzerider makes her nostrils flare unhappily, and pretty greenriding man elicits a small grin. "Ineuth would be extra charmed if I took up with a greenrider, I'm sure, " she jokes, but shakes her head slightly. "Are they all always so - " Her nose wrinkles, one hand making a shapeless gesture as she seeks the proper phrase. "Rowdy?" is what she settles on. "The game could be interesting, but the players there - not so much." Quinlys twists the stem of her glass between her fingers and admits, cheerfully unapologetic, "I guess they are. Here, anyway. They sort of encourage it in each other, you know? But--" She turns her head, indicating a quieter group in another booth not too far away. "That's Mai, Kalisti and R'meln. Mai and Kalisti have been weyrmates since weyrlinghood, basically. Nine or ten turns, I think. Mai's pregnant with R'meln's kid, because she and Kalisti are desperate. They're good friends, and they come here to catch up, and talk about their future family." Kinory's expression edges somewhere between wistful and scared as she peeks over at the quieter group. "Oh. That's - that's really nice, that they're all really good friends and intend to have a family together. It looks like that's going to be one loved kid. Or kids, I suppose." She's about a quarter of the way through her glass, which probably wouldn't even give most people a buzz. It seems to give her enough courage, however, to venture a quiet but steady, "And you? Do you play cards, enjoy company, have a - someone?" To her credit, she even manages to just sound politely curious since she's being indirectly introduced to people. "Without question," Quinlys confirms. "They've waited so long for this. I think it's-- wonderful." She doesn't sound wistful, but she's got her gaze on Kinory again; she's definitely aware of her wistfulness. "Me? No to the cards, unless there's nothing else on offer, and yes to the company. And no, no someone." Which does seem to be something that makes her less-happy, except that she quickly follows it up with, "I mean, I'm not lonely or anything, and I'm not desperate for a family or anything like that, but - sometimes, it'd be nice to have a definite someone to come home to. Or go home with. My little sister Impressed at Monaco, actually. Same clutch as Brieli. She's got a weyrmate and a kid on the way, too. Already." Quinlys and Kinory are sitting at a booth somewhere nearby the dart board and an energetic group of card players; they're both drinking pink cocktails of some description. Cards. Taikrin can smell a game a league away. None of her usual pack are in attendence tonight, which might be why the brownrider is nosing around the game so quickly after picking up her beer at the bar. Maybe she's paying heed to the sideways glances and cold shoulders for once, because she doesn't try to force her way in. Instead, she makes a laughing comment about one of the player's hands and then waltzes away to the accompanyment of the greenrider's curses. It looks as though she'll waltz all the way down the isle, but then she spots Quinlys and Kinory and instead pauses to lean into their table. "Hey, Quin," because they're close like that, "You seen Riorde around?" It's sort of a greeting. "Someone aside from one's dragon, " Kinory says softly, nodding. Her head tilts thoughtfully, brow briefly furrowing. "Did she? It's a nice enough place to be in. Warmer, certainly. Beaches. I liked the weather, even before I had something else to compare it to." She seems about to say something more, but then there's Taikrin looming over their table, leaving the younger brownrider to deferentially take another sip of her pink beverage, shift the glass around a bit and otherwise do her best to look occupied while the two who know each other talk. He's been here all along, more or less. Z'ian avoids getting sucked into the card games usually, but the dartboard has its appeals and it's there that he's sunk most of his time tonight. However after losing his third consecutive game, he bails on engaging in a fourth. He has to be allowed to retain some of his dignity, right? Departing from the group he was hanging around with, the bronzerider wanders away, beer held close in one hand as he makes his way through different people. Occasionally he bumps into someone, always pausing to give them a brief apologetic smile. Since they're close, it's not long before he's passing the table Quinlys and Kinory are at and attempts to go around Taikrin. Quinlys doesn't get the opportunity to answer Kinory, which is a pity, really, but there's a Taikrin, and she needs a brilliant smile of greeting. "Tai, hi!" she says, abruptly delighted - which is saying something, since she was already in an obviously good mood before. "No, not tonight. Hey - have you met Kinory? She's one of the weyrlings. From Monaco, originally, but she's cool. I'm showing her around, introducing her to the place. Kinory, this is Taikrin. She's a brownrider, too." With her gaze so focused on the standing brownrider, it's no wonder she sees Z'ian, too, even if the smile she aims at him is a little lower in wattage. It's still pretty warm. "Oh well." Taikrin's disappointment at Riorde's continued absence is quickly subsumed in the bright, crooked grin she has for Quinlys. "I didn't! Well met, Kinory. Always happy to meet another brownrider, if you know what I mean? Which one's yours?" The brownrider takes a swig of her beer and leans her hip into the table; she doesn't seem at all phased about having Monaco brownrider around again. "This place'll take good care of you," she adds, gesturing broadly (and blindly) with her mug. If Z'ian is near enough, and not paying attention, he may get a little wet with some of High Reaches finest dark beer. Kinory can't help listening even if she's totally absorbed in moving her drink back and forth, and looks up when her name is mentioned. "Taikrin, " the pretty weyrling repeats after introductions are made with a small, polite flash of a smile, edging toward confused. "It's - nice to meet you, too. I'm Ineuth's. We're the brown pair from Rielsath's last here." Nope, she hasn't caught on yet to what the other woman means. Following the direction of Quinlys's gaze, her polite, uncertain smile probably passes in Z'ian's direction, too. "It certainly seems like a fun place, " she manages - although at the moment, she looks a mite too uncomfortable to be enjoying herself. Z'ian probably wasn't planning on slowing down at this particular table, given the lack of knowing who any of these women are. But Quinlys has made the mistake of showing him an ounce of attention by smiling, even if it's only partial warmth. He braces one hand against a chair and flashes the bluerider an engaging smile, one that's directed on Kinory too. "Hey, how is ever-" yone? No? Beer in the face, alright then. He blinks as the beer lands right in his eyes and he brings the chair bracing hand up to his face, cursing under his breath, not necessarily at Taikrin but since she's close it may be audible to her in a way that it's not to two women sitting down. Quinlys seems genuinely pleased at the friendliness between the two brownriders, but before she has the chance to offer to slide down and make room, there's beer in Z'ian's face and she's recoiling with a: "Oh, fuck. We should-- napkins or something, right? Napkins." This does not mean she's racing up to get them, though: she's still sitting, still holding on to her own drink, and still mostly just staring in horror. Hi, Z'ian. "Shards!" Taikrin seems genuinely upset, though whether it's at the loss of beer or at Z'ian's misfortune it's hard to judge. She sets the mug down on the table with a more colorful curse, then starts flagging down one of the waitstaff with a frantic gesture they're probably all too familiar with. "Sorry, didn't see you there-- you alright? Let me get a towel. So sorry, uh--" A pause, probably imperceptable to anyone but the dragonriders who are so familiar with their sort, and then she adds weakly, "--friend." "I'll get some, " Kinory says quickly despite Taikrin flagging down a waitstaff person, sliding out of her end of the booth to hurry over to the bar and ask if they have a couple to spare. It takes her a minute, but she runs back, two cloth napkins in hand - extra towels all around. Whether someone else brings over another or not, she offers hers to Z'ian with a, "Um, here you go. Are you okay? That - didn't look fun." At all. Z'ian is practically the poster boy for 'aw, it's okay'. Even with beer on his face. He's managed to wipe it off alright, though he's now wearing some of it on the sleeve of his jacket which is definitely attractive. His focus ends up shifting to Taikrin and he starts to wave one hand at her, a dismissing kind of wave. "No, uh, it's okay. I think I got it. I was too close-" There's a pause from him as well while she searches for a word. "Sorry, I'm Z'ian. Tsanth's. If anything the alcohol probably improved my face, right?" He grins lopsidedly at the brownrider and then blinks, turning now to Kinory who has towels. Looking just a touch flustered now, this round of introductions could have gone better, he accepts them. "Thank you. I'm fine, just damp. I'll survive." He starts to pat at his partially wet jacket sleeve, it's not exactly effective. Quinlys, who has a habit of picking up everyone's names and simply assuming that she's known in return, makes no effort to introduce herself, and with the situation apparently in hand, slides down the booth until she's in the corner, taking her drink with her. It could well be an invitation. Or not. So hard to tell. "Could be worse," she declares, cheerfully enough. "No one threw a torch at you or anything. No fire." Funny. Right? Right? "You guys should join us. I'm trying to help Kinory get to know more people anyway." "Well it is good beer," Taikrin supplies. "Don't know as how anyone wouldn't be improved by having a little." As an afterthought, she adds by way of introduction, "Taikrin. Szadath's." Since Z'ian seems to be taking it so well, she smiles crookedly in return. "Come, sit. Let me order you one proper." Since this is apparently her table now. She slides in next to Quinlys, then turns her grin on Kinory. "You're a lifesaver. You want to try one, too? Reckon you all are allowed, right?" She cuts a glance at Quinlys, not quite asking permission. "And now I know six new names and faces. Well - maybe seven." Lucky Z'ian. Despite her light tone, Kinory's making a face down at what's left of her pink cocktail when Taikrin's offer arrives. "Hmm? Oh. Thank you, but - no. I don't like beer. Or at least, I don't like the way that it smells, so I don't think I'd like the flavor. And I - probably should be getting home soon, anyway, just to make sure that I get enough sleep before the morning." Maybe even a lightweight beverage wasn't the best thought-out plan of hers. "Right. It would really blow if my face was on fire right now." Z'ian agrees, directing an amused look at Quinlys that includes slightly confused eyebrows drawn together. "And I actually kind of like it not melted." He concludes as he pats the rest of the dampness out of his sleeve, what he can anyway. "You don't have to, I've got the rest of mine anyway. But thanks for the offer." Regardless, he slides into the space left at the end of the booth and brings his beer up to his mouth. He glances upwards at Kinory and her pink cocktail, commenting, "Sometimes it's an acquired taste. Like wine. Not everyone likes it right away." Quinlys can only grin at Z'ian, utterly unrepentant, before she's distracted by Kinory's remarks. Apparently briefly torn between 'fun Quinlys' and 'Weyrlingmaster Quinlys', she nonetheless ultimately admits, "I guess it will be an early start for you lot," in Kinory's direction. More's the pity. It doesn't seem to be implied that she must also depart-- the benefits of being the instructor, apparently. "I'm not a big beer drinker, myself," she admits, to the group. "Though I will. In some places, it's the best thing going. One day, Kinory, we'll show you a dive bar. Just for the experience. I doubt it'll be your kind of place, but... it'd be fun." "Remind her some time she should tell you lot the story of the first time I took her to a real bar, yeah?" Taikrin adds slyly, with another look towards Quinlys. "Anyways, reckon you've got lots of time for me to teach you how to appreciate a fine beer. Have a good night, Kinory." She even remembered her name! Since Z'ian doesn't seem to want another beer, Taikrin raises the remainder of hers in salute to him, before swigging it down. "Let me know if you change your mind. I'm good for it." Kinory leaves what's left of her drink and shrugs back into her coat, vacating her seat. "Yes, " she says of the early start to Quinlys. "I should go, it's - thank you for the drink and showing me the Snowasis." There's a rather subdued smile for the dive bar suggestion; she doesn't seem remarkably enthused. Z'ian and Taikrin get another murmur along the lines of, 'nice meeting you' before she makes her way to the exit. She may or may not have furiously rubbed off her makeup by the time she reaches it. "Visiting dive bars should be a part of the requirements for graduation. You don't know what you're made of until you drink cheap beer that tastes like piss and you've had so much of it that it starts to taste okay. I would definitely include it." Z'ian recommends, always helpful, before swallowing another mouthful of his drink. He grins crookedly and gives Kinory a short, lazy wave, watching her as she makes her way out and to the door. "She seems nice." The bronzerider says to no one in particular. Nodding to Taikrin on the offer again, "I'll keep it in mind. Maybe if I wasn't two sheets to the wind already." He doesn't look like someone that's drunk, but maybe he's a career alcoholic. Quinlys makes a face at Taikrin, albeit a not entirely serious one, at the reminder of her youthful indiscretions, such as they are, but with her charge departing, and the conversation moving on, she doesn't make anything more of it. "She's sweet," she says, in reply to Z'ian, "But shy. And for someone who was weyrbred..." Her head shakes. "I think you're right on dive bars, though, anyway. They're an important step. Taikrin, don't scare her too much. But... give her a nudge or two. She could probably use it." "Hey, when have I ever scared any of you? I'm a perfect gentleman with the weyrlings," Taikrin protests, albeit with a shit-eating grin. "They're too little to know any better." Now that it's only adults, though, the brownrider doesn't hold herself back from relaxing at the table and resting her arms along the back of the booth-- including just behind Quinlys. "We'll take her to the good joints." To Z'ian, good-naturedly, "What kind of bars you been going to? It ain't worth going of they ain't got that good homebrew stuff. You know, the sort so thick you reckon you could chew it?" "She's weyrbred?" Z'ian clarifies, eyes flickering where the weyrling has disappeared to. "Not what I would have thought off the top of my head." He drains what remains in his mug, sliding it away from him on the table. Towards the brownrider, he laughs. "Apparently not the same ones that you go to. But dive bars aren't just about beer, it's about people too." He gives an easy shrug of his shoulder from where he sits with Taikrin and Quinlys at one of the booths, back by the dart board and some people who are still playing a lively game of cards. Quinlys' head turns, ever so slightly, to watch as Taikrin rests her arm on the back of the booth behind her, though she doesn't let her gaze linger. Instead, with a chortle, "Perfect gentleman, yeah right. The point is that she's not really one of the boys, right?" Z'ian's words earn a nod, as the bluerider drains the very last of her pink cocktail and slides the glass away from her. "Right? The acts like the most holdbred of holdbred, but no, she was born and raised at Monaco. I was trying to explain to her that the Snowasis is just about people, too: people watching, if you like, or talking, or whatever. I can't work out if she's afraid of men, or just extra nervous because she knows she needs to get herself laid." This is not weyrlingmaster Quinlys. Not anymore. "Mmmm, afraid of men. That ain't right. You sure it's afraid, and just not into? Ain't like that's uncommon in brownriders, right?" Certainly not for this brownrider, judging from the smirking look she gives Quinlys. "Maybe she just don't know how to be one of the boys yet. Though-- she was sort of made up pretty? Hm." Taikrin goes quiet for a beat, pondering the issue, then gives a shrug and turns back to Z'ian. "I know a couple of places, out in the sticks of Crom, what're good for a tussle and a drink, if that's the kind of people you mean?" "Just because you're holdbred doesn't mean you're afraid of the opposite sex. Speaking from experience." Z'ian points out, smile crooked as he glances towards Taikrin. "And exactly. Maybe she's just not into them. Not every woman finds us breathtakingly irresistible." He drops his elbows onto the table, balancing his chin into the palm of his hand. "I don't go for the tussle. But the folk-sy atmosphere is worthwhile. If I'm going to hang around in the sticks though, it's usually just north of High Reaches Hold. It's more my stomping ground. I don't fit in around Crom, something about my face." Emergence into the Snowasis comes more from curiosity than a real desire for refreshment as Ceawlin makes his way into the establishment. Chilly autumn air clings, briefly, to his clothing before dissipating as warmth is received from the indoors. A quick assessment is taken of who's around and where, before the Harper boy continues on his path inward. Other than a side-glance to those gathered, he doesn't immediately act upon anything other than the exploration of new environs. That and quite possibly a drink, perhaps while surreptitiously eavesdropping on what parts of conversation he can take note of. "Noooo," says Quinlys, flapping her hands in vain, as if this will properly explain what she's getting at. "I don't think she's into women. Though... I guess I haven't asked her, either. She definitely wants a family. I think she's just... intimidated. And you know perfectly well, Z'ian, what I'm talking about. There's holdbred and then there's holdbred." Obviously. She glances mournfully at her empty glass, as if debating whether she can be bothered to order anything more, then adds, "It's not as though non-dive bars are necessarily safe these days, anyway. Did you hear about how K'del got beat up at Tillek?" "Don't reckon you really need a man involved for a family, 'cept for maybe once or twice," Taikrin points out, all reasonableness. "Besides, ain't like riders really have holdbred-style familes anyways. I mean, who's got time to take care of a baby when you got a dragon to mind?" Her lips twist into a wry smirk at Z'ian, then, and she adds, "Reckon you don't quite got that minebred look to you, no." Which Taikrin does, in both appearance and accent. "Holdbred, are you? From whereabouts?" Z'ian watches the flapping of Quinlys, lips curving in amusement. "I regretfully have to agree you don't really need men to have a family. Except for the making children part. Anyway, maybe you should just... let her figure it out on her own? She seemed young." He shrugs his shoulders and adds on ruefully, "Sure I do. Just hate when people throw around the word holdbred as if the same old stuffy stigma applies to us all. You know, just as annoying as when people from the holds go, Oh, she's weyrbred. He he he he. and then stare you." He doesn't appear too seriously frustrated by it either way however. "No, not quite. My family is from the Reaches, Hold proper area. Workers." As for the beat down that was put on K'del, "That wasn't any regular fight. From what I heard. By the way, that kid over there is eavesdropping." Again, helpful. As he points over to Ceawlin. Drink in hand, Ceawlin is caught red-handed the moment Z'ian points out his eavesdropping, though he doesn't really move from where he'd parked his butt after getting aforementioned beverage. To the riders, once outed, he offers a salute that only a fancy, froo-froo harper would give. Either that or he's just embellishing upon the old stand-by. This action, too, outs the fact that he was idly -- or not so idly -- listening to their conversation, and with a look that borders on abashed, he drops his gaze, the tops of his ears getting pink. "My apologies," pause, "Evening." Quinlys' explanation is simple enough. "She is young. But she's also got a brown dragon who is just about sexually mature, and while plenty of the greens around here are ridden by women, not all of them are. She needs to be prepared." It definitely looks as though she'd like to find out more about K'del's brawl, but Z'ian's last remark draws attention to Ceawlin, and it's entirely understandable, no doubt, that she's distracted, and lets her gaze wander, oh so casual, towards the teen. "Huh." She tracks him up and down with her eyes, then shrugs: "Rider gossip terribly interesting, is it?" Despite her attempt at forebearance, Taikrin can't help herself. "Ain't like it's hard to beat up K'del. And I reckon he was asking for it, anyways." She nods definitively, and polishes off the end of her drink as if to make a point. "Maybe he was just wanting to get a closer look at you, eh Quinlys? Or maybe our hold-bred friend here?" Taikrin's grin turns toothy as she looks to Ceawlin. "How about it, kid? You holdbred or weyrbred? Got a couple of fine choices on display here tonight, don't you reckon?" "Well, I don't know anything about being a young woman. So I'm just going to keep my mouth shut on the subject from this point on." Z'ian flashes Quinlys a quick smile. His eyes track over to the younger man, an eyebrow raised as he pulls his empty mug of beer towards him. Glancing towards the brownrider, he laughs and then shakes his head. "This choice is not on the menu tonight. Or tomorrow. Thanks for the company, ladies." He slides out of the booth and gives his temporary companions a quick wave before he sets out for the exit, dropping his empty drink and damp towels off on the way out. "Anyone's gossip is terribly interesting to a newcomer, I'd think," Ceawlin says, a cheeky grin surfacing as he slides off his chair and migrates closer to the group. "Best way to get the lay of the land," he adds, before turning cool blue-eyed gaze to Taikrin. "Hallbred," is his differentiation, "Though before that, I grew up in a cot hold beholden to Crom." Wry amusement laces additional explanation of, "Probably one that'd be classified as the 'sticks' of Crom." That amusement gets deeper when Z'ion excuses himself, but Ceawlin's features are quickly schooled back to what's proper. "I'm Ceawlin, Harper Sr. Apprentice. Fresh off the dragon." Quinlys returns Z'ian's grin with one of her own, and seems quietly put-out when he leaves so soon after. "He's cute," she remarks, idly, her attention drifting for a moment or two before she draws it back to the remaining company. "He," she says, obviously talking about Ceawlin, "is a little young for all of us, Taikrin. No thank you. No offense, kid," she adds, cheerfully enough. "Crom. Huh. And a Harper. Faranth's hairy balls, just what we need." "For a bronzerider," Taikrin allows, with a lingering look at Z'ian as he leaves. But then there's the harper, and so young, that she can't help but tease. "You too, eh? Boy after my own heart, he is!" Ceawlin might recognize the accent, since it's common enough in the most isolated of mineholds in that region. "You grew up in Crom before you were bred in the hall, or you were bred in the hall before you grew up in Crom?" she asks lightly. "I dunno, Quin, reckon a Crom-bred kid is older than you think. Grow up fast, some of 'em. And newly posted? He don't seem that young, are you?" "None taken," Ceawlin assures, lifting his glass slightly to the two remaining riders. "Born in Crom, raised by my parents, and then shipped off to the Harper Hall as soon as I could be enrolled as an apprentice. Now in my eighteenth turn, I'm nearly ready to walk the tables." He pauses, swishes the pale liquid in the glass, "Nearly being about two turns off. I worked in the mines with my father, which is a rite of passage so to speak." History's given easily enough, and even with a little smile. "A Harper's everything a weyr needs. Whomever else will keep the entertainment?" Teasing lilts through his voice, and even touches upon cool blue eyes. Quinlys is quick with her answer to the last: "Bronzeriders, obviously. So full of themselves, there's always plenty of entertainment to be had." She turns sidelong to grin at Taikrin as she says that, fingers reaching out to play with the stem of her abandoned, empty glass. "Seriously, though, eighteen is still plenty young. And an Aprentice at that." Her attention slides back towards Ceawlin, expression showing teasing good humour. "My point, though, was that there's not much glory in a weyr for a Harper, I'd've thought." Taikrin raises her own empty tankard in salute to Quinlys at her statement about bronzeriders: ching-ching. "Soon to be a journeyman, eh? Say, my baby sister's at the hall, reckon she's about on level with her. Soon to walk the tables herself, or so she says-- Laira? Dark hair, little shorter'n me, real cute? Talks about a mile a minute. Got herself a little blue firelizard." "You speak the truth. Eighteen is not that old, but it's not too young either," Ceawlin counters easily enough with a grin. "Glory is never found in a place, but in actions. Besides as an apprentice, I don't get a say in my postings. Only when I reach journeyman and can go wherever I please." Brows furrow when Taikrin mentions her sister, but soon enough he's shaking his head. "I can't recall specifically, but I'm sure at some point I've seen her. The Hall's big enough to get lost in." The boy finishes his drink, then slowly sets it on the table. Fingertips pause to press to the table top before asking, eyes wide and curious, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your names...?" Mild apology for this lack of attention to detail is written in his expression. There's something mildly scoffing in Quinlys' reaction to Ceawlin's words, but she's still grinning, so whatever her opinion, it's not too serious. "I guess your sister isn't as cute as all that, Tai, if he hasn't noticed her. Unless he's not interested in girls, of course," she teases, with a lazy grin, though even that is short-lived: she has low, unmistakable laughter for the rest of what Ceawlin has to say. "That's because we didn't offer them, most likely. Terribly rude of us, don't you think? I'm Quinlys. Olveraeth's rider." "Well she is a turn older than him. Two, maybe? What month is it, anyhow?" She looks to Quinlys to answer her momentary confusion, then shrugs it off. "Laira's plenty cute, but maybe she ain't got eyes for another apprentice. Anyways, I reckon she's too focused on walking the tables to waste time on boys." There's a pointed look to Ceawlin as she names him: boy. Then, after Quinlys, "Taikrin. Szadath's. He's brown." This is the most important bit of information, clearly, because she supplies afterwards, "Olveraeth's blue. And Quinlys is Weyrlingmaster Quinlys. Reckon you should know, just in case." Ceawlin's brows lift at the same moment he slowly stands, though acknowledgement of Quinlys' mild hint of mocking only shows in the sharpening of his gaze on the riders. "As am I. Rather than allow distractions to stray me off my course, I tend to focus on what I want most, and what I want most is to earn my journeyman's knot." His voice is calm, but laced in an undeniable sense of self-awareness and goal oriented. "Well met," he greets sincerely, before picking up his now-empty glass. "Ma'am," to Quinlys, and then shifting his attention to Taikrin, "Ma'am. I'd better get back. It was a pleasure, but if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your conversation." A salute and then the boy -- for he is a 'boy'! -- turns and makes his way to return his glass and then exit back, probably, to the dorms. Quinlys shoots a glance in Taikrin's direction as she concludes the introduction, but Ceawlin is talking before she can say anything, and excusing himself - and then he's gone. "Tai," says Quinlys, with a note of long-suffering, half-amused frustration. "Now he'll think I'm actually the Weyrlingmaster, and not just an assistant who will be the Weyrlingmaster. One day." Beat. "Also, I think I offended him. Or he's super serious, or something. Oh, who cares. He's a boy. Like you said." "Pleasure to meet you too, apprentice," Taikrin offers in easy farewell to Caewlin as he goes. Then, laconically, to Quinlys: "I didn't say you were the weyrlingmaster, I just meant that you were a weyrlingmaster." Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "Eh, offended? Can't have been. Super serious, though, might be. I reckon it's a Harper thing? My sister's the same, when I see her. Work, work, work." Taikrin waves her hand in dismissal at the very thought. "Must grind it into them." Quinlys' sigh is, at least, amused. "Well. I will be the Weyrlingmaster, so I suppose it's ok. I mean, chances are both queens'll go up before too much longer - there is some suggestion Hraedhyth's not far off - and there's just no way Meara can handle two more clutches at once. No way." So, yes: that's smug. "Harpers, though. Seriously. Boring as fuck, and you wouldn't think it of them, would you?" "You don't say?" Taikrin says, as if she hadn't any idea of that very thing. "Hraedhyth? Are you sure? Reckon she's ready before Iesaryth?" She leans back further, and stretches her arms across the bench again so that her fingers aren't quite at the back of Quinlys's head. "Maybe she'll give you charge of one as a test go, before promoting you? Might be a thing to suggest, maybe." Eager to change the subject of the Unassailable Meara's competence, she adds, "Don't know as how I've met a Harper who wouldn't rather talk than fuck. So strange." "She is, like, three sevens older or something," points out Quinlys, reasonably. "It's early days yet, though. She's not actually glowing or anything, last I heard. I guess it could still be either." The bluerider's expression doesn't shift as Taikrin moves, but her body does: she turns, so that she's actually facing the brownrider, looking at her directly. "Maybe. That'd be good. I-- don't get Harpers. Right? So crazy. Talking is great, but... oh, whatever. It's obvious why I'm no Harper." "You'll let me know, if you hear anything else about the queens? Still trying to do my best to look after them, you know, after everything that's happened." That's Taikrin, all innocent solicitousness. She's got a cocky grin for Quinlys at her admission, and one of her own: "Me neither. I ain't got the patience for all that talking. And singing. Me, I'm a rider of action." Quinlys' snort is amused. "And no interest whatsoever in being the first female Weyrleader in recorded history, I'm sure," she teases. "But sure. I'll keep you informed. Meara's on high alert, that's for certain." Her eye-roll is a cheerful one, and whatever her true feelings are, behind it, they're not easily discerned. "Rider of action. That's for damn sure." With a sigh, she nudges at the brownrider. "Let me past. There's classes, first thing, and I need my beauty sleep." "I have no idea what you're talking about," Taikrin demures, but her grin is smug-smug-smug. "If you insist." As she moves to let Quinlys out, though, she remarks casually, "Riorde's back up in the weyr, if you decide you feel up for more action and less responsibility. Reckon I probably ought to grab a to-go and head up, myself." Smug, and enough to make Quinlys laugh, though that laughter is short-lived as she considers that casual remark. Smirking, as she slides out of the booth, she says, "And maybe I will. We're only young once, right?" And life is too too short. She turns back only once, to grin, before she sashays her way out and into the night. "Damn straight," remarks the rider on the very cusp of her thirtieth turnday. "See you later, maybe." |
Comments
Brieli (Brieli) left a comment on Sun, 20 Jan 2013 17:44:22 GMT.
< "By the way, that kid over there is eavesdropping."
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Sun, 20 Jan 2013 19:21:51 GMT.
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HA! I second Brieli's laughter. This scene was great!
Poor Kinory. Err'body tryin'a get you laid~
Zian (Zian) left a comment on Mon, 21 Jan 2013 01:54:31 GMT.
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Z'ian, observant. XD
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