Logs:Nothing to Talk About
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| RL Date: 1 October, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, I'zech |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aishani tries to ignore I'zech with limited success. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 12, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
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| Late afternoon is prime for cocktails, killing time before dinner, taking the edge off the day. And there are plenty of people who would considering hanging out with weyrlings to be a pretty relaxed kind of day, but those people would be a. stupid and b. wrong. Especially if the person doing the job is I'zech. And so yes, as soon as he got clear of the barracks, he came here and is standing at the bar rather than sitting, his hand wrapped around a bit of whiskey, weight pitched onto elbows on the counter, boots half-laced, leather jacket still damp from whatever 'weather' is happening out there and his hair looking like he just rolled out of bed, despite the hour. Whatever it is that Aishani does with her time right now, aside from sitting in the hatching cavern and staring at eggs that don't move, seems to keep her mostly indoors -- or at least enough that she doesn't have wet hair or a wet jacket or even the slightest trace of snow on heeled boots. As usual, she's well-dressed, even if casually so, still with denim cuffs rolled just so, the white of her shirt like new. Still without visible weaponry, the goldrider seems in a decent mood (for her) even as she skirts the puddles on the way to the bar. It's not till she's leaned there to wait for a server that she notices who's standing just down it, with a sidelong flicker of dark eyes. Her lips purse and she stares at the busy bartender, like that'll help. I'zech probably sees her. He does rock forward, rolling hips to the bar, able to glance down the length of it, pass the people between them. So maybe he really does look at her, maybe he sees the tightening of her expression, and maybe he smirks at it. But she'd never know, since she's staring at the bartender. But if those things did happen, well, the bronzerider sinks back again, goes about his pure love affair with his drink and leaves her alone. She can go about her business all nicely unmolested, perhaps enjoy a comfortable booth, a warm mug of klah and a bowl of cheese and broccoli soup. I'zech, it seems, for the moment, has no intentions of ruining her afternoon. Given that he's not talking to the guy next to him, either, it could be that he just isn't really in the mood for company. Even if Aishani were paying attention, she wouldn't show it. Her attention on the bartender seems to be of the pointed 'waiting here to order' variety, though where does she have to be, really? Maybe just not in the bar. She's not all that social either, but she never really is, particularly standing or seated at the bar; generally, that's her place to linger over a drink, probably eavesdropping. And though she doesn't look particularly tense, aside from the staring, there's no sense she's planning to stick around. Eventually, it does work and she can put in an order -- then, with no one to glare at, there's only the crowd to scan, away from I'zech's side of the room, then her nails. Fascinating. And really, who could blame her for not striking up conversation? It's not like all that many people have warm, fuzzy feelings toward her. First she was just the chilly one, then she was the girl who covered up a conspiracy, and then, well, maybe it's better not to go through each highlight on Aishani's road to infamy. Suffice it to say, she just can't seem to catch a break and now even (or maybe yet again?) her dragons loins have contributed to her reputation, nevermind what she's been up to with certain holder-types. What are the changes that I'zech keeps up on current events and interhold politics? But, it would seem that when she looks away from him, that disheveled bronzerider leans forward again to peer down the bar in her direction, thoughtful, silent and calculating and then retreating again without interrupting her. But yes, he's seen her. Also, it's not like Aishani makes any secret of the fact she thinks most people around her are idiots. She was a lot better at hiding that when she was pretending to be someone else. Or, she seemed to care more about hiding it then. Now, not so much. And though all of that might get some people down, the tall dark goldrider had seemed to be in a decent mood. Maybe it's worth the (extra) suspicion to have her bronzerider around, or maybe she's just got something else nefarious on the go. Aside from whatever nefarious Holder politics she's involved with. Some people might not have enough interest in their nails to wait out a drink order, but Shani -- big shock -- does; she doesn't look up again until her mug has arrived. With a brief, faint smile for the bartender, she pays up and hesitates only to flicker another look down the bar toward I'zech, wary, before she takes a sip and turns to start back into the tunnels. That must be it. She must be plotting the demise of the Weyr, rejoicing in dreams of destruction. After all, it can't be her Fortian friend. Regular boning hardly counts when it's that lackluster, right? Anyway, this next time, when Aishani glances down his way, I'zech is looking back meet her gaze with his waiting half-smirk, the teasing cock of a brow and his glass lifted in a little wordless toast that tips his head. And when that is through, subdued as it is, he pours the last of the whiskey down his throat and gives a hard exhale of the alcoholic fumes. Straightening from the bar with a twist of his neck and an audible pop of bones, he rolls back his shoulders and rubs a hand through his hair, preparatory, before stepping away from the counter. If Aishani wanted to destroy the Weyr, she'd probably have gotten to that by now, or maybe while she was in charge. Not that some people don't think she was trying. That lift of brow and smirk from I'zech would probably be way more gratifying if she didn't just meet his gaze, post-wariness, with a blank look and a lift of fine brows. Oh, do I know you? With a diffident little shrug that doesn't go near apology, she starts off from the bar to weave through the crowd with a toss of dark curls over her shoulder. Apparently she's got something to do. That doesn't involve him. Who is he again? Nah, that look Aishani wears doesn't seem to steal the wind from his sails at all, if they were even full of wind to begin with. It's hard to tell. Perhaps, as she starts down the hallway, she may recall their last encounter therein. Does she remember that at all? Maybe just a little? And perhaps, if she recalls that, there will be some fleeting thought in her head that he could follow now, that he could dog her step and squeeze her personal space like ripe fruit. The prospect of that thought is enough to satisfy him today -- enough that he does not, in fact, chase after her down that snug, private corridor. No, he just turns back toward the bowl, and from somewhere in the winter air, above the Weyr, to the queen on her warm sands, a clammy wind blows, laced with wisps of fog. Maybe it teases? Maybe it apologizes? (hah) Maybe it's just leaving its particular calling card. Rojeth was here, carry on with your day. If you can. It is hard to tell if the goldrider's stride is just customarily brisk as opposed to making distance, as she's usually pretty quick about things. But Aishani's out of there fast enough, likely back to the sands where, Iesaryth, totally thrilled by eggs, really, dozes. If the fog dissipates in warm ocean air, it's an acknowledgement of his presence at least. She's not bothered. Not much bothers the gold. If only the same could be said for her rider. |
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