Logs:Party Favors
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| RL Date: 9 January, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: During K'zin's 20th Turnday Bash, Azaylia and G'laer schmooze. He even manages to keep his party pooping to a minimum! |
| Where: Artful Artifice Weyr (K'zin's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 8, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aseana/Mentions, Gaelan/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Leara/Mentions |
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| Artful Artifice Weyr, High Reaches Weyr The exterior curtain shields the pair of dragon wallows from the elements, but it's really after the interior curtain set just behind them that things become more human-friendly. The entryway narrows to what would still be wide by people standards, but narrow enough to disabuse any dragon of the notion of trying to fit inside, then the cavern bubbles open into a fairly massive main cavern. Almost opposite the entrance is a pair of doors nearly side-by-side leading to back rooms, but in between there's space. Spacious might be an understatement here. To the right of the entrance the curved wall provides space for a very large table whose matching chairs can seat up to twelve. It's reminiscent of the council chambers, really, and the backdrop on the wall dotted with low cabinets behind it is covered in a to-scale rendering of a map of Pern. A map of High Reaches sweep and the Weyr's badge get a close-up on a mural to the immediate left of the entrance . A broad hearth interrupts and separates the second half of the expansive curved wall from the first, and the latter shows the greatest display of artistry in a mural of a hazy night sky dotted with stars. Closer inspection might lead one to find that the stars might be used as hand-holds if one were inclined to climb.
Upon arrival, the Weyrwoman is unable to resist the pull of those dancing bodies. It's so unlike a Gather, so informal, that Azaylia can't help but lose herself to the lively music. Though she has yet to greet the turnday boy, she has enough sense to place his gift somewhere she hopes is safe-- or with the other presents that have been accumulating over the course of the evening. She's bright eyed and breathless by the time she stops near the hearth, drawn in by the fact that she doesn't remember it being here. The sparkling drink in her hand earns a few distracted sips, eyes trailing over the detail of K'zin's newest addition to the weyr. Truth be told, there haven't been many gifts. In fact, this is anything but an intimate gathering and it might be a surprise if even a quarter of the people here have personally met K'zin. But the couple of Taiga wingriders who've taken over hosting duties since K'zin disappeared just after the start of the party were solid in their assurance that the gift Zay brought would get to him. "Weyrwoman," G'laer's baritone is raised to carry over (if not cut through) the buzz of noise as the Harpers ready their next piece. Trust G'laer to be formal at a moment like this. His lips have slid into a half-smirk, though, so that might not be lost on him. "Stealing time away from the Council Chambers, I see." Azaylia's greeting better suits the party, whispery soprano rising in a happy chirp of, "G'laer." Her glass shifts from one hand to the other so that she's able to straighten out the dark navy wool of her dress. The long-sleeved turtleneck must have aspirations of being a sweater, if not for the extra length that keeps it from being considered such. "How many dances is it going to take for you to call me Azaylia?" An obvious tease, as she hasn't quite caught her breath yet. Far too comfortable, the goldrider decides to perch on the armrest of G'laer's chair if it's not in use-- she'll avoid sitting on his arm if she can help it "How many dances do you think you can convince me into?" is G'laer's dubious response. It must be dubious because one of his eyebrows goes up just a touch. The greenrider's hands are settled on his thighs so the armrest is available for the goldrider. "There's better currency than dances." He advises, looking up at the woman. "Besides, doesn't everyone call you Azaylia? What if I want to be different and call you Weyrwoman?" His tease is less obvious but there's something in the dryness of the tone that indicates humor. "You have a point..." Azaylia clearly doesn't think herself terribly convincing as far as dancing is concerned. With an impish quirk to her lips she looks down at G'laer just as he looks up, "Drinks? Food?" Even she doesn't usually sound so innocent, offering her own tease with such bland guesses. His question earns a thoughtful tilt of her head, loose curls free for the evening and falling to the side. "I get called Weyrwoman more than you think... But, do what you'd like." is her cheerful conclusion. "Both are free here, and in the cavern." Well, 'free,' not that anyone has put it to the test in recent history by going AWOL. "I could be convinced in exchange for, say, having good words put in with the wings I want come the end of weyrlinghood." That's definitely more precious than food, drink, or dancing. "What I'd like isn't appropriate for a weyrling to say to his weyrwoman," G'laer answers the last with a serious tone. With other men (certainly the absent host of this shindig), that would mean sex or something like it, but the way G'laer looks and the way G'laer is... well, it's probably not. Azaylia's quiet exhale sounds almost disappointed, and absolutely resigned, "It's a turnday party." Which is the best excuse to stop thinking about one's future-- hence the Weyrwoman's ability to have fun. That very ability that is being tested by the company she's choosing to keep. "If your progress and files look good, I might say as much to... whichever Wingleader it is." Not just an empty promise, despite her ease in making the offer. She's much more interested in what isn't appropriate, juding from the spark of curiosity and the way she playfully leans into his shoulder. With a smile, "Maybe not. But I'm still curious?" No doubt where her assumptions lie. That curiosity has G'laer leaning toward her, his shoulder that she leaned to, pressing back. It's the kind of positioning that makes it seem as though he's about to divulge some secret. But instead of speaking immediately, the index finger on the hand closest to her comes up to waggle in the air between them. "It's a turnday party." Then directing that half-smirk up to her, he leans back in the chair again, "If you don't want to talk about wing placements, you definitely don't want to talk about what I'd like." And a single lid flutters to wink at the goldrider. Then abruptly, "Can I ask you a question?" It takes Azaylia several blinks to focus on that finger, and a few more to process that G'laer might be teasing her. The possibility alone coaxes a gentle laugh, unintentionally mirroring the weyrling as she straightens in her impromptu seat. "I'll take your word for it. But if it's important, I'll be happy to listen when I've put my knot back on." True enough, the fabric clinging to her shoulder is knotless. His sudden question earns a few more fluttering of her lashes before her smile returns, "Of course." "We'll see. Still not a weyrling's place. We'll see what happens after I've graduated." And on what terms he graduates. But then there's the question, G'laer shifts a little so his torso can twist a bit toward her. "Flight lecture is this month." This is the preface to the question, providing a little context. "Is Hraedhyth difficult to control when she rises?" There's a nod for possibilities after G'laer's graduation, but it's his question that so obviously captures her interest. "I... don't know?" It's an honest enough answer, and thankfully Azaylia continues to clarify, "She can be. Usually Hraedhyth is very... intense. So when she's happy, she's very happy." And when she's angry... "During her maiden flight, she caught a dragon cheating by knocking her males out of the sky. She was... She was difficult, then." No doubt he's heard about it, especially as a cautionary tale during Flight lectures. G'laer gives a slight nod of his head, his brows furrowing. "Would you have any advice to offer others whose dragons might be difficult to control?" It's hard to say what G'laer's particular concern is regarding this, but then, he does ride a female who will, at some point inevitably rise to mate. "I don't know if Hraedhyth is harder to control, because she's all I know." Hence Azaylia's hesitance in coming off as some sort of problem-dragon expert. Still, it's fairly obvious that the warrior queen is far from docile even on her best days. "I'd like to try and help, of course. But, something tells me you aren't asking for help with Teisyth?" There's enough of a brow raise for her to not completely brush it off as a possibility. It's always the sweet ones. ...Ahem. "Really? Whatever would give you that idea?" G'laer's question is delivered neutrally and with a raise of a single brow. "I can't say as I have any idea how Teisyth will be come flight time. She doesn't seem to register males yet as anything special or different. Maybe in time, but even then... well, I rather doubt it." With far too much command to be at all serious, "Weyrlings shouldn't sass their Weyrwoman." Never mind that G'laer's delivery is often flat and at the very least polite. "She doesn't seem like the type, I admit. She might be one of those greens that rarely ever flies." Azaylia wonders out loud, curious gaze clearly roaming over the weyrling as she does so. With a lifemate like G'laer, it wouldn't be a surprise. "I wasn't, as it happens." Sassing her. G'laer and his neutrality, so problematic to sorting out the humor from the real questions. Coming from anyone else, Azaylia probably would have been right. "Perhaps." The greenrider allows for the possibility, then on a related (but probably only in G'laer's head) note, he adds, "By the by, I've been meaning to come and speak with you. I know Headwoman Giorda usually handles this kind of thing, but one of my teachers suggested since I'm a weyrling," An old weyrling, but a weyrling! "That I run it by you, in case there were objectitions. My ex-wife wants me to bring our twins here when I can between and see that they're fostered appropriately." Beat. "Would there be any issue with that?" Nevermind that the fact he ever had a wife or twins would have been missing from any records of Candidate Gallagher. There's a smile paired with another sigh as her joke falls through and when the conversation turns back to weyrlings and protocol. Not one to disappoint, Azaylia is more than willing to listen to G'laer's question with genuine interest. That easy expression falls away, brows furrowing as she's reminded about G'laer's once-marital matters. Even some gossip manages to reach the Weyrwoman, especially in regards to one of the weyrlings. "I..." Whatever has her hesitating, perhaps a sense of fairness, has little to do with her actual answer of, "There shouldn't be a problem. The Weyr takes in all kinds of people. Just... as long as your twins won't be too much of a distraction?" He is still a weyrling, after all. "They won't. That's why they'll be fostered." Among certainly other reasons. Imagine G'laer as 'Da Da.' Terrifying, no? The weyrling pushes himself up out of the chair. "Teisyth's getting anxious. She still doesn't like me being out of her sight. I'd best get out to the ledge before she tries to get in." Being not yet full grown, it's possible she could even succeed. Greens like to party, right? "So much for my dances." That Azaylia had already given up on talking him into. She slips off of the armrest, taking a moment to tug her dress back down to an appropriate length. Her empty glass is a problem that she intends to solve, but not after sending G'laer off with a bright, "Have a good night." She certainly plans to, what with the dance, drink and company she'll likely find tonight. |
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