Logs:Pretty Women
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| RL Date: 4 September, 2015 |
| Who: Everett, H'vier |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two guys talk about pretty women. And other things. |
| Where: Kitchen, HRW |
| When: Day 22, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, Oiana/Mentions, Yesia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Language. |
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Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods
characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths
gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost
always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its
denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample
space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry
and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a
day-to-day basis.
The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating:
swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner
caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food
service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and
benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day. It's an awkward time between lunch and dinner where the living caverns aren't paid as close attention as they would be otherwise. Granted, H'vier might still choose to eat in the kitchen instead, not one often seen in the bustle of the main cavern. But he's here this afternoon, sitting on one side of a bench with a pretty greenrider on the other. Their relatively civil discussion suddenly turns louder, more her than him, and then the woman is standing up and storming off, leaving H'vier to look after her like he has no idea how women function. Bartenders' hours are not legendarily compatible with organized meal schedules, and Everett is therefore left to scrounge something up. He's having more luck with the scrounging in the kitchen where he manages to get pity taken on him by several parties, ending up with quite a plate going. He could take it out to the living cavern, but if there's a closer table, why not? And a familiar face, even. And a pretty girl to watch, or maybe more like actively check out, while she's doing the storming-off thing. It's not a bad vantage point. "What did you say, so I can know what not to say in future?" Plate still in hand, he eyes the vacated chair, gives H'vier a questioning brow-lift. A glance toward Everett means H'vier sees the boy checking her out and he's looking at him when Everett asks that question. "I asked her to give me a hand job before she went out for sweeps." He says it in such a way that it might be difficult to tell whether or not he's being serious. He's more clear with the vague gesture toward the empty areas to sit. "Suppose I'll have to give her earlier sweeps for the rest of the week," he adds, looking at the younger man with a small grin. It at least doesn't seem that Everett's taking him seriously, as he sits down, stabs something on his plate with his fork. The latter part makes his brow furrow, though, and he gives H'vier a longer, appraising look before he actually takes a bite and then chews. Only after swallowing: "So, she's in your wing, then. And you get to make those sorts of decisions? About daily schedules. I'm curious. Not from a Weyr. Does seem like you have a pretty sweet deal, there." Another stab. "Might be sweeter if she were more obliging." "Mm," H'vier agrees, glancing off the way the woman had left before returning his attention to the boy and his own klah. "I lead Iceberg. She's one of my riders. We--" He pauses, takes a drink, then reconsiders, "I upset her awhile back, picking another woman over her. She's still a bit prickly about it, I guess." Silly women with their feelings. "She'll come around soon enough." "The other one's prettier than that?" Obviously this is the only reason Everett can see that somebody would have made such a choice. He waves his fork off in the direction of the departed greenrider. "If you've got someone hotter than her, why go back?" It's not a judgmental question. Like he's really curious. And hungry, of course. The lack of beverage doesn't seem to slow him down, at least not at this stage. H'vier has to think about it for a moment, which would probably not make either woman very happy. "She was fucking gorgeous. And so... willing." The bronzerider has a moment of wistfulness. "But she's dead. And I'm into a lot of things, but that's not one of them." Just to make sure that's clear. "Anyway, I don't want to go back. We weren't ever anything. I just stopped fucking her because of the other woman. And now she's uppity about putting out again. I know she doesn't have anyone better to pay attention to. She's just being a bitch." Women, right? What're you gonna do. Everett stares. Not entirely an offended look, just--thrown off? Something like that. Maybe it's just the casual nature of how it's laid out. He's able to divert his eyes only by focusing on his lunch, dinner, whatever meal this actually counts as. Breakfast, maybe. "Yeah, well." Stall, regain composure. "Plenty of fish in the sea," more lightly. "Or so they say. I know even less about the sea than I do about the Weyr. Are you from here, originally? I mean, weyrbred." "Ista, originally. But not the Weyr. I was told my father was probably a bronzerider, but my mother was kind of a whore, so it's hard to know for sure." H'vier seems amused by his own words, like he's made some sort of joke. "Do you have any fish of your own? Young man like you. Seems like you oughta have some of your own fish." The bronzerider takes another drink from his klah, his plate already empty. Not quite staring, but the commentary continues to raise Everett's eyebrows. "Usually guys wait for someone else to call their mothers whores instead of doing it themselves," he observes, blandly, lest it be taken as some kind of insult. Anyway, the next topic is more worth a smile, a relaxing of his shoulders. "Yeah, well, I do okay. Mostly the one girl, right now, but you work at a bar, you get hit on by drunk people, it's enough to do a little extra shoring up of the ego. Wasn't sure if it was going to be an ongoing thing, but she came and found me when Niahvth rose, I guess that's good enough, right? For right now." Since Everett relaxes, H'vier doesn't talk about his mother anymore. "Riight. That's where I know you from," says the bronzerider as though he'd known he recognizes the younger man but couldn't quite place him. To be fair, he's been drunk a lot in the Snowasis lately. "Take my advice and don't settle with just one. If they just want you to fuck them and no one else, it's not really worth it." Advice given, he continues, "Tell me about her. Finding you when she's horny sounds promising." A little more progress on his food, and Everett seems to have noticed his lack of drink. "Everett," he reminds, as he stands. "Just a sec," and it really is only a moment before he's back with his own mug. Caffeine. Perfect for waking up at the crack of mid-afternoon. "Greenrider," he says, as he returns and sinks back into his chosen seat before it has a chance to cool. "Young. The right kind of curvy. Takes care of herself, you know. My mother always said it was impolite to kiss and tell, but, ah, I'm used to these shy little holdbred girls, and she isn't that. Enthusiastic. Clever. So sharp she nearly drew blood, the first time." Yeah, it's bragging, though also spare on the identifying details. H'vier seems to appreciate what details he's offered, considering them with a sound of approval. "I like the feisty ones. Clever can be hit or miss, honestly, but enthusiastic might make up for it." He nods his head in a slow, thoughtful way before offering, "There's this little redhead I'm pretty fond of. Greenrider out of this last clutch. She's a feisty one. Said it was her first time the first time I had her, but I'm not sure I believe it. Haven't seen her for awhile, though." If that bothers him, granted, he doesn't show it. "H'vier, by the way." He offers with a slight tilt of his mug. "Bronze Reisoth's." There's no overt sign of recognition, there, just a grin from Everett. "Met the sort of girl who'd lie about that kind of thing, but that kind of crazy, you don't want your dick in. Guess it wouldn't be the first time a virgin was in a hurry to become otherwise--not a lot of them back where I'm from, but here nobody's worried about their wedding night. Otherwise, maybe you're better off." He finally polishes off the last of his lunch-breakfast-whatever, and then he sits back more with his cup in both hands. "It was hot, whatever the case. But it's not uncommon for the weyrlings to want to get it out of the way. Practically required for the greenriders, if any of 'em are still virgins by then. Remember that, yeah? There'll be another clutch on the sands soon enough." They must be nice thoughts that H'vier is having because it takes him a moment to refocus on the younger man enough to ask, "And where is it that you're from?" Musing, distantly: "So I've been told." Everett has a mug, after all, and he works on that until H'vier asks about his provenance. "Crom," he answers, with a shoulder lifted in half a shrug. "Wasn't in a hurry to waste my life digging up rocks with a wife getting uglier by the year. I have my daydreams, guess most every kid grows up with that, but even if I didn't Impress, would rather be here than there. Intend to try, though--been told you can just up and ask. Can't hurt, right? No more Thread." "Not too far, then," says H'vier with a generic sort of nod. "There's a few riders from out that way, so maybe you've got it in your blood. And that you can." Just ask, presumably. "It can hurt, of course. Weyrlinghood isn't easy. But you're less likely to die now than during a Pass, it's true." H'vier grins at the younger man. "And the girls are a lot more willing than you'll find in any Hold." All the more reason in his opinion, no doubt. The concern about Weyrlinghood is waved off. Everett, of course, is nineteen, and therefore scientifically proven to be both invincible and an idiot. "In the blood, yeah. Could be, you know? My father was a rider, but never met him." He's not lingering on that one, of course. Except: "Does suggest that if you play your cards right, even the Holder girls get more willing. Don't get a lot of girls in the bars in Crom who don't want to charge for it, though. Here, well, either way, I think I'm golden. Speaking of which--" He has a long drink, though it's not enough to finish the mug. "I'd best go get presentable before my shift, if I want some hope of making time with anybody." There's a look from H'vier, an acknowledging lift of his brows for the first, but no particularly sincere interest. He also doesn't comment on Holder girls, just lets his grin fall back into place. "Probably a good idea." And H'vier starts to shift toward standing himself. A wingleader must have things to do, after all, that aren't sitting around hitting on women or chatting with teenagers. "Hope your wingrider comes around," Everett offers, grin in return, and then he takes his plate and mug and goes to deal with them before heading into the caverns to start his day, as most of the rest of the Weyr is winding up theirs. |
Comments
Squishy (21:44, 4 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
Edyis is appalled , I am, on the other hand equally horrified and amused. This was funny. And terrible. And Terribly funny!
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