Logs:Snowasis Barfight
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| RL Date: 26 February, 2012 |
| Who: Taikrin, Damaris, Riorde, Toren |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Just your normal, every-day night at the Snowasis in which a boy pisses of a girl and a girl slaps a boy in the face. Twice. |
| Where: The Snowasis, HRW |
| When: Day 1, Month 2, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: High winds whip through the bowl and whistle up the walls around the spires. |
| Mentions: Leova/Mentions, Anvori/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.
Toren has heard about this place from other apprentices and he after asking his parents permission got to come here. His parents want him to grow and experience new things. He comes in and he comes right up to the bar as he looks around. Hes its on the stool and he fishes out the price of a glass of wine, "Benden White if you don't mind please." He has read his history that the great MasterHarper Robinton favorite wine was Benden White so if he's gonna drink might as well start with the best. Most of Glacier is on long sweeps tonight; it makes the Snowasis a quieter place for the time being, though Faranth knows things will start hoping when they show up in an hour or two for their nightly dose of gambling-and-carousing. Somehow or another, Taikrin's gotten herself excluded from the wing activities, and so she's free to lurk at the bar, chatting up the bartender while the buxxom girl mixes her what looks to be a whisky-on-rocks. No sooner has she gotten her drink, though, than she's sliding down the bar to clap Toren companionably on the shoulder. "Atta boy, harper! Ready to give it another go? Or--" She grins, leaning down to whisper mock-conspiratorily, "-- have you already been practicing?" Chat, chat, chat - oh. Damaris's attention catches sight of Taikrin and Toren. It distracts her completely from the conversation she's been having, and the young woman presses her lips together in a thin line. Mm. A question asked of her gets a shake of her head, and only that. Her companion glances as well, to see just what she's looking at - and does not look pleased. Oh. An attempt is made at catching her attention back...which is responded to by Dam excusing herself and sliding to her feet, stepping around him to take her glass towards the bar. Oh look, sunny smile now - she's aiming for a good ways down from the other two, but...not /too/ far. Toren looks up and he smiles, "Hello Taikrin, how are you doing?" He nods, "Yah I'm giving it another go, I heard about this place and my parents gave me permission to come here since tomorrow is my rest day. I'm trying wine that harpers have been known to love over the years. A favorite of the great Master Harper Robinton, Benden White." He spots Damaris and he gives her a friendly wave as he hopes she still isn't mad at him. "Benden white, huh?" Taikrin sounds pretty skeptical, but not enough to actually offer much protest beyond, "Guess everyone's gotta start somewhere. Well, here's to tryin' new things, kid." Her own glass is raised in salute, then a good quarter of its contents poured down her throat. "Don't got drills 'till late romorrow, me; Ain't like that's ever stopped me before though." Toren's wave at Damaris is enough to grab the brownrider's attention, and then she's offering her own glass in salute to the younger woman as well. The waving 'catches her attention', and Damaris looks down that way, puts on a surprised face. She pushes out of the lean she'd started, slipping down to where the pair is. "Hello," she greets, with a dip of her head first to Taikrin, then to Toren. Her smile - well, it's not quite as warm towards Toren as it could be? But she's not glaring or stomping her feet any more or anything, so maybe she's not still mad. "It's nice to see you both." Toren smiles as he gets his drink, "Thank you." He lifts his glass to Taikrin, "To trying new things how else will you know what you like and don't like?" He smiles at Damaris, "Hello. I'd like to apologize about the other night. I was wrong about my comments. If you don't want to be a harper I shouldn't have tried to push you. I was wrong." "Hey yourself," Taikrin shoots back amiably, apparently sober enough at the moment that her Cromian accent remains light. "Good night for drinkin' in the Snowasis, yeah? Scorching glad we pulled a short sweep tinight, winds like they are. Ain't all that fun after a coupl'a hours out in 'em." She leans her hip into the bar on Toren's far side, quietly studying their interplay from over the rim of her whisky glass as she takes some more reserved sips. Well. She'd been trying. Damaris's sunny smile dims to something tight (though it doesn't disappear), and she shifts a step back, shaking her head at him. The hand not wrapped around her glass? Yes, it curls up into a fist. There is a long moment of silence on her part as she breathes, holds it, and exhales the air slowly. "I'm too old," she says eventually, her voice quiet and careful and without emotional inflection at all. "It has nothing at all to do with whether or not I want to. It has everything to do with whether it is or is not /possible/." Her eyes flick to Taikrin, and she forces her smile back towards something a little...well, it's more of a smile, but there's still nothing warm behind it. "It's a good night for it, yes - hopefully I'll see you soon. I - if you'll both excuse me." She dips her head - polite - and leaves her mostly full glass on the bar as she turns to head for the ledge back out to the bowl. Toren sighs softly as he was trying to apologize and somehow he screwed that up too. He watches Damaris go and he shakes his head as he looks to Taikrin for something, "I thought I was doing the right thing by apologizing." He hangs his head as he's upset about this situation with Damaris and his inability to slove it. "Woah, hey, hey, what's goin' on here?" Caught off-guard, Taikrin splutters through her last sip, taking a few steps forward and then reaching out a hand towards Damaris' arm as the girl turns to walk off. "Don't go, you still got a whole drink you gotta be gettin' through, now--" There's a dark glare over her shoulder at Toren, then she adds, "The shells did he say to you?" Caught. Oh. Damaris doesn't jerk away from Taikrin - she just turns her head to look up at the other woman, offers a thin smile. "His father would be willing to make me a Harper," she explains quietly. "Take me as his apprentice. I'm seventeen. They -won't- take me as an apprentice. I /know/ this, because," and she sends a Look of Doom Toren's way, "_My_ parents are harpers. He could say it, I wouldn't be accepted anyway, and he's basically calling me stupid and telling me I don't know what I'm talking about when I say that I am too old." Which...doesn't really explain why she's so angry about it, but who knows. Toren would be dead right now if looks could kill. He hears her and he feels so bad about it now that he understand it. He gulps a little bit as he takes his drink and he frowns. He sets his drink down as he moves over, "I'm not calling you stupid, I'm sorry your parents are stupid, but apprentices are generally accepted between the ages of 12 and 16, sometimes younger and sometimes later. If you have a talent for it, like you do, you'd be accepted I'm sure of it. You have a great voice I heard you singing." Taikrin's grip on Damaris' forearm is gentle, easy enough to break out of should she choose. "/Can it/, kid." This to Toren, before she sets her glass on the countertop to focus all her attention on soothing the younger woman's ruffled feathers. "Ain't nobody got to be a harper if they don't want. And if you decide you /do/ want, you let me know and ol' Taikrin'll bust in faces. Nobody who makes a sweetroll as good as you ought to be jerked around." She's smiling sincerely enough, but maybe it's the alcohol she's already consumed that make the whole thing sound like a corny pickup line? "Don't let him get to you." She mouths 'I'm sorry your parents are stupid' and just /looks/ over at Toren. That's held for a few moments before she swings her eyes up to Taikrin again, with a 'see what I mean' sort of expression touching her face. Still, Damaris does let herself be soothed some, a little huff of air escaping with some of her tension. "It's a sore spot," she says quietly. "A really sore spot." And...yeah, she offers up a pleased little smile. It's small? But it's definitely genuine. Toren grumps a little bit as he gets talked to again as he was just trying to help. He heads over back to the bar to finish his wine and he asks for another one. He was just trying to help and this is what he gets for it. "Eh, he's just a kid," Taikrin leans in to murmur, gaze cutting over towards Toren. "Don't take it personal, reckon he probably doesn't know any better anyways. C'mon, have a drink, and I reckon if we can get the two of you wrecked enough you can just fight it out and get it all over with." That's the Glacier mode of problem solving: get blitzed, then punch the problem until it goes away. "C'mon--" Over her shoulder, to Toren, she adds, "You just keep drinkin', kid, and we're gonna have a lesson on how you talk to pretty girls so as they don't want to punch you too hard." Hmm. Damaris looks over towards Toren. This look is...maybe an improvement, given the context - but it's skeptical, rather than doom. Thoughtful. Because she's totally considering Taikrin's words. "I...will at least finish my drink," she concedes for now. Plus she's getting compliments. It's really hard to be mad when she's getting compliments. There is perhaps a bit of preening, and she eventually turns back to reclaim her drink. "Sorry." That apology? It's completely directed at Taikrin. Riorde has arrived. Toren slumps a little more as he's just called just a kid not once, but twice. So much to today's adventure into manhood. He sorta listens as he continues to drink the wine and he orders a third one. "Taikrin, you owe me. Buy me a drink." The young woman just entering and beelining for the bar has the look of a rider who's been out in the elements, with her face flushed, wind-bitten, and tired. Riorde's peeling off her jacket as soon as she can to reveal the sweat-dampened camisole beneath. Taikrin and Damaris are standing probably a little too close together; the brownrider has a light grip on the younger woman's arm, and seems to be attempting to escort her back to the bar and an empty stool next to Toren. "Finishing your drink is good for you," she encourages, signalling the bartender to refill her own empty whisky glass. "There, now, how you likin' that Harper wine of yours, kid? You might wanna-- hey, hey, easy on that second one, yeah?" Apparently she hasn't realized that Toren is already on his third drink. "Even wine'll put you on your ass if you ain't used to drinkin' it, so-- what?" Startled, her mask of easygoing seduction slips as she glances over her shoulder at Riorde. "Hey! Riorde! No problem!" Suddenly her hand is nowhere near Damaris, and her voice is half an octave higher. Glass in hand, she's starting to lean towards the bar and then woah what huh? Damaris blinks a few times and turns her head to look up towards Taikrin, puzzled - and then shifts so that she can look towards where the other woman is looking. Oh. There is a long moment of silent consideration before she sends a pleasant smile towards Riorde, a little dip of her head in greeting. And she looks back to Toren, drinking...a great deal of what's in her glass. When it's lowered? Yeah, she coughs a little. Apparently 'get drunk and punch him' is a plan she really does plan to pursue. Toren continues to drink his glass of wine despite what Taikrin warns him. He's not even paying attention to the three women now. He's humming to himself softly as his hand idly taps the bar. The wine may not be making him feel better, but he certainly does feel different. That slight turning up of her lips comes close a smirk but never fully materializes. Oh yes. Riorde saw. "Two," she modifies, eyes on the brownrider. "You owe me two." She runs her fingers through her dark hair to work out a few knots, head tilted to the side as her gaze slips from Taikrin to Damaris. "How's that shorter sweep treating you?" Despite herself, Taikrin's shoulders hunch inwards and her laugh just screams guilty-guilty-guilty. "Glad to have it, what with the wind and all. Come, sit, you should--" And then she's pushing away from the bar, freeing up the space beside Damaris for Riorde. "Riorde, you met Damaris, yeah? Makes the best sweetrolls for stealing after last call? And, uh--" Already prone to nervous babbling, Taikrin goes altogether blank as she stares at Toren. She licks her lips, then offers, "Our fine apprentice harper, who we're gonna teach the fun songs to?" Hearing that laugh, Damaris winces. There's a sidelong-askance look towards Taikrin, like - really? And then she's putting on a smile and turning back, gulping from her glass before it's set down. BIG gulp. She steps forward, offers a hand to Riorde, and puts on a sunny smile. "Hi," she says. "I guess at some point I was supposed to bring you some sweetrolls. It's nice to finally meet you; I've been looking forward to it." Her voice? She at least seems at ease, though her eyes are perhaps a bit too attentive for genuine relaxation. "Taikrin's been keeping me from punching the harper apprentice." A sidelong glance towards him, and then back. "He's - well." Her shoulders lift and drop in an easy shrug. Toren continues to drink and he huffs a little bit as he finishes off his third glass. He leans against the bar as he motions for the bartender to fill up his glass again. Benden wine is really good. He looks up over at Riorde and he gives a little wave as he looks kinda pitiful. He lets out another sigh as he leans against the bar and mumbles to himself about all he wanted to do was say he was sorry. Riorde slides right into the space Taikrin vacates with that hint of a smile still in place. "No, don't think I have." She considers the hand Damaris puts out for the space of a second wherein maybe, just maybe, she won't play nice and shake -- and then she does. "I like the ones with the little thingies in. What are they called? Raisins?" Ri turns to look back at the mumbling harper, remarking, "Usually she's encouraging people to punch. Taikrin, what changed?" She looks less than impressed with Toren, continuing to eye him while she waits for her drink. The one that Taikrin's supposed to be getting her. Amidst her frantic gesturing for the bartender to bring over a drink for Riorde -- apparently with raisins -- Taikrin breaks off to smile toothily at Riorde and Damaris. "No no no, see I /did/, I told her they oughta have a coupl'a more drinks, and /then/ they could punch out whatever was botherin' 'em, like--" Anxiety seems to thicken Taikrin's accent, no alcohol needed (which is sad, because her abandoned whisky is sitting there right in front of Riorde and apparently Taikrin hasn't the presence of mind to recover it). "Ain't no good to be punchin' people sober, everyone gets all huffy about it. Everyone likes a good drunken brawl though, am I right?" And she's sidling over to nudge Toren, as if /he/ could extricate her from this situation she's created. Pause. Oh, right. Damaris looks briefly sheepish, tips her head that way. "What she said," she agrees. "I'm unfortunately still working on my first drink." The hand when accepted has her giving Riorde's fingers a light squeeze, a brief shake (there's not much strength there, but she makes the attempt). At least Toren doesn't have to worry too terribly bad about how hard she is going to punch him. She does glance that way, but...at this point, there's no venom in the look. She's just looking. Particularly with Taikrin nudging him. Her expression touches puzzled briefly, and then she looks back to Riorde. "I'll - raisins, yes. I will certainly make you sweet rolls with raisins." Yes! The drink the bartender finally sets down in front of Riorde? It's another whisky, but instead of the normal wedge of citrus that might be found on the rim, instead it's been speckled with... raisins. Whoops. Toren gets nudged and he looks at Taikrin, "If Damaris will feel better punching me than she can go right ahead. I would never want to hit a girl unless she was trying to hurt me badly. I just wanted to be her friend and see her happy and she's got a good voice and I'm happy as a harper and I just wanted her to be happy and not have to clean tables for forever." "The rolls, I meant the rolls." Her own grip is considerably stronger. No wilting flower, she. Riorde, of course, still takes the drink. Though she starts to pick the raisins out and eat them one by one. "Taikrin, drink." She passes over the whisky when the other rider doesn't claim it, jiggling the tumbler as if that makes the amber-colored liquor inside that much more appealing. "Drink this and then we can drunkenly brawl." A look for Toren. "You don't want to hit a girl? What's wrong with you? /I/ want to hit girls all the time. And boys." Oh, good. Riorde is handing Taikrin her drink before she can completely melt into the floor. "Nothin' wrong with hitting a girl," she mumbles to Toren around the drink she's chugging, slapping his shoulder in a good-natured way for emphasis. Once she's finished, she slams the glass back down on the bar in the universal gesture for 'fill 'er up', swipes a hand across the back of her mouth, and ventures, "I like brawling. Promise we can brawl?" Her smile tips back towards lascivious, and she's edging a look at Damaris again as if inviting her back into the plans. "Mud brawl? Szad'll get firestone, start up a bonfire to keep everything toasty?" Pushing her luck? Maybe. Wait, what? Damaris turns her attention towards Toren at his words. She's silent for a very long moment. And then? She's downing the last of her drink. Maybe...she's had more than just that one, because she's sidestepping around both Taikrin and Riorde, and unless someone stops her - yeah, she's bringing a hand up and back and attempting to slap him across the cheek with every bit of her meager strength. That's...not much of a punch, but hey. Thankfully, this means she doesn't get all freaked out about Riorde talking about wanting to hit girls. Because she's way too busy being _really really and abruptly mad_. Smack! Toren doesn't even try to move or block the slap. He leans heavily against the bar as his cheek hurts. He's never been hit before as generally he gets along with other people. "Do you feel better?" He asks as he literally turns the other cheek if Damaris wants to slap it again. "I'm not gonna hit her unless it's to protect myself from fatal injury. Men shouldn't hit women." "Anvori'll kill us if we brawl in here," Riorde points out. "Or Leova more likely. The baby. /Leova,/ Taikrin." She's being considerably slower with her own whisky, even with all the raisins picked out and eaten. A wider smile's forming as she watches Taikrin make her suggestions, and as Damaris slaps the harper, that smile remains. "Nice." Riorde doesn't even know the kid, but it's a woman being violent, presumably with a reason, and this she's bound to approve of. "Yeah, but Leova's so sleep-deprived we can tell her whatever and we'll get away with it." Taikrin might be speaking to Riorde, but her gaze is riveted on Toren and Damaris with a soap-opera level of fascination. She also doesn't seem all that likely to intercede; in fact, she's stepping back and around to come shoulder-to-shoulder with Riorde. "You know you wanna naked mud-wrestle me," she taunts, finally cutting a leer over towards her fellow brownrider. "Reckon we could talk Damaris into another drink and a round, too, way she's going." Huff, huff. Damaris lowers her hand and stares at Toren for a long moment, and takes a half-step towards the man. "No," she says, and her tone is dark. "So I wouldn't have to clean tables forever? How /dare/ you! Men shouldn't hit women?" Yep, she's taking another swing at his face. At least it's still open handed, rather than a fist. And then she's lifting a foot to attempt to bring it down on one of his. STAMP. She does not seem daunted by the fact that he won't hit her back, nor by the audience. Another loud Smash! rings through the bar as Toren is slapped again and he almost falls off the barstool as he holds onto the bar to keep himself from falling on the ground. Both of his cheeks have bright red hand prints on them, "I'm not gonna hit you Damaris unless it's to defend my own life and even than just to restrain you." He winces as his foot is stomped and he pulls himself up right. He sniffles as he is trying to hold back the tears and not cry even though he's hurting a lot, "I'm sorry I didn't understand your situation and spoke out of ignorance. I didn't mean to hurt you and I'm sorry I did. I just wanted to be your friend." Not all that annoyed after all, Riorde leans into Taikrin as she comes to stand alongside and spectate and drink. "It's funny how you think you can take me down." Her head tilts to one side towards Taikrin to the point that her hair brushes against the other woman's cheek as she considers Damaris. "Think we should separate them?" Ri, then, is holding back a yawn that apparently even a brawl can't banish. "I need to take a bath." It's apologetic, for missing out either on the continuation of Damaris hurting Toren or for putting off the naked mud wrestling. "It's funny how you think I'm gonna fight fair," is all that Taikrin murmurs in reply to Riorde, one eyebrow arching over her flirty smile. But then, reality intrudes. "Really ought to. Why don't you head up, I'll join you later?" Apparently Taikrin has decided to intercede, because she's pushing away from Riorde to lay reluctantly restraining hands on Damaris's shoulders. "Hey, easy, reckon you taught him a thing. No murder in the Snowasis before midnight though, that's the rule, yeah?" Despite the alcohol reek on her breath and how much she's had to drink, she's relatively steady on her feet. To Toren, on the floor, "You gonna survive down there? You're gonna want an ice-pack-- and to learn to duck, if y'ain't gonna be fighting back to girls." "You don't be someone's friend by /insulting/ them," Damaris points out quietly, her eyes dark. "You have no call to judge what I do with my life. There is absolutely -nothing- wrong with washing tables." Her hand comes up again, but she exhales a huff of air at seeing that he's near tears. Oh, and then Taikrin's hands are on her shoulders, and really - her hand drops. It curls into a fist, but it drops. She closes her eyes for a moment, then leans into the hands on her shoulders before stepping away, turning towards her drink to pick it up again. No more words, not just yet. There is a drink there. She will finish it off, and ignore the rest of the world. At least briefly. Toren sniffles a little more, "I'm sorry I insulted you and I didn't mean to judge your life. You are right it was wrong of me and I'm sorry. Can we still be friends?" He asks as he watches Damaris go and he rubs his cheeks a little bit, "I'm fine. No I don't want an icepack. It will teach me a lesson to be more careful with my words." "Oh, Taikrin." Riorde seems to find this funny, with the curve in her smile now intimate, full of repressed humor. "You really don't know me that well after all if you think the words 'fight' and 'fair' ever go together." The brownrider finishes her drink and gathers her flight jacket while her wingmate intervenes, ceding her spot to Damaris. "See you around, yeah?" Though obviously tired, she sounds genuinely friendly. Nodding her head at Taikrin as she steps around Toren and heads for the exit, Ri suggests, "Have another on her." "I like your life just fine," she agrees lightly. Once Damaris is settled back at the bar with a final squeeze of her shoulders, Taikrin turns and crouches down to give Toren a hand back up, too. "See you later, Riorde." There's a purr in her otherwise rough, gravelly voice, and she doesn't seem too displeased with the world. Amiably, and pitched low for Toren's ears, she adds, "Reckon you /did/ get a good lesson in how not to piss off a girl. Best to get it out of the way young." Taikrin, the peacemaker. What is the world coming to? There is a smile for Riorde, though it's - strained. Definitely strained. Still, Damaris tries. She gives a little dip of her head, agreement to the 'see you around?' Other than that, she's not really much reacting, instead just finishing off her drink and waving the bartender over. She _does_ send a glance over towards Taikrin and Toren, when the woman moves to help him up, and she just sort of...looks. She smirks, says nothing - does not respond to his question - and looks to the bartender. Yes, more alcohol. It's ordered. Riorde has left. Toren nods, "Yep don't think you know better than girls do cause it hurts. Don't try to help them unless they ask for it cause it hurts and make sure to apologie for the right thing cause it hurts." He finishes off his fourth glass and he waves for another one. He looks at Taikrin, "I'm sorry you couldn't naked mud wrestle with Riorde cause of me." "Atta boy," Taikrin grins approvingly at Toren, with another clap on his shoulder. "Just the right lessons. Take it easy on this one though, okay? Make it hurt less." Another drink appears for Taikrin right around this time, and she eases her way back up to the bar in between Damaris and Toren -- just in case. "Nah, we'll naked mud wrestle later. Ain't like I can't just-- well. It ain't a thing." Ever-hopeful, she's edging a look at Damaris and smiling that particular grin again. "Well it /is/ a thing. Almost a regular thing. Could even say we'd be happy to go at a moment's notice." Beat. "Riorde's got her own bath." Oh. Those words? They do not go over well. Damaris turns her head so that she can stare towards Toren again, anger starting to build - and then Taikrin is clapping him on the shoulder and getting between. Well. Hmm. She exhales a huff of air and shakes her head, then takes a good solid drink of her new drink when it is set in front of her. Yes. "A thing?" There is another sidelong glance towards Taikrin. "Her own bath?" Hmm. The anger fades some, as she calms once more - particularly given there's a reappearance of That Grin. Toren sips his wine this time as he sees Damaris staring at him again. He looks back at her and he decides he has to make this right. He gulps down the rest of his wine and he holds on to the bar with one hand as he marches over to Damaris. He stands before he and he takes a deep breath, "I think you are smart and funny and pretty and you can do anything you want. If you don't want to be my friend that's fine, but if you do want to be friends and would like my help for anything I'll help you." He peace said he turns around and starts to walk back to the barstool he was from. His steps are slow so he doesn't fall down. Though Taikrin appears to be reclining at ease against the bar, there's a certain frisson of tension in her body that implies she might be ready to jump into the middle of things again at a moment's notice. "Yeah, a bath," she confirms in an aside to Damaris. "Decent-big, too. Dunno how she lucked out into that one, but she did." Taikrin's smile turns from lascivious to simply fond, momentarily, before she recalls what she's trying to do here. "Life's way better when you have access to your own private bath where nobody's gonna be walkin' in at just the wrong moment..." She certainly sounds like she's speaking from experience. Under her breath, she mutters, "... careful..." though it's unclear to whom it's directed. "Are you still talking?" Damaris goes with a dismissive sort of tone, for all that she's tense as can be and looks like she might /really/ want to try and hit him again. She instead directs her attention down towards her glass, very stubbornly Not Looking at Toren. Please ignore that her knuckles are turning white, around the glass of alcohol. Another drink is taken. "I'm not interested." A huge sigh is exhaled, and then she's looking away from the glass to study the brownrider. "That's - pretty enviable. I..." And she clears her throat. "Imagine that it does do wonderful things for one's life." Toren pays his bar tab and without another word to either of them the young harper turns and leaves the establishment. Toren heads down a short flight of stairs and a tunnel to the inner caverns hallways. Toren has left. It's only after Toren's left that Taikrin lets out a long held breath, letting the last of the tension drain out of her wiry frame as she leans fully against the bar. "It is pretty nice," Taikrin agrees, as if the entire argument between Damaris and Toren had never occured. "Makes some things easy. Still fun to go down to the normal baths, though, you know. To... be social?" Judging from her grin, 'social' isn't quite the term for what Taikrin gets up to in the bathing cavern. But-- "Easier to work when Riorde ain't back from a crappy sweeps pull, though." And if Riorde has just returned, that must mean... yes, there's Glacier, a whole half the wing pushing into the Snowasis with loud demands for booze and tables and who had the dice and stop trying to steal my marks and I'm going to punch your face and-- typical racuousness. She lets out her own sigh of air, bringing her hands up to cover her face as the stress bleeds away. There is a curse, though it's spoken quietly. The young woman glances in the direction he went, just to make sure he's gone, and then she's bringing her glass to her lips again. Once the gulp is taken, Damaris offers another sweet smile up towards Taikrin. "I - don't know, if I'd bother with the regular baths, if I had access to a private one. Perhaps." She chuckles softly, and then - oh. She looks towards the entering riders, smile giving way to a more neutral expression as the place gets abruptly loud. Well, then. Blink. "Sorry, if I caused any stress." Whether she's referring to the assault of Toren, or the tension with Riorde, well - that's not made clear. She's not bolting yet, but...well, there's definite uncertainty apparent, when she looks back up towards Taikrin. "What, with Riorde?" Because apparently that's how Taikrin is interpreting the apology. "Don't even worry about it. She's just playin'. Known me long enough-- well. Turns now, I reckon." Taikrin slides a little further down the bar to bump shoulders with Damaris, offering a smile that's really more sympathetic than anything else. "Reckon I'm gonna have to go and pay my dues with the wing, though. Coupla them owe me money, anyways. You gonna be alright over here? Welcome to come and play the tables, but--" She's clearly not going to push, not with Glacier's well-deserved and well-known reputation already playing out around the four tables they've shoved together. "If you need something, let me know? I'll take care of it." There is careful studying of Taikrin's face, and then Damaris is just offering up a smile that's more vacant than it is anything else. She lifts her glass to the woman in response to the shoulderbump, tipping her head towards the wing. "Go," she says. "I'll be just fine. You have a wonderful night." No response to the offer of taking care of something she might need, nope. Of course, the moment Taikrin isn't looking at her she's finishing her drink and heading for the exit, yes. Retreat, before pride gets damaged any further. "Remember," Taikrin admonishes as she's backing away -- there are already catcalls in her direction from wingmates demanding /their/ money back from the brownrider. "Whatever you need. Try not to take it too personal, yeah?" A hand lifts and gives a vague little wave - the gesture isn't really very clear, what she means by it. But it's something. Damaris does not look again, just making her escape. Taking things personal? She's a teenager. Isn't that what they /do/? |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Snowasis Barfight"Taikrin (Taikrin) left a comment on Mon, 27 Feb 2012 07:53:37 GMT.
Woe, it wouldn't let me have 'Snowasis Barfight #1343324' as the title.
Riorde (Riorde) left a comment on Mon, 27 Feb 2012 13:33:40 GMT.
Woe.
My own bath~
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