Logs:Still not friends
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| RL Date: 28 October, 2015 |
| Who: Drex, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: There's booze and a table, and uncomfortable baby-daddy talk. |
| Where: HRW :Snowasis |
| When: 13D 2M 39T I10, winter night |
| Mentions: Itsy/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Laine/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Feel free to make any changes. |
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>---< Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr(#555RJ) >----------------------------------<
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.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Drex M 20 6'2 muscled, black hair, brown eyes 32s
Edyis F 21 5'4" athletic, brown hair, brown eyes 0s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Hallway Patio Ledge
>-----------------------------------------< 13D 2M 39T I10, winter night >---< It's another Reachian winter and another typical night in the Snowasis the air laced with raucous laughter. A tangle of Snowdrift riders are engaged in a poker game with a few members of Boreal, and Edyis herself is seated at a recently vacated table nearby, staring rather intently at a still corked bottle and the waiting glasses on the table, squinting at it with pursed lips. It's a recently vacated table, which means she just arrived, which means she has a contender for it. At least, this is probably why Drex drops down onto a seat, for all that the table is his, setting a pitcher of beer and a glass (a single one), down. He doesn't bother with staking his claim verbally; instead, he fills his glass, lifting it towards his lips as casual as you please. There's a dusting of snow on the coat he's still wearing; it'll be too warm for that soon, but not yet. That squint turns into her tilting her head to squint at the new arrival sideways. Since he's trying to claim her table. There's a sniff, and then noticing the beer pitcher, "I was kinda here first but, but!" She straightens as she pulls out the cork, "I'll share mine if you share yours." It's wobbly but it's a warm enough, if somewhat inebriated invitation. "Poured mine first," Drex retorts, like that's the real claim of ownership. When she suggests sharing, he gives her bottle a little sidelong, dubious look. "Aint much of a wine fan." But, grudgingly, "Guess you can have a glass, though." If he's aware of her state, it doesn't show, or change his manner in any way. "It isn't wine, it's rum." She notes with a little sniff. "Was gonna bet it in the poker game but Canie is on a streak." Still she reaches for the pitcher and pours herself a half glass, since he's given his consent. "Haven't had a decent bottle of wine in months." The last muttered under her breath. That makes Drex stop, mid-gulp, and lower his glass, regarding the bottle with a little more grudging respect. If he's curious about her muttered comment, he doesn't pursue it, especially in light of the fact that he's reaching for the rum bottle while she reaches for the pitcher, nabbing one of her spare glasses for it. "Aint worth betting a good bottle on poker. Any sailor worth his salt knows that." "I am not a sailor." Edyis states, with a dismissive gesture of her hand. "I am a rider, and arguably we have less common sense than sailors." Lifting the glass to her lips. "Where'd that expression come from." She wonders with a frown then, "Worth his salt." "No, yer not," Drex agrees with a certain weight that's probably not meant to be insulting, but might come across as such, regardless. Her comment about the sense of riders earns a snorted noise of agreement, while he takes a gulp from his glass. His grudging nod suggests he's approving of the rum, but then, he hasn't exactly got a refined palate. Her question earns a squint, confused. "Not a fuckin' clue. Ask a harper. They know stuff." "Yeah but If I ask a harper it will be morning before they stop talking." She points out with a wave of her glass. If she's offended there's no sign of it. "Where's your Redhead? The one Laine had a crush on, Isky Ibby, Itsy? Itsy." Drex's shoulder rises and drops in a half-shrug, as if to imply, that's the risk you take, but mostly, he just imbibes the rum, slouching back in his chair to regard her. "Wintering somewhere warm," he replies, without confirming her name, in a kind of wary tone, like he isn't quite sure why she's asking. "She's the smart one then." Edyis decides to shoot a dark look out to the snow drifting out on the patio. "A nice empty stretch of beach, a few bottles of something good, and decent company to share it with. Beats the hell out of this place in the winter time anyway. If dragons didn't have to live in weyrs my friend," She trails with a wistful sigh. Whatever niceness sharing her rum bought -- if it even existed -- has evaporated fairly quickly as Drex scowls. "What's that supposed to mean?" The line of his jaw is tight, as he adds: "What're you complaining about. You can just," he waves his hand kind of carelessly, in some fashion that's supposed to suffice for between, "And be there? Instead of complaining about being here?" "I mean, being there instead of doing something crazy like standing and impressing and getting stuck here." Edyis intones to his irritation, with an odd arch of her brow, plainly not understanding the sudden outburst. "By the time you get done with drills and everything else," a vaguish gesture for exhaustion. "Can't really nick off unless it's a rest day, or it's duties related." "I aint standing," Drex replies, overly defensively. "I definitely aint here for dragons. Besides, they have them in Ista, too, y'know," like somehow, she might not know. His brows go upwards at her latter words, "But you can just," he makes that not-really-at-all-like-between, "And have dinner at Ista as well as at High Reaches." Edyis kinda just squints at him. "I think you're missing the whole, end of the day the only thing you want is to plop into your bed part of the equation." But she seems unbothered by it, eying him at his assertion, "Yeah, you've mentioned that. Never said what you are here for, though." She notes with a shrug, draining her mug. "What are you, like, fifty?" can only be said in that disbelieving tone by a no-longer-a-teenager-by-a-hair, Drex. "Aint like there's thread or nothin'. Sounds like an excuse to me." And now he's reaching for the bottle -- her bottle -- of rum to refill his glass. "Thought it'd be obvious by now," he says, with a glance somewhat in the direction of Farideh's weyr. Edyis mutters darkly about age, around the rim of her glass, and then she's reaching for his pitcher since he's reaching for her bottle. "Oh, OH." Edyis murmurs after a minute, "So you, ah, it's yours." And now, Drex looks affronted, enough that he lowers his glass, jaw tightening. "Who else would it be?" Edyis winces a little. "I ah, wouldn't know. Just you know, I mean it's sort of a weyr and, well things happen." She tries to recover by downing the beer. It doesn't help. "I think that's my cue to go. Uh, keep the bottle." Drex's eyes narrow, jaw tightening. "It's mine," he growls, as if to disabuse any notion otherwise. When she indicates she's leaving, he doesn't do much to stop her, reaching for the rum. Damn right he's keeping the bottle! |
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