Logs:Sunshine and Shadow
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| RL Date: 23 June, 2015 |
| Who: Jemizen, Kaelige |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, Southern Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jem abandons work while Kaelige abandons sobriety. |
| Where: Nighthearth, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 1, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: From morning straight through until well into the night, large, soft-looking snow falls steadily. |
| Mentions: Dee/Mentions |
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An irregular archway leads into the alcove that houses the Nighthearth. This cozy little nook contains a hearth, protected by a grate that can be used to prop chilled feet to warm on cold days, that is surrounded with a several leather, upholstered chairs. A small table pushed against the same wall as the hearth is kept stocked at all times with fresh, hot klah, a pot of stew, and a basket of baked goods including breads and both savory and sweet filled rolls. The Weyr's aunties also keep the space supplied with a stack of perpetually renewed afghans in interesting color choices, while the Headwoman's staff ensures that some of the older towels are always on hand on a row of hooks for riders ducking in off of sweeps in bad weather. Otherwise, the Nighthearth is undecorated but for the motley collection of mismatched mugs, bowls, and spoons that line the mantel for general use. It's late afternoon, that time before the dinner rush in which most weyrfolk are finishing up the last of their tasks at hand in order to be able to enjoy that break. Kaelige is not one of those people. As little of a surprise as that may come to most, what is different is that the hooded teen is by himself today. And not so scarce as to be hard to find. There's not even a conversation worth eavesdropping on at the Nighthearth, nigh empty at this hour with the occassional visitor grabbing a mug or sweetroll. Kaelige is seated in one of the leather chairs, turned around so that his chest is rested against the backrest. A flask is in one hand, and there's some color to his cheeks that can't wholly be blamed on the hearth's fire. After spending most of the day in the kitchens helping to prepare the food on offer in the Nighthearth, Jemizen feels that he's due a break. So after coming in from the kitchens to deliver another tray of sweetrolls on the already-laden table, he grabs a plate, piles it high, and scans the mostly-empty chairs in search of a friendly face. Kaelige's face, if not especially friendly is at least familiar, so Jem bounds over to his fellow candidate, offering an enthusiastic, "Kaelige, Hi!" and an oh-so-sunny smile in greeting. He doesn't wait for an invitation to pull up the chair next to the hooded figure. When his name is spoken in such a tremendously friendly manner, head and flask together are tipped back as Kaelige takes a long drink from whatever beverage is held within it. The way he grits his teeth, and furrows his brow indicates it's nothing short of strong. Only after that's completed is he willing to turn his attention to that voice. "Jemizen." Is his greeting, though not overtly friendly it doesn't seem outright negative either- which is a good thing? Blue-green eyes, just a touch red-touched of their whites, watch him until he's just about to sit before he drops his gaze to stare at the flask itself as if it's just that interesting. "Done with your chores?" A safe question, a candidate question. Something he'd be expected to ask. Now that he's settled comfortably beside Kaelige, Jemizen makes note of the strong fumes emanating from that flask. His features scrunch up as he makes a face. "I haven't the stomach for that," is noted companionably before he starts digging into those sweetrolls, though the not-overtly-friendly greeting gets another ick-face. "Just 'Jem'!" The admonishment is necessary, since they are the very best of New Friends. Two more sweetrolls meet their demise before Jem answers brightly, "Done for now. But not, like... officially. Probably." Shrug! The brightness of Jem's shiny-white, smiling teeth would probably grate even in the soberest of circumstances, but his sunniness cannot be diminished by Kael's shadows, alas. "What are you up to?" "How-" Kaelige tips the flask at him, a brow raised beneath the shadow of his hood which is, fortunately or unfortunately, back enough to reveal the majority of his face "-do you do these trivial things and still be so-" He searches for the right word and, failing, decides on "you." Apparently Jem is the the new noun and adjective for the state of happiness. He seems 'okay' with Jem joining him, at least, given the current state he's put himself in. For awhile after that 'gem' of a statement, he watches the other candidate consume some of the fresh sweetrolls with an interest that almost may lend to him wanting one as well. But he wouldn't reach for one before adding, "You should." Comes his delayed response to Jem's opinion on the alcohol, "Maybe you'll be an angry drunk, throw a punch or two." Jemizen considers Kaelige's question carefully. Thoughtful contemplation interrupts his cheeriness, if only for a few moments. "I've never done anything that wasn't trivial. So how else should I be?" Sound logic calls for ever brighter smiles, and as Jem rises to gather more sweetrolls and pour two mugs of klah he actually whistles. Upon returning to his seat, he makes another ick-face before admitting, "I've never been able to drink enough to get drunk. I always get sick first." But stuffing several sweetrolls into his face does nothing to unbalance his stomach, apparently. "I don't wanna punch anybody, anyway. Or cry. Or get sick. So I'll stick to this." He raises his mug of klah, toasting Kaelige before wondering aloud, "You're not the sick kind of drunk, and you're not throwing any punches, so what kind of drunk are you?" Jem needs to know if he should expect either tears or a drunken pass to come his way. "You've never done anything worth while?" A serious question, that, the hooded teen's brow raised again in curiosity that would be amused if he didn't have a particularly distracted aspect to him. He leans on his forearms over the back of the chair, fingers picking at the cap he'd briefly replaced on the flask. "There's so many options." Apparently Jem's inability to drink just took rank over doing important things in life, "Wine, liquor, beer.. Surely there's something." He's tipsy enough that there was almost an admonishment of 'we' in finding him something. "-Yet." He corrects on Jem's wondering, his eyes dark by trouble and personality if not by their blue-green color turn to him to study his expression, "Maybe I am a fightin' drunk. Just need a couple more." Not that he's supposed to get that drunk. Candidate rules and all. "But no." He shrugs a lopsided, half-hearted shrug, "Takes a lot for me. And I just think." Are they really sharing a moment right now? He must've had more than he thinks he did. Jemizen rolls his shoulders in an easy shrug. "Worth while to who? I think it's worth while to play, and hang out with Dee, and just have fun." Looking appropraitely chagrined, he explains, "But those things aren't important to most people." Another carefree shrug is given before he follows the conversation along to its most important track. "Wine and liquor are right out. Maybe an ale? Something light? Southern doesn't have the right kinds of plants or whatever for good, light beer. What are they called? Dee would know." Hops. He means hops. And really, Kaelige has only himself to blame for this: "What do you think about?" "You if you're selfish, others if you're," well, "her." Kaelige's reference, in regards to worthwhile-ness, to Dee might just be because Jemizen brought her up first. Maybe. "And what is your 'fun' exactly?" One of the biggest supporters of slacking off of chores themselves, perhaps what others do with that time is a curious thing to him, though no real effort is made to seem like he actually cares. Kael drops his head slightly, leaning more into the back of the chair, putting more weight onto his forearms. Almost as if getting 'comfortable' in that spot. His face is warmed with the alcohol, head buzzed, even if he smells about as strongly as that drink of his. And as sorta-friendly as he's been until now, that changes at the otherwise innocent question, "None of your business." "I care about others." Jem's voice is still light, as he says it, so he's not about to argue the point. "It just... doesn't always occur to me to think about others. Not all the time, like," well, her. "But I'm not selfish." Here his voice definitely rises at the end, making this less a statement and more a question. "I mean, I want to help Dee..." He trails off, looking suddenly wary. "Nevermind." Smooth. The question of fun returns Jem to full brightness. "I like to think, too. About places I'll go, stuff I'll do. Adventures!" And thinking constantly about these things takes up so much time that he couldn't possibly get down to the business of ever actually doing any of the things he constantly imagines doing. After another sip of klah, Jem points out with a grin, "Saying that only makes me more interested, you know." "Then doing these menial things should do it for you." Kaelige's words are ever so slightly slurred as that long swig earlier starts to take effect. "They're supposed to-" Flask is gestured with again, kindof towards the sweetrolls the other candidate had walked in with, his face scrunched in a 'whatever' sort of expression, "be helpful and teamwork and all that crap." Buzzed is not enough to be dealing with Jem right now, and Kaelige is sipping more. His expression changes into what could be taken as an angry, and when he pulls the flask away from himself and turns it over demonstrating its emptiness, it's clear why. "Help her what? With all the nonsense she does?" To make up for this newfound disappointment, a thumb and forefinger tug at the peak of his hood, "Doesn't matter if you're 'nterested in it." There's that ick-face again. "But it's work." And their mutual disdain for such things was supposed to bond them together in ~friendship~! "I want adventure, not sweetrolls." And yet, Jemizen is rising from his seat to retrieve more. He returns in time to see the flask upended, eyebrows raised as its emptiness is so clearly demonstrated. His voice fills with admittedly obnoxious gravitas as he intones, "It's not nonsense. Not to Dee. It's important to her." Once the fifth (and hopefully final) sweetroll is consumed, Jem props an elbow on the arm of his chair and regards Kaelige with wry amusement. "You are an angry drunk. But that's okay. I won't ask what you're thinking anymore. As long as you don't punch me." Kaelige looks over at Jem from beneath his self-made shadow only once he's returned from his sweetroll mission. He'd not make that much effort to follow him even that far across the room. "Aye, all far too important to her." Is that a nerve struck? There's too much anger in that to be just from his alcohol. "I'm not going to punch you." It's not entirely believable, nor really an invitation for questions, especially with the level of aggrivation even something as simple as an empty container apparently made him. His next question seems completely unrelated to the topics at hand, but maybe it's related to that which he 'isn't' willing to share, "Do you want to go back to Southern?" "If Dee thinks it's important, then it is really important, so it can't be too important." Jem states, simply, though he arches a brow at Kaelige's vehemence regarding the matter. He wants to ask, but the vague promise of no punches wasn't exactly reassuring. Instead, he'll answer, with a patented lazy shrug and vaguely vapid smile. "Maybe! Though I've finally gotten a bit more used to the climate here." He tugs on a sleeve to demonstrate: down to only two sweaters, now! He finishes off his last sip of klah before admitting, "I'll go back if Dee does. She wants to, I think. Uh oh." Jem's eyes fall upon the irate-looking cook striding into the Nighthearth, her own narrowed eyes glaring at him. He shoots out of his chair, all apologetic smiles, "Hey. Hi! I was just heading back to the kitchens. Just now. Just this minute." Kaelige gets an affectionate clap on the shoulder and a smile before Jem bounds along after the put-upon cook. |
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