Logs:Talking Mostly About Barmaids
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| RL Date: 15 October, 2008 |
| Who: E'dre, N'thei |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Unfinished. |
| When: Day 9, Month 13, Turn 17 (Interval 10) |
| A paltry winter sun does little to brighten the midmorning bowl, sheds no cheer on the lone figure of the Weyrleader coming out from the direction of the complex. Judging by the fact that he's not fully bundled up, N'thei probably intends no more than a brisk walk across the bowl to the living caverns, assailed but once on his approach. He stands shivering while he nods and explains something at length to a former Snowstrike rider, then he's back on track toward the inner Weyr. It is just after the first interception that E'dre comes upon the Weyrleader, bundled far better against the cold of the day in his riding gear than N'thei. There's a gloved salute that is given before a rakish smile crosses the brownrider's features. "Gotta love that, don't you? The constant demand for attention." E'dre doesn't seem to be after the same thing, for his steps simply fall alongside the bronzerider as they each trek towards the warmth of the inner caverns. "I'm for a bite to eat and some good, spiced, klah. If you're catching a bite and are in the mood for amusing company, I'm at your disposal." He winks and then allows N'thei to proceed him within. "Love. Not the word." N'thei turns to squint across the cold, hazy bowl toward the fading figure that arrested him along the way. A brief glance casts sideways and down at the brownrider as though he needs to assess whether or not he's about to get waylaid and pestered once more. No? "What the hell is spiced klah? Unless the spice is whiskey..." He leaves the thought hanging and resumes his long-legged stride across the bowl, the hitch of his head meant to answer to E'dre's invitation; he'll accept the company, sure. "If it was whiskey, I think you'd call it spiked," E'dre replies with a light chuckle, devious glint to his gaze. "But that sounds even better than what I'd proposed." And coming from N'thei - all the more permissable to enjoy if he agrees. His shorter stature forces him to all but speed-walk to keep up with the taller man, but he doesn't seem to particularly mind. At such a pace it does not take them long to hit the living caverns. If either of them were expecting quiet - it's hard to find inside. Later than the normal morning rush, but still there are quite a few bodies packed within to work near the warmth of the hearth and easily accessed klah. E'dre's face twists with annoyance and then he shrugs it off, looking to N'thei. "Never fails, this time of turn. It's a wonder I don't just end up holing up in the Snowasis." Spiked. N'thei mulls over the thought while he measures out the distance to the cavern, wears a frown at the corner of his mouth. "Might be a bit early for that yet." There's a pause of four or five steps before he adds. "Even for me. But you go for it if it makes you happy." He hasn't got his coat on him, so no flask to hand over, but there's an instinctive movement of his hand to his chest like he might reach for it. At the threshold, he stops to give the cavern a frown of its own, a grunted agreement with E'dre's never-fails remark. "So far, this is the only thing I really like about this job," he says suddenly, working his way toward a table with a few docile-looking folks, the kind very likely to clear out on sight of someone of such oh-my-goodness importance as the Weyrleader. "More a joke than anything, the drinking this early. Though weather almost forces you too," E'dre responds with amusement. This carries over as the people they are aimed towards joining get up with bobs, hasty salutes, and murmured apologies as they make their exit. This arrangement is more to the brownriders liking as he pulls out a chair and tosses his coat off on it. "I'll fetch some klah, then." He meanders off, returning with two cups of klah as a piece of toasted bread is in his mouth. He slides into the chair and sets the klah down. He washes his bite of bread down with a sip and then grins ove at the Weyrleader. "Perks or no, I'd never want to be the one in charge." N'thei's eyes chase the folks abandoning their table, mirth behind the cold gray, then drop to the chair he pulls out and plops into. Graceless. Without a coat, still feeling the after-effects of that particular foolishness, he folds his arms across his chest, hands around his upper arms, to chafe a little quick warmth into his trunk before he's settled to comfort and just waits for E'dre-- lackey?-- to bring him liquid weather-combatant. "Why not?" asks the man who, at least for one moment in his life, must have wanted to be the one in charge. Now? Well, now it's questionable. To E'dre, such a question is met with lifted brows and a guffaw. "Are you kidding? I could only imagine the sort of trouble I'd bring to a leadership position." He curls his fingers around his klah, allowing the warmth of the liquid to shake the chill from his digits. Up it goes for a sip and then he leans back in the chair, eyes roaming the cavern with detached interest. "Probably best I'm only a brownrider, then. No dragon ambition to deal with on that front." Pause. "For the most part." He smirks, looking back at N'thei. There's a moment where he looks like he might have another question for the Weyrleader, but it passes as he takes another sip of klah. A lot of people would prompt at such a lapse, at the chance that they might be missing some snippet of unsaid conversation, but N'thei barely glances aside at the neglected words. "This where I should repeat with a scoff, '/Just/ a brownrider?'" He slumps into his chair more deeply, ensconced, lazy, hiding most of his expression behind his klah. "Wroth wants more?" Just a guess. "Just, of course," E'dre responds with a twitched smile as he downs more of the liquid. He offers a shrug, negligent in responding further on that. Though at the next question, he snorts. "Shardin' dragon has always been half-crazed. Don't listen to him much." So here is where yet another lapse in the discussion comes in, though it's more from the grimace of the brownrider as his dragon corrects him. "Hm. /Any/way. What's new with you, hm?" Commiserate; "Best like that. Not sure that dragons carry down traits that way, but Wyaeth used to harp about me being more and living up to expectations and all that happy horseshit. Maybe accounts for Wroth some." N'thei sounds thoughtful in tone, but he wears the start of a long-suffering smile. To answer, he shrugs blandly and twirls his mug against his palm, watches it as if for inspiration. "Very little. Don't think things change much. Some holder hates us. Some wingrider's got a big complaint. Sure you could guess to my daily tedium." E'dre nods his head, amused at the prospect of personalities being part of dragon lineage. He sips from his klah, half-listening to the conversation until the topic of how N'thei thinks of the leadership is brought up. That generally is interesting to the brownrider and he frowns, just slightly, at the blandness in the Weyrleader. "Do you really care though? If a holder hates us, or someone is complaining. I'd figure you'd be pretty distant from it all anyway. Let it roll off." He shrugs, hand lifting slightly. "Not that I wouldn't bitch about the whole thing, myself." "There's caring and there's /caring/, isn't there." N'thei teeters his hand for the distinction, lands it on top of his klah afterward to warm his hand with rising steam. "Crom hates us and I care. Tillek starts to hate us and I /care/." But he /cares/ at a lower volume, as though he'd rather not have the whole cavern know. But it brings up an interesting point and he frowns sidelong at the brownrider; "Why are we talking about this. --You been down to that Tillek bar lately? They have a girl with..." Hands cupped in front of his chest, he illustrates what this girl has. "In my opinion, only reason to care is the damn fact that it brings with it a loss of interest," E'dre responds, keeping his voice to a minimal level. No need to set the other tables to chattering about such things. Or start the rumor mill on what he and the Weyrleader were heard discussing. Its the distraction of the next comment that brings out a throaty chuckle from the brownrider. "Oh yeah. Gisel. Like her? She's got decent curves, all right. Not what you'd expect though...," he shakes his head, wicked glint in his gaze as he trails off. "I always fancy the beauties with a little less inhibitions, yeah?" As though he's eager to abandon the Tillek problem, N'thei let's the talk of girls' assets take over. And that's one the whole cavern can hear, his voice unchecked and heavy with speculative amusement. "Is she? Inhibited?" His eyes glaze, his smile spreads, and he wags his brows at his own thoughts. "Wouldn't it be worth it to be the man that breaks that one, neh? Really have to stop screwing goldriders and go back to bar wenches." He lifts his glass toward E'dre on that. E'dre can't hold back his laughter at N'thei's last, cup raised in toast though as he downs the last of his klah he's shaking his head and grinning inanely. "Ain't it the truth, though. Goldriders are far too complicated." He shakes his head, lips flattening in displeasure at some idea. Still, the topic of women is still of interest. For the moment. "Too bad you can't, y'know, with the bar maid. She'd be just thrilled to have a Weyrleader's interest, I bet. And a child to come from it, too, guaranteeing her easy living in the Weyr." He smirks. "Or so some of them might dream, I bet." "Complicated." N'thei repeats it with a quiet chuckle, casts a quick look around the room lest someone's listening. While there may be prying ears at any given time, seems the privacy of Weyrleader-and-brownrider is relatively guarded at present. "Nice way of putting it. I'd have said 'damn crazy bitches' myself, but good for you. Practicing diplomacy. Why don't you have any ambition." That last is put suddenly, with a dubious squint, with eyes narrowed to peer at E'dre. As in, what's wrong with you? "Diplomacy is something I believe I often fail at," E'dre notes wryly, smirk more firmly in place. "As in, I don't censor my thoughts." He lifts a brow at the squint, the other going downwards in a comical twist of confusion and ire. "Why should I/ I think ambition is left to better men. I'd rather live quietly, I thank you, and with less than no success to claim." If he's joking, it falls flat by his matter-of-fact tone. He shrugs, leaning back in his chair. That empty mug of klah is given an idle shake, back and forth, on the table. "I leave that to more qualified individuals. Like L'vae, for example." Dry; "And you think L'vae is qualified." Not a question. N'thei sounds disappointed, twitches a frown into place, spins his mug on the table between his fingers in idle reverie. "Right time, right place. If I had it my way, I wouldn't have made him a Wingsecond and left him poised as the only one ready to take Avalanche. Can always fire him a put a lesser man in place." Namely... |
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