Logs:To The Assholes That Have Left Us Behind
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| RL Date: 16 January, 2015 |
| Who: Drex, Jadzia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jadzia and Drex get on a little better on the Day of Memories. It probably helps that there's alcohol involved. |
| Where: Western Bowl / Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 10, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Itsy/Mentions, Daxson/Mentions |
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| By afternoon, the bowl's wall is scrawled with names, with dates, and with messages in remembrance of the dead. Some stand around in small groups, talking and drinking -- while others have retreated to the Snowasis' patio to do much of the same. Drex avoids the groups, slouching between them with sidelong looks, sidling up to the bowl's wall. He's staring at each of the messages with an intentness, and, frowning, bends to pick up one of the discarded chalks, then returns to staring at the wall, with a furrow of brow. It's not the people who are doing their thing who Jadzia is paying attention to. It's the names and the messages chalked on the wall of the bowl. There's something very neutral about the way she looks at them, pausing to read them on occasion. It's a short distance from Drex where she pauses again, watching him now instead of the wall. He's slightly more interesting with motion and everything. Drex is... hesitating, glancing from the wall, to the chalk. Finally, he stretches a hand up, and scrawls and awkward looking 'C', before letting the chalk drop and dusting off his hands. It's around this time that he notices someone looking at him, and putting on his best glowering stare, looks back. Recognition filters through moments later, though that doesn't decidedly change his expression, very clearly a What? Of all the days, maybe it's this one that Jadzia shouldn't be an asshole. But she must not have gotten that memo. She glares back at the younger man once he's looking at her, gaze only flickering toward the 'C' momentarily before she asks, "Can't write more than that?" His arms fold deliberately across his chest, chin lifting, posture defensive. "Why," Drex asks, "So you can nosy in on it?" "To find out what? That you're too illiterate to write the full name of someone you cared about on a wall?" Yeah, Jadzia will totally nosy in on that. She must not be worried about pissing him off, though, because she's moving in closer toward a piece of chalk of her own as she speaks. Drex's gaze narrows, mouth thinning enough to suggest she may well have hit the mark. He doesn't respond, but he doesn't move either to make room as she nears, watching her. "Nothing to be ashamed of," she says as though she doesn't entirely mean it. He should probably be a little ashamed. Or maybe that's just her voice. She also doesn't seem to care that he isn't moving. Jadzia can just crowd him and crouch down to reach around him for the chalk. "Who were they?" He's not so oblivious that he doesn't read the lack of genuine sentiment in her response. It takes a few moments -- enough for her to collect the chalk -- before Drex says, "He was my Captain." The brownrider rises again, familiarly close in a way she isn't familiar enough with the boy to have any right to. "So is the C for captain or for his actual name?" Then she flickers a glance to the side as though to say 'do you mind?' Apparently the rest of the wall isn't good enough for Jadzia. Apparently Drex does mind, or he doesn't understand what her glance is supposed to convey, because he doesn't move. With a brief lift-and-drop of his shoulder in a passing shrug, "He insisted on being called Captain. It was his name as far as all his crew were concerned. Besides, it's about the sentiment, not about getting it all right. Not like he cares." Jadzia rolls her eyes at him and, since she's not actually willing (or able) to try pushing him out of the way forcefully, she moves to the side to approach the wall. "Don't get your panties in a knot, seaweed," she tells him as she lifts her own chalk to write a single, simple 'D'. Maybe it's even for his benefit. Drex looks at the letter, then looks at her. Apparently since he shared, he expects it in kind. "My brother," says Jadzia without any particular emotion. Drex frowns for a moment, then nods. "Drink?" he says, in apparent invitation. She sort of tries not to look too interested in that invitation, but she only sort of succeeds. "Always," Jadzia will admit without any shame of her own. "Snowasis? I don't know if I like you enough to invite you back to my weyr." Where she has plenty of crappy booze, granted. A flicker of something chases across Drex's face -- not disappointment, but surprise -- before he nods, slouching in that direction. He wordlessly steps past the other groups, giving them sidelong looks if they happen to glance in his direction, heading for the bar. At this point in her life, Jadzia is pretty immune to anyone looking surprised, or disappointed for that matter, by anything she says. Or she just might not see it at all since her attention has been flickering over the other names. And then they're moving. "You think anyone would write your name up there if you died?" she muses. "Doubt it," is Drex's reflexive answer as they walk, before he seems to pause and consider it, steps slowing a bit as he does. "Itsy," he says, finally, as they cross the patio and head into the bar itself. With a sidelong glance at Jadzia: "You?" The brownrider considers as they head to the bar, but it's not until they stop there that she says with a shrug, "Probably not. Dragon comes with me when I go." And Savroveth would be the most obvious rememberer. If, you know, dragons didn't have shitty memories. Jadzia waves for the bartender and she'll even order something that isn't completely horrible. Drex leans against the bar, but doesn't take one of the stools there. When she orders, he grunts -- apparently in approval -- since he doesn't challenge it. He looks almost uncertain at the concept of a dragon missing someone. He glances between her and the bartender. "Think he'd remember?" a nod of head at the bartender. It's probably a joke, given the faint grin that appears. "My marks, maybe," Jadzia will allow with her own, brief flicker of amusement. It fades a moment later into something a little more genuine, but that's when she's looking down at the bar. "There are a few people that might be unhappy if I died, I guess. But I don't think they'd remember." For writing purposes. "Not unless it happened around now." "Thought all you dragonriders were..." Drex pauses as he considers, likely, to find the words rather than phrase it overly carefully, "...you know, fucking each other." Jadzia snorts in a very unladylike fashion. But he hasn't gotten the impression that she's a lady anyway, right? "Hardly. I've only fucked most of them. Some of them aren't into women. And some of them are women. And the only one that ever claimed to care about me is quite happy with his old man friend, as far as I know." Drex is, by now, definitely leaning forward in anticipation of the coming drinks, as if the conversation has veered into awkward territory. But still, he ventures, "I didn't think that mattered," he says, "What you were into. I thought you all," he wiggles his fingers in a sort of suggestive way, "Anyway." "It doesn't matter when the dragons fuck, I guess. But mine has never won a flight, so I couldn't tell you for sure." Even though Jadzia sort of looks like she's be perfectly happy making the young man uncomfortable. "You can't tell me you aren't taking advantage of all the loose ladies around here. Or men, I guess, if that's your thing." The sailor gives a dismissive half shrug, as if trying to play it off. "Weyrfolk ain't to my tastes." Any of them, apparently. Drex looks definitely relieved when the drinks come, grabbing his mug with a grateful not to the bartender and taking a couple of quick gulps. "Uh huh." She doesn't sound convinced. Or, more likely, she doesn't care. Jadzia picks up her drink, though, so she can take a healthy gulp of her own. "You want something else?" she asks even before they've finished this round. She knows she'll want another, anyway. Drex's brows go up, but he doesn't look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak, nodding agreeably once he's halfway through his own drink. He doesn't seem apt to linger on the conversation at hand, instead saying, "One round for your brother. One for my Cap'n." And they can surely come up with excuses for more rounds? No doubt Jadzia can come up with an excuse for every drink she's ever had. But, as it is, she waves for another round and turns to lift her current drink to the sailor. "To your captain. And to my brother. And all the other assholes that have left us behind. Enjoy your drink." The last is said with a nod to the bartender before Jadzia is throwing back her drink and turning as though to leave the sailor to himself. "Hear, hear," Drex chimes in after her toast, taking the newly arrived drink and gulping it down in one hit. If he's surprised when Jadzia wordlessly takes her leave it doesn't show; he does look after her, but after a moment, settles onto one of the stools and nods at the bartender for a refill. Even if she's done toasting, he apparently still has a ways to go, in honor of his former Captain. Jadzia doesn't leave immediately. But once she's gotten her second drink, she's pouring it into her flask rather than drinking it outright, then she's turning back to the patio and probably heading back to her weyr to do the really serious honoring of her brother. |
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