Logs:Whisky is Greater Than Wine
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| RL Date: 20 February, 2011 |
| Who: Toren, Taikrin, Damaris, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Post-dinner, Toren provides musical accompaniment to Taikrin's attempts to corrupt everyone in the Weyr. |
| Where: Living Cavern, HRW |
| When: Day 10, Month 1, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Wind and snow make for very bad weather today. The visibility is low, making travel dangerous. |
| Mentions: Riorde/Mentions |
| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RJs) Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
A lullaby. A /lullaby/. "I know that one," Leova says, and gives the apprentice a dry look. "Get the hint, too. Night, kid." With that, she disposes of her plate and implements, and heads off to far-too-well-earned sleep. Leova heads to the inner caverns. Leova has left. Toren is sitting by himself and he's playing is guitar. It's late after dinner, but there are still some riders that are coming in and are enjoying the music that he's playing. He has an empty mug of klah next to him and he's not singing just playing the guitar. He gives a smile and a nod to those that pass him by. Damaris heads in from the inner caverns. Damaris has arrived. Late night is usually when Taikrin can be found prowling about: she's fresh from a round of 'thievery' in the kitchens, and it seems like the scarred-up brownrider has absconded with not only dinner's leftovers but what looks like a fresh, steaming-hot pair of meatrolls that must have been intended for tomorrow's breakfast. She saunters over towards where Toren is playing, plops herself down, and promptly demands, "Play the one about The Holder's Daughter and The Watchwher!" If Toren is familiar with it, well-- let's just say it's a bawdy song common to some of the more remote Crom mineholds. Apparently, Taikrin isn't the only one up and thieving from the kitchens - it's just that some people are likely to get growled at if caught less than others. Particularly when they are involved in cooking the next day's breakfast. Not terribly far behind the brownrider comes a Damaris, her own meatroll in hand that's being nibbled on as she sweeps the cavern with her gaze. Ah, yes - she /did/ see someone going out. The young woman heads that way as well, since - well, guitar. Also, people. Toren is only fifteen so he hasn't much cause to learn any bawdy songs. He looks up and smiles, "I've never heard of that one before, Do you know how to sing it? Perhaps I can pick it up and play along if you'll sing a bit of it." He continues to play the song that been playing. A nice happy tune that carries throughout the cavern. "My name's Toren by the way, apprentice harper. Pleased to meet you." Taikrin considers Toren, lips pulled to the side, then breaks into a brightly crooked grin. "Nah, can't sing to save my life, 'specially without someone t'carry the tune for me.. Ah, well, ask around-- reckon someone'll teach it to you." She gestures broadly around the cavern with her meatroll, then stuffs half the thing in her mouth. Around that mouthful of food that turns her provincial Crom accent nearly incomprehensible, she adds, "'M Taikrin. Szadath's. S'always nice to know a harper. 'Specially a young one. What else y'got to play for us?" Giving a little sidelong look at Taikrin as she slides up, Damaris doesn't actually interject into the conversation - if she knows the song in question, well, she isn't going to be the one to enlighten the guy. There might be blushing. She takes a small bite of her own food and finds somewhere nearby to settle without bothering to ask, tucking her feet up beneath her and continuing to eat. There is flour across the side of her face, a little bit in her hair. She seems oblivious to it, entirely. Toren smiles, "I'll ask my father I'm sure he knows that song. He seems to know every song." He hmms, "It's nice tomeet you Taikrin and honor to your dragon. Why's it always nice to know a young harper?" He wonders and he hmms, "Well what else do you want to hear?" He starts to play a sad tune, "I can play something sad." He changes and starts to play something fast and jumpy, "Or something face." He changes the tune once more, "Or something romantic." "'Cause you never know when y'might need a harper to sing at a girl. Something romantic, huh?" Taikrin glances at the late-night dinners, gaze lingering on Damaris, then smirks at the girl as she swallows the last of her meatroll. "Dunno, think we're up for 'romantic'?" She's even making finger-quotes at Damaris. "Don't reckon I know you well enough save for how I like eating your stuff, but-- that's enough for our beautiful love, right?" Finishing off her own food, Damaris lifts her eyebrows at Taikrin, then glances over towards Toren. She appears to give the matter a long moment's worth of consideration before she returns her gaze to Taikrin and opines, "I think it is enough, yes - even if you do not know me well enough to love me, I expect you know my meatrolls well enough to love them." Totally straight faced, too. Her gaze swings back to the harper. "Please, yes, romantic would be lovely. Give me something to dream of when I do finally get to sleep tonight." A quick flutter of lashes, to follow those words. Toren smiles, "Sure I know lots of romantic songs. I suppose you could sing them to girls." He looks to Damaris and he smiles, "All right some romantic songs." He clears his throat and he starts to sing a romantic song. It's an old romantic song about a how a holder would travel over the hill to see his love in the next hold over until they could not bear to be apart any longer and built a hold together on top of the hill. "Well, Apprentice Harper Toren, I reckon you're my new favorite harper," says Taikrin as she offers one of her charmingly lopsided grins to the singing boy. She lolls back in her chair to turn that now upside-down grin back onto Damaris. "Ain't they told you the only way to a brownrider's heart is through her stomach? Bring some of these up to Riorde, and we can show you a /real/ romantic party, like." She... doesn't look to be kidding. Or maybe she is? Her wild grin and rough voice make it difficult to tell. She laughs quietly at Toren's reaction to the request made of him, and Damaris brings a hand up to absently rub at her cheek with the back of it, smearing the flour around a little bit. It's real classy. She tilts her head at Taikrin's words, eyebrows lifting again. "Oh, really? Romantic? Because it does not quite sound like that's what you really mean." There's something skeptical to her tone for those words, but it's a playful sort of skepticism, something of a tease wound through it. "You know, I make an absolutely to die for flatcake." Toren smiles as he finishes the song with a dramatic flair, "Thanks Rider Taikrin, I'll do my best. Who's Riorde? Or where is it?" He wonders as he's new around here. "What's a real romantic party like?" He looks over at Damaris and he chuckles, "You've got something on her cheek." He points to his own to try to show her where. That first comment from Damaris prompts a roar of laughter, though she tries her best to keep up the eyebrow-wiggling charade. "Hey, we can make it romantic as you please. We're /good/ at it." Taikrin propositioning the kitchen staff is probably nothing new, at least. To Toren, she explains, "Riorde, Sforzath's rider. Friend of mine. Well. /Good/ friend of mine. Good, /hot/ friend of mine, who's also my wingmate. Reckon you'll see her around before too long." They key bit of information about her being one of the notorious exiles is carefully withheld. "Hmm, so I get a nice _romantic_ time, in return for meatrolls," Damaris muses aloud, studying Taikrin sidelong with lifted brows, still. "Does this romantic time involve presents?" A flutter of her lashes, that way. "And perhaps harper songs?" A look over towards Toren. Amusement is wound through her tone and touching her smile, lighting up her eyes - she's being playful, though it's hiding behind a very thin facade of seriousness. "Wine, also - there /must/ be wine." She clears her throat, then looks back to Toren, hands coming up so she can clap lightly for the conclusion of the song. "That was lovely. And - on my cheek?" Her hand comes up to wipe where indicated, which has the lovely effect of just smearing it all around more. Toren ahs a little bit, "I'm sure that I will I'm eager to meet everyone in the Weyr well as many people as I can." He smiles back, "Thank you I'm you enjoyed it. I'd be happy to play more I have other instruments besides the guitar. I play drums pretty good, and of course the harp, as well as the flute and the fiddle." He winces, "You might want to get a washcloth to wipe it off, where did you get the flour on you?" "Of /course/ wine. Unless-- you'd rather whisky?" There's a hopeful quality to Taikrin's voice, and she even shifts her chair around to rest her elbow on the back and make big, comicly hopeful eyes at Damaris. "You bring the food, we bring the booze, fun times all around." Her gaze cuts slyly over towards Toren, then, and she tags on, "Hey, apprentice Toren, think we can book you for a private engagement? Reckon we got to teach you a couple songs first, though." "Oh, whisky?" Damaris's eyebrows lift again, and she gives Taikrin a surprised sort of look. "Really? Well - of course I would rather have whisky, if it's going to be offered." She can't quite help but laugh after those words, all warm amusement, and she's flashing a smile Toren's way and bringing a hand up to try and rub at the flour again. Get it off! No, it's not happening. "There, did I get it?" No. "In the kitchen, I'd imagine." Toren hmms, "I've never had whiskey before what's it like?" He smiles, "Sure I'd be happy to play a private engagement. I'm always happy to learn more songs. So when are we going to have this party?" He looks and he gets up to get a napkin. He moves over and he gently wipes off the flour, "There I got it for you." "'Course you can have whisky!" Taikrin pops up quite abruptly to sit ramrod-straight on her chair, looking back and forth between Toren and Damaris in utter surprise. "Why in Faranth's name wouldn't you? And-- are you /really/ tellin' me you ain't never had any? Shards and shells, what're they teachin' you lot at the hall? Here." Just like that, she digs into her riding jacket and pulls out a worn, much-abused flask to hand over to Toren. The whisky inside is smokey and of decent quality -- and smells rather like the brownrider's breath. "Can't have no party if you ain't never had whisky before." Oh, no. Damaris brings a hand up to attempt to block Toren's movements towards touching her without her consent, taking the napkin from him if he'll let her. "Please, I can get it, thank you," she says, offering a gentle smile to go with the similarly gently toned rebuke. If he lets her take the napkin, she'll - successfully - wipe off her face. If he still insists on trying to get it, well. At Taikrin's popping up and that, she laughs and shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know," she says. "Usually - whisky isn't what's offered for _romance_, that's all." Toren hands Damaris the napkin, "All right I just didn't want you to continue to smear it all over your face." He blinks as he sees the flask come out and he shrugs a little bit, "I don't know." He looks at the flash and he takes a sniff of it and wrinkles his nose a little bit, "Yah usually wine is the romantic drink of choice." He takes a small sip of the whiskey and he coughs a little bit as he tries to get it down. Succinctly, "Girl, you been hangin' around the wrong sort of people is all I got to say to that. Wine. Right." An inelegant snort punctuates Taikrin's statement at the same time as she's reaching out to firmly pat Toren's back. "Easy kid, first sip's the worst. You'll learn to love it." There's really no room for doubt in Taikrin's supremely confident voice. "Ain't no finer whisky to be had in all of Pern, you know. Keeps us warm on nights like tonight." There is laughter, though Damaris brings a hand up to cover her lips when it escapes, lashes dropping to cloak her eyes from view. Her other hand uses the napkin to get her face clean, and then said napkin is set aside. When the laughter has finished, she clears her throat, lowers her hand away from her face. "Apparently, that's what I get for hanging around with harpers," she says lightly. "I really did think it was supposed to be wine." Lashes lift, and she glances back to Toren directly, offering a sympathetic look. Toren rubs his throat, "I don't know know if I should keep drinking I don't want to hurt my throat." He does go to take another sip and he coughs a little less this time, "If this is the finest whiskey I'd had to drink the worse. It probably burns a hole right through you. Maybe you could bring both wine and whiskey." "Here, now," Taikrin reaches out to take her flask back, her smile not unkind. "Reckon you probably oughta start with something watered down, skinny thing like you. It'll put hair on your chest, though. "Harpers and wine, guess that really is a thing." Slyly, to Damaris, she holds out the flask in turn. "You tell me if this ain't a flaming lot better than any wine, though. Gets the job done plenty faster." Oh, oh dear. The flask, it is being offered her way. Damaris's eyes go a little bit wide, and then she worries at her lower lip with her teeth for a brief moment. Still, she takes the alcohol, glancing sidelong over towards Toren before she looks back to the brownrider. "I don't know if I really want hair on my chest," she points out, fixing her gaze on the flask. It was funny when /he/ was drinking it. Eventually she clears her throat, lifts it to her lips, and takes - well, way more of a drink than she ought to. Because she's tough grr. On the bright side? It does _not_ come back out her nose, nor does she drop the flask when she offers it back out towards Taikrin. On the not so bright side...there is definitely a lot of coughing. Oh! Her eyes water. Toren nods, "Some wine would be good." He gets up and he pours both himself and Damaris a glass of wine. He goes to offer her the glass before he drinks his glass. "I think I'll stick to wine." He sips his wine, "So where is this party gonna be?" Taikrin isn't laughing, really she isn't. It's just that all of a sudden she has a cough too, one that she's so-politely hiding behind her hand while the corners of her eyes scrunch up and tear and-- oh, shells. "No, I-- I reckon you don't," she gasps out between things that are most definitely chuckles. And then Toren is asking his question, and she's positively /dying/, though she manages to ask haltingly, "Just how many turns do you /have/, kid?" Choke-coughing turns into choke-laughing, as Damaris manages to recover from the whisky and is set off instead by Taikrin's laughter. That it seemed to have been started by laughing at her is either missed, or simply deemed inconsequential. Laughter is still laughter, even if it's at her expense. She does manage finally to breathe, clearing her throat and passing the flask back (if it's not already taken) before wiping at her eyes. "Thank you," she says, when the wine is brought to her, and she picks it up. Ahem. Sip. Look, she can be dignified again. With lips twitching. Toren looks at Taikrin and he hmms, "15 turns old. Why does that matter I'm just going to be playing. I've played at parties before." He is a little confused and he smiles at Damaris, "You're welcome. The Weyr does have some really good wine." He takes a drink of his wine. "It's, uh. Not that kind of party," Taikrin manages to gasp out in between laughs: she's having a much harder time mastering herself than Damaris. Finally, though, she manages, "Don't know I've ever invited someone so young as you without a dragon involved, and you being a boy and all." She can't quite meet Damaris' gaze, though her own keeps sliding back over that way despite herself. "Wine. Yes. Good wine." She'll just take a swig of her whisky, thank you very much. Oh, those eyes go wide again, and Damaris gives Toren a startled sort of look. Mouth opens, mouth shuts, and then she's collapsing into laughter again, hand coming up to cover her face, fingers splayed. She peeks through them at Taikrin, all bright laughter and amusement. She does at least have the presence of mind to set her glass down, so as to avoid spilling the wine all over the place. Toren hmms softly, "Oh what kind of party is it? What does it matter if a dragon is involved?" He asks and smiles at the laughter even though he doesn't know they are laughing at him and his naivety. He takes another drink of his wine, "Besides you said you needed a harper to play." The barest hint of meeting gazes with Damaris, and Taikrin is choking down her own bubbling laughter again. "No, it's-- it's--" For a second, it's all she can do to marshall herself enough to demand, "Let's just forget about the party, yeah? Play us-- you should-- play us a song. A good one." The only way she can master herself is to steadfastly stare just over Toren's right shoulder. "Your favorite, yeah?" While it's great that Taikrin is trying to contain herself, Damaris doesn't the attempt immediately - she's just laughing, though it really does sound bright and amused, rather than mean. Laughing, not laughing /at/. She does nod rapidly in agreement with the request made, and she finally puts the effort in to pulling herself together. "Yes, please - your favorite." Ah-em. She reaches for her wine, staring down at the liquid as she puts it to her lips for a sip. Mmm, wine. Another bit of chuckling. Toren nods, "All right no party and I'd be happy to play my favorite " He picks up his guitar and he starts to play. The one he plays is a fast paced one and it's a funny one about a boy chasing after a firelizard and all the misadventures that he gets into until finally he stops chasing the firelizard. It's a rather hard song to play and sing as both the lyrics and the chords are fast pace, but since it's his favorite he's had lots of practice with it. Toren's song gives Taikrin the space she needs to recover, though her eyes are still too-bright when she risks a look over at Damaris from over the top of her flask. "He really ain't all that bad," she remarks quietly. "Coupl'a turns on him, and I reckon we can teach him some of the /special/ songs, yeah? Or do they got to be journeyrank to learn those, you think?" It really is a lot easier to not break down when there is music playing and the other woman present isn't also laughing. It takes Damaris a bit longer, but she does eventually settle all of the way down to sip at her wine and listen to the music. Of course, then Taikrin's speaking again, and she's turning blue eyes that way. Yeah, her gaze is still full of amusement, as well. She nods her agreement to the observation, then tips her head from side to side in a gesture of uncertainty. "I think a few turns on him," she says. "Or perhaps simply a bit more experience." Her smile curves up at the corners just a little bit more, for that comment. She sips her wine again. "I think it is less about rank and more about understanding." Oh, such an innocent smile. Toren continues to play and sing until the end of the song. He hmms, "So what did you two think of the song? Would you like my to sing your favorite songs? I'd be happy to if I know them." "Might be you're right," Taikrin smirks right back at Damaris. "Gotta say, I don't know all that much about boys, me. Gonna have to bow to your know-how." She takes another pull from her flask, right around the time when her gaze goes all weird and dragonrider-ey distant. "Oh." Then, "Another time, kid," this to Toren. "You got talent, gonna give you that, but apparently I got a girl demanding my attention who ain't one to be ignored." Just like that, she pops out of her chair then nudges it towards the table with her hip. "Be seein' you around, yeah kid? And you?" That look she's shooting at Damaris? Totally a leer. While it's not a blush-and-look-down sort of reaction that she gives to the leer, Damaris's eyes do widen just a bit. Still, she sends up a pretty little smile, lifting her glass of wine in toast. "Have a pleasant evening," she says. "Please." A dip of her head, and her eyes go back to Toren. "I should actually probably be getting back to work myself," she says. "Sometime soon, you can play more for me, though. I thought what you have played was lovely, though - very well done." She's sliding up to her feet. "It was nice to meet you." Not that she actually offered up her name for either of them. Still, maybe she assumes it was already known. Toren nods as the two start to get up to head out and he figures he should head out as well, "All right I'll see you two around." He finishes off his wine, "All right another time it is than. It was nice to meet you too. It was nice to meet both of you. |
Comments
Riorde (Riorde) left a comment on Tue, 21 Feb 2012 16:12:26 GMT.
Ain't cheating if Ri's invited to the party! Just saying.
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