Logs:Wing, Wagered
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| RL Date: 18 November, 2014 |
| Who: Mielline, Javrielle, V'ros |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A game of darts with high stakes. Ish. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 4, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Storyteller: K'del/ST |
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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 >-----------------------------
V'ros M 21 5'8 Slim, Brown hair, Brown eyes 39s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Hallway Patio Ledge
>-------------------------------------< 20D 4M 36T I10, spring evening >---< Those with the predilection might as well get started drinking early on in the day and can carry on their carousing into the night. So, it is that various off-duty riders have congregated in the Snowasis in the premature evening hours, with a couple of the still untapped weyrlings amongst them. They may still be celebrating the graduating from the way they act, passing around beers and offering celebratory toasts; or, it could be they're already wasted. Whatever the case, V'ros is on the outskirts of the raucous group, watching two riders have a go at the dartboard. He leans to the side, lending his ear to something the man on his left says, seeming, as much as V'ros can, at ease. For some wings, tapping new riders is a private affair, something to be done away from the public eye; for others, there are public forms to adhere to, and a draconic information network to ensure that everything goes to plan (more or less). All it takes, tonight, is for one Snowdrift rider to arrive; she's followed quickly by several others, and, finally, by Mielline herself, the increasingly silver-haired wingleader striding in through the doors like the Lady her family claims kinship to. She heads for the bar, while one of the younger Snowdrift greenriders - a girl tapped in from Hraedhyth's last clutch - hops up onto the surface of a table not far from V'ros. "Telling secrets?" she wants to know, archly, as she directs her attention towards V'ros and the man on his left. Even with the Snowdrift riders, the vibe of celebration-drunkenness continues, and no one aside from those directly in the vicinity of the Snowdrift greenrider pays her any mind. That means V'ros and his friend - an Icicle brownrider - give her their full attention, the former with a bit of alarm in his brown eyes. "T'ain't no secret T'dan throws like a babe fresh out tha womb," the older brownrider supplies to the query, lifting his tankard amidst chuckles and one well-pointed glare from T'dan, dart poised in hand. "Weren't it, m'boy." The last he says, slapping V'ros on the shoulder and as a result, jolting him forward a step. Trying hide his wince and answer the greenrider at the same time - "Yeah." The greenrider, gripping the table with one hand on either side of her leather-covered thighs, laughs; low and melodious. "And the pair of you are just going to sit and watch, mm? Heckle, maybe?" V'ros might remember her name as Javrielle, her green Esavith. "I think we should have a game. Put poor T'dan out of his misery. What do you think? V'ros?" "Hand's been weak lately. Ask tha healers." Flexing the hand in question - his throwing hand - the Icicle brownrier nudges V'ros with the other. "Be a good lad and give the lady what she's askin fer," with a wink for good measure. V'ros puffs out a breath and shrugs his shoulders, managing to look Javrielle in the eye without blushing. "I'm not any good, but.. sure." She's got herself a game. T'dan doesn't look too pleased, though his competition immediately starts suggesting this count as a forfeit and that's sufficient enough distraction for the bluerider. Javi's obviously amused by the older brownrider's refusal, and at breaking up T'dan's game to boot; she hoists herself down from the table, hips swaying as she approaches the dartboard, as, with one hand, she waves V'ros forward. "You don't have to be good," she promises. "I'll make it worth your while to be exactly mediocre." Three darts are handed to V'ros; then, gesturing towards the board, "If you can get them all on black squares, doesn't matter where, I'll buy you a drink. How's that?" V'ros gives his friend - the one with the weak hand - a last, lingering look that obviously says 'what have you done to me', but then he obediently follows the greenrider towards the dartboard. His fingers slide down from the collar of his jacket, pulling the garment closer to closed, before they reach out to accept the darts, hesitantly. "I don't know if.. I can do even that," he mumbles as a warning, "I can try." He rolls the darts in his palm. "But what if I don't?" The greenrider's laugh is merry, and loud enough that it starts to attract attention from others... or was that deliberate and pre-planned? Certainly, the riders approaching to watch seem to be almost all from Snowdrift, wing-patches on their shoulders. "Then," says Javi, cheerfully, paying her wingmates no mind. "I won't buy you a drink." One of the Snowdrift blueriders pipes up, then, to reassure V'ros: "Don't worry. it's not like dart-throwing is a key life skill or anything." He's probably being serious. Probably. "Ah, 'scuse," that Icicle wingrider says, making way for the approaching Snowdrift riders; better yet, he's just going to go over there, by the bar, where there's less of them and more alcohol. Leaving V'ros to fend for himself. "Okay," he says, nodding his head in a less-than-confident acceptance; that bluerider gets a surprised look, a brief one, before V'ros is stepping forward to line up his throw. It could be said that his technique is sloppy, his posture off, but his first throw glances off the board, which just fuels the chuckles and guffaws from other non-Snowdrift riders still watching. His second hits the corner of one of the black squares, and the third hits the square to its left. Turns out he won't be getting that drink, but at least he didn't embarrass himself too bad with his aims. There's a cheerful, "So close!" for that first dart, and approving cheer for the second, and then a grown for the last. Javi herself doesn't answer; she sends her three darts to the board one after another, each hitting pretty close to the center. Clearly, she's had some practice. The greenrider fetches all six darts, offering V'ros his back as she suggests, "Well, maybe we'll just try and get all three to stick this time, eh? And... if you do..." She's interrupted by Mielline, the middle-aged wingleader stepping forward to suggest, "If you do, I'll give you this." In her hands, she holds up a wing-patch; a Snowdrift one, unsurprisingly. There's a pause, and then someone laughs: "Maybe it is a key life skill after all!" Everything was going swimmingly - someone else would have bought him a drink or shoved a shot down his throat - but the stakes have risen. V'ros goes as still as a statue, staring with wide eyes at the wing patch Mielline holds; sweat even pops out on his brow. "I.. I.." His mouth keeps working, his tongue useless, until it just closes and he swallows, shifting his gaze to Javrielle. "Okay," he says, more firmly, and takes the darts back. This will be fine. It's only his future that hinges on hitting the right spaces. Nothing to freak out about. Except, it's clear that he most definitely is, if keeping a lid on it externally. He takes the first dart, mouth thin, and holds it up to aim. When it flies, it's a miracle it doesn't go off to the side, and instead lands in one of the outermost black space. The second is about the same. But the third, he takes his time pacing it, and when it hits, tragically, on the line blurring two patches, he reaches out a hand to grasp the air like he could take the dart back. Now, well, it's up to Mielline to tell if that counted. There's a hushed pause as V'ros takes his shots; the Snowdrift riders are waiting, expectant, visibly appearing to take this process as serious as any test. Not for show, then? After that third dart, no one moves until, finally, Mielline lets out a sigh. "Do you want my wing patch, V'ros?" she wonders, in that precise, dulcet tone of hers, rich and cultured. "Do you want to try with Javi's darts, too?" The greenrider even offers them out, expression hinting at encouragement. "Or perhaps we'll hand it over to one of your clutchmates, instead..." V'ros turns to stare at Mielline, still with that wide-eyed quality. Hopefully none of the Snowdrift riders are holding their breath, because he takes a few seconds to process. He does, eventually, nod his head. "No, don't.." His breath catches, and he turns to Javrielle, holding out his hand; give them over, woman! "I'll get it this time. I can do it. I want-" Pause. "That." Being the wing patch. Javi's expression is triumphant as she relinquishes the darts, backing up out of the way. Is that a thumbs up? Yes, it's a thumbs up. Good sign, right? "Well then," says Mielline, with an expansive gesture towards the board. "Let's see what you can do, brownrider." Brownrider holds so much weight to it, but V'ros handles the darts with care, not dropping a single one. "Okay," he mutters to himself, focusing his attentions on the dartboard one last time. Can he do it? Will be fail? Will Quinlys be stuck with an intrepid, short brownrider forever? Luckily for her, he gets all three by the skin of his teeth, and his shoulders sag in relief. This time, the assembled Snowdrift riders are more or less united in their roar of approval. Mielline tosses the wing patch in V'ros' direction; Javi claps him immediately on the shoulder, whether or not he catches it; someone else approaches with a drink to shove at him. "Drills in the morning," warns the blueriding wingleader. "Don't be late, rider. But for now..." For now, they celebrate. |
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