Difference between revisions of "Logs:Busted"

Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr

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.

With the spring flurry of snow outside, many are reminded of snows of winter still so much in recent memory and it makes indoors a popular place to be. Still, it's after dinner and the living cavern has fairly few occupants helping themselves to the remainder of the evening meal, or simply occupying a table. K'zin's plate is empty where he sits at one of the smaller tables, though there's still water in his cup. There's a small metal tray on the table in front of him that holds a myriad of tiny beads, some metal, some glass. It's from the tray that he draws one bead at a time with tiny narrow-tipped pliers and feeds it onto a wire attached to the wide end of a slender piece of polished pewter about six inches or so long. It's delicate work, and work his big hands are not well suited for judging from the curses every time he drops a bead, despite the magnifying spectacles that help him see what he's doing.

Those scant few hours here and there where the dragons are sleeping and the new riders are free to roam at their leisure are precious beyond compare. This would account, no doubt, for G'var's temperament, a broad grin as he murmurs a few words in passing to some kitchen girl, on his way to the serving table. Food is grabbed with casual unconcern, and then he goes to sit - lucky K'zin, that's the table that G'var chooses, going to drop into a chair with a grunt of contentment. Hopefully this action does not jar the other man's delicate craft too dearly. Gev doesn't much notice it until he's got a mouthful of food and his gaze settles on K'zin and beads alike. He at least has the courtesy not to talk with his mouth full, instead gesturing with vague interest towards the project, as though asking for an explanation.

Ohno! Bead down! Bead down! But this is hardly the first time, so G'var doesn't get so much as an annoyed glance, instead there's a ready raise and fall of brows that pair with a lift of K'zin's chin to acknowledge the weyrling in a fairly friendly way, but he doesn't speak until he's hunted the bead down with his pliers to where it's run near his water mug. Then he flips the magnifying part of the glasses up so he can see G'var properly, "Oh," it's you. "Hi." He looks back to the project, "Oh, an 'I'm sorry' gift for my girlfriend. I, er, don't usually do this kind of detail stuff." No, with K'zin's muscles, he probably does/did the kinds of things G'var does/did and there's probably the matter of Smithing street rep on the line for being caught handling the more delicate stuff like hair sticks and beaded jewelry. "Settling into the barracks alright?" He's quick to try and change the subject.

Far from treating this kind of work with disdain, G'var swings his long legs around and hunches over the table, chewing contemplatively as he observes his fellow smith's progress. Once he swallows, he gestures towards the beads with a flick of his finger. "Easier to bring the wire to them. Don't bother with the plier, just stab the fuckers." Aw, and he's helpful too. Possibly they will become best friends. HE speaks with the quality of one who knows, despite the muscles and general air of thuggishness that he tends to convey. As to how he's getting along in the barracks... "Guess so. Have some fine company, albeit the restrictions put a damper on things," he says, dryly. "It's different." To put it mildly.

"Oh." K'zin's eyes go from wire to beads and then, "Oh." Because that really makes sense. He places the pliers down and starts at it G'var's way. It's three beads later that he says, "That makes it so much easier." He pulls off the magnifying lenses and then skewers another bead before, "I didn't ever take more than just the basics with beads and stuff. Did you?" Maybe that's where he learned the fancy trick. "I don't envy you. I was a virgin going in, so I had no idea what I was missing." Sympathy! "But it's only about... six months or so? I think? Before you get a weyr of your own and then you can fuck whoever you like again." Reciprocated helpfulness! "Any favorites?" Guy talk! They really might become besties. Perhaps only so long as K'zin never uses the word 'bestie.'

G'var nods with a certain level of satisfaction, seeing the man's work ease at the beads pile up so much more cooperatively. Makes a manly heart swell. "Did some. Beads, wirewrapping. My father believed in a well rounded education..." He shrugs those broad shoulders, slouching back in his chair again now that his work here is done. "Besides, the ladies like it." As K'zin will hopefully find out in the very near future. "What did you do, then, to warrant the guilt-smithing?" A long-suffering sigh is his only other comment on the subject of abstinence. Six months? May as well be forever, and you can bet that the perfectly innocent cup of water that he's neglecting isn't helping much. When a man can't have sex, can't he at least get a beer? Yet the question that K'zin asks is a pleasant enough topic to earn a slow grin. "Well... there are a couple lovelies. That Jadzia, though..." He shakes his head. "She was good to be candidacy with." There's a certain pleased inflection in that, a self-satisfiedness. Clearly he is one to kiss and tell.

"Was your father a Smith?" The younger bronzerider inquires as he stabs more beads before picking up the pliers to bend the wire artistically. This might not be his first time making such an item. As to what he did, "Oh, nothing. Yet. It's just good to be prepared." K'zin can be pretty dumb and he knows it; this may be one such instance. "I have time now, and she likes hair sticks, so..." Might as well make one to hold in reserve. It's a great plan, unless the girl you're making it for happens to, you know, walk into the living cavern and see you with a tray of beads clearly making a hair stick just for her. What are the odds. "Was she? Good?" K'zin clearly doesn't mind being told. "If I wasn't-- you know," someone's boyfriend, "I'd tap that."

"The original," G'var says, with oddly little inflection - no real read on how he feels about the man. "My older brothers too, though they didn't get so far." For reasons. The notion of the preemptive apology gift gets the big smith nodding slowly, scratching his fingers along his stubbly cheek as he considers it. "Not a bad idea. Have a few on hand, for those occasions." Ones that he is apparently well acquainted with. Here he is, learning things in return. As for the boy talk... he grins. Just grins. "Yes." That apparently is all the word he feels necessary to answer the question. "That is the certain advantage of not being someone's boyfriend."

And that's when the younger of the tall, muscular, dark-haired, dark-eyed, completely-un-pale ex-Smith bronzeriders really should get a rap on the head, thanks to the whiskey-blonde woman who's turned up behind him; one brow is arched in a manner that her weyrling may well have already witnessed, and her hand is raised-- only to, just in time, lift a forefinger to her lips instead. Just how subtle is G'var? And loyal? What a pity she hadn't chosen a strong perfume by way of warning.

"Tell me about it." It comes with a little groan. That's for the advantages, but he moves back to the first topic. "My family were all miners. Until me. I think it'd've been a very different life if they'd been Smiths." But maybe not. K'zin shrugs his shoulders. "That's one thing about having a girlfriend-- having to apologize when you fuck up. I mean, not that you don't have to if you want to get in a girl's pants the second time and pissed her off somehow, but in a relationship you really have to. Otherwise, there's no sex," which is a mournful state that given the weyrling restrictions, G'var should be able to relate to. If only he knew. But he doesn't, so he goes on, "She looks great naked." Jadzia, that is.

"Well, I suppose you're a better man than I," G'var says, voice gruff and all too amused by poor K'zin's relationship woes. "I'm not big on apologies." He looks the part as well, lounging in his chair with legs outstretched, cheek stubbled, eyes dark, and that smile... that smile which quirks just a little, flashing the dimple in his cheek, when he sees the blonde coming up behind his New Friend. The woman gets a long, lingering look - that is solely for her own sake, but he soon continues his conversation. He's not big on apologies, nor is he big on loyalty, and he presses forth with nothing more than that dimple to demonstrate anything has changed. "She does. She feels even better," he adds helpfully. "And enthusiastic at that. I'm pretty damn pleased, at least I got that in before..." He taps the weyrling knot on his shoulder. Inconvenient thing, there.

'No sex' gets a likewise-mournful expression from Telavi, exaggeratedly so, never mind her hint of a dimple that deepens when G'var continues past that long look and onward. Just a few more words more, surely, and Tela can tap K'zin on the shoulder with a bright, "Hello!"

(Un)Fortunately, K'zin is too engrossed with bead impaling to notice the lingering look. "Damn." The younger bronzerider sighs. "Maybe I should've tapped that when I had the chance. Now she's all--" He gestures to G'var's knot now too. Inconvenient thing. "I wonder if a nice hair stick might've gotten me out of that." Then dusky skin goes as pale as it can get. He could look, but he doesn't need to. He stares at G'var a moment and then his forehead just finds the table, the stick still held in one hand so as not to lose all the hard bead-threading work he's just done. And then he stays that way. It's probably better down there.

There's a distinct possibility that the not altogether wholesome twinkle in G'var's eye is due to his fellow smithrider going along and saying that, with the blond lurking right behind his shoulder. It's possible. Probable, maybe. "You may need to bead faster," he comments with amusement adding a rumble to his deep voice, in response to K'zin's stare. Gev is unabashed. When the man's head goes down, Gev turns that smile, that dimple, up at Telavi and gestures to the table. "I take it you're the someone whose recent boyfriend this poor sod is."

"Why yes, it does seem that way," says Telavi all too lightly, as she winds her hand into K'zin's hair altogether too tightly. "I realize," said all faux-patronizingly, complete to the sudden high-upper-class Tillekian accent, "it wasn't on my list of credentials for assisting Weyrlingmaster Quinlys, much less an assignment, so I shan't expect you to know the ins and outs of my love life. This time."

"I'm not sure the beading is going to help." K'zin admits to the tabletop. Apparently, he's not the type to get mad at G'var for not warning him. It's not like they're besties yet. "Hi Tela." He greets her, though he still hasn't moved his head. It sounds like he might be gritting his teeth, though.

G'var accepts Telavi's magnanimous attitude with an incline of his head, hands spread wide in front of him. "In the future, I'll try to be much more thoroughly informed about... the ins and outs," he pledges solemnly, though there's little he can do to hide the quirk of amusement at the corner of his mouth. "You're a lucky man, K'zin," he adds to the top of the rider's head. "If not for the damn weyrling knot, I might try to oust you." No, maybe not quite besties yet. Or are they? Is this how besties talk? It doesn't matter. Gev has some small amount of food left on his plate, and he takes to chewing again, sitting back to watch the loving couple with little to no concept of personal boundaries.

"Neither am I," contributes the greenrider to the top of K'zin's head, loosening her hold in favor of ruffling his hair instead. If it winds up being a bit like petting, so be it; however, while it's both dimples that show by now, she doesn't speak to G'var's ins or outs or ousts or otherwise. Rather, "It's so nice to see you two getting acquainted. Or is that reacquainted, have you known each other long?"

Now K'zin raises his head, straightening up. "I am the luckiest man on Pern, G'var. My girlfriend is not only beautiful, but amazing in bed, and have I mentioned generous and forgiving? Especially forgiving." That's the most important point here. Now he shifts on the bench to make room for Telavi if she's staying. "I'm sure she'll be glad to hint at what I can do next to start making all this up to her." Because to end up with no sex, like G'var. It would be awful! Did G'var say he'd oust K'zin? Well, bronzerider confidence has to be good for something, even if perhaps his is a little less overt than his older counterpart's. "Smiths," he supplies to Telavi, as if this might explain everything she wants to know before looking back to G'var, now a little uncertain. Did he not explain enough?

G'var is paying rapt attention, have no doubt, making particular note of the good in bed factor, which earns a pointedly intrigued look towards Telavi. Clearly he differs on what is the most important point, here. However much he may wish to stay, however, and thoroughly enjoy this back and forth, and glean potential further details of a certain blonde's prowess... it is that moment, inevitable for weyrlings, when his eyes briefly unfocus and he shakes his head. Summoned. With a grunt he pushes his chair back from the table and scoops up his mostly finished plate of food. "Smiths," he agrees. It's really all the explanation necessary. "Pleasure, K'zin. We'll have to swap stories sometime." A blonde for a blonde, perhaps. Telavi gets a nod - maybe a touch of a smirk - and he's off, responding automatically to Cezveth's mental call.

"Ah yes, forgiving. I nearly forgot," claims Telavi with a snap of her fingers, and deigns to set her knee upon that seat... if only so she can lean over and toy with whatever beads might have been left loose. "These are pretty." She lets them trail free soon enough, though, when she straightens. "Let's keep the hints away from this dinner table. Breakfast table? Whatever. J'vain's got night duty-- good night, G'var!-- and I plan to make the most of it." With that, she gives K'zin's collar a tug and heads for the same exit the weyrling had used, if at a considerably more leisurely pace. She doesn't look back, but there's a partial turn of her head that might allude to permission: coming?

Saying, "Yeah," to G'var sounds reflexive and distracted, but that doesn't mean they won't be swapping stories sometime. "Night," is offered in farewell but he's looking at Telavi; he knows where his focus needs to be right now. K'zin stands after Telavi tugs, as she starts to go and he looks uncertainly past her, half-finished hairstick still in one hand, bead wire pinched off between thumb and forefinger. It's not until she turns her head that he dares a hopeful smile. Of course, he's following some moments later because he can't just abandon his project, even if it's not going to serve the purpose it was envisioned for. The rainy day the hairstick was to be waiting for is here.