Difference between revisions of "Logs:Strong Drinks Needed"

Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr

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.

There are already plenty of people in Snowasis enjoying a drink as many of the Weyr's brown- and bronzeriders become suddenly preoccupied elsewhere. There's talk, speculation, and a fair amount of pairing off happening among the patrons by the time Hraedhyth has headed upward. It's a short time after that that G'laer, with wet hair and fresh dress is making his way toward the bar, wearing a frown, and looking in need of something strong. The fact that he's showing a frown at all is enough to give away his intent.

One drink already in her belly - and the lack of any more wine within the skin in her weyr - sees Alida down into the Snowasis, the woman careful not to touch anyone as she weaves through the crowd. She too is not long from her bath, shown by the damp ends of her loose hair, the scent of vanilla and lavender about her person. Chill green eyes refuse to meet anyone elses', for once, as she bellies up to the bar and order her personal poison.

"Alida," G'laer sees fit to greet the bluerider after the caverns worker between them at the bar moves out of way, reaching for the second shot that replaced the first almost as soon as he downed it.

Oh great. Well, at least it's someone she doesn't mind interacting with...though at this time, the bluie's a touch undecided about 'personal boundaries' in some ways. "G'laer..." the blonde murmurs back quietly as she awaits her booze, those chill greens shifting slowly until she can glimpse whatever state the greenie's in. Finding him rather too pleasant to look at in her current state, Alida's gaze returns in controlled fashion to the bustling bartender and his wares, while her alto notes a little brusquely, "Spectatin's worse than bein' in it."

"Maybe for you." But G'laer's had four flights that... well, why is it that Teisyth likes males ridden by young men? "For me, so far, it's about on par." It's his first time. "Sucks in it, sucks out of it." That explains the second shot being downed and the gesture for another. Apparently, today is a day to splurge a little. "Ilicaeth doesn't try to chase her?" It's not unheard of for a blue to chase a gold even if it is unheard of for a blue to catch a gold.

"Touche..." the woman murmurs again around a slender half-smirk, G'laer's riding a female dragon not lost on her. "Nooo shit..." Alida comments with some vehemence about having to deal with mating flights, the woman digging into a pocket and passing the bartender a couple of small coins in exchange for her own two shots and her further words, "Keep 'em comin', fer now." A decided nose wrinkle is given to word of her blue, 'lida noting aside to the greenrider, "Oh, he would like to. Even got 'imself a little revved up. But I get the feelin' that all the hormone-driven boys on bronzes here would give both uv' us threadscore if 'Caeth got directly involved." Snerk-shrug. Not to say that she just does not want to be dragged into a Flight knowing her lifemate is bound to fail. "Unpleasant enough this way..." On the outside 'feeling' in.

"I believe it," of the unpleasantness of loss. "Still, I might trade you, given the option," even though it never will be. "I trust you'll be getting out of here before the losers come to drown their pain," it might be concern for her well-being that makes G'laer ask. "Unless you're looking to help out." A slight quirk of his brow in her direction expresses curiosity and just the slightest hint of amusement. Maybe he's teasing her.

"No thanks..." Alida quips back feelingly about being in G'laer's place as the lifemate of a female, her lips tipping into a darkly amused bit of a smirk as her gaze flits over her arm to meet his for just a moment. His words of her 'helping out' earn him a faint glower, which quickly alters into another smirk when she notices that quirk of his brow. "Just gonna get really buzzed, then hole up." Head-quirk. "Yer man on duty, then?" Yes, she (and enough others) know of him and Oliwer.

"That's probably smart." Smarter than he might be so far. "Think I might do the same. He had the night shift. Ought to be home by now." G'laer answers of Oliwer. "I hear you want us by for dragonpoker and drinks." He slides his marks onto the counter and takes up his third shot before adding, "And that you're dissatisfied with friendship. Mad that you heard it through the grapevine?" It, his relationship that has grown so serious.

"Lucky you..." Alida notes with some emphatic aspersion, the woman quietly wishing she had someone close to her that she could easily jump without remorse this night. S.O.L. A vaguely wry look touches lips, around her eyes when G'laer speaks of cards and drinks, a small bob of pale head following, then anteceded by a shaggy chortle. "Not really dissatisfied; more underwhelmed." Intense greens flick over and lock with the man's blues for a long moment, showing him that - at least on the surface - she's not lying before the bluie shakes her noggin in a small negative. "Nope." She pauses only to slam back her first shot, grimace a little and pinch the bridge of her nose a moment before inquiring, "Gonna do the whole weyrmating thing?"

Those first two words have G'laer grimacing. "We'll see." Trouble in paradise already? "So, what, you want a sevenly game night?" There's a hint of sarcasm but tempered with genuine curiosity. "Crom's kept me busy." But not to busy to- "Get weyrmated? Didn't I already? We live together." Isn't that all there is to it?

His words have Alida actually peering for some long moments at G'laer, the guard in her brought out and sniffing around by the admission. At least right now, it's nothing to poke at, however, so the bluerider sidesteps the potentially-touchy topic in favor of answering the greenie's next question with a small lip twist and a fairly casual, "Not as such. Just thought we'd see each other, do shit more often. Doesn't mean it's gotta be some regular, standard activity... just..." Shrug. "Still workin' with Aughan some?" is questioned as the woman lifts up her second full shot glass, then shooting her buddy a smirked, "People c'n be weyrmates withou' living t'gether. Conversely, I've heard uv' people unable ta stand each other anymore livin' ta'gether fer various daft reasons... like propriety, kids, political necessity." And down the next shot of whiskey goes, with another bit of an eye-watering and nose pinch.

"Alright." That was easy. "What do you want to do?" Apparently this is an ask and ye shall receive sort of scenario. "Only in that I'm a watchrider at Lord Aughan's Hold." The greenrider stresses the title; he has always been one for titles. "Well, the twins-" his twins, the twelve turn old ones that arrived in the lower caverns some two months back, "-weren't thrilled. Men living with men rubs them worse than dragonmen in general, and that's saying something." Then, "As far as I'm concerned, he's my weyrmate, and I'm the ass that doesn't deserve him." That requires another shot, really.

Really? No detailed questioning? A look of faint suspicion touches the corners of Alida's eyes, and is quickly enough erased so that she can take advantage of this rarer mood of G'laer's. "Let's go huntin' down South...then a campout that night on some nice beach. Bonfire, some snacks 'n sides we bring with us... eat a little uv our catches. Drink a little, bullshit a little..." Holy crap; does she have this down pat, or what?! "Aren'cha bored with that kinda' duty?" Because she'd find it boring, apparently. As for his twins... "Well, they'll either get the fuck over it, 'r they'll stay hidebound 'n then move away ASAP." Eyeroll. Her two empty shot glasses are soon swiped away by the 'tender, and then quickly enough replaced by another poured shot of whiskey to which the blonde tips her head. When G'laer's next admission of Oliwer comes, the woman looks over at him again, observing her counterpart's manner in detail, then giving voice to a low, "Hope it turns out alright fer both uv' ya'." She sounds honest, but - frankly - not optimistic.

"Alright." Yep, it's really that easy. "Bow, spear or both?" G'laer wants to know of the hunting. A man has to pack for these things after all. "Fishing or no fishing?" Another gear-question. Then there's a shake of his head, "No." Simple. He apparently likes watchriding at Crom, or leastways doesn't find it boring. "Hopefully in a turn they'll apprentice." And be gone. The twins. "Until then, they're just two more people who hate me. They just happen to have a reason. "Yeah, well. We'll see. Sharding flights." He's turning the empty shot glass, clearly thinking about having another, but instead pushing it away. If he's done drinking, it can't be long before he's going to go hole up as planned.

"Both..." Alida comments firmly. "I wanna... need ta chase down some game in as many forms as possible." Maybe she's getting antsy with nothing to kill? "Fishing, too." Grin... and the woman pounds back her third shot, finally able to tolerate the cheap, hard whiskey without eye-watering. "Sounds do-able..." is her own comment to G'laer's kids. "Just make certain they don't wind up all fucked up in the head over this shit..." cue a splay of her hand on the air in vague manner, perhaps gesturing to the Weyr "...like I believe we were." Snert. "Still are." Eyeroll. Before the blonde can stop him, the bartender's gone and poured her another shot, then hand-signaling that such is the last her tab can hold. Commented more to the air than anyone in specific, "S'all I 'cn handle uv' that." Clearly, she might be used to imbibing better stuff, these days. In a decisive motion, the shot is pushed over to G'laer, along with a brisk and smirky, "Don't tell me I never buy ya anything, anymore..." plus a slightly more inhibited, "Gotta get outta' here before this shit goes ta work on me. Have Teisyth contact Ilicaeth tomorrow afternoon, an' we'll talk about when our schedules overlap ta' go South." And up she hauls herself from the bar, wiggling fingers at the greenrider while mouthing 'Enjoy...'