Difference between revisions of "Logs:Hraedhyth's Senior Flight: Caverns Version"

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.

Oh, it is so lunch time. The freckled not-quite-as-new-to-the-Weyr resident's eyes are huge as he stares toward the tables where the afternoon meal's already been laid out, stares with such an intensity that some might even be led to believe he could actually see through the backs and heads and shoulders of those people who've come early and got in line before him. He fidgets. He waits. He shuffles forward - and then he gets to take a few actual steps, when some riders make a sudden break from the line. Who cares where they're going? He's that much closer to bread, man.

Stew for lunch, stew for dinner, so much to look forward to at lunchtime on rations! Tayte happens to be standing in the line just before the freckled young man, and her hips shift as she changes weight from one foot to the other. "Will this line ever move?" But then the riders are breaking and a brow is lifting curiously after them. She glances around then, and to Aukiri she questions, "Obviously a flight. Is it the flight though? Are you feeling anything unusual?" Like, gold flight lust bleedover?

"Oh." Kiri turns a fleeting look after the riders - once he's stopped up nice and close behind Tayte, so no one will cut in front of him, obviously. "Yeah, that makes sense, huh?" That it would be a flight. Total sense. He sticks his hands in his pockets, shrugs to her, and then goes back to staring through the (slightly fewer) people in front of him. "Kind of light headed. But I haven't really eaten anything since yesterday, so that makes sense too."

Telavi has bread. Not only that, she's dolloping her single spoonful of jam on top with the single-minded perseverance of someone truly dedicated, which could give anyone cause to frown the way she's doing right now: not with lines across or down her forehead, but with a tightened tuck to the corners of her mouth that absolutely refuse to become wrinkles. The greenrider who'd been behind her huffs, glances back at Tayte behind him, and heads for one of those seats the other riders abandoned.

The freckles across Tayte's nose fold as she wrinkles it, regarding Aukiri with concern. "You haven't eaten since yesterday?" The tone implies the rest - a motherly 'what's wrong with you?' And with that she's making move to swap spots in the line with him, just as the line contracts, so as she moves, well there's Telavi. "Tela! Hello, chum." She greets with a grin, "Do you know this boy hasn't eaten since yesterday? Don't you think we should get him a little closer to the food a little faster?" She suggests in her warm alto.

"Oh," comes a second time, but far be it from the starving boy over here to refuse a closer place to the food. Aukiri steps forward into Tayte's spot, and even goes so far as to tip her an imaginary hat. Telavi just gets a guilty look once she's implicated. "Well she's in the middle of something," is spoken back over his shoulder. With a gesture to all of the greenrider's person, rather than just the jam and stuff.

Blue-green eyes turn to Tayte. There's a beat before the other woman really registers, but in the next moment Tela's smiling, "Tayte." No nickname giveaways today. "Why," but Tayte's distracting her out of her jam-and-whatever, and into really looking at Aukiri for the first time. "He looks as though he's done something wrong," she points out to the vintner, paused with the spoon resting right there on the jar's lip and waiting for renewed attention. "Maybe it was for a reason." Aukiri gets another long look that finally leads to her abandoning the spoon in the jam to wait for just anyone to pick it up, even the teenager. The greenrider herself steps out of line to keep pace with the vintner instead. "I'll find seats. Does he need a seat too?" What else might Tayte be providing?

Hana slips out from the kitchens, a thoughtful (and rather oblivious) look on her face as she looks over a slate, making a couple of marks with some chalk, before looking up. Oh. Lunchtime! The thought seems to wake her up a bit - and previously slow steps pick up the pace slightly, as she heads towards the lunch line.

"I'm not sure," Tayte looks from the greenrider to the lad. "Are you on punishment, or something?" Now that Telavi's thought to ask, she inquires of the dark haired man. "Do you need a seat?" She nods to where the greenrider looks to be finding some. "It does seem there are some choices. And a fair few abandoned plates." This is also noted, though with more amusement, her lips curling into a touch of a smile.

"No, I just slept i-in," and Kiri grabs that spoon with the speed of a reflexive, rather than planned, action, saving the handle from sliding a bit into the jam for the nth time. Still, there's an air of heroic accomplishment about him when his eyes dance from Tayte over to the greenrider. "Yeah - please!" Pulling back a spoonful of jam, and groping for a bun (a bread one, so far) he shrugs to the woman behind him. "Company's better than not, right?" It's a glance back along the growing line that has him hurrying to build the rest of his plate up.

"Mmm." Tela, not in the least disbelieving, or so says her quick smile-- that's only widened at the spoon-rescue. But it's to Tayte that she adds, seriously, "They're off." So's she, if only to find the seats in question; she doesn't bother with a particular wing's table, much less her own, and though it isn't easy to find more than two seats together, she makes do by convincing people to shuffle. They only need three at the moment, but it happens that she clears out four, if in a diamond rather than square formation. She picks one of the two across from each other, if only to better save it all.

Hana starts to load a plate. Rather lightly, as things go, as a phrase catches her ear. "They are off?" she semi-repeats, rather curious, to those not yet joining Tela at the table quite yet, even as she passes most of the sandwich makings, and going for some fruits and veggies.

"Oh!" Tayte finally thinks to ask the person who probably knows. "Tela," she calls to the greenrider, "Is this the flight?" Surely the woman will know what she means by that. Maybe if she were paying more attention, her flirtatious laughter that touches just a bit beyond what might be strictly necessary to express her amusement at the young man's words might answer the question for her. "Company is always better than going solo." She agrees with a smile that borders on prim in the most ironic way she can manage. Her hands briefly smooth over her outfit. Her glance now takes in Hana and there's a smile to be had, of course, though she doesn't make a formal greeting.

Aukiri tosses the quick information of, "Bunch of riders left," almost gleefully over his shoulder. It could be an answer to Hana, as much as it could be him hanging on to just how many seats there are. And then, there were seats together, and Kiri positively beams. He scoops his plate sideways almost suavely, half-pirouetting to fling a quick wave back at Tayte (with the hand not with the plate, obviously), and then proceeding to Telavi's table, where he chooses the chair next to her, with little thought to saving seats.

"Finish your bets," Tela's quick to call back over her shoulder Tayte's way, right before seating herself with a variety of primness all her own; she has to arrange her own skirt just so beneath her, after all, the little floaty thing that's likely her sole nod to the weather's approaching spring. Tidied that way, it means Aukiri won't sit on it when he joins her, joins them. While she keeps half an eye on the remaining seats lest they be stolen, she does glance at Aukiri's plate and then up to the young man. "What is your name?" What is his quest? "I'm Tela."

Hana repeats the Kiri's phrase to herself, then ohs. Then ohs! She looks down at her plate a moment, then leaves it on the table for others to nip off of. "Oh dear. I should... well, I should go do something!" What, she'll figure out later. It is now time to hide. She's heard things, after all. The sort of things that Holders always hear - and without another word (she'll be horribly embarressed later!), she's off back into the kitchens. And one can presume, beyond there.

Tela's call does answer the question for Tayte. She's not long behind Aukiri, with a plate of collected items, even bartering with her smile and a gesture toward the greenrider for a few extra things, in case her "chum" is hungry. "I'd stay out of Azaylia's weyr if I were you!" She calls after Hana. They might not formally know each other, but apparently the bartender knows who the Holdbred woman is. She's then joining the other two at the table, sliding her plate in front of Telavi, "Take what you like. They gave me extra since I was sharing with you." Smiles do wonders when there's that special something in the air to start with. "And you can have some too, starving boy," Since she doesn't know his name. "If you didn't get enough. I can always get something later." She has her ways. Instead of sitting, she lingers, standing behind Telavi. "Tela, I've been meaning to ask," And maybe she already has and doesn't remember, "You always have such lovely braids," A hand moves to touch one and trace it, "Do you do them all yourself?" Perhaps she doesn't realize that petting a greenrider might not be polite lunch etiquette.

"Kiri." He seeks the jam (with a finger, which he licks), and swallows. At least that young man's good enough to rub his licked hand on his tunic, removing excess spittle, before holding it out for Tela's, palm up. A request for favour more than a proper handshake, really, although, "That's good jam," isn't the most chivalrous of greetings he might have offered. The plate's sudden arrival earns it a quick look, assessment of what's on it that he's lacking. Likewise, Tayte's.

"You warned her," and that might just be a moue Telavi has for Tayte, right there. "Wouldn't it have been fun?" But the greenrider has Aukiri to attend to, and his hand, which she assesses before placing her fingertips delicately in the center of his palm rather than touching those licked fingertips of his. She lets them rest there a moment. "Kiri, well met. They would be even better without the seeds," but the light lift of her shoulders say, what can you do? There's another quick smile before, barring anything untoward happening, she reaches from his palm to Tayte's delightful, delightful plate, if its edge rather than its contents. Tipping her head back to better see the vintner, which has the side effect of spilling her hair further back over her shoulders, "Why thank you, Tayte. Not always, but mostly, and this is Kir...i. Is it short for anything, Kiri? Your name, I mean?"

"Of course I warned her. Poor thing might've walked straight into a bunch of flight-lusted bronzeriding boneheads. Do you want to feel responsible when she's absconded with against her will?" A brow lifts as she gazes down at Telavi. That doesn't stop her from continuing to play with the greenrider's hair, stroking fingers through it almost idly. "Pleasure to meet you, Kiri. I'm Tayte." As though Telavi hadn't just said. The smile directed to Kiri is warm, bright, a bit more than just pleasant.

Whatever plans he may have had for those fingertips, or that hand, the young man quite seems to forget. All that looking going on is interrupted by a wrinkling of his nose and twisting up of his eyebrows and mouth. That question after his name, clearly, is one of the weirdest things anyone's ever asked him. Ever. "Aukiri," comes with the same sort of bewilderment. "Nobody calls me that but my- but nobody calls me that," comes quick correction. His fingers twitch, as if just realising they're all on their own once more. He clenches a fist, relaxes, and reaches for the bread on his plate, most definitely watching Tayte's hands in Telavi's hair. "Pleasure," is returned. And he eats that bread, oh yes.

"I wasn't planning on it," semi-upside-down Telavi confesses to Tayte, and only goes so far as to turn her head to Aukiri, not actually sit up at all. "'Mother'? Let me guess. If I'm right, I promise not to call you that for at least the next couple of hou...ours." Now she's not looking at Aukiri any longer, though she continues to address him. "Did you have any idea that our vintner has really wonderful ha--" Never mind that they just met. "What?" All of a sudden, starting to sit up if Tayte allows her. "Already?"

She's finally come down out of her weyr for food, Alida unable to further ignore her hummingbird constitution's need for refueling. The bluerider looks furtive, wary, and yet very oddly sensual as she pads to the nighthearth area, then soon comes out bearing a big bowl of stew and a large chunk of bread, plus klah. Not saying a word to anyone, nor looking at them, the blonde - her hair strangely down, for once - takes a seat by herself, and starts eating.

Lunchtime finds bodies enough in the living cavern. Three of them are Tayte, Telavi, and Aukiri. The latter two are seated at a table side by side, while Tayte stands behind Telavi, running fingers idly through the woman's dirty blonde locks as if it were the most normal thing in the world as she speaks to the young man and the greenrider. "Well, then you're not as nice as me." She points out to the greenrider, teasing lilt to her alto. To Aukiri, "So Kiri, what do you-" She starts to ask, but then Tela's sitting up and her hand carefully starts to disentangle itself, eyes on the rider. "Already? You mean the already already?"

Aukiri confirms that guess of Telavi's insofar as he goes a bit red. Wrong time to mention your mother. He's not so quick to follow the 'already' train of thought as the other two, most of his attention on Tayte's hands, and the remainder largely given over to finally eating. But he slows enough to clear his mouth, to sit up a bit straighter, to look to the sudden influx of people back into the caverns, and maybe even to recognise a head or two that had been in line in front of him before all this business started. One hand is freed up, and he watches those two women in his company. And digests.

The influx of frustrated riders now that the flight is over was inevitable. H'vier happens to be one of those frustrated riders. Not only frustrated but looking a little furious. His precursory glance over the cavern is a little predatory, very hungry. And once it focuses on a lonely bluerider, his feet start moving in that direction.

I'zech stalks in, brow a bit more furrowed than usual, though the complete disinterest in the world around him is nothing new. There's a little hitch in his step as he adjusts his posture and his hand falls away from the light cradling of ribs. It's another beat before he realizes that there are a good number of curious eyes on him, being that the general populous has some blanket interest in what just transpired in the Weyrwoman's weyr. He scans the faces with a bit of a sneer, eyes picking indifferently over those familiar and not, at least until he spies Tayte and Telavi. His gaze narrows and he continues toward the serving table, where surely someone has had the foresight to soften the afternoon's urges with something alcoholic.

"I never claimed to be that nice," Telavi points out, easing up slowly, one hand to the back of her neck rather than to Tayte's in her half-loosened hair. The moment's secretive smile Aukiri's blush had brought her shifts to a sharper press of her lips, and she's agreeing. "Already. That didn't take long." Does she eye those incoming bronzeriders as though it's somehow their fault? Yes.

That 'lonely' bluerider's face is mostly obscured behind the pale shawl that is her hair, Alida wanting only food, and to be left alone. Maybe. Her eating is mechanical, fast, but not sloppy, simply a stoking of the fires of her life, which are burning pretty damned high, right now. Thanks Hrae, Tsanth, all you other horny bastards! For once, the woman's not keeping an eye out around her, her greens aimed at her bowl of food, while her free hand rubs over and over at one thigh...almost as if she has a perpetual itch. And then her keen ears take in the faint, though recognized sound of Telavi's voice, and she can't help but lift her greens up and out towards where the greenrider sits with Aukiri and Tayte...and watch her for a protracted moment. As her turn of head is away from him, she still doesn't note H'vier's approach.

The fact that she's alone, and probably the fact that she's female, is a really big draw for the bronzerider. H'vier walks past Alida to sit down sideways at her other side, a hand lifting to wrap fingers around her upper arm. "Hey," is something he probably should have said before touching her. "Need you to give me a hand with something. C'mon." There's a slight tug and H'vier is already starting to rise again, like he expects her to just come right along with him.

"Who?" Tayte wants to know, her eyes lifting to follow toward the influx of bronzeriders even as her hand moves back into Tela's locks to continue their long downward strokes, since the greenrider seems to be done shifting now. Her hips sway slightly as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her roaming gaze slides over I'zech, pausing briefly, looking as though she might be trying to place the face, and beyond to where H'vier is. She sucks in a small breath as she takes in his stride and following his gaze to the palest blonde (all three in one room!). "Trouble," She murmurs, looking then to Aukiri, trying to maintain a casual look and smile, "I don't think I've seen you about, Kiri. Have you been at the Weyr long?"

Wait-whut? There's a hand on her arm? Must be N'ky or K'zin, since only they have the okay to touch her in such a fashion without her okay, first. Just as Alida looks up, there's a foreign voice attached to that hand, and instantly the bluerider's tentative smile shifts to a startled glower. Still, she's trying to maintain some kind of decorum, apparently, for the palest blonde in the room notes very low, very tight, "Take it off me. NOW." With his tug comes a very hardheaded keeping of her seat, and another somewhat growly, "Piss off." Warning number two. The bristles are deployed.

Cheap wine, maybe? Something? Whatever I'zech finds, he pours himself a cup, drinks it, refills, drinks it and leaves the cup behind when he turns to leave. Except leaving is taking a more circuitous route, eyes on Tayte and Telavi, not really paying much attention Aukiri because he doesn't have boobs. Though H'vier doesn't have boobs either and he does get a dull glare when the big man goes claiming on Alida the way he does. Nevermind that, though. He comes up to the table in time to hear the 'who' question, or maybe he doesn't really need to hear it to know that it's on everyone's mind. "Z'ian," he supplies for the lot of them. And then he stares darkly at Telavi. Maybe it's all her fault.

Trouble indeed, and it's not even really just those two, is it? This whole change in vibe is far more abrupt than the one that's had been seeping over the caverns before all that 'already' took place. Maybe it's that which has him sitting forward, interest in food forgotten now that the initial hunger is sated. "Not so long," he answers Tayte. I'zech's arrival is just one more reason to move, and he's standing. Even if he is boobless. "Running out of seats," is offered to those two women, with what is meant as a charming smile. The look, from them, to the exit, back to them, is followed by a duck of his head. Like farewell? Or was that the worst invite ever?

Normally, H'vier might heed those words. Maybe. But right now, they just make him growl and his hand tightens around her arm. He leans down to speak a little more privately to her. "Don't act like you don't want it, bitch. Just shut up and come on. It won't take long." That's not normally a point he'd use to pique a woman's interest. But it's not interest he wants from her right now.

"My wingleader," Telavi murmurs right after I'zech without looking away, emphasis on each word in turn as though she's biting them off. This time she reaches back for Tayte's fingertips, if only to catch at them as she moves to stand, trouble or no trouble, an absent, "You can have mine," for Aukiri without really looking back as though that's just what he's wanting. "There's always trouble." And that's without looking at Alida and H'vier, either, yet.

She might have even managed to withhold her foul temper from the bronzer at his next words...but there's a slip in Ilicaeth's helpful presence when he bellow-bugles a powerful answer back to Hraedhyth and the entire Weyr. As H'vier's 'don't want it' and 'bitch' exit his mouth, Alida's scraping up from her bench in stiff fashion - her food left behind, now forgotten - and launching a precise punch to his nose that intends not to try and bruise him, but break that nose and blacken both his eyes. Her force is beyond what someone of her form should likely carry, as is her execution of said punch, and the way she instantly dances out of his reach right afterward...ready to give and get more...a lust for something in the bluerider's eyes.

The smile offered I'zech is grateful and warm, a nod acknowledging both the name and the man who brings the word of it. She shifts, head turning to blink up at Aukiri as he rises. "Oh? I suppose." But then her hand is caught and Telavi is rising too. "Are you going, too?" Her expression is a touch disappointed. No more hair to play with. Except her own. But Telavi still has her fingertips caught, she notices now and she raises a simple questioning brow to the greenrider. Shall she go on or stay with fingers interlaced with Telavi's through her locks. "Condolences," She offers to I'zech in the meantime. Her eyes briefly flicker toward what she's first identified as trouble: H'vier and Alida.

The brewings of a rather expected interaction happening somewhere behind him now, I'zech doesn't respond to H'vier and Alida any more than he notes Aukiri taking his leave. Instead, he just stares at Telavi, watching as she gets to her feet. His jaw clenches and releases. As he takes a step back, his gaze lifts belatedly to Tayte, giving her a quick jerk of his chin in some sort of silent recognition, and then he turns to start toward the bowl. At that point, he does glance over at developing trouble, but that is going to have to be someone else's problem tonight.

Aukiri gives a look to the tangled fingers, a look to I'zech. "Yeah, sorry," is more or less agreed along with Tayte. There are others in the caverns to rush to deal with the altercation going on over on that side, if need be. His primary concern, now, is getting out. And he does that, with only a quick stop once he's clear of most of the crowd to satisfy his curiosity as to what the two women he'd lunched with are up to.

Getting punched in the face by women isn't actually something that happens to H'vier as often as it probably should. The pain of the blow, a crack of bone that probably sounded a lot louder to him than to anyone else, is enough to give the bronzerider pause. Maybe it's just an attempt not to pass out, but once the moment has passed, H'vier lunges toward the bluerider, nose bleeding. He doesn't seem to have a notion to hit her, really, more just to catch her. Such are the failings of a man who looks down on the fairer sex.

Fairer, hell. Alida is about as fair of temperament as a wildcat, and almost as toothy. H'vier's lunge is met by a swift little move to his side upon readied toes, the bluie letting his momentum and his committment to that lunge aid her. As she sidesteps and he goes forward, her hands attempt to grab at his clothing upon strong torso and at his belt, and help him along with a sudden heave-ho that might take him off his feet, if her precise Aikido-like grab connects. What she does next depends on what the lusty bronzer does, though the guard never lets her attention waver from him for a second.

"Run-ning," Telavi murmurs after I'zech with his single step back, eyes dark in a way that's momentarily more predatory than girlish, greenriding prey; momentarily, for it quiets itself when Tayte needs an answer, her answer far less taunting and far more regretful, her fingers loosing the vintner's. "I am. Good night?" She chances a step towards the bowl, that short skirt swishing at the movement, and she's not looking towards the fight, either. Hear no evil, see no evil.

Tayte's ocean gaze follows I'zech's abrupt departure, before it's back just in time to see H'vier get nailed. Her nose wrinkles on behalf of his broken? one. She looks at the pair a moment longer but Alida seems to be holding her own, at any rate, so she looks to Telavi, and the answer she gives. "Tela," Her tone asks the woman to delay her departure a moment. Her glance follows I'zech, perhaps hoping she's not keeping Telavi from something, "Would you do me a quick favor before you go? It requires a dragon, and I'm fresh out."

H'vier goes down. Hard. It knocks the air out of him but it doesn't keep him from reaching for the bluerider's forearm where she's grabbed him to try keeping her from darting away again. The hand he aims toward her face, though, is open rather than closed in a fist. He's been shown pretty well that underestimating her has been a bad idea. But he's still not willing to hit back as hard as he would if she had less breasts.

Tela's paused by that f-word, new resolution or no, long enough to look at Tayte, very carefully at Tayte and not whatever's thudding over there. "What? Do you need a ri-- " and then she's blushing. "Quick would be good," she says instead, with another backward step.

"It's just--" There's a slight blush to Tayte's cheeks, "I'm worried." And Other Feelings. "Would you mind asking Solith to find out from Cadejoth if he found some comfort? I-- Well, I'd find out myself, but I don't have any idea where he is so I could-- offer." Her look is genuinely concerned for the bronzerider; she obviously has no idea this might be an awkward request.

She knows she's up against another rider, and so Alida doesn't make the mistake other youths might of thinking him as just another brawler. Riders are trained, and only tend to acquire more self-defense techniques as they age. Enough of them, anyway, if they care to. The man's grab at her forearm finds it for just a moment, the blonde then yanking her limb away, though all this motion does require her to move, as well, and with him, not away, as she'd wished. That open hand moving towards her allows the hazy-eyed woman - in all fairness - to react again in kind, the bluie this time darting a fast arm in to slap the bronzer's would-be slap aside, if all goes well...and then rear back to try and launch a pair of swift, precise kicks to his junk. They're not toe kicks, but delivered with the top arch of her foot, meant to deliver enough hurt to stop him in his tracks, but not ruin him for life.

The lust, admittedly, has worn off somewhat at this point. And any that was lingering around to see what might happen will surely be squashed in short order. H'vier's nose is still bleeding, he's in pain and kind of in a weird lust/rar mood anyway. And those are probably all the excuses he'll tell himself are why he got his ass (junk?) handed to him by a little girl in the morning. Once that foot is ruining his day, there's really not much more he's going to be doing but trying to curl himself around his crotch and swear at the evil devil woman in a slightly higher pitch than usual.

If Telavi flinches, it's with a sudden flicker of her gaze towards the violence that she's refusing to look at. Certainly her gaze doesn't shy from returning to Tayte, even if it does carry startlement with it, but then she's nodding, simply nodding. Moments later, she can verify with relief, "They're fine. Fine. Distant from here, I think... and you'll forgive me if I don't ask where or with whom, all right? It seems personal? And I really want to get... out of here," which nearly becomes a question, too, ending instead in a slight pause just before she flicks Tayte a quick, smiling wave and makes to vanish.

Barely even breathing faster, dancing away from H'vier this time just in case he's one of those few guys who can come back from two sound kicks to the junk, Alida...waits. Poised on the edge of another eruption of controlled violence...her greens narrowed and still hazy with lust. Battle lust. Uncaring of all his various howled insults, the blonde finally stands up from her fighter's crouch, and notes coldly to the bronzerider, "I was taught ta' deliver three kicks. You c'n thank me later." And, since there are a half ring of fellow Weyrfolk starting to close with the two former combatants, the bluie starts walking swiftly towards the exit into the Bowl, noting swiftly over her shoulder to the downed man, "If you ever touch me again without my permission, I'll have yer balls in a specimen jar." Growl. and she's out of here, before anyone can try to stop her. Tayte and Tela don't even get a grunt as Alida blows by, the bluie wanting...needing to get the hell out of here, before... Who knows, with her?

"Yes, of course." Tayte concedes with a smile. Her eyes are pulled at that moment to the curling swearing bronzerider. There's only one thing that makes a man curl that way." She winces. "Thank you, Telavi," Her eyes back to the greenrider. "I don't like to worry. Have a good night." She wishes her, as she's stepping away, and then with a deep breath and a heavy sigh, she turns. She squares her shoulders and moves resolutely toward the palest blonde and her victim. She pauses a pair of steps away, assessing the situation before doing anything. With Alida's words and abrupt departure, she waits until the woman is stepping out of range before she's going to her knees, "Havi? Will you live?"

If H'vier hears what Alida says, and he probably does, he doesn't give any particular indication. He's too busy trying to breath through a bleeding nose and the pain resonating from his crotch. When he does find enough breath the say something, it's a very ungrateful, "Fuck off," to poor Tayte. That's probably his balls talking, though. It's nothing personal.

"You usually make me a different offer when it comes to fucking," comes Tayte's cool answer, expression unruffled. There's no temper here to fuel his own. She's looking around and then reaching up to grab a relatively clean looking rag from the top of a nearby table, and she's reaching with it, slowly, toward the man's nose. "You're going to let me help you. Because I'm not the one that stomped on you, and I have more alcohol than you could drown in. Do you need to see the healers or should I just take you to the booze?" She asks, probably thinking an answer before she hears one.

It's true, he can't argue with that. And about ten minutes ago, H'vier would have been all over hitting on the woman. But right now, she's safe from his attempts. For how long is anyone's guess. "Don't need a sharding healer," is all he says, flinching slightly away from the rag trying to touch his nose. He also doesn't really look all that enamored with the idea of getting up to go anywhere just yet.

"That's what I thought." Even though he probably could use one. She shifts now, since he's not trying to move yet. Tayte's hand with the rag withdraws while she reaches hands to his head, gently intending to place it in her lap to give it a little elevation, if he'll let her. If he does or doesn't, the rag is coming back, this time without wavering. "Hold still. You may not need a healer, but you do need to stop the bleeding if you're going to be drinking."

He probably could use a healer. But H'vier's nose has been broken so many times, it's a miracle he still has any definition in the thing at all anymore. Something she says, or maybe just the fact that she's willing to put his head in her lap, keeps him from leaning away from her again, though it doesn't keep him from wincing when the rag hones in on his nose. "Shouldn't go to the Snowasis." The last word comes out a little blended together, not exactly a slur.

One thing is for sure: Tayte with her pressure is not working any miracles. Her look is sympathetic to the wince, however. "No need." She notes, "When I said I have enough alcohol for you to drown in, I meant in my room. Perk of being a vintner." Or an alcoholic. The terms might be interchangeable. "If you'll agree to behave, I'll get you drunker than you've ever been. If that's what you want."

"I can't feel my dick," is H'vier's response to that. Though it's probably a massive exaggeration. It's probably just that other things ache too much for him to think about using it at the moment. "Not sure that's possible. Might kill me." Maybe that's her plan. But, if it is, H'vier isn't going to complain about it right now.

Tayte works hard to restrain the look of amusement that wants to take her face, her smile is still soft, lips pressed tightly together. "Well, then we shouldn't have a problem. I'm very experienced with drowning men just the right amount." Advantage of being a bartender. "And luckily for you, I've also ice." Almost as good as going to see the healers. "Think you can stand and limp over to the craft complex?" As she asks, her free hand strokes his brow lightly, in a spot that doesn't look like it's seen damage today.

"I'll manage." The stroking of her hand keeps him from getting up immediately but it happens soon enough, H'vier shifting to try maneuvering himself up onto his feet with the least amount of pain. He ignores anyone still looking at him, he's pretty well-practiced at that, reaching up to feel his nose experimentally. That only earns a wince and a grunt, though, before he nods at Tayte.

Tayte rises more easily, and in less time, so she skirts the table to drop the bloody rag into a small basket reserved for similar items going to the laundry and then she's back about the time that H'vier's readied himself to make the trip. He may not need her to slip an arm about his waist to help support him, but she does anyway, if he lets her, making it seem like a pretext to observers like she's leaving with him for things other than alcohol and tending to tender spots, leading them with slow, casual step toward the bowl. As for onlookers? She'll meet their eyes, and maybe discourage some from staring with her even look.

Of course H'vier lets her put an arm around him. One, she's pretty hot. Two, the extra support is kind of helpful. He doesn't say anything until they're out of the living cavern, "You don't have to do this. I can buy something strong off you and find somewhere to drink it." That's practically being a gentleman where this particular bronzerider is concerned. Never mind that it might be a different story any other day.

"I know." Tayte's words are soft. She's had enough experience with H'vier as a patron of the bar back at Ista to realize how polite he's being just now as she guides them on the shortest path between one side of the bowl and the other. "I'd--" She has to pause and consider what the right word is. With a dissatisfied sigh, she settles on, "-like to. It seems the least I can do." When he looks so pathetic. Mindful of male ego, she doesn't say that aloud.

His response is a simple, acknowledging rumble. He's too focused on just walking to sound as dubious as he probably feels. But there's booze at the end of this walk, if nothing else, so he's going to damned well make it if it-- okay, he'd probably rather it not kill him or anything.

It probably doesn't kill him. It's not so very, very long a walk that's then taken in silence.