Difference between revisions of "Logs:Sarkev, Galaxy Straddler"

>---< Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr(#634RJ) >------------------------<

  Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the     
  weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just 
  plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have   
  let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that:  
  two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in            
  particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the  
  most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond.                 
                                                                            
  Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to
  hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being   
  trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of       
  flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall 
  off.                                                                      
                                                                            
  An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former     
  weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl.          
                                                                            
  A light rainfall patters on and off throughout the day, making everything 
  slick and gray and muddy.                                                 

 -----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
  Farideh      F  19   5'5  skinny, brown hair, hazel eyes                4s 
  Laine        F  17  5'4"  trim, dark hair, grey eyes                    0s 
  Sarkev       M  23  5'11  lean, brown hair, green eyes                  9s
 ----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
                                Snowasis  Bowl                              
>------------------------------------------< 12D 5M 37T I10, spring dusk >---<

(Obviously hilarious) OOC context for the title of the log:

<OOC> Farideh says, "It's true. She'll let me be the big spoon."
<OOC> Laine says, "I'm a good little spoon!"
<OOC> Sarkev says, "I am the Big Dipper. I can't ever be forced to be a little spoon."
<OOC> Sarkev says, "I straddle galaxies."
<OOC> Farideh says, "Galaxy straddler."
<OOC> Laine says, "Definitely a sex position."
<OOC> Laine says, "Show me your black hole, baby."
<OOC> Sarkev says, "not on a first date."
<OOC> Farideh says, "That's definitely going to be the name of the log."

[High Reaches] Farideh: Sarkev needs his position changed to Galaxy Straddler. kthnx.
[High Reaches] K'del eyes.
[High Reaches] Laine: He should also get a private room.
[High Reaches] Farideh: That.
[High Reaches] Sarkev: I don't need anything special. Any big, cavernous room will do.
[High Reaches] K'zin slides behind K'del. You handle this one, boss.
[High Reaches] Alida: Great; we Searches a perv.
[High Reaches] Sarkev: I'll take the Living Cavern.
[High Reaches] Laine: Some stuff to straddle. The usual.

A reprieve from the rain has broken over the Weyr briefly as evening settles on it, though it has done little to make it not grey or slick or muddy without the sun to dry up the last rainfall. But there's a certain charm to the way the glows in colors bottles light against the rain-slicked, shiny surfaces of the patio here, lending an almost ethereal atmosphere for those that dare to sit on wet furniture or risk the next bout of rain. That, at the moment, only seems to be one man, drinkless and alone as he sits with muddy boots propped on the table while he observes the comings and goings in the Bowl.

The conditions are muddy and unfavorable, but that doesn't stop a laundress-turned-candidate, wearing a too-large coat and sturdy boots, from stomping through the puddles in the weyrbowl; or, from leaving opaque boot prints on the stairs on her way up to the patio ledge. It's at the opening to the Snowasis that Farideh encounters a waitress, who promptly takes her order, leaving the girl, with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, to wait on the wet ledge. Her ever curious gaze veers towards the other candidate, lounging, with his feet up. Hesitant, at first, she takes a few steps in his direction, fretting her hands together. "Hello. You're--" Farideh squints, trying to recall his name.

The twin doesn't help to identify himself, brows lifting expectantly as he watches Farideh and waits for the answer. Who is he, exactly? Maybe he doesn't know. He glances, for a moment, after the retreating waitress, but he doesn't call out for her to return or add his own order.

Today is a wet, dreary, no-good day at the Reaches. Two candidates occupy the patio ledge, complete with romantic glows-in-colored-bottles lighting. Sarkev has his muddy boots on a chair and is lounging, while Farideh is slowly approaching him, with a frown. "I-- can't remember. You're a candidate, though." She looks sheepish for all of a minute, and then tilts her head, staring at him, openly curious. "What is your name?"

"Kalevin," may or may not actually be his name, but it's the name that gets tossed out. Kalevin, as he has now named himself, meets titled heads and staring with more expressive eyebrows.

"--RENTICE," Laine is mid-word as she's shoved out the door from the bar onto the patio, a snarly-looking woman propelling her with hands on Laine's shoulder. "I'm also an apprentice!" The cantankerous woman brooks no argument, however. She gives Laine one last push, turns around, and disappears back inside. Laine turns, casts a martyred look around the patio (it mostly lands on Farideh) and sighs a woe-is-me sigh.

"Kalevin," the girl repeats, but it's obvious that isn't what she thought his name was. "It's nice to meet you, Kalevin. I'm Farideh." She holds out her hand, expectantly; it's still held out when Laine appears and head whips around, her attention immediately snagged by the woebegone sigh. "What--" Farideh asks, frowning again, at the third, and much more familiar to her, candidate to join their gaggle on the ledge. "Now?"

"I have a brother," Kalevin explains to that tone, a crooked curve at the corner of his mouth as he slides a look over Farideh. He might have even shaken her hand, if Laine's sudden and loud intrusion onto the ledge didn't distract him as well. Green eyes fall on the apprentice instead, as he shifts the boots against his chair. Not to free it but to switch which ankle crosses which. "I don't think she was impressed."

"Ugh!" Laine strides closer to Farideh and Kalevin, already rolling her eyes. "You get a little lippy they cut you off? Sod this," she grasps the white-laced candidate's knot on her shoulder and tugs it free, although her defiance peters out as she inspects Kalevin with narrowed grey eyes. She idly flips the knot against the palm of her opposite hand. Farideh? She gets a sudden, bright, toothy smile.

There's no recognition of his brother's name either, and that hand, when it's not shaken, is shoved in her other jacket pocket as her cheeks bloom with color. "Why are you back talking the bartenders? Don't you know they're your best friends, if you want a drink? I would cut you off too," Farideh retorts to the other girl, lifting her chin and cutting Laine a suspicious glance. "Have you been drinking much already today?" Then, as if she remembers Kalevin is still there, she stares guiltily at him. "Laine, this is--Kalevin."

Kalevin doesn't seem upset to be ignored by the two young women, though he is shameless about listening to their conversation as he sits there. He lifts his fingers in a quick, dry wave for his introduction. "Have her order you a drink," he suggests helpfully to Laine, flicking those same fingers to Farideh in a gesture.

Laine's pink-cheeked and speaking even faster than her typical rapid-fire, so, yes, there's a good chance she's been drinking already. There's a guilty-looking, "No. Well. A little," as Laine avoids eye contact with Farideh, instead landing on Kalevin and stepping forward to offer a hand, crumpling up her candidate's knot in the other. There's a quick laugh for Kalevin's suggestion, but a head shaken 'no'. "How's it?" Directed to both. Neither. The sky.

"A little?" sounds exasperated. "Don't let them see you get drunk, at least." Farideh isn't going to tell her not to get drunk, because what fun would that be? "I'm not buying her a drink. You should probably--" She glances from Laine to Kalevin, and then reaches a hand to grab Laine's hand, aiming to pull her towards one of the vacant, if wet, chairs. "You need some fresh air and water." As for the latter question, it pulls her eyes to the twin-candidate, her brows lifting. "Fine," noncommittal, and her eyes are back to Laine.

Kalevin really would, really, shake Laine's hand, but then Farideh there is grabbing it, see, so he can't. "I'll buy you a drink," he offers as another suggestion, still attempting to help despite not having a drink himself. "Or we can find some from the stores. Or get a runner and go down to the Hold where they can't see us drink."

"I know how to drink, Farideh," Laine says with plaintive annoyance in her voice, "and I'm not drunk." She looks positively scandalized at the thought, but allows herself to be led to a damp chair. "They get all weird about it--" and she tosses the knot so that it skitters through a puddle and butts up against a table leg. "-- hey, now. Yeah. Fari," (that's her name now) "Let's. A runner down to the hold." Laine's head swivels around to entreat Kalevin.

Once Laine is safely ensconced in a chair, Farideh's posture takes on a disbelieving bearing, with her arms crossed over the fluffy padding of her jacket and her hip cocked to the side. "Mhm," is the unhappy noise she makes, glancing over Laine with a discerning eye. She says nothing as her gaze flicks to Kalevin, the instigator. "You're both going to get left behind on hatching day." Suddenly, the spoil sport. "

"Hatching day is sevens away; we'll be back by then," is Kalevin's cheeky response with a flashed smile. He sottos, so subtly, to Laine, "I will race you there, once we get the runners." He doesn't move to get up from his chair, though, for the moment.

Laine will not be ensconced! (She doesn't even like scones.) Plus, the seat is wet, so even before she's lowered herself halfway to seated, she bolts upright again and strides over to where she's tossed her knot. She fumbles for it, crouched, while announcing, "Good. Great. Maybe then they'll let me have a blasted drink." Kalevin receives another look, stolen back over Laine's shoulder: laughing, earnest.

"Don't you two care about this?" Someone's miffed; someone named Farideh. "If you mess up, they can kick you out," is said about as gravely as someone can. "Or is it a joke?" She's frowning again, glancing between the two other candidates, especially Laine, crouched over there, groping at who knows what. "I practically had to-- ah, I don't want to take the opportunity Quinlys gave me for granted. She was very generous and very accommodating," as she casually flicks some invisible lint off the sleeve of her coat.

"They'll never know which of me to kick out," is Kalevin's flippant remark, though he turns joking thoughtful as he muses, "Though, I suppose they could just do us both." Even that he doesn't seem to mind, as he audibly offers to Laine, "She probably doesn't know how to ride a runner, and just doesn't want to say."

Eventually Laine produces that woven cord from under the table and stands; she cocks one hip as she pinches her knot between two fingers and gingerly shakes it, dripping. "You staying in the candidate quarters? I'm not. Still in the apprentice dorms. Guess what I'm doing, day-to-day? Same. Same as always. So. Yeah. Feels a bit, y'know." Laine wrinkles her nose, staring placidly at Farideh. "You can't ride a runner?" (Can Laine?)

A quizzical look is shot to Kalevin, but her focus quickly moves onto Laine. "Why aren't you staying with the rest of the candidates?" Farideh wears her confusion on her face; it's an emotion that swiftly morphs into aggravation, as her cheeks flush with color again. "Why would I want to ride a runner? They're big and smelly and dragons are faster," she states, grumpily.

"I think that was a no," Kalevin explains on Farideh's behalf to Laine, a grin crooking on his lips at the young woman's answer. He doesn't make a point about where or why people are sleeping where they sleep, seemingly disinterested on that point.

"'Cause I'm an apprentice," Laine states with an aggrieved furrowing of her brows. "We don't get to bunk down and do sleepovers and whisper in the dark holding hands," or whatever you candidates are doing in the barracks. "I got real work to do." Wringing out the last water from her knot, Laine latches onto this new subject: "Runners don't have giant gnashy teeth, for one."

"Then, you're missing out," Farideh says haughtily, to Laine, with her stubborn chin in the air and her eyebrows hiked. "I don't have time to talk about runners." And with that, takes herself into the Snowasis, leaving the two candidates alone and without her presence, woe woe~

Kalevin's gaze follows Farideh briefly, before he glances back to Laine with the offer, "We could still go. I'll find us some runners?"

"Ones with no gnashy teeth," Laine agrees. She edges close to Kalevin's chair, perhaps intending to claim it once he's stood (it's dry!). "Confession, though. I'm not a great rider. Get me one that's not too, you know. Feisty." She's clearly not planning on going with.

"Got it. Gnashy teeth, fiesty, half-broken in," is what Kalevin hears as he stands, relinquishing that dry seat with a salute to the apprentice. And then he is striding off from the ledge and across the Bowl, quite probably in the direction of the stables. but he never returns, likely running into trouble convincing anyone to let him take one and go away from the Weyr, especially since he's a Candidate.

Laine's chuckle follows Kalevin through the rain as she slides into his chair. When he doesn't return? Laine will waltz right back into the Snowasis and make another attempt at buying herself a drink. If he comes back, he may be able to find her there.