Difference between revisions of "Logs:Hatching Galleries Happy Hour"

Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr

Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black.

The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat.

Light snow makes it a little easier to traverse the bowl this afternoon, making the galleries busier than they might be with the snow coming down heavily. The refugee population brings more groups of teenagers around to stare at eggs they haven't been near enough to a Weyr to see before, which is certain to make Aishani thrilled, for all that it seems to be giving Iesaryth more to do in terms of watching and listening instead of dozing. Still, the goldrider is stuck there if her queen is, just returning with a basket over one arm, likely from the kitchens. Any excuse to get out of the heat.

N'rov's been warily eyeing those teenagers, though he's encumbered with the passel of straps slung across him: what better time than the present for extensive repolishing and resewing, after all? At least he has a shirt on right now, being not on the sands but in the galleries, even though he's seated at their base; "No, don't lean over the rail," he warns one of the particularly impetuous sorts, Vhaeryth's own gaze distinctly baleful. "He'll eat you. Yes, he will." Aishani can't get back too soon; she gets a particularly tooth-baring grin along with, "We survived in your absence. Barely."

It's happy hour somewhere. Maybe even here in the galleries now that Tayte's arriving, knotless, but wearing her brown work apron over her stylish, if brightly colored, sweater and skirt combination, carrying a tray of six slender glasses of an orangeish shade. The glasses almost immediately begin to sweat upon entering owing to the fact that they're frozen drinks, and this is a haven of heat. There are amused refusals to some of the teens that ask her way, explaining with a smirk that these drinks "Are not suitable for children." Sure, it gets her some dirty looks, but the blonde doesn't seem to mind that. She follows behind the goldrider at a few paces until they're nearing the other of the clutch parents. "Drinks?" She offers without any formality.

Aishani's just managed to set down her basket and fix a glare on the children near enough both the railing and N'rov to be in earshot - if Vhaeryth's possible hunger doesn't drive them away, the tall goldrider's stony stare, especially now that she's obviously re-armed - when Tayte approaches. "Why not just tell them to go away? They should listen?" Should, but who knows, foreign bronzerider and all. Her attention flickers over to the blonde, somewhere between bemused and appreciative. "I think so? What are they?" She'd like to reach for one, by her expression, by as usual, she's wary.

N'rov doesn't even ask after poison this time. No, he's got another flashed, appreciative grin that's for the vintner this time, as he leans forward to take one of those drinks; it's only afterwards that he remembers to say, "Thanks." At least he doesn't drink immediately, though part of that may have to do with answering his girl, "Admiring is fine. Admiring is good. Admiring is eminently suitable and flattering to a certain dragon or two, and shells, can you blame them. Especially," being practical here, "when there's snow outside. Cheers." He lifts that glass.

"I'm thinking of calling them Mango Delights. Or maybe Bollian Bliss, only I'm not sure if that's giving the origin of the mangoes too much credit and me too little. Combination of frozen fruit and liquors. It's sweet with a little tangy something." The vintner's certainly tried it herself, not that there's any sign of impaired ability from whatever taste-testing she'd already done. "I had left-overs from my work this morning, I thought I'd find more appreciative mouths here than in the snow." Tayte's smile reflects Aishani's bemusement, though hers is born from a slightly different cause. "You're welcome," She offers in polite response to N'rov, "Finding ways to beat the heat?" She queries amiably.

"There's lots of places they can admire that aren't near either of us," Aishani points out, eyeing a knot of teenagers she might find too near for her liking, as if she's not just a few turns ahead of them. "I'm not saying you have to turn them out in the cold, given your sympathy, just move them along." She's slow about taking a glass, but at least she doesn't seem to be waiting for N'rov to drink, not this time. "Thank you," she offers, before shrugging and glancing down at the basket at her feet. "Mostly water. This is a bit more interesting."

"True," N'rov agrees regarding the teenagers. "A whip to crack would probably help move them along, but for some reason, the headwoman hasn't provided that," as though he needed more than his voice or even a certain look if only he were in the mood. Whips are, apparently, just that much more dramatic. He does finally sip, and it may say something of the tangy tastiness that the trial swallow's soon followed by another. "At least, if you call them 'Mango Delights,' you'll get fewer questions about what they taste like," the bronzerider now points out. "And yes, I reserve the right to complain about the snow on the one hand, while relishing a cold drink in the other. At least it's not summer."

Ocean eyes follow Aishani's gaze to the offending group, and Tayte's smile broadens just a touch. Her lips stay pressed together. It's not for her to interrupt on a matter of clutchparenting. She does volunteer, though, "Tanner Darven would, I'm sure, be more than obliging and swift in a commission of that variety. Especially if you fill him in on what it's for. For some reason," Her voice suggests mystery, "The man can't stand teenagers. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the average age of apprentices, though." The vintner's look is innocent as she moves to set down the tray and take up a glass for herself. Apparently, she's staying for the moment. "True about the taste," The woman acknowledges with a nod. "Though I'd argue that summer is better than winter. Not such extremes, can't be comfortable anywhere, whereas at least in summer, it's usually nice once you're outside."

Dryly, "You could likely get a broom." Aishani also sips at the frozen drink, likely less concerned about poisoning than usual because, well. It is cold, and it does taste pretty good. If she weren't doing that, she might mime the sweeping, instead just glancing the bronzerider's way, eyes brightened. "Though it's a thought. It might be a deterrent all on its own, yes? The prospect of whipping rather than sweeping." Bending to lift the basket up to a seat and flip it open, she notes generally, "There's sandwiches. Though I don't know that either of you would really count summer here as actual summer." N'rov, the Bollian and Tayte, from Ista. Shani's not so lax about work that she doesn't know who the crafters are, apparently.

"I wonder whether Tanner, ah, Darven? might even have some in stock," N'rov speculates. More of a slacker than Shani, at least when it comes to crafters not of his home Weyr, he looks to Tayte before adding, "I'm N'rov," of course. "I think I've noticed you at the Snowasis, but does your name come along with the very well-timed drink?" He'll wait for it, at least a moment or two, before eyeing his girl. "Brooms have no style. Unless they're a very special broom, I suppose, in which case I haven't met it either." After that comes the difficult, time-consuming, painstaking work for clearing up his gear enough that he can make room for the sandwich he's about to steal; it takes about three seconds by comparison.

"Mm," It's a noise of agreement with the goldrider's notion about the prospect of whipping, "And after all," Tayte addresses Aishani with subtle amusement, "He's from Fort. What rag-tag teenagers from Nabol are going to know what's standard practice down there?" To the man in question, she adds, "I'm sure for some of them this is their first time in a Weyr at all. Might as well have a little fun with their ignorance if you're going to be stuck here for months until the eggs hatch." Maybe spending time behind a bar warps one's sense of humor; the blonde looks a little too delighted by the thought. "Tayte," she supplies readily for the bronzerider, lifting her drink a touch instead of offering handshake. "I'd call it summer by comparison, but not an actual summer," she further agrees before enjoying some of the melting mango drink.

Grinning the bronzerider's way, "You just want something that's not knives." Not that Aishani seems to blame N'rov for that, waiting for him to get at the food first, lest she lose a hand. Though she's hardly less enthusiastic about sandwiches, only perching on the edge of a seat so she can keep her drink in one hand while she eats with the other. Otherwise, drunk Shani in the galleries? Could be bad. "All true," she muses, looking up at Tayte. "That's why they're here, after all. I'm just glad most of them haven't gotten it in their heads to ask to stand, could you imagine? I can't see them being turned down." A pause. "Though if there were any shifty ones, I'd certainly take issue." She's not bothered by the idea of the vintner screwing with the kids, unsurprisingly. Plus, bribed with drinks.

"I could while away some time imagining 'standard practice' at Fort, Tayte," N'rov does agree before leaning back, looking between them, though he has a mock-scowl for Aishani that lingers its way into a smile. "I don't mind practicing with the knives, just not on them. Either my aim would be accurate and they'd be hurt, which seems impolitic and also messy, or it wouldn't and then my poor pride would be all that's punctured." There's less of a smile when he adds, "Given what happened before, better to get rid of the shifty ones sooner over later. Actually. Another idea might be to bring out those brooms after all, set them to sweeping: the ones who actually do it get to stick around. A test, of sorts. Even the aunties would approve."

Alida has arrived.

"There are shifty ones. Some not of an age to stand, but..." Tayte murmurs, her alto abruptly carrying an edge of seriousness. "Bartending," She provides, "Offers a lot of opportunities to people-watch. Especially the refugees who haven't yet gotten a purpose. Seems like there are new faces everyday, too." A little sigh slips past the blonde's lips. "I wonder how they'd choose who to accept if they did all ask. Would they task the pair of you with interviewing the hopefuls, I wonder?" Her lips curl. "If you did practice with knives, you could even give them mops, too, just in case." The blonde suggests. The trio of 'adults' is there, a bit apart from the teens that clump here and there to egg watch. A tray of melting orangey-looking frozen beverages sits somewhere near a basket from which must have come the sandwiches N'rov and Aishani are eating. Tayte? She's just got the drink, but maybe that's all the vintner wants.

With a smirk, "I doubt there's much the aunties wouldn't approve of if you suggested it." Aishani grins N'rov's way again before a bite of her sandwich, another drink. As for any shady refugees, "Generally, I think residency is required to ask. So that technicality helps, but I don't know that the current leadership would be... Hm. I just don't know." Rather than say anything incriminating or disparaging, she just has another bite. With a glance Tayte's way, "It does seem like that, how often they're coming in. Not that I blame anyone for it, but it make things more difficult. Finding purpose might help."

"Mops. Even better." Perhaps N'rov shouldn't have invoked the aunties, because here comes a herd now, for all that he eyes his girl and says, "I think you summoned them. No matter, you two talk, I'll distract them." But he does swap out his emptied glass for a full one, first, and takes a second sandwich, too, before manfully stepping into the breach. His straps will just have to wait.

It's snow-showering again outside, but in here - in the hatching grounds - the atmosphere is nearly sweltering. This is likely the reason that Alida can be found shedding her riding jacket, scarf, and gloves the instant said heat hits her in the face like a wave, the gently-rosy spots on her cheeks fading rapidly as damp chill is replaced by dry warmth. Like clockwork, the pale-blonde - armed with her various knives in plain sight, and likely more armaments concealed about her strong form - steps towards the other Glacier rider who's on egg-guarding duty. As she moves, green eyes spare long glances towards the knot of other folks who converse, the bluerider recognizing Aishani, N'rov, Tayte...the male in the group making his departure soon afterward. After 'lida reaches her wingmate, and the two exchange some soft words, a nod and a small smirk see the older man off while the former Pars woman takes up her own rotation of 'watch.' For now, all she does is settle her outer wear to a stone bench, then cast observant eyes all around...giving the weyrwoman and the bartender a pair of polite nods along the way.

Silent amusement greets the words about the aunties, their arrival and N'rov's departure, a friendly smile and finger wiggle the most Tayte offers by way of luck for the Fortian as he moves to intercept. It's this same course that has ocean eyes taking in the arrival of Alida, and for some reason, a slight blush touches her cheeks. Maybe it's just the heat because she's reaching back to untie her work apron and juggling her drink to strip off her sweater to reveal the color-coordinated blouse beneath, while asking, "Do they-" The aunties, "-come to bend your ear when he's not around? Or is he saving you from an evil only he falls victim to in the first place?" Once her head pops out from the garment removal and she sets it on the bench next to the tray of two remaining drinks. She catches the guard's nod and returns it politely. "You would think that there could be a number of projects that manual labor might help move along while we have them here. For instance, I've been thinking having some bathes available on the Crafter side of the bowl would be useful. Not only for saving a walk across the bowl or an even longer one through the tunnels, but for when the smiths are grimy or the tanners smelling of urine, or the woodcrafters of varnish." To name a few.

"I summoned them?" Aishani asks in disbelief, though her dark gaze follows N'rov as he intercepts the older women, all of whom are thrilled to see the bronzerider has time for them. Her smile is brief, but warm before her attention is caught by Alida's entrance. The bluerider gets a nod in return, a sandwich salute. To Tayte, "He's been entertaining some of them while they're in here, and I think it's quite won them over. It's easy enough with the lot, if you listen and flatter, and I imagine being good-looking doesn't hurt either." With a purse of lips, "It's something, perhaps. Regardless of how useful baths may be, the issue of what sort of work we can put them to might be an issue. They're not like the convicts, and I can't say I entirely agree with all of that. Though I've only heard and read, I wasn't here, obviously. At the same time..." A shrug. "They're consuming resources."

Once she's done noting the lay of the land, the places dragon(s) and eggs occupy, Alida steps into motion. Her gear left spread neatly along the nearby seats to dry completely, the woman moves like a quiet sliver of moonlight along a regular path that inscribes a kind-of grid-like regularity to it...her manner relaxed but alert as she patrols. Aishani's sandwich salute inspires another smirk, but Tayte's blush is a little too far away to notice...both responses soon lost to green eyes as the Glacier rider paces off on her way around the large gallery area. If alert eyes wish to see, they'll notice her covering broad swathes of ground with her general inspection...along with a growing golden firelizard who sometimes shadows the woman's tracks, but often flies above the areas ahead of or opposite to Alida. At no time does the flit cross over into the airspace directly above the Sands.

"In this Weyr, I'd be surprised if being a bronzerider who had any manners and wasn't tall, dark, and moody wasn't enough to win most women over. I'm sure it's a nice change for them from our usual stock." Tayte's eyeroll does speak to her knowing at least something about the 'Reaches bronzers. "I suppose that's true." The blonde allows with just a touch of disappointment. "But what do they do in a Hold when their job of choice isn't available and they need to pull their weight? I wonder if it couldn't be done by obligatory volunteering, or something. Put together a list of all the projects and see who has the skills and willingness to carry them out. I imagine many of them would prefer purpose to idleness. It's not like 'Reaches is a great vacation spot. Unless you like the snow." The vintner's gaze wanders and takes in some of Alida's patrolling, but with drink in hand and conversation to be had, she's not tracking the guard or paying her much mind, really.

With a wrinkle of her nose, "That's a point, isn't it. He's really on his best behavior besides, but his Weyrleaders do seem to miss him, despite protests. He's only been minorly irritating of late, I think." Aishani doesn't seem to find N'rov irritating beyond a fond sort of annoyance. She notes where Alida is now and again, but seems primarily interested in sandwich and conversation, and glaring teenagers away from her general area. Tilting her head thoughtfully as she regards Tayte, "Mm. It's an idea. I suppose some could help out in different parts of the Weyr, and there's always snow to shovel. It's not really my job to decide these things, but it seems reasonable. Honestly, most might welcome something to do, if their skills are put to some use."

She's not intruding in any fashion, especially since Alida takes her 'work' quite seriously, and as she gives the Galleries a decent inspection along her walk around them, the woman barely even seems to notice that there are other people in the general area. The teenagers know better than to harass the guard, by now, of course. Of course, there's still one more presence to account for, and this comes in the guise of that sunset-sunflower firelizard who - upon scenting the sandwich Shani appears to be casually waving around - abandons her ordered patrol (which is terribly boring, really) and tries to alight nearby the goldrider...and start quietly begging with rather soulful eyes.

"Is it his irritating behavior they miss, do you think?" Tayte asks with a sly sort of smile, "Maybe he's saving it up for the return home. Unless you think you can convince him to stay after the clutch." It's said idly, not probingly. She sips on her drink, a process interrupted by a small choke that gives way to laughter when one particular teen gets this look of unintentionally embellished terror when he meets Aishani's eye. "Forget the whip," She comments after, "I'll just come watch you glare at them." There's no transition, really, to her then asking, "What is it you spend most of your time on these days, when you're not babysitting eggs? I heard you're not doing the traditional Weyrwoman things." That grapevine has good roots with the bartender. A single arched brow is directed at the nearby firelizard when Tayte moves to settle and trade her now empty glass for a mostly melted one of the remaining two. Waste not, especially with so many refugees around. But she's not the one with the sandwich.

Aishani has no interest in firelizard begging or sharing her food; in fact, she just finishes it up right in front of the thing, soulful eyes and all. Waste not, want not indeed. "I wouldn't try to convince him to bear another winter, I think," she says, amused. "Though I'm sure the drinks will help bring him around more often. And I do glare well." Finishing the glass she's been working on, she sets it on the tray, eyeing the last. "Mm. Well, I keep myself informed of what's going on, still. And I have some side projects to keep myself busy. There's always something to do if you look for it, I think." She's about to take that drink when Iesaryth snorts her way, and she sighs. "I've something to take care of, apparently. Thanks for bringing in the drinks, Tayte. And the thoughts." With that, she starts down the steps to the sands... though the basket is left open for enterprising firelizards.

A long, soulful peer at Tayte shows Pyrite that the bartender has no noms, thus rendering her not terribly important, right now, though the woman gets a hint of a soft croon. Said vocalization is then turned upon Aishani - the flit making herself look as sweet an appealing as possible with elegantly coy posturings and gentle sounds - big, quickly-whirling blue eyes cast fetchingly up at the dark woman...who doesn't offer her one bite of said food. Horrors! The firelizard seems to droop sadly onto herself, but then Aishani's dismissing herself...and leaving that basket behind. Is Tayte looking? Pyrite flicks her gaze between the bartender and basket, then looking out at the patrolling, intent Alida, and back again. And while this is taking place, the guard is slowly circling around the Galleries, now heading back towards her starting place, and quite likely to encounter the other blonde along the way, though she's only noted Aishani's climbing down to the Sands to attend Iesaryth, right now.

Tayte's eyes follow Aishani as she heads to the sand, a murmured pleasantry offered to her before she takes her leave, and then another glance to the gold. So, she's looking, but only so long as she lingers to finish her drink, by which time the abandoned basket's being claimed by a pair of teen boys, with whom the gold can negotiate. The blonde hands off the last drink to an adult nearby, with instructions for the return of the glass before donning her sweater and heading with her tray back toward the snowy world outside.