Difference between revisions of "Logs:Bros Reunited"

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.

Lythronath's announcement has made no secret of their arrival; for this reason, A'rist doesn't even pretend at hiding out in the kitchens, or absconding up to his weyr with a little packet of food. He's seated, at the table so often frequented by Taiga riders, in plain view. He's clean at least, dark hair still shining and a bit spiked from the dampness still clinging to him since his trip to the baths. He trades nods with people as they go, but so far, other than F'manis (who caught him pre-bath), few have bothered to stop. All the wrong people have been seeing him, maybe.

Snowdrift is at their usual spot, talking amongst themselves and generally keeping a low profile today. It's one of his fellow brownriders that nudges V'ros, jerking his head towards A'rist when he notices the young bronzerider. Strain shows on the younger man's face, and he excuses himself, taking his plate and utensils with him. His arrival at the table on the other side from A'rist is casual and noisy, his plate making a clanking sound when it hits the tabletop. "Hey," he says without preamble, watching his bro intently while unfolding his napkin; got to keep it classy.

The clanking arrival brings a crooked smile to A'rist's face. He looks to V'ros' plate, looks up to V'ros' face, and returns his friend's greeting with an equal, "Hey." Then skewers a piece of meat with his fork, pops it into his mouth, and chews, looking relatively pleased, if still a bit tired. Bags under his eyes. You know.

Food is a necessity, not a pleasure, or so V'ros' demeanor would say with how he hunches over his plate, stabbing a morsel, and once in his mouth, chewing reflexively. "How's.. things?" comes slow, after swallowing and between another bite.

Food is a necessity, not a pleasure, or so V'ros' demeanor would say with how he hunches over his plate, stabbing a morsel, and once in his mouth, chewing reflexively. "How's.. things?" comes slow, after swallowing and between another bite.

A'rist shrugs. "The sheep thing," which is the watchriding he did with R'sig, which he at least bothered to tell his best bro about, "was boring. But Lythronath got good at not just eating everything in sight, so. Never saw the rustlers." All this around and during the chewing and swallowing of another piece of meat. A shrug, and in much the same uneventful tone, "Dad died. Took forever. Missed the flight. Screwed the Weyrwoman, though." Another piece of meat, more contented chewing. He's all caught up.

The sheep thing - it gets a snort and a shrug, but that's as much emotion as V'ros shows in regards to the rest of his friend's new. "Uh." Speechless. "You.. had.. a dad?" But, of course A'rist had a dad, it's just that he's not good at reasoning things out loud. "That fucking sucks." He finally frowns, and sets down his fork in reverence. "Guess you heard H'vier won? I saw.. Irianke, naked," which just intensifies his frown. "Azaylia? You.. what.. how? Uh. Congrats?"

"Uh. Yeah." A'rist, too, sets down his fork, leaning back in his chair, and looking a little more contemplative, especially once he swallows what's in his mouth. "He's how come I came to the Weyr in the first place. Was posted here." For news of his former wingleader, A'rist just nods. "We might've got here in time. To join. But I think Lynner would've fucked up a lot of dragons. Being away was..." He shakes his head. "Haven't even met Irianke." And as to Azaylia: "Dude, it's not like I'm the only guy in the Weyr. I think she actually liked it, though." Which makes him rub at some stubble on his chin.

"Were you.. close? Or.." V'ros scratches the side of his nose, plainly uncomfortable; perhaps it's the notion of death and its consequences more than anything else. "Still sucks. If you need anything.." Another shrug. "She's alright," of Irianke, and then his expression is settling into something befuddled. "No.. uh. It's just.." Casting about for the right words and yet, not finding them. "Respect that." Respect, bruh.

"I... I dunno. It's," and there's a telling look about the living caverns, still fairly busy. "I dunno," finishes A'rist. "He had some really crazy bad liquor. I got a couple bottles in my Weyr, you should come. Like Lythronath in a bottle." Respect. That makes A'rist's mouth jump into a sideways smirk. "It's just been weird. This whole thing. Being away. Everything, I guess." A moment, to search out, and add, while he raises his fork again, this time for a pickle: "It's different, being in a Weyr or not, you know?"

A cautious nod follows and then a weighted, "Yeah. I'll come." It's simple, but solidarity. "Can't say no to that kind of.. offer." V'ros mouth stretches into a faint smile, his head lowering when he picks up his fork to push around his pile of carrots. "Must be. We've.. never been gone that long, but Zmeyth.." His smiles disappears and another shrug is added to the pile. "Glad you're back," he mutters at last.

A'rist nods gravely, crunches thoughtfully. "Trying to figure out which way is better. It's... I don't know. It wasn't what I was expecting. I dunno." Another finality that really isn't. But his bro, at least, earns a grin after that. "So. You see any other girls naked, on flight night?" Back to what's important.

"Watch duty?" is the mildly-interested question. Legumes gets shoveled on his fork with precision, before it's brought up to his lips. Unfortunately, V'ros misses his mouth completely, the carrots plopping instead into his mashed potatoes. "Huh? ..no. No.. no.. naked girls. Or.. guys. I just.. we just.. we went.. up." Airborne, between, weyr-ward, it could be a lot of possibilities.

"Not really what I was thinkin'," comes with another bite of something, some mash-up of excess sauce and grease and tuber. "Oh." There's a little disappointment in that, or maybe sympathy. "It sucks, losing. How come you didn't take Zmeyth away, anyway? I thought you didn't want gold flights? Or is that just leadership ones?" Ooh. Another pickle. A'rist is on a roll.

An owlish stare is given A'rist for his other thoughts, saying what then without speaking the words aloud. Moving more carrots on his fork, V'ros grimaces. "I got.. caught up in other things.. and Zmeyth, he.." He snorts; obviously, the brown is the craftier of the two. "Would've to the barrier if I had thought about it."

A'rist just shakes his head at those owl eyes. Dunno. "Lynner was mad. When Azaylia told us Niahvth was going up, when I didn't just jump up so we could go chase. Actually, maybe like... frustrated. I don't know. We worked it out." Eyebrows lift, and he reaches for the sad remains of what was once warm klah, downing it cold, to wash away what proves to be the last of his meal. "Once we get back into routine here, think I might run to Fort. See some of the riders there."

"You," V'ros says, laughter strangled, "worked it out." Poor, poor Lythronath. "Zmeyth was.. frustrated, not as frustrated as.. he could've.. we caught that green." He pauses, shakes his head, and resumes scooping lukewarm food into his mouth. Chewing, thoughtfully, and nodding to what A'rist says, after that, is a balancing act. "Fort? Why?" quasi-mumbled around food.

"See some of the riders," A'rist repeats. "There's this one girl, I dunno if she's graduated yet... probably. Anyway. Was gonna go see her and then went and did the other stuff. And then Lynner's dad. I dunno, next goldflight was supposed to be us passing on Iesaryth's blood, you know?" A beat. "Ichor." He shakes his head. "Really think there would've been too much. He's doing okay now, but... anyway, just think I wanna go see them. But it's not like... us leaving again, is all." A pointed look. V'ros is his witness.

"A.. girl?" V'ros sounds surprised to hear that. "A.. weyrling?" Bro is going to have to explain that one. "Iesaryth.. Aishani.." Sigh. He sets his fork down again and leans back, sort of lazily. "Hadn't thought about them in.. a while." It's a touchy subject, but, "Do what you.. need to do. Just don't leave for too long.. or.. I'll have to drink the bottles myself." Those bottles, which is comical to think about.

And after all this, A'rist finally looks almost embarrassed. "Yeah, a girl. That's... what she is." He shrugs. "She rides this blue..." A wave of his hand. "I told N'rov - after Aishani died - that we'd do it. That we'd carry on the line, you know? And now we didn't. Not this time. Didn't even get a chance. Not really." That brings a far more professional-looking frown. "I might take one of them with me. Just to make sure you don't conk out in my weyr."

Conspicuously silent, V'ros is, on that first score. "Not like you can help it. Not like you can.. predict. Unless you're Cadejoth." He smirks, amused with his own attempt at a joke. "Could try catching a gold elsewhere. Ista.. Fort.. Benden.." Shrug. "That won't.. stop me from conking out there. You going to conk out with that bluerider?" Cue cheesy smile.

"Or just catch a gold here. Cadejoth nearly lost last time. Besides, one of the next clutches should have a gold. Isn't that how it's supposed to work? If we've only got the one, aren't the dragon-bellies supposed to like know to make more? Like when Pass is coming and they get bigger." He frowns. "We gotta be careful. Lythronath at least is home here. But he's not like other dragons." And V'ros' cheesy smile is met with a look that is trying very hard to be stern, certain. "Not why we're going. Like I said, we gotta be careful." If only he could sound as sure as he's trying to look.

"Don't know? Might? Could be this one." V'ros taps a finger against the table, mulling over that. "You think.. if he caught, he'd.." There's a question there, half-formed, uncertain. "Never know, but.. other things to worry about now, eh?" He sits up and moves to grab his plate, like he's about to get up and return it to the kitchens. "Sure it's not. Wouldn't blame you if you did though." And then, he stands, lifting his plate with him.

"Says the dragonrider who never has sex," is the purposefully jovial farewell to his friend. A'rist will soon follow after the brownrider, but for now, he takes a moment, scans the caverns. Welcomes himself home.