Logs:No-Go on the Rainbows
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| RL Date: 23 February, 2013 |
| Who: Leova, Z'ian |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: The pair catch up over drinks and discuss the state of Boreal Wing. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Weather: Snow |
| Mentions: Teris/Mentions |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr(#555RJ) 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. Contents:
It's a while later that a certain greenrider extricates herself from Glacier's table. Not right off: got to give the newly-minted wingleader a chance to field a few people who stop by with congratulations and the odd free drink, while others give him the hairy eyeball. Along the way, Leova freshens her ale, pauses to visit with people of both stripes, but all the while heads for Z'ian's booth. Once she's there, leaning against the divider with a brief glance for his boots and a longer one for his face, "Surviving all right?" Z'ian fields the congratulators well enough, smiling on cue and largely ignoring those who want to give him the hairy eyeball. They're going to have to get in line it would seem. It's in a moment of blissful silence that Leova arrives in his vicinity. With his tall mug of something warm lifted to his mouth, he curves a crooked grin for her. There's an almost relaxed roll of his shoulders, "Well enough. Aside from the rags that got stuffed up into the flue of my hearth the other day." "Rags." She goes ahead and starts to sit, her free hand seeking to scoot his feet just far enough away to make that work. "What happened? I didn't hear anything, but then between drills and shifts... busy." She has the redwort stains to prove it, too, fresh if well-scrubbed, clinging to calluses in particular. "Yep, stuffed right up there." Z'ian makes a pushing motion upwards with one hand. "Whole weyr filled with smoke, messy." He rolls his eyes and takes a breath. "I guess there were some riders displeased with my promotion, hmm?" He glances down to her hands and shakes his head. "It wasn't particularly spread around, just whispers of it. I didn't want to make it a gigantic deal." "I wasn't even in the room when it started smoking. Tsanth was kind enough to inform me that our was filling with the stuff." Z'ian shakes his head for her question, "No, thankfully I put the whole thing out and got it sorted before there was any real damage." He brings that mug to his mouth and takes a long draw. "I have a few ideas of who. But they weren't people I was planning on keeping around really, anyway. Figure I'll quietly slip them out over the next few sevens." She grimaces, listening. "Glad you got it taken care of." But then, more quickly, maybe too quickly, "Rhonda wouldn't. Not to say she wouldn't think other things are funny, but... not that." Leova lifts her mug into what's not quite a sip, looking at him over the glass-circled foam. Z'ian's directed his gaze down into his mug, only to glance up at her again when the too quickly spoken words are uttered. "They're not all a bad sort. But the wing is steeped in... something. It's going to take some time to bring it around again, for people to trust it too." "She, F'ren, they're both my clutchmates," Leova says by way of partial explanation. "He... well. But you're coping, hm? A challenge, and all that. Maybe it can be a model for the Weyr as a whole. Reunification," but she says it wryly. "He seemed solid. Is there something that I should know about before it's too late?" Z'ian asks curious, interested as he takes another swallow from that mug. "This my third wing in what? Around a turn? I think I'm beginning to get used to the upheaval. Maybe I'll have served with all the wings by the time we retire." His amusement is wry as he lowers his drink to the table, turning it slowly. There's a short laugh for reunification, "You'd think everyone would have been more or less pleased that the situation was taken into hand so quickly. But not so, huh?" "Mm. He, hm. Well, he wasn't exactly on the silver thread track," says she who was. "He's generally cheerful? A lot of energy. Like to think he's learned to focus it, though it's not as though I've seen as much of him," Leova adds carefully. She wets her throat with the ale. "Felt like I was walking the gauntlet, coming over here. Like I'd have to make sure to visit a few other, different groups on the way out, maybe." "That's generally what I got." Z'ian seems relieved to just hear that he's not secretly a criminal or something, probably. "Oisa is more grounded. Figured I could get a balance. If I'm lucky." He ducks his head and smiles crookedly again, glancing past her to some of the other tables. "Half for and half against. Remind me of this the next time I get myself involved with uncovering conspiracies, yeah?" While the bronzerider is certainly taking it seriously, the animosity from some is far from crushing him just yet. If Leova has comments on Oisa, she keeps them to herself. "Only half and half, hm? No splinters? Like cooking, a little bit of this, a little bit of that." She rests an elbow on the table, and gives him a curious sort of scrutiny. After a little while, for once, she actually puts it into words. "How do you think you're going to manage? I mean, you don't not look the part. And you've got Tsanth," her mouth pulling to one side for a moment. "But you've never even been wingsecond, right? Not trying to cut you down. Just. How's it going to work?" "I'm sure there are. But if we're speaking generally?" He teeters one hand back and forth, indicating the cut more or less down the middle. Running his finger along the top of the mug, crooked goes to lopsided as he smiles again. So easy for him to do that, even now. "We'll manage, I imagine. I do have Tsanth after all." But more seriously, "I didn't impress yesterday, Leova. I've got an idea of how things work and of how to break them. Not that it's going to be rainbows and kittens, but I'm confident it won't be a total disaster either." "'Of how to break them.'" Somehow, that seems to hearten the greenrider more than anything, given how now her smile's quick, tilted but genuine. "I think they'll believe your confidence, for what it's worth. Most of them. So. How would you break them, Z'ian? Demand that everyone wear short sleeves between? Seeing as how rainbow flight jackets are a no-go." "The rainbow flight jackets are no-go? How did you know about that? Been reading my papers?" Z'ian fixes Leova with a look and half smile before lifting the mug back to his lips. He's not drinking heavily, sipping more like. "I hope like hell they believe it. Tsanth figures we've got a shot and it's probably about time I started taking him more seriously anyway." "Your just saying no rainbows, that was a clue," Leova has to admit. "Took me awhile. But I finally pieced it together." She's unhurried with her drinking too, fingertips now and again tapping along the curve of her mug like some harper's drum message. More seriously, "Does he. Hm. Reckon that'll help. And you're promoting from within, so there's that." For the first time since she's sat down, she glances out towards the rest of the room. "Got to wonder what'll happen to those two." Not his new wingseconds. "You're a clever one." Z'ian points one finger at her, shaking it before taking another conservative sip. "Needed Wingseconds from within. It's the one in that I've got with that group right now. Until you know, I'm able to wear them down with my good looks and charm." He lifts his eyebrows and grins, albeit briefly for the other subject comes up. "I don't know. Grounded on the long term. If they weren't bronzeriders they could be more easily transferred out. But... not like the other Weyrs want a pair of ambitious men like them riding what they ride on their turf." Leova's got one suggestion for that: "Maybe Telgar'll... it was Telgar? will take them." No, a second one: "Or, could manacle them to the wall of your weyr, smile at them twice a day until they're overpowered. But I'm thinking Telgar." "I think Telgar will deny the whole affair, as much of it as they can anyway." Z'ian laughs then and shakes his head. "That would be a really great idea. Except I don't know if my personal life can handle that kind of crimp in it. Too manacled men in my weyr." He jokingly grimaces before concluding, "You know? I could care less what happens to them now as long as they're not causing trouble to us. I imagine if they stay, they'll be split up." "Did she even say yes," Leova begins, but then clears her throat. "Teris, I mean. Maybe it doesn't matter, now." It's as though she's remembering herself, all of a sudden more contained in even the way she sits, a little straighter, elbows to her sides. "Reckon they'll be taken care of, one way or the other, anyhow." And though she's still looking to see if he'll answer after all, she continues with something like resignation, "I should go. Good luck." She hasn't even finished her drink. "Leova-" He puts his mug down to the table, to try and catch her before she truly departs. "She didn't agree to anything insofar as I know. If it's troubling you." Z'ian waves her off before taking up that drink again, "Thanks." Amber eyes consider him. "Thank you." Then she's gone.
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