Logs:Bet on it
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| RL Date: 26 August, 2014 |
| Who: Edyis, R'hin |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Post Hatching Edyis is left on the sands again. R'hin makes a mint, and shares. |
| Where: Benden Hold |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| OOC Notes: Backdated to Hatching date shortly after hatching feast. As usual feel free to correct or add anything I may have missed. |
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| Hatching Feasts by nature, are noisy and joyous events. Accordingly a particular scribe spent much of the evening dancing and drinking in a borrowed dress after her second stint on the scorching sands. As the evening winds into the wee hours of the morning Edyis herself slips free from the festivities, into the coolness of the summer night. Her normally braided hair is let loose for the evening, swept over one shoulder she brushes her fingers through it absently studying those constellations not obscured by the walls of the bowl, her thoughts somewhere else. R'hin is present at this Hatching, if with a far more low-key presence. He sticks to the back of the galleries amongst the riders of Savannah, and the betting is furious indeed. While many bet for Edyis to Impress, the Wingleader bets against -- and thus ends the hatching with a tidy sum. He's there at the hatching feast too, dancing with a variety of women, both familiar and not, and at some point he slips out. Outside, the warmth of the summer day has cooled, and it's peaceful indeed -- so much so that the soft, amused voice of the bronzerider's so close to the scribe's ear might be a shock: "You earned me a tidy sum tonight." The dark eyed girl is caught off guard, though she recovers, turning to fix the bronze rider with a smirk. "I hope you didn't rob them all blind, I wanted to clean the table at poker night this week." The sweet alto of her voice amused, even as her gaze goes back to those constellations. "I would ask why you were so confident in that choice but then you know me well enough that I probably can guess." "Maybe it was just hope on my part." R'hin's, oddly, grinning as he says that, so it's difficult to tell whether he's being honest or facetious. His hand stretches out to curve lightly around her upper arm, seeking to guide her in an easy, casual sort of stroll away from the entrance. "It was enough that you ought to get a cut. Pick a place, any place -- we'll go there right now, and I'll buy you whatever shiny your heart desires." He seems earnest enough -- doubly so when it becomes apparent he's attempting to steer her in the direction of Leiventh's still form. Obliging as always when it comes to the Savannah Wingleader, She goes where steered without much fuss, "You shouldn't suggest such a thing, I might ask for an expensive vintage of wine, a gold fire lizard egg, or a set of lock picks." She teases in reply, "If only to properly deflate my newly swollen ego." R'hin chuckles darkly at each of her suggestions, but he remains assertively sure when he repeats, "Anything you want." When they reach Leiventh's side, he reaches for the bronze's saddlebags and pulls out a spare flight jacket, holding it out for her to shrug into. She eyes him now uncertainly, as she slips into the familiar warmth of the flight jacket. "Just how much did you win?" The words come suspiciously now, too surprised to ask for anything at the moment, or perhaps too uncertain of just what he seems to be up to. "Now that would be telling -- you'd pick the most expensive thing, rather than the thing you want." Reaching for the straps, R'hin climbs up onto Leiventh's neck, settling in place, before leaning down to offer Edyis a hand. "So, where would the lady like to go?" "As tempting as the idea of a firelizard egg is at the moment, I will settle for a bottle of reasonably good wine and a nice quiet place to clear my head." She states with a laugh. "No I'd just feel less sorry for picking the thing that I want." "Reasonably good wine?" R'hin echoes in exasperation, clucking his tongue. "Have I taught you nothing, little harper?" He starts checking her straps, reflexively, and laughs at her final comment, "Well, at least you're honest about it. Ready?" She grins, "Excellent wine then, but you have to drink it with me lest I be wracked with guilt for days for abusing your good nature." She nods her readiness, wrapping fingers in the straps and shrugging a little deeper into the jacket. "Now that concession, I can accept," R'hin agrees with an amused geniality. The moment after Edyis indicates she's ready, Leiventh crouches and is aloft, sweeping his wings for three beats before the cold of between takes hold. Three heartbeats later, they emerge in dark skies, the flags of Benden Hold whipping in the wind as they descend into the courtyard. "Luckily for you, there's plenty of vintners who keep late hours," the Wingleader says as he waits to see if Edyis can escape the straps easily on her own. The cold snap between always seems to set the little scribes teeth on edge, and then they are landing. It's not exactly quick work, but she is getting much better at this straps thing, slipping down with a grateful pat to the bronzes neck. Of course it takes looking at the crest of the hold for her to figure out where they are, and when she does, she almost giggles with glee. "Are we really where I think we are?" "You asked for excellent wine," R'hin says, as if that should be answer in and of itself. Leiventh turns his head briefly to look at Edyis, glowing eyes lighting the gloom of the courtyard. The bronzerider settles a hand into the curve of Edyis' back, guiding her towards the wine hall. A knocking at the door sees an apprentice perhaps a Turn younger than the scribe peering out, gaze flickering between them before waving them inside. It's unlikely it's R'hin's first visit given he escorts them directly down into the cellars without asking. Asking and actually standing in the courtyard of Benden hold, are two entirely different matters. Enough so that the grin spreads, even wider as she is guided down into the cellars, "I will keep that in mind from now on." She whispers almost reverently, peering about with wide brown eyes. There's a distinct scent to the cellar, aging wine and dark cedar, and they pass barrel after barrel before the apprentice stops beside what looks like a bar, complete with stools. "Ladies' choice," R'hin murmurs, with a gallant gesture to Edyis; the apprentice looks at her expectantly. "What do you want to start with? Red? White? Sweet? Dry?" She blinks a moment, tapping her chin. "Red, and dry please?" she decides finally, eager to try something new and unexplored. She eagerly perches on one of the stools grinning. "Remind me to win you bets more often." Her fingertips testing the texture of the bar, as though assuring herself that it is real. R'hin's chuckling quietly, pale eyes amused as he watches the apprentice lay out five glasses. Into each, the apprentice spills a small amount of liquid for taste testing. Intently Edyis watches the liquid, waiting patiently until the apprentice has finished selecting the first swirling it and then sniffing gingerly before taking a small sip. Slowly that smile curls, and her expression is one of utter contentment. Leaning an elbow on the bar top, R'hin watches her drink the wine, looking pleased at the attention she pays to the first one. "Is that the one?" "If I were to say yes without sampling the others I would get another exasperated sigh and Have I taught you nothing?" She replies setting down the first, and moving on to the rest paying the same careful attention to each, before sipping gingerly, mildly surprised when comparing the differences between them. In the end however her reply comes: "Yes the first is it." "Depends whether you really picked the best. If you did, I'll say nothing," R'hin assures her with a laugh. When she makes her choice, the apprentice disappears into the back, producing a bottle and two fresh glasses. The bronzerider drops a mixture of coins on the bar, and stands, reaching out to carry the glasses -- leaving the bottle to Edyis. He guides them up the tight, turning staircase to the fireheights, with a good view of the sky. Ever curious, the Wingleader has plenty of questions for the scribe on the other candidates, and it's only when most of the bottle is consumed that he sees them home. |
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