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.
Evening--not that late, but at this time of the Turn, days are short, there's a few flakes of snow in the air as the chill sets in. Liardith elects to land not too far away from the patio; there's light there, and alcohol inside, all sorts of things a body might be interested in. At some point. For right now, what his rider is interested in is dismounting, which takes some time. Liardith's not a large fellow--powder-blue, insectoid proportions that make the eyes look all the more bug-like--but his rider has to take some time about this process, clearly disfavoring one leg as he does so. Getting to the ground is step one, step two is retrieving the wooden cane secured to the straps. The red-haired rider is not an old man by any means, but markedly less spry than his lifemate.
The insectoid blue catches her attention first, the dusky skinned woman approaching cautiously as the rider dismounts dark eyes moving over the pair with almost clinical curiosity. "Would you like a pretty escort up the stairs?" She offers with a playful smile, studying the blue for several moments. "You two fought the freak pass didn't you?" Her interest quite plain in the subject, even as she adjusts the coat about her.
Her curiosity is clinical; N'vad's is slightly suspicious. "Depends whether it comes with strings attached, but--oh, yeah, ah. That. The comet... that one." He leans on the cane a bit more heavily. Liardith, on the other hand, draws himself up to sit very straight, wings folded very precisely. The very picture, however many Turns later, of The Fighting Dragon. That gets a scowl from his rider. "Yeah, she knows you were there, you don't have to be showin' off."
Edyis smiles warmly, chuckling as the blue displays him. "Ah but he's earned the right to show off, unlike so many of the hatchlings who haven't seen a wisp of thread." Playing to the blue's ego, as for strings, she smiles even more widely, "How about I buy you a drink, and you tell me about it hm? I'd like to hear the stories of the glory days when the holds had cause to remember the purpose of the Weyr. I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you both yet, Edyis of the records room." She offers her arm to the man with along with the most charming smile she can manage.
"You--yes, I see, she agrees with you, that doesn't mean she's right. Lay down. Or go away. Something. I don't care." Grumpy as it comes out, the dragon seems to pay it no mind whatsoever. There's a whuff in the young woman's direction--it comes out in a white puff of air, a child's fancy of smoke--and then, while N'vad's not going to lean on her as heavily as he does the cane, he's not above accepting the offer. Anyway, the leg works, just not spectacularly well. "Edyis--N'vad. I'm--" A beat. "From Benden. Wingleader, for a good long while. Still recoverin' from a bit of a mishap and figured a change of scenery'd do me good and give my replacement a bit more breathin' room."
Edyis can only laugh at the interplay, giving a respectful nod to the blue as N'vad takes her arm. "Most people go to Southern or Monaco when they encounter a mishap rather than the chill of 'Reaches. Though I may be biased in telling you the company here is better." She doesn't seem to mind one way or the other how much he actually chooses to lean on her, nor does she make any fuss about it attempting her best to allow the whole thing to feel as natural as it would walking arm and arm with a rider whose leg did work properly most of the time. "Benden, ah. Alas I don't get to visit as often as I would like. Best wine of anywhere I've been, even if it is a tad on the expensive side."
Natural. It takes a few moments for it to get to natural, but eventually something of the memory of how one does this seems to settle in, and N'vad seems to relax. "'Fraid I never got quite the taste for it that some folks do," he muses as they walk. "Bit... fancy. Not that I ain't gonna drink it if that's what's served, but I got a more pragmatic sorta taste in beverages." There, that was almost a smile. It's hard to tell. His eyebrows are more expressive than his mouth is. "Not retired. Just recuperatin'. I ain't goin' off somewhere to lay on a beach and get soft. Not yet, anyhow. Another twenty Turns, might think on it."
"Mm, does that make you a man for ale or cider, or perhaps you prefer the harder spirits?" Dark eyes sparking with the promise of laughter, she considers his answer. "I would be careful of saying sunny days on a beach could make a person go soft, nothing quite like a good run on the beach, or spending a day climbing the dunes to leave your legs burning for hours. Besides, I think your blue would miss showing off to the younger generations if you were to retire so early, and where would we all be without the benefit of your combined skills? So what happened? With your leg I mean, you mentioned an accident?" As they make their way into the Snowasis.
"Bourbon--well, whiskey generally, will do, bourbon by preference." N'vad is polite enough not to make any fuss over the rest of it on their way in, though he does have to pause once inside for coat-removal purposes. Gloves shoved into pockets, coat off and draped over somewhere convenient. "Bad luck," he explains the injury away. "Fell. Laid up a few months, took awhile longer to get walking, they tell me these things take time. Inconvenient as all get-out but ain't keepin' me from doing anything important, these days."
She removes her own coat when he does, happy to lay it over one of the bar stools before plopping herself atop it. "One bourbon, and once cider please," She orders quickly, returning her attention to N'vad as she waits for their drinks. "Must have been a hell of a fall, you aren't old enough to have brittle bones." She surmises thoughtfully, though perfectly aware she could be reading far too much into it. "All the same, welcome to High Reaches."
When his glass arrives, N'vad lifts it, as though in a sort of toast. Maybe, given the eyebrow-lift, more in the way of an ironic toast. "Hell of a fall," he agrees, before taking a drink. "I--no, I ain't that old, no." He could make some comparisons about how old he is, in point of fact, compared to the girl he's sitting with, but he seems to have sense enough not to do that. "Was quicker back in the Fall days. Had t'be."
"Must have been pretty good at it, I didn't notice much in the way of scarring on your blue. Too bad most forget in twenty some turns what purpose dragonfolk serve." She comments idly bringing her glass back to her lips after the toast. "What was it like? Flying thread? "
That mention turns N'vad's eyes back towards the entrance, briefly, but he stays settled on a barstool, cane propped beside him. "Got a little too close a few times, there, but always got _between_ fast enough to keep it gettin' far. Tricky balance." Another drink. "Ought to say it was serious business, but 'tween you'n me, it was a hell of a time to be a young man with a dragon. Not that discipline ain't important. Still is. But... we got back whole, we felt like we owned the world."
She grins, teeth flashing. "Almost makes me wish I'd seen it, but then again that's what stories do, they glorify the heroes and little by little you forget the horror of what happened until it all just becomes a line in a harper's song." She sighs studying her cider. "You ever felt anything like it since? That feeling of owning the world I mean?"
"Don't know as I see it quite like that. Still remember the bad just as well." This produces a pause, but not one with the drifty far-away looks or anything. N'vad just briefly becomes really serious about his drinking, making sure his cane hasn't spontaneously vanished, that sort of thing. Then, tone still casual, "Few times, sure. Life's not just been eatin', sleepin', and drillin' since then, have managed to have some good times."
"Oh of course not, you remember it, you lived it. You've got entire generations now though; those have grown up without its presence. We aren't likely to see a comet pass like that again anytime in the immediate future." Sipping her cider thoughtfully, eyeing the bourbon as though to measure when she should order a second round. "Come on, give me an example, what is something that compares to that feeling?"
Whiel N'vad isn't precisely rushing through it, he's started to give the glass that wary eye of one considering how it might be empty in the near-ish future. Or maybe that's just an excuse for avoiding eye contact periodically. "Ah, well, you know." Not a lot of talent at this stalling thing. "Personal stuff, mostly. Promotions... whatever."
She laughs, ordering bourbon perhaps picking up the cue. "Promotions, I see." Something mischievous in her eyes, "By which you mean that I keep asking personal probing questions which you are too polite to tell me to bugger off for?" Guessing, but for all the nature in her words she's quite jovial about it. "Forgive me, I'm endlessly curious about everything. "
A second drink, maybe that will help things? But N'vad doesn't seem to be too perturbed by any of this, just--not handling it in the smoothest possible way, certainly. "Wouldn't phrase it like that, anyhow. I ain't gonna use language like that in mixed company. Anyhow... whatever. You're a sweet girl, sure you ain't got nothin' better to be doin' with your night? I can get this," said pointedly when the bartender's nearby.
There's something mischievous in her expression which brightens at that particular observation. "A kind thing to say, but tonight, I find myself without company or extra work to distract me. But, If I am making a bother of myself, I can probably find some extra paperwork that was left undone." Her cider however is only half gone, and she certainly won't be leaving before she finishes that.
"No! Er. That--you--didn't mean to say you're a bother. Just... not used to this sorta company," N'vad settles on, peering at her for a moment like he's trying to figure out just what sort of company that actually is, like she might spontaneously turn into the Weyrleader and start asking questions about formations. Possibly not. But maybe. Things can happen. "They were bad days, and good days, both, but I reckon you weren't even born yet. Long past."
"Sort of company? I promise I am no threat to your virtue sir." Edyis chuckles softly, grinning around the rim of her glass. "Mm, not quite but close enough I suppose. History interests me, just as the truth of a thing interests me. I like to understand things, make sense of them. Unfortunately most things in life cannot be pinned down to a page."
This objection is waved away with N'vad's glass. "THAT sorta company is easy enough to deal with." Although the how, he is most definitely not going to elaborate on in this particular setting. "Don't reckon I'm used to bein' nobody's history project, though." Is there a little amusement in it? A little.
Edyis laughs, "I never thought of it as a history project, more getting to know someone with more experience than myself in life." Wry as another sip of her cider is taken. "Do you find it offensive or amusing?"
"Reckon--well. Reckon I didn't spend all that time doing all those things just to NOT set a good example for the younger generation, all that," N'vad says after a drink. "Just, the younger generation taking any interest is--" A pause. "Weeird," is the word he settles on, drawing it out a bit. As an afterthought: "Not in a bad way."
Edyis beams, "That I take as a complement. It may be a bit arrogant, but I like to think I'm at least a little more intelligent than most of my generation." Finishing out her glass with a smile and putting down the marks for the drinks she stands shrugging back into her coat. "I hope I get to share the pleasure of your company again N'vad. I'd like to hear more sometime. If you are willing to talk to a young whippersnapper like myself. "
"Not THAT old," N'vad does grumble a bit, still working on his drink, and evidently content to stay here and do so once she departs. "Anyhow--ain't goin' nowhere no time soon. Don't know as I'm the sort of tale-teller can really do any of it justice, but don't mind talkin'. You have a good night." Another glass-lift.
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