Logs:She's Back
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| RL Date: 26 March, 2011 |
| Who: Tiriana, Taikrin, Jessek |
| Type: Log |
| What: Nothing out of the ordinary. |
| Where: Snowasis |
| When: Day 22, Month 4, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: W'chek/Mentions, R'uen/Mentions |
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| Jessek decides it's okay for Taikrin to have the last word. And he does want to enjoy his dinner. Finally. He remains at the bar, eating as if they hadn't just been exchanging quiet threats. Can't let the villains know they're scary. It just ruins the whole day. The bartender takes the time to murmur something to Jessek, who gives his head a little shake. No, it's not that big a deal. The relatively late hour and sparse population in the Snowasis make the Glacier table and its racuous activity stand out even more. There seems to be something of an impromptu arm-wrestling tournament taking place, complete with wildly flying insults and marks changing hands left and right. Distinct in the din can be made out, "... jealous of that big wet one I gave Loni! You believe that?" At a smug Taikrin's behest, a pair of riders swivel the gaze over to Jessek, then back again. "Poor kid, in over his head. I feel bad for 'im, really." The Snowasis: not a place for the weak, the stupid, or the underage. Which is probably why Tiriana is without with the baby that's been her near-constant prop for, like, a turn now or something. No, really. She still swaggers in like she owns the place, though looking a little run-down as the hours drag on; and she positively flops into a chair at the bar by Jessek. Also, there is real live groaning to accompany the gesture. Didn't mommy always say when the bullies pick on you, to ignore them? Anyway, it's good enough advice, and Jessek has been receiving /therapy/. He ignores the brownrider's ribbing, steadfastly forking food into his eating hole. He quirks a brow as another woman settles into the space just recently occupied. Hopefully she'll be better company, but Jess isn't paying for /her/ drinks, too. He's not made of marks, people. "Evening.." At least it's a good opportunity to put all of that therapy to work. "Sounds like you could /use/ a drink." "Hey, it's the weyrwoman," the bluerider to Taikrin's right calls, nudging the brownrider in the ribs with his elbow. "Looks like your little buddy's making nice. This oughta be good." The brownrider finishes her drink, then leans down to mutter conspiratorily with the other two. A moment later she's sauntering back towards the bar, empty-handed, to belly right back up next to Tiriana. "'Nother round! That's like-- seven? No, eight! An' L'gin wants one of those weird pink whatever things y'all're makin'." On the same breath she turns a smile to Tiriana that shows off nearly every tooth in her head. "Evenin', weyrwoman." "Or three," concludes Tiriana, with a sideways glance at Jessek. Fortunately, she doesn't have to even ask the bartender; he knows her well enough after all this time to just start making something and passing it over. Something strong and not-pink. Taikrin, for her part in all this, gets a suspicious look from the tired Weyrwoman, along with, "What kind of trouble are you causing tonight? Can't say as I ever saw it coming, but I'm not sure I'm ready for it tonight." The scowl returns with Taikrin, but he /will/ finish his dinner. Having cleared out the meat, he stuffs the last of the bread into his mouth and leans on his elbows, tracing a finger around the rim of his mug. No one's screaming, bleeding, or breaking a chair over his head. It's a good night. Oh yeah, and he's not puking. There's another plus. Given how often Taikrin protests her innocence, you'd think she'd be better at it. "What, me? Trouble? Ain't nothin' like it." There's still that huge grin, un-dimmed. If anything, it grows as she directs it to Jessek. "Finished out late sweeps, me and the guys're just grabbin' some drinks. Givin' our new friend here coupl'a lessons about Weyr life." Taikrin, the soul of consideration. "D'you know, he ain't never seen a girl kiss another girl before?" Despite herself, the corners of Tiriana's mouth twitch a little at Taikrin's answer--right before her mouth outright drops at the last. "Wait, what?" she says, casting glances between the pair. "But guys like that. The straight ones, anyway. He /is/ straight, right? I gave up trying to tell after that W'chek debacle, although Iovniath still says we should've guessed. But she always says that when she's been wrong." A shrug. "Your hearing's as lacking as your taste, pet.." Does Jessek really have to go over this again? "Said I don't care to see it." Pause. "Didn't say I've never been witness to it." But Jessek's had just about enough. He drains the rest of his juice. "If you have any problems, you better call someone else. I'm off," he reminds the bartender in passing. It's too late for this crap. "Not /all/ men like to see that, weyrwoman. Some of us prefer our bedmates one at a time." So saying, Jess retreats. Not quite hastily, but not dragging his feet, either. Freak nasty Weyr people. Yuck. Taikrin doesn't even need to explain: she just gestures helplessly to Jessek as he makes his point, shrugging in a he's-so-cute sort of way. "I was pretty sure they did, too. Ain't never got no complaints, anyways. Guys, though." Another shrug, this one helpless, accompanied by that big grin. "You just think about what we talked about, okay kid?" she calls after the departing Jessek. The bartender gives her a /look/ as he drops off the first in the set of drinks, but Taikrin is happily oblivious. "Hope he weren't bothering you none." "And some of us are cold fish," Tiriana snits after Jessek, with a smirk cast sideways at Taikrin. But the bouncer still earns himself a long look afterward, before she settles attention on her drink, her posture suddenly boneless when left in the company of the more familiar Taikrin. She doesn't even drink it yet, studying with with a faint downward pull at her mouth. "Him? Nah. I can handle assholes just fine, thanks," she answers the brownrider. "Although can't say as I'm particularly in the mood for having to tonight. Don't start too much trouble, okay? I hate it when everybody else is having fun without me." One of the deposited glasses is snatched up at random, and Taikrin barely glances at it before taking a long pull at what appears to be a pale beer. "Wasn't lookin' for any trouble, but you know. Big hulking assholes tryin' to pick on people who're smaller? Kinda gets me goin'." She is, after all perfectly innocent in all this, and certainly hadn't been making a scene of herself just half an hour ago. "Gettin' too late for it, anyways. Don't know as how I'd do a good round of trouble much justice." Her grin moderates into something a little more natural -- and lopsided. "B'dan and G'shen are wrestling /again/, you interested in puttin' marks on 'em? Seventh time tonight, gotta break the tie." True enough, the ruckus at the Glacier table is centered around a couple of strapping young specimens pitting the right arms against each other. "But you found it," finishes Tiriana, and shakes her head. She finally takes up her glass, though, and sips from it before turning to watch the commotion. "Late, right. I was supposed to be in bed already, but d'y'know, that /brat/--" and only said brat's mother could put quite so much frustration and pride into that particular title "--can walk now? Hell, I think I liked it better when him just laid there. Boring as hell, but." Beat. "No bet, but G'shen's got this. Just look at him." She gestures to back up that verdict. And while the match gets underway: "So, well. How's things, your world?" "Brat." There's no hiding the way Taikrin's nose wrinkles: the very thought is anethema! "Shards. I'm sorry. He gettin' in the way, much? Ain't seen you down here, so much, lately." She leans back against the bar, ignoring the now-complete drink order that's piled up behind her. As to Tiriana's question, "Sure as shells ain't no kids in it. Been, you know. Quiet. More, uh, normal? Szad ain't followin' Iskiveth around every day anymore, at least." Though the brown /is/ still a relatively common sight hanging around the queen's ledge, he's also restarted his relentless pursuit of greens. "Just tryin' to keep our heads down, a little. You know?" Tiriana's own nose does a matching maneuver, all snurled up and stuff. She squashes the expression with another drink. "R'uen says it's probably turnabout fair, considering me when I was a kid," she admits with a shrug. "He keeps saying we could find another nanny, a good one--" because they've been through several, no surprise there "--but Faranth knows, he /likes/ doing it all. And, well..." She lifts her shoulders, then moves on brusquely. "Faranth. That sounds sad. People like us shouldn't have to do that. The world should be keeping their heads down around /us/." "Well, you know, figure we peaked, me an' Szad, after the hatching. Need some time to kick back, you know?" Because apparently winning a gold flight was the very pinnacle of their ambitions. Still, Taikrin shakes her head incomprehendingly, offering only, "Well, long as he's happy to take care of it, I guess? Ain't so much your problem." To that last, she even raises her glass in salute. "Flamin' right they oughta be keepin' their heads down." "Iovniath says that's when you need to push hardest," is Tiriana's input on that. "You know. Never let 'em see you resting, shove it down their throats when they're expecting you to back off, all that. Course, that's not exactly how she words it, but that's the gist, anyway. And people think she's the nice one." It's always befuddled her, and it's in her voice now, that faint confusion. "Though I guess I don't always hold to that myself--who was he, exactly?" The Weyrwoman tilts her head after Jessek's departure, brows furrowing. "I guess. Well. Feel like we're back in the swing of things now, anyways." Taikrin sips at her drink, ignoring the roar of triumph as G'shen does, indeed, emerge victorious. "Reckon that's why she's queen, though, bein' able to plot like she can. Me, I'm just happy with a good drink, you know?" She glances out the way Jessek had left, then shrugs. "Him?" Her voice is disinterested, despite the way her eyes narrow just a bit. "Guess he's to be a bouncer? Don't know why WE need one, but. Sure tryin' to act the part, anyways, throwin' his weight around where he ain't needed." Tiriana agrees, "Probably," with a certain amount of pride in her dragon's abilities. As for their departed comrade: "If he's going to try to throw out all the riffraff around here, s'not going to be anybody left to buy drinks. Besides, everybody around here can take care of themselves pretty well, and if you can't, well. You don't need to be starting shit. We'll set him straight." She cants one of her smug smirks at Taikrin then, of the sort that's been somewhat lacking around the place of late. Taikrin is supremely confident in that, at least. "S'what I was thinkin'. Had a little talk with him, you know, to let him know how it is. This ain't like whatever little Hold he came from, and we don't need him doin' his little Hold thing at us just for havin' a little bit of a good time." Her chin jerks in a sharp nod, and she raises her glass once more. A couple of riders at the Glacier table have apparently grown tired of waiting, and have elected a bluerider to start collecting the drinks that have piled up behind Taikrin with all sorts of muttering complaints levelled at her back. "Exactly," confirms the Weyrwoman. She takes another slow sip of her drink, too, but when the other riders approach, she sets it down and slides off her seat too. "Looks like they're getting antsy. Should let you get on with your trouble and all, I guess, and get on home myself." A eat. Tiriana casts a sideways glance at Taikrin then, before confiding, "It's not so bad, really. You know?" She almost looks sheepish for saying it, too, as she turns to take her leave. "Yeah, they're lost without me," Taikrin breezes, elbowing he bluerider behind her /just so/ to irritate him without risking the precious drinks. "Reckon I ought to take these over there." She manages to grab two mugs per hand, one of which she raises at Tiriana. "If you say so. Have a good night, y'know? Hope there's no, uh, screaming, or whatever they do." A little dubious, but heartfelt! |
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