Logs:Perfect
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| RL Date: 27 August, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, Ali, Yamilet |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Two Fortians and a Reachians walk into a bar during Elaruth's flight. Some people are more awkward than others. Mistakes are made, and are corrected. |
| Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 8, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, E'ten/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions |
| The Sandbar, Ista Weyr Standing on stilts over the water's edge with a broad ramp leading up from the beach, the thatch-roofed building sits well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar and it's smooth surface is etched with decorative carvings of shipfish and flowers and other emblems of the tropical location. Shelves behind the bar are lined with bottles and glasses of various shapes and sizes and hanging in prominent view are slates listing the menu, beverages both alcoholic and not as well as a handful of greasy appetizers provided by the kitchen to the rear of the bar. It's a warm summer's afternoon, and yet, leaning up against the bar, Ali's visibly shivering in her thin summer dress. On the bar, there's on empty glass, the dregs a brilliant green color, and it looks as if the bartender's busy making a second at the Fortian's behest. Since it's the middle of the day, the place is largely empty - though there are a few people here and there. Outside, Isyath circles a somewhat low - for her - path, crossing between the ocean and the beach, her presence tolerated by the Istan queens, for now. Won't the Istan queens be thrilled to find a second gold popping from /between/ then, sunburst hide and sun-in-water wings bright in the skies, still smaller than them all, likely... though not for long. Iesaryth is all bubbly seafoam happiness at seeing the ocean, though - at ease enough to rumble a greeting Isyath's way as she wings for the beach. It's a short time after that Brieli arrives, already barefoot, in a loose white shirt and colorful shorts, and not shivering in the warmth of the afternoon - instead, taking her time in admiring the view before she saunters across the room. That gives her sharp dark gaze time to pick out Ali and the bartender making another drink; with the light of recognition in her eyes, she leans on the bar nearby. "Afternoon. High Reaches' duties to Fort." That's offered wryly - let's just get it out of the way. Ali's gaze is, at first, blank and distant- the visible sign of a rider speaking with her dragon. It takes a moment before the Reachian's voice penetrates, and she refixes her gaze on Brieli. There's no recognition in her gaze, at first, until somewhere after High Reaches is mentioned. "Fort's duties," she says, thickly, glancing away and to the bartender to check on the progress of her drink, "Make that three," she says, then back. A pause. "Can you drink?" then, "Doesn't matter- it won't go to waste." Brieli doesn't seem surprised that Ali doesn't recognize her - once she's done communicating with Isyath that is. Formalities done with, she won't offer her hand over, but she will offer, "Brieli. And she's Iesaryth." The tall, dark girl doesn't seem to expect the Fortian goldrider to know her name. With a quirk of her lips, a grin, "I can do lots of things. Thisclose--" She holds up two fingers to show how close. "To putting us in Aurora. What are we drinking?" A pause. Wait. "And why." Ivwynoth's delicate figure winks in from /between/ and immediately her path veers at Isyath, drawing her dangerously close to her golden sister like the impish play of birds in flight. She spirals away from Isyath, swooping about as she extends a skittish but friendly greeting to the other dragons present (Istan and Reachian alike, it seems), and lands only long enough for Yamilet to remove straps and dismount, then the little green shoots straight back up to chase after Isyath, leaving Yamilet sputtering black sand out of her mouth even as she heads in to the Sandbar. "Ali!" Sand-in-mouth forgotten, Yamilet wedges her way between Brieli and the more familiar weyrwoman. "Sorry that took so long. Ivwynoth." That one word ought to be enough explanation, right? Bright eyes (regardless of the fact that they are a dull blue) sparkle at Brieli with curiosity. "Who's this?" "I'm not sure. He said it was good for warming one up quickly." Which probably means there's lots of alcohol, a fact that either Ali doesn't realize, or doesn't seem to care about. There's a nod to acknowledge the other woman, and then, "Ali," though kind of superfluously, given Yamilet calls it out again a second later. She brightens considerably, exhaling a breath. "Glad you came, Yami- I've already got drinks coming." Then: "This is one of the High Reaches weyrlings. Brieli. Yamilet." Introductions done, she leans forward as the bartender sets down one, two, three drinks in a row for them. Iesaryth has a greeting in return for the little green - but despite both she and Isyath's flight in the warm air above, the weyrling gold is more than content to sun herself on the black sand. She's good, she'll watch. They look pretty. Meanwhile, Brieli finds herself with Yamilet a bit more in her personal space than she might like; she takes a step back and offers the greenrider an easy smile. "Like she said, Brieli. High Reaches by way of Monaco by way of Crom. With Reaches in there again. It's a bit of a thing. High Reaches' duties." Though after all of that, but they are at a bar. Back to Ali, glancing between the drink and the other goldrider, "Green is always lethal. Someone told me that once." Not that it stops her from drinking. Yamilet rolls that name out on her tongue: "Brieli, Brieli, Brieli... Hmmm..." One of those drinks is claimed whether it was intended for her or not, and she waves her hand at the bartender and mouths the words 'Keep them coming' before devouring a long swig of the drink. A grimace follows, albeit from the liquor, not the words she utters in blissful innocence. "I know that name, Brieli." Ali is looked to for help. "Who is Brieli?" And then: GASP. "/Oh/! Brieli! Weyrwoman! Or, well, you will be soon. Oh-" Her free hand salutes, which might look far more informal due to the goofy grin on her face and the bright green drink in her other hand. "What's brought you all this way to Ista? A stiff drink?" And speaking of stiff drinks, Yamilet takes another sip. "Monaco?" Ali picks that up with a furrow of brow, but she doesn't pursue it. Instead, she's lifting a hand to grip at Yamilet's arm, pleading, briefly, her tone low enough that it barely stretches beyond them, "Can Ivwyn listen in? I- I think it's better Issy doesn't, given she and Elaruth-" a beat, then, "I don't think Ista would be pleased, if she-" there's a grimace, and she doesn't finish the sentence, instead gulping down a mouthful of that (toxic) green liquid. It brings a splash of color to her face, intended or not. While the Fortian weyrwoman's drinking, she, too, looks at Brieli for an answer, chewing her lower lip. "Iesaryth likes it. The beach," Brieli explains to Yamilet, with a gesture - in case she missed it, you know, sand, sun, stunning views. There's a little wrinkle of her nose for that salute, waving it off as she adds, glancing Ali's way as well, "She was hatched at Monaco, and we were brought to Reaches in a trade a little while after. It... had something to do with the past Weyrwoman, I believe." There's another look the goldrider's way before flashing Yamilet a grin. "But the drinks help." She takes her own long drink, gaze flickering between Fortians, but she doesn't ask. Yet. Yamilet nods excitedly at Ali, surfacing from her drink with a merry twinkle in her eyes. "Oh, of course. They're just blooding," she assures, and lets that mirth spread to Brieli. "The beach," she echoes, and then wrinkles her nose in the recent memory. "I swear I ate half of it on the way in. I know they say black sand is different somehow but it all tastes the same." Perhaps it's her close knowledge of Ali that makes Brieli a target for Yamilet's curiosity, for the greenrider seizes on the opportunity to dig deeper: "How do you like it in Reaches? I mean, you've lived... like, /everywhere/." Which must make Brieli an expert, says Yamilet's tone. A few more gulps and the drink is more than half gone. The bartender's watching and already mixing up a few more drinks, looking amused. There's a marked exhale from Ali at Yamilet's update, and, as she talks about sand, the goldrider gulps down the rest of the glass, coughing afterwards. It's obvious she's not that used to drinking, and already she's flush with color- but at least she's stopped shivering, now. "High Reaches has had a... difficult history," she says, carefully. Maybe she's being polite putting it just like that? Certainly she seems content to let Yamilet ask the questions, watching. Brieli echoes, "Blooding. Elaruth?" It really doesn't take all that much to put it together, and surely rumors have reached High Reaches by now at least. Other than a curious lift to fine brows, her expression doesn't change, though she /does/ take quite the drink from her glass - and doesn't react the way Ali does afterward. Perhaps a little alarmed, "Maybe some water. Between." Before someone accuses her of killing a Fortian goldrider? "I haven't lived everywhere, and Monaco wasn't more than a month at the most. Reaches is... where I'm meant to be." There's a pause before lightly, "Everyone seems to have had a 'difficult history' lately." Yamilet furrows her brow and offers (what she believes is) a helpful pat to Ali's back. "Water?" A feigned stare of shock is shot at Brieli. "No water. Just... slower. Maybe." A glare is aimed at the bartender - as if he could slow the Fortian goldrider down. "We have a while to waste. Let's not end the 'vacation' before it's hardly begun." She swirls her drink in tandem with Ivwynoth's spirals up in the summer sky, and gives a little 'hmm', trying to play innocent to Brieli's question about Elaruth and hope that Ali answers that. She'll just skip on: "What is with you goldriders? Does someone pull you aside and teach you how to come up with the most proper reply to every question or are you all just born being..." She flails her hand at the two goldriders. "... perfect." There's a noise at the back of Ali's throat that might be protest but is probably more just a reaction to the helpful pat from Yamilet, as she secures her next drink. She doesn't (perhaps thankfully) take an immediate sip. "Why would we want water?" she echoes Yamilet's sentiment on that score, but given she's already two glasses down already, the warning of taking it slow is probably apt. "Blooding," she confirms, since her clutchmate abandons her on that answer. "I saw N'muir, so at least-" but she doesn't finish that sentence. Instead, there's a snort for the descriptor of 'perfect'. "Getting oneself thrown out of one's own Weyr is hardly perfect, Yami," she counters. And she's clearly not talking about /now/. With a shrug, "Slower couldn't hurt either." Brieli's just saying. She's finishing up her drink, though - and seeming no worse the wear for it, but who knows how far Ali got before the other two? There's a look for Yamilet's innoncence - really? - but then she laughs, full and easy. Sliding her glass back towards the bartender, "You have to meet Azaylia. She would argue vehemently against her supposed perfection. And I find Reaches snowier than I would like for longer than I like, but I'm told 'three winters and you get used to it'." Still eyeing Ali a bit warily, if sympathetically, she seems more relaxed as the Fortian goldrider speaks. Careful herself now, "I suppose it's better to have things - stay as they are if possible." She might widen her eyes at Ali's last, but where some girls might gasp 'WHAT?!?', she just pulls forward her drink. "Let me get this round. We got an advance." Yamilet nibbles her lip gently and then thinks better of it and upends her drink, devouring whatever is left before setting the glass back on the bar with a heavy 'thunk'. Where one is empty another appears, and she happily wraps her fingers around it, sipping it experimentally as if expecting this one to taste different. Which is doesn't. "He's there. It's cloudy." Her voice lowers gently, almost worried tones sinking in. "They aren't very high, I don't think. It's hard to tell and Ivwynoth's-..." Ivwynoth. That appears to be the latest news. Another sip is taken, big grey-blue eyes swinging to Brieli. "/I/ haven't gotten used to it one bit but that's the beauty of being a dragonrider, isn't it? Blink and you're on a beach with an attractive young bartender feeding you fruity drinks and fresh-caught sea-fair." The admittance of Ali's brief stint being a Weyrless goldrider puts a wince into the corner of Yamilet's smile. "What happened anyway?" A flicker of a glance at Brieli makes her hide behind another sip of her drink. "Azaylia is your- well, I guess /not/ a clutchsister, but... she's the other gold weyrling, right?" The update makes Ali take her first sip of her new drink. "Not very high," she echoes, fighting to keep the worry from her voice. Not like she can do anything, anyway. Speaking of their dragons, Isyath's still circling, content with Ivwynoth's presence for now, spiraling and diving in the warm, choppy thermals, though an attentive dragon might notice the residue of heat from her dam's rising in the traces of her starry thoughts. "I'd- I'd rather not talk about it." Not /here/, anyway, not that disassembling has always worked with her clutchmate. Brieli's comment of having things stay the same earns a grimace- the Fortian junior looking like she's trying to bite back a comment- the drink helps with that, but probably not with her state of inebriation. Though Brieli's interested in the latest, it's Yamilet's 'haven't gotten used to it' that makes her wince, shake her head sadly. "I wondered if it was all a lie. But yes, it's definitely a benefit to be able to travel as we do." Her lips quirk into an odd little smile, and she nods to the greenrider, "Yes. Hraedhyth's. She impressed... first." Something about how Ali grimaces has her leave it at that; the tall girl merely looks over, giving the other goldrider a shrug. "I wasn't talking about us. Just generally," she notes, tone unoffended. There's a moment before she'll add, almost gently, "It'll be all right." Her own brows are now drawn together in concern though, while Iesaryth watches the Fortian dragons in the skies, always observant, the crash and fall of the waves in her own thought in rhythm with Ista's ocean. "Whoop! There they go," Yamilet corrects, smiling over at the Fortian weyrwoman. "They're heading higher up now." Her smile teeters towards sly, and she can't suppress the giggle that bubbles forth. "Oh Faranth, I think they're over the Hold. Those poor caravan people; they're in for quite the treat." The greenrider's eyes slide from goldrider to goldrider, and then make a sharp pitch upwards. "Shards, loosen up, the both of you!" she demands with good-natured threads in her voice. "Don't you ever just want to /complain/ about anything? Ever?" There's a more notable flush of color to Ali's, not from the drink but from Brieli's reaction to her grimace. The Fortian junior's never been that good at concealing her expression, and now she looks visibly ill. The news, at least, of Elaruth's flight has the tension in her shoulders easing marginally. "Over the Hold?" she echoes, horrified. "Oh. And the travelling show...!" She starts to push to her feet, then remembers that's the last place she can go- and sinks back into her seat. There's a slight wince from the dark-haired woman at Yamilet's recrimination, and she mutters, "Sorry, I-" glance flickers to Brieli, apology in her gaze, "-this isn't easy, for me." She doesn't elaborate on /what's/ so difficult. The leaving. The waiting. The drinking. Maybe all three. "Oh, that caravan - you know, I've never heard of anything like that before?" Brieli tells Yamilet, but looks between them both, curious. "I assume you've all been by now?" At least it's something else to talk about? Leaning on the bar after passing some marks across it, she now has one of her shrugs for the greenrider, but this one comes with a grin. "I complain about all sorts of things. Just depends who I'm complaining to." While Ali looks ill, she's still at ease, but concerned. "Don't worry about it," she says, dark eyes meeting the other goldrider's - there's something not entirely /settled/ there either, despite how she seems. "I... I suppose I'll have to see if I do any better. Later." Right. "Oh, like anyone's really going to gripe about a little-," Yamilet cuts short of saying exactly what Fort Holders might gripe about, smiling to herself as she tips back her glass for another gulp of drink, punctuating it with a giggle. "/I/ wouldn't." But before she can be swept into reverie, she seizes on Brieli's question with enthusiasm. "I've been far too many times for my purse and still haven't won any of those games they have. Have you been? I didn't realize it would draw anyone from beyond Fort." She'll ignore that not-quite-settled look, exchange a smile at one for an affectionate arm around the other, aiming to rub Ali's arm supportively. "That's what the liquor is for. To make you easy- I mean /it/ easy." "It's fascinating." Why, yes, the traveling show is /so/ much easier to talk about than the Fortian flight. Ali's definitely blushing at Yami's casualness with regards to the Holder's reactions: she looks distinctly horrified. A quick moment of gulping at her drink (and a moment of choking at that latter comment), and when the Fortian weyrwoman finally recovers, it's with a voice that's somewhat rough in reaction. "Yami, did you see the fire-dancer? The way N'rov and E'ten were looking at her- and she was /amazing/." There's a faintly sympathetic smile for Brieli, for 'later', but it's somewhat strained. "There's been some rumors about them being thieves, but I- I don't believe that. They've been nothing but nice to me." Shaking dark curls, Brieli says, "No. But we'd heard about it, at least. I've been meaning to - is it that expensive? Or are the games that fixed?" She has an amused arch of brows for Yamilet, and then a laugh at the greenrider's last comment, if partially due to Ali's reaction to it. Draining her glass, only her cheeks seeming a little flushed, "N'rov mentioned the fire-dancer - and the knife-throwing, besides. I wonder where someone learned to fire-dance in the first place - it must have been passed down." There's a moment where she blinks into her glass, but it's a split-second; looking over to Ali, sincerely, "That's kind of you. Most are more than willing to think the worst." Yamilet can't help but giggle at Ali's antics, and affectionately tries to lean her head on the woman's shoulder. "I love you, Ali." For whatever reason. Maybe it's the drink that she keeps sipping, her second nearly done. She straightens and waves the bartender down for another round. "The way N'rov and E'ten were looking at her what? What about how they were looking at her?" Her tone develops that edge of sisters teasing sisters. "Is there something going on with you and E'ten?" Her attention flicks sharply to Brieli. "N'rov. You know N'rov? How do you know N'rov?" Curious, this one, as always. "And Ali is kinder than kind. You know, when my hip was broken she baked me cookies, like, all the time-/oh/." She voice suddenly pitches towards grave, and she stands stalk-straight in uncertain shock. "Speaking of... N'rov..." Surprise lays blank her expression, staring into her drink. "I think-... Vhaeryth- it looks like him." "I won a knife-throwing contest against N'rov and E'ten," Ali says, as if /that/ is clear evidence of how much things are fixed. Another gulp from the glass, but at least she's slowing down, now, still over half the green liquid lighting up her glass. There might be a slight fluster and drop of gaze as the Reachian weyrling speaks of leaning fire-dancing, or maybe she's just fixed on something, distantly. Brieli's words, however, draw her gaze upwards again. "I- they've all been kind to me," she repeats, as if this should be reason enough not to think the worst. Clearly, she's a target rife for being scammed. It's hard even for Ali to resist the display of affection from Yamilet; it makes her giggle, too, and she drops an arm around the greenrider. Whatever amusement might've lingered falters during the sharp inhale and widening of eyes as Yamilet announces who caught Elaruth. "N'rov," she chokes in disbelief. Not in any rush for that next round apparently, Brieli watches Yamilet wave down the bartender warily. Take your own advice, woman. Crossing long legs, she too has a passing interest in the answers to the greenrider's questions - until they turn on her. Dismissively, "We met just before I impressed. We write." To each other, presumably. Fixing on Ali's answer swiftly, "Perhaps you just have better aim. Flamethrowers and all." Because crooked games might prop up the thieves theory. The dark Reachian girl only has the bar - and thankfully, she's leaning on it as the greenrider delivers her news; looking over at the Fortians with dark, wide eyes, it takes her a moment to believe they're not joking before she merely nods once. And turns back to the bar. And gestures for the bartender to hurry up already. Empty glass here. Yamilet isn't choking on her drink. That seems to be the Thing Not To Do that warrants being told to slow down - at least in Yamilet's world. She makes a very doubting face at Ali. "You still haven't told me about E'ten," she points out, but that quickly takes a back seat to Brieli's comment about N'rov. The brunette greenrider puts her free hand on her cocked hip and eyes both young women with no amount of belief in her narrowed eyes. "You think you're pulling the wool over me, but I'm no stupid girl." Hand comes off hip, pointing an impishly accusing finger at Brieli first. "Dragonriders don't write each other, and-" That finger migrates quickly to Ali, "-/you/ should be telling me if you like someone so that /I/ don't try to pick them up." As for the new Weyrleader, N'rov, Yamilet just stares into her drink, seemingly confused or maybe simply trying to absorb that odd nugget of news. With a shake of head by way of answer to further questions, Ali breathes, "I- I think we should go back." Unsteadily, she places a hand on the bar like she wants to push upwards after Yamilet stands, though she looks uneven enough about doing it that she flops back down onto her seat. "People will be- they'll be-" so many words could end the sentence, and the goldrider seems to flounder on which is the most appropriate. There's a press of lips at Brieli's answer to Yamilet, especially at the greenrider's reaction. There's half a glass of her own drink to go, but she doesn't seem quite as interested in it at the moment, flustering at latter comment, gaze downwards. Honestly surprised, "They don't?" Brieli seems a little off - enough that the response to Yamilet is entirely unfiltered, her eyes still widened. "I didn't know that. I'll... I'll have to quit." She offers that lightly enough, flashing the greenrider a smile. As she gets her next drink, she looks down the bar towards Ali with a thoughtful, concerned expression, fine brows drawn together - especially as she tries to get up and... fails. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" There's something in her sharp gaze, even if it's unfocused, fogged by the drinks - something's coming together. To Yamilet, still a bit worried, "Will you be all right... going back now?" "No." It's half-whine, half-plead, half-demand, made with a hand moving towards Ali's shoulder to further please Yamilet's case. "Who would you wish to talk to? Ali, if N'rov is really Weyrleader, Hattie's going to be in bed with N'rov, the rest of the Weyr will be in bed with everyone else, and unless you want to become N'muir's consolation prize, I don't suggest you try to talk to him for at least a few hours." She, for one, won't be going back tonight. Yamilet seems perfectly content to stay where she is, drinking enormously alcoholic drinks in the salty sea air. "It'd just be best for all of us if we stayed here, got piss drunk, and slept it off in some stranger's bed." An elbow searches to nudge Brieli, urging her silently to agree. While she's at it, she pauses and regards the foreign goldrider. "Do you /really/ write letters? Couldn't your gold just bespeak Vhaeryth? Or you could go visit him? He could visit you?" While the greenrider's comments only make Ali pale further, she clears her throat. "There should be someone with half a sensible bone around, just in case-" in case of what? She's not exactly the most steady she's ever been in her life, and it's possible some of those words were a shade slurred, too. Still, her fingers curl around the stem of her glass, and with Yamilet so vehement about them staying, she doesn't have the heart to protest much more. Her clutchmates questions of Brieli earn a sidelong look, the Fortian frowning just slightly, brow furrowed suddenly. Brieli takes some time to really get involved with her drink as Yamilet describes the (likely accurate) state of things at Fort at the moment, not reacting in the least, no. Unless you count drinking. Though 'consolation prize' might earn a wry smirk. Women /dream/ of that. At the elbow from the greenrider, she jumps a little and agrees quickly, "Well, yes. Or wherever you want to sleep. If that's not your thing." She's just guessing, but it doesn't seem Ali's thing. Uncomfortably, "They do bespeak each other. And we do - well, not me ye-- never mind. It's just... habit, I suppose." Trying to move /forward/, she tells the Fortian goldrider, "Sensible will be good tomorrow morning." Yamilet will ask it: "In case of what?" she asks, that little playful smile of hers turning gleefully sly. Her giggle gets muffled into her drink. Eyes slide to Brieli and brows knit together. "Whoa, now who needs to slow down? I hope you don't expect I'll let you return to High Reaches tonight either, young weyrwoman." She pats the bar affectionately. "You're stuck here with us. Good thing we have this nice man to make our drinks for us all night." Another giggle, and another gulp of drink. "Tomorrow is going to be /interesting/... Oh, I'll be back." And off she wanders with a full sashay in her sway, probably for a bathroom break but who knows who she might meet along her way? Eyeing the drink in front of her, then Yamilet as she saunters off, Brieli gives a little sigh. Ali's momentary push-back gives her reason to smile, and she looks down, shaking her head. "If you /really/ want," she says, "You can likely quit and drink some water and head back in a few hours. But she might be right. As much as I hate anyone telling me what to do, either." She looks up and over to the other goldrider, as if she's just decided something; "You need to meet Azaylia. I think you'd find you have a lot in common. Just a guess." There's a visible bristling from the older goldrider, disclaimer or not, Ali taking a moment to take a breath, her tone mostly even, though she's not adept enough to hide the trace of heat to it: "I'll go back when I'm ready- I've been riding long enough to know my own limits." Which is probably why she's still sitting here, rather than bolting for the door the second Yamilet has her back turned. The response has at least brought color back to her features, and her brow furrows. "The other weyrling? I- I think that would be a bad idea." She doesn't bother to elucidate /why/, but the faint emphasis suggests it should be obvious. Visible bristling might be why Brieli visibly holds up her hands, leaning back away from the bar, away from Ali. She's unarmed, here. "I just... I'm used to looking after people, I suppose. I'm sorry." And she sounds like she is -- she sounds like she knows she's crossed a line. "Maybe that's... And would it? Does she..." Her dark gaze slips skyward, towards Isyath. "Think like Elaruth does? I'd just thought... I'm not a fan of my Weyrleader, but I know you once got along. And you seem so like Azaylia, in some ways. It might be why the advice." Eventually, looking back down to earth. "But if she's the 'Exile's Daughter', perhaps not, yes?" A slight, wry smile. "Issy is her own dragon." What might be a defensive statement from the Fortian weyrwoman is softened somewhat by the fact that she's talking about her dragon, and it warms her voice, inadvertantly or not. "There's a lot- a lot of history between our Weyrs, surely you must know that. I don't want to be the one to stir it all up again when it's only just- beginning to settle." The fire-touched queen seems oblivious to the study, soaring in the choppy skies above, occasionally crossing paths with Ivwynoth- close enough that once or twice it might seem to be a near-collision, but it never happens. The mention of the exile's daughter earns a sharp shake of her head, shaking it off quickly. There's a distant, but distinctly headachey grumble like a massive sheet of metal made to rumble by the tap of an also-enormous mallet. Not fit for polite company, he. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) To Vhaeryth, Iesaryth would soothe with the sound of waves - those nearby her or otherwise - but she's been told that he's had an awful day. So she accepts, leaves him be with only the scent of sea air lingering; she's always there when it's better. There's a long moment where - speaking of dragons - Brieli seems to completely tune out of the conversation, caught up in something with Iesaryth. The sunburst gold hasn't moved from her spot but to make a quiet whuff or two when Ivwynoth and Isyath nearly collide, perhaps impressed. But not enough to get up. Blinking out of her reverie, almost energized, "I do. I can't argue that there is. And... I suppose we can call this settled. Though, do you know K'del has your people announcing themselves to Cadejoth and Ysavaeth? /Just/ the Fortians?" She'll gloss over some of the details. At the sharp shake of Ali's head, she nods a little, then takes a sip of her drink. "So you're a crack cookie-baker and knife-thrower, yes? That's quite a picture." While the weyrling tunes out, Ali's casting a look around for Yamilet, and not seeing her, pushes to her feet. Lazily, Isyath begins circling down towards the black sands beach. She's not in any hurry. The Fortian's steady enough on her feet by the time Brieli speaks again, and the words earn a thinning of her lips. "I heard," she says, visibly unhappy at the reminder, though she's closed-mouthed enough not to elucidate her opinion on it. "I- I need to find Yami." It'd be a good excuse, except for her dragon's path on the sands, now. "Thank you, for the company," she adds, politely enough, even forcing a little smile. Brieli isn't Yamilet, so she's not going to employ guilt or any other means to keep Ali at the bar - and as the Fortian weyrwoman pointed out, she's been flying longer, she should know what she can handle. Leaning against the bar again, the weyrling gives another of her shrugs - this one more along the 'what can you do?' vein - before looking up to see Isyath winging down. With a little smile of her own, "Thank you for your company, weyrwoman. And..." A pause. Tentatively, "It wasn't Vhaeryth. She was wrong." Ali's already moving away - minus her half-drink which she never finished. It's hard to tell whether she hears Brieli's parting words, though given her posture doesn't change, and how open her mannerisms tend to be, it's likely she didn't. While she does disappear off into another part of the bar, it doesn't take all that long before she's heading for the beach- maybe she /did/ run into the greenrider?- and then she's hurrying for the exit. Once more, strapless and jacketless- she crawls with a bit more care onto Isyath's neckridges, and the queen is, perhaps, a little more careful than she ordinarily would be, her glide upwards tame by comparison to the norm. |
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