Logs:After Ista's Hatching
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| RL Date: 19 April, 2008 |
| Who: A'son, N'thei, Satiet |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 28, Month 1, Turn 16 (Interval 10) |
| The Sandbar -- Ista Weyr(#4182RJMs) N'thei shaved this morning and everything; by now, he's grown back his five-o-clock shadow and loosened the collar of his fine attire and given up looking presentable. Through the hatching, he sat appropriately with Satiet, attentive as far as most could guess, dead bored for Satiet's edification. With two or three dragonets still to Impress, he made a quiet escape, unnoticed by most of the galleries as they sat on their pins-and-needles. Now, in a bar (surprise!), with at least one drink in him, he watches the gaiety come trickling in from the beach. He's got a stool to himself and the one next to him empty to boot, all-by-himself amid mounting good-humor. It's probably not any surprise that A'son shows up at the Sandbar the first chance he can once the eggs hatch. And those Istans that are giving the High Reaches leader such a wide berth, only seem more inclined to stay away when the other bronzerider joins him. "Hey." A simple greeting, and soon he's waving the bartender over to get (maybe) his first drink of the day. It doesn't take long for the drink to find it's way from the bottle to the glass and then into A'son's mouth. Avoiding the masses taking part in Ista's actual hatching feast, it's also unsurprising to find Reaches' weyrwoman taking a belated refuge in the Sandbar, presumably after formal niceties and a few choice words spared Ista's senior. But appear she does soon after in the Istan-appropriate white beach dress and cork heels, headed straight for the bar, a few stools down from the as yet unnoticed pair of Weyrleaders, and greets Kip with an easy smile, one of familiarity. No words, just a flicker of her fingers to behind the man is enough for a drink to start taking shape. It's pink with lemon slices, and likely exceedingly alcoholic. Ok, assume that empty stool was saved for A'son. Sure. N'thei certainly doesn't seem surprised or put-off by the Istan taking it over like that, rather lets the tranquil humor of people-watching shift to the wicked grin of amusement at someone else's expense; "Shouldn't you be shaking hands or kissing babies or something?" After a glimpse of something white out of the corner of his eye, he leans forward on the bar to see where Satiet winds up, mutters something derogatory about the things women subject themselves to, cork-shoes and pink-drinks. Whiskey thanks. "Possibly. I'm hoping they won't notice me not being around. Maybe I'll go kiss some babies later." A'son says knocking back the first drink before requesting another. "I'm surprised you're not home by now, you don't have to stay." He says drolly, turning his head to look down the bar. Pretty woman. Some guy. Another some guy. And there she is, the High Reaches Weyrwoman. He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and then redirects his gaze to the wall. He begins on the second drink, this time merely sipping at it. Once Kip's done putting the drink together, not only is it pink with but it's also topped by a colorful paper umbrella. When in Ista-. He tends to the needs of other customers, Ista's Weyrleader passed a second drink with jovial congratulations, but then returns to Satiet to banter in that way long-time and good-tipping customers can with their enablers. It's when Kip tends to A'son that the Reachian weyrwoman's distinctively pale eyes find the pair of Weyrleaders and for the time being, they're allowed their good old boys time together, a thin crafted smile disappearing behind the sugared rim of her tropical drink. N'thei watches Satiet, let's not bother pretending otherwise, but he spares the time to put a laugh in A'son's general direction before answering his comment. He mutters to A'son, "... one... island... consent... warm my..." Slow through his drink, unlike you two lushes. "Speaking of which, where is the Istan weyrwoman?" A question he puts to include A'son and Satiet collectively, picking up his voice as to penetrate the goldrider's self-enforced isolation. "Waiting it out in the hopes one of your pretty island girls will consent to warm my cold Reachian bed." A'son rolls his eyes. A smirk stealing across his lips, He mutters to N'thei, "I... would... been... in... likely... there... I'll point out... if... come..." He straightens out, casting a look around the bar. "She's probably in the living caverns or in her weyr. I don't think we're going to see her around this part of Ista tonight." His lips purse together momentarily before he takes another sip of his drink. "I think you would have been better off in the living cavern. They'd likely hang around there hoping to meet someone. I'll point out the friendly ones, if they come in." Kip slants the Weyrleaders a glance, then to the growing crowd of customers who've also chosen the Sandbar over the hatching feast and with a tip of his head in apology and a overgrown tropical bloom in exchange for his company, the man moves along the way. The gaudy white flower is considered, twirled about on its thick stem, before it's tucked behind one ear, a bright offset to the gleam of her dark curls. "Kissing babies and greeting dignitaries. Being the Weyrwoman," opines the slender woman, scooting off her stool to make a slow, ambling way towards the two bronzeriders. An arm slides along the length of bar, putting N'thei between her and A'son, and the winter pale face leans to one side in order to seek out the former Reachian. "A gold, two bronzes. Proud?" N'thei swivels enough that there's more of his back than anything else toward Satiet, either foolishly trusting or just that committed to not hanging his attention from her every f'ing move. Whatever A'son's said earns a tip of his glass, a sip in toast; what Satiet's said is what earns the dark, sardonic smile. "Yes, proud?" He mocks happily. "Having had so much to do with it and all." A'son leans forward onto the bar, looking down at Satiet when she speaks to him. "Yeah, I think so. A good clutch considering the times and all." An arched eyebrow is sent to N'thei, "Sure, like a friend is proud of another friend for accomplishing something. Your own involvement isn't necessary." A slight shrug of his shoulders before he finishes off his second drink. "Enjoying Ista's hospitality?" He asks, question directed towards Satiet first, his flicker of the eyes including N'thei in it as well. Luckily, there's no place to hide a knife in that form-fitting dress of hers, nothing to cause any bodily harm to that back exposed so trustingly to her and without those eyes on her, Satiet's all the more inclined to relax into that stretched arm, scooting herself up onto the stool's edge. She rests her temple atop loose fingers lightly, the thin smile twisting at N'thei's words. Choice words part her lips and light a fire in her pale eyes, her lashes lifted to find the top of her Weyrleader's head, but it's A'son's question that exhales an answer, or at least a question in response, "Are -you- enjoying being Ista's hospitality?" N'thei doesn't get it, A'son's whole point about being proud for your friend's sake; he takes a breath like he might be set to argue the point further, but he only winds up swallowing the inhale along with a drink, ends up shaking his head. "Do as you said, point them out, and I expect I will be," he answers with the bloom of an eager grin. On the heels of Satiet's more round-about response, he drops his eyes down to his glass and, once more, shakes his head, this time to find tolerant amusement for his tone. "Couldn't you just say 'yes,' love?" "It hasn't caused me to keel over and die yet. I can't say it's my favorite occupation but it's far from a nightmare." Lucky A'son, he has the perfect view to see the expressions of both the Reaches leaders, something they're not so easily granted considering the position they're in. His smile is back and he shakes his head, looks down at the glass. Oh, it's empty. When did that happen? "Give them another hour, they'll be very friendly. Happens everytime the wine flows freely someplace." Those narrow eyes follow the lift of her lashes again, brows inching up in a silent answer to N'thei. "Yes," Satiet finally answers that tolerant amusement of his tone, the answer for A'son, despite how she's not actually looking to the transplanted bronzerider. "It's good to see you again, A'son." She almost sounds sincere, but with a hop off the stool she's /just/ claimed, using N'thei's broad back for balance, she's apparently on her way out in a cloud of delicate white fabric and the perfume of that huge flower stuck behind her ear. "I'll let you two catch up. I've an old friend," pause, "To drop in on." As Satiet moves to leave and she braces her briefly against N'thei's back, it's not only the hand that lingers there, but an exhalation, breath low and warm for seconds longer than might be appropriate, if this is even appropriate at all. Then, those fingers trail down the other side of his arm, the one not facing the bar, before she's drifting off. Satiet senses "N'thei comes damn near to stalling Satiet on her way out, that arm moving like it's got no attachment to the rest of him. For a second, just as ill-conceived, his fingers cuff around her wrist firmly, squeeze the little bones hard and harder as though he would draw her back over to him, then release all at once and his hand comes back around to rest on the edge of the bar. Not tonight either." So pleased with himself, N'thei straightens up at the simple Yes from Satiet. There's no bother of a goodnight to the goldrider, a sideways glance and a disconnected moment when his fingers catch around her wrist on her way out, but easy-come easy-go. "Happy here then? I didn't expect you would be, sure as hell not this soon," while he swivels back with both hands on the bar, circling his glass in front of him. Satiet's sharp chin turns abruptly, first to N'thei and then A'son. But it's her drink that claims her attention last. Oh, there, she forgot that and her fingers and wrist flex at their freedom as she reaches for it. Drink in hand, she toasts the bartender, then the pair of Weyrleaders, though the latter receive a particularly saccharine smile, and then, with a turn, she disappears into the throng. Satiet is given a brief farewell wave before he turns back to the bar also. "I don't know if happy is the right word for it. But I can't do anything about being here, I'm stuck. There's nothing to fight until Aerianth's next flight. Which could be turns." He casts N'thei a sidelong glance. "How are you and her getting along. Is it all you ever hoped it would be?" He asks, twisting his lips into a smirky kind of grin. "You could always just come back, give the whole weyrleader bit the middle-finger and move back home. I don't think the Istans could take us." N'thei lowers his voice to say it, given the surroundings, and his eyes fall on the pudgy middle of a chap in a bluerider's knot. Nevermind he's insulting A'son's new people. To the smirk, he snorts derisively; "Figure it out, mate. I'd be asking you to point out the easy ones if she and I got along so well?" He smiles a you're-still-stupid smile at his 'friend.' "I don't know, you're a strange sort of guy. You've got a girl back at 'Reaches. Or I thought you did. That what's her name..." A'son trails off, trying to recall it. "Amerie? Merie? Something like that. But you have Satiet too... I don't know, maybe you like to mix it up with variety." He shrugs his shoulders, not seeming overly concerned. "You think I could do that? Just pick everything up and move him? Against Nikoth? Against... Griere? Leave her high and dry? Leave that prick V'lano around to smile happily as he picked up the pieces? Make more of a mockery out of my name than it already is?" He orders another drink. "I don't know if this place is redemption or punishment." N'thei drinks, right around the time Amerie's name comes into play coincidentally, then puts his glass over with a nod to the tender for a refill, thanks. "I don't 'have' Satiet, not like that. Only the flight." He shrugs helplessly and seems more eager to turn the talk to A'son's predicament. "Do I think /you/ could do that? No; no, I don't. Shame though, man shouldn't suffer for nothing. They still all hate you then?" That thought ghosts a smile at least. "Had a wingleader that wanted to beat me into the ground, but I used my charm to convince her I wasn't worth a bloody fist." A'son remarks, "And then there's the new Weyrlingmaster. I don't know, I think the tide might be turning. A little at a time. I'm not winning the 'Most Popular Weyrleader' contest anytime soon." He drinks from his new glass. "So what about that Amerie one?" Someone else is almost more interested in discussing the problems of another. N'thei listens. Not without sympathy. Hell, not without empathy! He drinks a slow, sad drink for the been-there-done-that aspects, suggests after his swallow, "Start up a regular poker game, mate. Invite a few of the good-old-boys, lets off steam and word will get around that you're not a total ass." Paaaause. "Except you are, so maybe it won't work the same for you." With a happy but brief grin. "What about her?" "Good suggestions, I'll keep them in mind. One of the candidates told me I needed stop complaining all the time. He was probably right." A'son downs that third drink and gets off the bar stool, still holding his own. For now. "I guess nothing." He casts a glance around the bar, lifting his in the direction of a group of girls. "Over there would be my best bet, if I were you. They like the big burly, good-old-boy type." He suggests, throwing the phrase back out there again. "I have go shake hands and kiss some babies now. Until another day, N'thei." A wave, a smirk and the Istan Weyrleader slips out of the bar. With a quick thumbs-up, with a smile that's glad it's not him that has to make with the nice, N'thei leaves the farethewell unsaid. There's a companionable nod, more than Satiet got, then he's scoping out the corner of the room in question. If he does spirit away one of the Istan ladies, he's smart enough not to let gossip catch up to him about it later on. |
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