Logs:A Holder And A Bronzerider Meet In A Bar
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| RL Date: 23 August, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh meets R'hin. There's drinking, secrets, and discussion of luring unsuspecting Holders into debauchery. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 8, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clear, cloudless, evening. |
| Mentions: Giorda/Mentions |
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| It's a busy evening in the Snowasis -- more so on the patio than inside, though it's not exactly sparse here, either. There's a darts game in progress -- a semi-regular event between Savannah and Glacier wings, though the teams are quite small tonight. R'hin isn't amongst them, though he's watching from the bar, leaning casually up against it, nursing a near-empty glass while pale eyes flick around the room as if waiting for someone specific. An interested look is spared the rabble involved in the darts game as Farideh slips into the Snowasis. She watches them as she moves between the tables and other unwitting obstacles on her way to the bar, and nearly bumps into a stalwart bluerider too. But by some miracle of fate, she makes it safely, pulling out a stool not but two down from Savannah's Wingleader. Her smile is pleasant, pleased even, as she orders something watered down from the bartender. It looks like she's just come from the laundry: cheeks flushed, hands red, wearing something unflattering and uniform with a variety of laundry-type stains. Just the same, she's happy to turn her attention back to the game, and R'hin, by proximity, over the rim of her glass. There's the briefest of glances to the new arrival from said Wingleader, and it could well be said to be dismissive since it's accompanied by a snort, except moments later, R'hin's saying, "What's the point of ordering a drink if it's watered down?" It's pitched low-ish -- enough that it's clear it's not directed at his wingmates, even though he's still watching the game-in-progress. Ice tinks in her cup as she sets it down on the bar, her focus moving from the wingriders back to R'hin. Farideh is 'almost' surprised at his comment, but her smile is too puckered and derisive for that. "There are a few reasons for that. One, I try not to get drunk and incapacitated in a Weyr full of rowdy dragonriders," as she leans an elbow on the bar, head tilted towards the bronzerider, "and I'm already in enough trouble with the Headwoman without, two, getting drunk and doing something stupid." "Oh?" Now it's R'hin's turn to act surprised. "Is that what the Harpers taught you? Lecherous dragonriders will take every advantage and opportunity and you must guard your virtue like a good little holder girl?" The bronzerider's laughter is low-throated, pale eyes finally coming to rest on her, flickering down her form. "Or is it just that you can't hold your liquor, but don't like appearing weak?" Farideh leans over the bar, resting the back of her hand against her face. "Yes, how did you know? They also said that dragonriders will carry away my first born in the dead of the night and feed him to their dragons." She settles back into her chair more comfortably and toys with the edge of her glass, ignoring its contents for now. "It's better to be wary than let your guard down. I see enough drunk riders around here," she says plainly, before amused hazel eyes shift back to R'hin. "I can't. Handle my liquor. I'd be a fool if I said I could. I don't make it a habit." "Heard your story far too often before. Filled with Harper dreams, you come to the Weyr hoping to be swept away in a blaze of... oh, I don't know... Moreta-to-be or something, only to be disappointed by the reality." With an easy chuckle, R'hin says, "Oh, see," he wiggles his finger, as if disappointed, "You pushed that too far. Harpers wouldn't say that. Holders, on the other hand..." with a cluck of tongue, his attention wanders back to the game. "Don't bother doing a thing if you're going to do it half-assed. If only that were in a Harper phrase of the day book." "Yes, I ran away from home, which was some sad cothold on the outskirts of Fort, where my parents mistreated me. Just to fulfill my dreams of riding gold and screwing some upstart bronzerider. You got me." Farideh raises her glass to R'hin - cheers. "At least you got that right," she says to his Holder comment, turning so she settle both elbows on the bar and swallow a mouthful of whatever clear liquid she's drinking tonight. "What would you suggest I do to redeem myself?" with a sidelong appraisal and a smirk that suggests she's not being sincere. "If you're looking for riders to screw you should wait until there's a flight. They're less choosy," R'hin suggests, with a sidelong, knowing grin, tipping his own nearly-empty glass at her in turn and downing the rest of the contents. "Redeem? Oh, no. You're a lost cause, a broken soul, doomed forever to be that Holder-girl-who-couldn't-drink. That's an immediate black mark, by the way. Everyone at the Weyr loves to drink -- when we're not bedding Holder girls, of course." The cheering by the darts board suggests at least one side is doing well. "Right, right. I don't have a chance otherwise. I didn't think about that. They only want to bed Holder girls, not whisk them off into the sunset." Farideh is trying her best to curb an unsuspecting grin, but it shows in the curves at the sides of her mouth, the way she skips her eyes off and doesn't look directly at him. She continues to nurse her own drink, taking small sips here and there as she listens. It's not long until she gives up on hiding her smile, turning it on the bronzerider with an accompanying laugh. "I don't imagine I'm the first nor will I be the last Holder-girl-who-couldn't-drink." "Happy endings are for Holders, not Weyrfolk," R'hin says, presumably by way of casual agreement. He makes a brief face -- at the dice game -- before he twists to set his empty glass on the surface of the bar, leaning closer over the empty stools that separate them. "Then do what the Harpers tell you: practice, practice, practice," he echoes a Master probably-long-dead, in a droning, repetitive way, with a slap to the top of the bar for each. That done, he signals the bartender for a refill -- two, actually. Farideh lingers over the sentiment, swishing her glass around, but cants her head to the side when R'hin sets his on the bar top. She regards him with lively hazel eyes, from across the stools, and finally interjects, "Giorda wouldn't approve." But as for this Holder girl? She's a quick study, finishing off the dregs of her drinks and sliding it back across the bar to the ever-so-helpful bar back; there's more drinks coming. "Giorda isn't here." But the drinks are, the bartender quickly filling both glasses, and looking pleased at the coins R'hin slips him in turn. The liquid is dark, with a fruity sort of base, and the bronzerider's quick to lift his in toast. "To secrets. Life is no fun without them." And he takes a generous gulp. "I suspect that she has spies everywhere. She always 'knows'," Farideh observes, watching the bartender pour their new drinks. When they're ready, she takes hers and follows R'hin's lead, lifting her glass in toast. "Secrets? I didn't know we were trading those." She takes a sip and wrinkles her nose, "Faranth, this is strong." Holder-girl-who-can't-hold-her-drink. "Then you can tell her an irrepressible, handsome and completely charming bronzerider took advantage of your guileless, holder ways and pressured you into having one real drink." R'hin taps his glass. "We're not?" he asks, with a surprised lift of hand to touch his chest. "So, you're going to go and tell Giorda yourself? You're a brave woman." He's laughing at her comment about the strength of the drink. Laughing at her. "Unfortunately, she doesn't believe a word I say, even when I tell her the truth." Not that she's going to explain that part about 'when' she tells the truth, implying she otherwise doesn't. Farideh eyes R'hin over her glass again, a smile stretching across her face. "So, you know a secret of mine. That's not trading. You haven't given anything up," she says, pointing one of the fingers that are holding onto her glass. All she does when he laughs is take a large swallow; she closes her eyes, like that's going to help. "Still gross," muttered after the dead is done. "And you said we're not talking about secrets," R'hin says, with a low-throated chuckle, sounding oddly pleased all of a sudden. "Oh, no one said this was a trade. Winner takes all is how I prefer to play. It helps," with a gesture of fingers towards her glass, "If you don't screw up your nose and expect it to taste bad. Let it warm your tongue a moment first." He takes a mouthful of his own drink as if demonstrating. "We agreed I can't hold my liquor," Farideh points out, without actually pointing, but she's not beyond herself so far that she can't summon an exaggerated pout. All thought of secrets and trades are pushed away in favor of this newest development: "Ok, so, like this," before she takes her own swig of liquor, watching him expectantly. "Much better," R'hin says, approvingly. "We'll make a Weyr lush of you yet." He's probably joking on that, but it's hard to tell; he's distracted by the end of the darts game, pale gaze flickering after the dispersing Savannah and Glacier riders. It might be coincidence that he downs the rest of his glass in one gulp. "Hardly," after she swallows, "It tastes just as bad that way." Obviously, Farideh's not feeling his methods. She follows his gaze towards the riders making their exits, brown brows lifting when her eyes come back to rest on R'hin. "Already calling it a night? And here I thought you riders like to drink until dawn and lure innocent Holders in your weyrs. So disappointed." There's a little shake of her head, however sardonic, before she takes another - this time - delicate sip. "I would," R'hin's pale gaze lights onto Farideh again as he stands, taking a couple of steps closer and leaning closer to murmur, "If there were one present." With a knowing smile that is far too sure of himself, the Savannah Wingleader rises. "And who said I'm ending my night -- it's just getting started. Enjoy the rest of the drink, and try to avoid luring any unsuspecting riders into your lair on the way back to your bed." He's heading for the exit, a quick walk designed to catch up with one of those departing riders. |
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