Logs:Cider Mooches
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| RL Date: 11 March, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Laine, Azaylia |
| Type: Log |
| What: Talk of rumors in the Snowasis, and Edyis suffers a little alcoholic karma. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 3, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions |
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| It is that time of night when the Snowasis just starts filling up, despite the abysmal rain. Edyis is seated at one of the high topped tables near the dartboards, a heated competition between a group of Savannah Wingriders already well under way. There's a pitcher of cider compete with glasses waiting to be filled, the dark-eyed former scribe nursing her drink with a grin, laughing as the competition heats up. She seems more relaxed than usual; dark curls left loose from the usual braid though the sharp tunic and leather vest might suggest she just ended a shift up in the Riders' Lounge. Laine's trim form, somewhat bulkier for her layered winter garb, slouches in from the patio, hood shielding her face. When she shakes off her mittens and crams them in her pockets, her hands are splotched and splattered with dyed patches of deep, rich brown. Pushing back her hood and tousling her thick, short hair, Laine's path--toward the bar--gets diverted when she spots Edyis, seated near the dartboards and the rambunctious group of Scannah wingriders, and she sidles up next to the other girl. "That's an awful lot of cider for one person," she observes dryly. Azaylia is not often seen with Savannah as a whole, not during poker or darts, not like Glacier-- but tonight she's on the fringe of that heated competition. It's after she's put work away for the day, her almost-black blue dress far less conservative despite the rain outside. Surely the bodies that are filling the Snowasis will help warm things up. Whatever discussion she was having with one of Savannah's wingriders has finished, and she's walking toward the bar, passing both Edyis and Laine on the way. "Ooh, cider?" The tail end catches her ears, as well as the Weyrwoman's interest, though she isn't wearing her knot tonight. "She's," A glance and friendly smile to Laine, "Right, you know." Hello Edyis, meet your mooches. Edyis grins to the would be moochers, pulling two of the empty (and more importantly clean) glasses aside and with a well practiced hand filling both in one smooth movement. Pushing a glass each in the direction of both women. "I suppose I do need someone to save me from the shame of becoming too intoxicated. Laine you are always so very thoughtful when it comes to my alcohol consumption, I don't know what I would do without you." Her lips are curving in a relaxed smile giving the tanner apprentice a wink. "I imagine you have been incredibly busy of late Weyrwoman." Accepting the glass with an innocent, who-me?, expression, Laine breezily replies, "You know I just have your best interests at heart. Plus," her laughing grin breaks her guile as she shrugs a lopsided, one-shouldered shrug, "you always have the best booze. And you're good company." She leans her elbows both on the table, cupping the glass in her laced fingers, and turns that crooked smile on Azaylia. "That," the apprentice tanner indicates with a sweep of her heard, "is a great little dress." She'd shake hands, but--y'know. She's busy mooching. The Weyrwoman may be a tad too eager to sample the cider, but if her known excitement for the Hold's harvest is any evidence... yes. So very yes. She'll drink first, "Mmn, thank you Edyis." No doubt if you give a goldrider a drink, her table isn't likely to stay thirsty. Lingering, "You're friends, then?" It's a polite if obvious question, tipping her head toward Laine, "Thank you. I'm trying a new weaver, but I think he assumed a bit much..." Not too risque, but also not the usual soft/flowing fair she wears. "Azaylia, gold Hreadhyth's. And you are?" She takes a long, frothy pull from the glass before nodding, "Very busy, yes." Edyis smirks, tilting her head so that dark sun-streaked curls fall away from her face. "Since you are good with the flattery I will continue letting you mooch." Edyis teases the tanner and to Azaylia she nods. "I suppose we are at this point." It's only at mention of trying a new weaver that Edyis really gives the dress a second look over, "It is good to try something outside of your comfort zone every once in a while. My sisters tell me that experimenting with different styles can always help a person find something that suits their figure even better. Then again, I think that is just their excuse for using me as a free dress dummy when I visit." As for busy, there is a pause. "Have things finally settled for Irianke? I couldn't help but notice last I spoke with her, the galleries seem to empty out whenever she comes in." There is a definite note of sympathy in her voice as she states the last. Once an introduction is expected, Laine wastes no time in releasing her cider and wiping her palm off on her trouser's thigh. "Laine," she offers that hand, clammy with condensation as it might be, "apprentice tanner. Pleasure." She smiles a loose, easy smile--one that shifts from the Weyrwoman over to Edyis at the words 'free dress dummy'. "Lucky I've mostly brothers, that's what you're saying?" It's an aside; Laine busies herself with a long draw from her glass and her eyes wander to that nearby game of darts. Laine's hand is given a firm shake, Azaylia's own not without it's callouses-- she does have a massive lifemate to tend to, still. "Apprentice tanner? And do you enjoy your craft?" More than most, is the implied question. "I had a laundress mention that I should try to find one weaver and stick with them. I don't know, I don't think I've found anyone who fits me better than any other." No brand loyalty here, even after all these turns. Mention of Irianke has the goldrider's brows lifting in mild surprise before she answers easily, "Do they? Sure it's not because of Lythronath?" Her smile is impish, not at Niahvth's expense, but for one of her favored bronzes. "What about you, Laine? Have you had a chance to speak with my junior?" Hers, which could be seen as a positive endorsement. Edyis laughs, "Yes be glad you had brothers." The once-scribe snorts at mention of Lythronath with an impish smile, "Had he been on the sands when I witnessed it, it would have been my first assumption. I think it has more to do with the fact that no one knows how much of the clutch is promised to Igen nor has there been any word on how those pairs will be selected." Edyis falls quiet then dark eyes shifting to Laine at the question, curious. The apprentice tanner buries her nose in her cup once again, delaying her response to Azaylia. When she lifts her head, and it's with something of a chagrined grimace that she confesses, "Enjoy it? No. Not really. But," a wan smile, "it's what I know." She turns grey eyes between Edyis and Azaylia, thoughtfully, but shakes her head, short, for that last question. "Haven't the chance," Laine admits, then tacks on, almost defensively: "Spend a lot of time in the craft complex. Or," shrug, "Here." But she does tip her head toward Edyis. "Heard that too." Talk of family has Azaylia's mouth quirking a bit oddly, "I have two brothers, although one of my younger ones... I believe he's having grand adventures, somewhere? He went missing turns ago, but we still get mail." The Weyrwoman's brows lower some at Edyis' thoughts, "Ah, that. I can understand people being upset. Perhaps it might have been better to just tell everyone the conditions of Irianke's transfer." It doesn't seem like she's damning those who are outraged, nor is she overly apologetic. For Laine, "Why stay, if you don't enjoy it? Not that it's any of my business, but." She has her curiosity. "Possibly." Is Edyis, pensive answer. "Seems like people throw the weight of the whole thing on her though, who knows if making the whole affair public knowledge would have helped that." It is at the question posed at Laine that again Edyis falls quiet, studying her friend through thick lashes, listening intently. "'Least you still get mail," Laine points out, (helpfully?). Then: "Tanning's what I know," Laine echoes lightly, with a sidelong look at Edyis and a soft laugh, "And I'm a bit old to be picking up something new now." She drags one finger in loops through s ring of condensation left by her glass on the table, considering. When she looks up, she says, "Seems to me, either way you do things, someone's going to be unhappy. But. I've only heard the... rumours. Think that's most what anyone's heard. Rumours." "Might have helped those who just needed some time, after the shock." Azaylia offers as a counter argument, however gently. "Though, maybe not." What's done is done. As for that lost brother, "Oh yes, the letters help. He was always a bit wild, so it wasn't a terrible surprise to me, but..." Her smile is soft, fond, "I guess it runs in the family." Her empty glass is slid closer to Edyis, at least looking a bit sheepish at demanding a refill. "Never too old to learn new tricks, you know. But I understand." Why Laine stays. "Mmm. Well while Edyis is keeping me liquored up," From one glass? Hardly. "I'd be happy to answer what questions I can." Is it coincidence that Edyis coughs into her glass at Laine's statement of being too old? The barkeep manages not to choke on her cider, getting it down without accidentally breathing the stuff. Her glass is set down, lined up with Azaylia's, and if Laine allows hers too, again refilling the glasses with one smooth motion, before returning the noticeably emptier pitcher to its position. She looks to Laine to start the questions. Nudging her mostly-empty glass forward to be filled with a grateful nod, Laine hooks a nearby stool with her ankle and pulls it close. She hops up onto it, but shrugs with a doubtful knit of her eyebrows. "Like I said. Rumours." She ticks a few off on her fingers: "All the weyrlings are getting sent to Igen. All the eggs are getting sent to Igen, once they're hard. Irianke is actually a man, her dragon a bronze, there are no eggs, it's all a conspiracy. You know. Typical cavern scuttlebutt." There's a dry smile toying at the corner of her mouth, but Laine shakes her head. "I don't do politics. I'm an apprentice. I know there's more to it than everyone is saying, but I don't know enough to ask--" Laine hesitates, glances at Azaylia, then to Edyis for support, "The right questions." Thank Faranth Azaylia is waiting on a refill, leaving her to choke on nothing with a little throaty croak. "Wh-- a man!?" Spoken with a mix of horror and delight for what those twisted minds can come up with. "Though it's not right to joke about there being no eggs." Joke isn't the right word, not when gossip is concerned. But for this, the Weyrwoman sounds stern. With a glance for the empty pitcher, she raises her glass and looks to catch a server's attention in order to replace it. "Not all of the weyrlings, or eggs, are being sent to Igen. And, the amount will depend on the number of eggs Niahvth lays." Satisfied with her answers, the goldrider offers Laine a gentle smile. "So long as you don't mean harm, I don't think there's such a thing as a wrong question." Thankfully Edyis wasn't drinking when the tide of colorful rumors comes spilling out. She manages to regain composure as the weyrwoman answers them. "I had heard it was only the smaller dragons that Igen was interested in, but Irianke also mentioned that she hasn't had much contact with Igen since her arrival." The once-scribe added thoughtfully. "So essentially until the eggs are lain, no one really knows how many, or how they will make the decision on who goes back to Igen?" Laine chuckles, spreading her palms, face-up. "I will say that the man I heard spreading that last was well in his cups at the time." Speaking of: she tips her newly-filled glass to her lips, then nods thoughtfully at Azaylia's responses. On the trail of Edyis' question, Laine echoes slowly, "Will it be voluntary, to go? Appointed? That seems to be another point of contention." It's perhaps for the better that the tanner doesn't provide any more scandalous hearsay to prove this point. She does add, "Wouldn't mind being sent to Igen, myself." Presumably since she went to school at the tanner crafthall. Or maybe it's: "Warmer." "That was the agreement. Igen's interested in the chromatics." Azaylia confirms, and manages not to sound confused as many others seem to be about that fact. Edyis' question earns a soft nod as she brings the cider to her lips, "It's all up to Niahvth, for now." No pressure, of course. "I'd prefer those who would want to go or not mind the transfer being first choice, but... hard to say. I'd rather not send people away against their will, but..." Dragonriders go where they're assigned. Her glass is tipped toward Laine, "Let's hope that enough of the weyrlings feel that way." With a soft chuckle, "I'm more fond of Ista, myself." "If riders are transferred away against their will. . . is there no recourse to seek transfer back? Don't get me wrong I am all for a warmer climate, but I lived in a foreign Weyr once, it isn't an easy thing to do or adjust to indefinitely." Edyis murmurs softly, weighing the thought after she speaks it. "Will Igen provide candidates as well then?" Laine murmurs a reflective "hmm" into her cider, lacing her fingers around the glass and propping herself on elbows. She smiles wanly across her cup at Azaylia, commenting, "Easier to send away the willing." Tilting her head toward Edyis, Laine chuckles a low laugh: "It's not that hard. Is it? You're well-adjusted," that pale smile blossoms into a loose grin. "Plus they'd probably be so shell-shocked anyway..." But she trails off. Azaylia considers Edyis' words, "Honestly, that'd be up to Igen's Weyrleader--" There's a hitch in her voice, the reality of Igen dawning on her as she corrects herself. "Up to the Igen's Weyrleaders." Nimae. "Whatever happens, I'll do my best to make it as easy a transition for them." While the agreement may seem cruel to some, it's obviously not int he Weyrwoman's nature to be unkind about it. "High Reaches Weyr has been my home since I... for ages." She tries not to wince at the turns and turns that have passed. "Maybe it would be better to Search outside the Weyr, this time? For candidates who aren't terribly attached to High Reaches." Edyis laughs, "Yes well there are people to thank for how well adjusted I am." Her gaze shifting unintentionally to the Savannah riders still playing with those words. It is Azaylia's statement and self-correction which draws dark eyes back to the blue clad Weyrwoman thoughtfully. "There will be dissent no matter which direction things go, I confess I had been considering standing this time around myself, since there aren't many turns left for me to do so, but now? I don't know. Monaco... it was hard after ..." Savannah left, goes unspoken. "At least the weyrlings would have Irianke with them but still. With what I've heard recently about the political climate there... seems like Igen has too much interest in High Reaches." Drawing a mouthful of cider, Laine listens without comment, although she does nod once, twice. She repeats her earlier statement, agreeably tilting her head toward Edyis, "Won't be able to please everyone." But. She falls into an attentive silence, finishes her cider while the other two speak and stands, tucking her stool away under the table. She chuckles, quirks an eyebrow and says, "See? We're getting old, Edyis." The tanner collects her empty glass and says amiably: "I've some work to finish before tomorrow--so. Well met, Weyrwoman. Thanks for," (ahem) "Clearing up those rumours. And Edyis--I'll see you, yeah?" And Laine begins to weave her way over to the bar to deposit her empty glass and slouch back out into the whipping winter wind. "Have a good night, Laine." Azaylia sends the tanner off with a warm fairwell. "She seems like a nice girl." That's for Edyis, who remains. "She has a point. It's impossible to please everyone." She offers a soft nod, "If you're that concerned about being sent away, I'd suggest waiting for the next clutch. Hraedhyth will rise whenever she decides she's ready." There's obvious pride, maternal or otherwise as she offers, "I'd like to think that she makes the best babies. Very strong personalities." As if that surprises anyone. Edyis waves as the tanner goes, and nods in agreement with Azaylia's assessment of her. She studies Azaylia thoughtfully at the suggestion, picking out her words very carefully. "It isn't that I wouldn't be honored if one of Hraedhyth's children decided to pick me." But big... scary gold. "I just don't know that I could handle one of those big personalities." She might completely be forgetting that Lythronath was Iesaryth's progeny. If Azaylia takes offense on Hraedhyth's behalf, it's difficult to read from the smile and soft tilt of her head. "Ah. Yes, I can see how Niahvth's eggs would be more... appealing." That careful drawl could be caused by anything, from diplomacy to stifled insult. Edyis can enjoy trying to read between those lines, as she continues to smile. "Other than the possibility of being transferred." Bringing the cider to her lips, the Weyrwoman continues after a drink, "Sounds like you know what choices work best for you." "Not so much more appealing, just . . . " Less likely to get her mauled? It is quite possible that she has had nightmares to that effect. Still how to recover from insulting the weyrwoman's dragon? However unintentionally it might be. "Less intimidating. With my luck I'd trip over a hatchling on accident hurting it and then " chomp. Azaylia gives a faint hum behind her glass, sounding as if she understands. The cider is drained as she seems to recognize someone joining the dart's game. The new pitcher arrives, and she gives Edyis a soft smile, "Well if you do decide to stand, I hope that your lifemate is out there. If you'll excuse me, I have to see a man about... a thing." Not the most clever way to excuse herself, but certainly not a lie as she makes a beeline for a brownrider. Edyis waves the woman off, potentially relieved, of course that leaves her to stare at the almost empty pitcher with a sigh. Oh well. |
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