Logs:Cards and Comparisons
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| RL Date: 1 July, 2014 |
| Who: Alida, Geviaur, K'del, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alida and Geviaur play cards. Others come and go. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 2, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Laghnei/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions |
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| Late evening sees the Snowasis crowded, the most dedicated of drinkers only just beginning their evening's relaxation. Geviaur is one of these, sitting at one of the booths off to the side - alone, now, but clearly recently as there is an abandoned deck of cards and a small stack of marks sitting in front of him. He... /lounges/. Long legs stretched out, slumped back in his chair, with a self-satisfied smile on his face as he gestures for /another/ beer - paid for with his winnings. Savannah and Glacier Wings are both conspicuous by their absence at the dart board this night, the two groupings of loud riders likely to be out doing other stuff tonight. So - for once - it's safer for a certain member of one of aforementioned Wings to be in the Snowasis, Alida's talents at dart-hurling not putting her in high demand...which pleases the palest-blonde to no end. Striding inside after sending her firelizard in for a quick recon mission, the woman bellies up to the bar, and soon orders herself something in a private voice, green eyes and attention then turning from bartender to those out beyond her...observing, assessing. A newer face finds itself drawing more pointed interest, and Geviaur's place, position, manner...and his winnings are absorbed by that cool vert gaze in a subtle, gestalten sweep. Geviaur gives the impression of utter relaxation, eyes half-lidded as he surveys the bar and takes the occasional long swallow from his bottle. For the lazy energy rolling off his well-muscled form, he doesn't miss a thing - certainly not Alida's appearance, which he marks as she progresses across the room to get her drink. When he, in turn, is noticed he offers a crooked grin, and gestures /oh/ so generously to the empty seats that surround his lonely table. For a long moment, the tall man slumming in his booth and the silent, remote blonde at the bar have their eyes meet, and - at least on *her* part - green eyes betray nothing but chill indifference, even in Alida's observation of him. For a long moment, the woman does nothing but continue to stare in untouched fashion, until the 'tender mumurs over her shoulder. A tumbler of some darkest amber liquid later, the woman actually does amble into motion, striding with a feral animal's grace to that booth, where she settles herself across from Geviaur...her flit taking up a perch upon the back of the booth, on her side. Sip. Geviaur seems not the least offput by her demeanor, maintaining easy repose and plain appreciation in his gaze for her stride - and her decision to accept his wordless invitation is treated with a nod of satisfaction. She's clearly made a wise decision. The bottle of beer is lifted in a sort of toast, to her, though he doesn't wait for a reciprocal before he tips it back and takes another swallow. Then he sits and looks at her, that crook of a smile with its incongruous dimple never wavering as he watches her. He sits at a booth to the side of the bar, recently alone until Alida just joined him - he's lounging, carelessly, with cards on the table in front of him and a small pile of winnings. Party's on him tonight. Those cool, clear green eyes continue to observe her boothmate with a predator's keen watch, Alida bobbing her plaited head at Geviaur's bottle-toast, though she doesn't tip her tumbler of scotch back. Instead, the woman reaches back with her left hand to offer a finger to the little flit's nearby belly, the gold trilling her pleasure at the contact of the petting offered. Dimple-chops over there gets nothing, at this point; not a single expression nor sound...only that intense, almost dissecting *look*. Well, at least she's moving a little, the bluerider's free hand now straying down from her pet to the table top, soon seeking to slide those cards over to herself so she can look at them quite intently. Geviaur is more than willing to be looked at. If anything, he's enjoying it, raising an arm to comb his fingers through his hair and then tuck behind his head, a pillow well-formed by extensive physical labor, and he might, just might, be aware that the pose displays this fact most effectively. His eyes are dark, amused, and unwavering - until, that is, she takes possession of his deck of cards. Then his scarred eyebrow raises slightly, and the beer bottle is set down. A flick of his hand, and a small pile of marks is passed her way, a silent invitation to play. Since that seems to be the game they're playing. It's easy to miss the comings and goings of the bar's employees unless one is waiting anxiously for a drink. Tayte's usual place is behind the bar, not fetching and carrying that which is made. She must have lost the coin toss with the other bartenders to be the one subbing in for an absent server, and she is not wearing the right shoes for this. The heels are far too tall for this kind of activity, which probably explains why, when she sees Alida in that near-to-the-bar booth, she doesn't seem to think twice about dropping onto its edge, flashing both a warm smile. "Do you mind? My feet are killing me." She's not seated properly on the bench next to the far more predatory blonde, rump just barely onto it, back halfway turned toward the woman. "I really just need a moment," and a long hot bath, but the latter doesn't seem likely until later. "You remind me uv' someone..." Alida murmurs in her mile-a-second, hard-accented fashion to the man across from her, her alto barely reaching him over the sound of voices, activity. Geviaur might preen, but the chill pale-blonde across from him doesn't bite, his cards studied in great detail, though his reaction to her possession of them is cause for the faintest ghost of an almost-smirk that never reaches her eyes. The little line of marks he passes is instantly assessed, greens sweeping up to meet the man's dark gaze for a moment, and then she's shrugging, and starting to gather up said cards into a tight stack. Whazzis? Tayte must've been in the back while Alida was nabbing her drink at the bar, for only now does the darker-blonde enter her consciousness, a low alto grunt offered to the other woman plopping her ass down next to her. "Nope..." is murmured aside as 'lida begins to shuffle those cards, her gaze shifting between both of her boothmates. There's a tilt of Geviaur's head, a faint trace of interest - whether at what she says, or at hearing her speak for the first time, it could be hard to say. As his invitation is apparently accepted his grin broadens and his body shifts, bringing him from his repose to lean his elbows on the table... and then Tayte. The arrival of another companion gets a momentary look of surprise, but he adapts quickly. It's a skill. She too earns a smile of pure pleasure, and finally he speaks, voice deep with traces of gravel. "Please, take all the moments you need," he says graciously, as though this table he sits at it /his/ to offer as he chooses. Well. Silence broken, no reason for general rudeness, and so he makes his introduction in a single low word and an appropriate nod of greeting. "Geviaur. You play?" he adds to Tayte, shoving another short stack of marks her direction, just in case. "Thanks," Tayte's alto is bright. Her ocean blues glance toward the bar and then to a handful of tables that must qualify as 'her section' for the night. "I think I can steal a moment." That's probably more to herself than to either of her present boothmates, but her light, "It's not going to kill any of them to wait for a refill anyway. If they think it will, they can visit the bar themselves," is directed to the pair with another of her easy smiles. It's this attitude that is probably the reason she's a bartender not a server. But enough of that, "Tayte," is offered pleasantly in answer to the big man across the other side of the booth from where she's perched on the edge of the bench that Alida occupies. "I do," she enthuses with amusement, "Only, I'm a Bitran-bred cheat. You wouldn't want me to even if I did have the time." She glances to Alida a moment, thoughtful, but she doesn't voice whatever it is she might've had on her mind just then. All those grins of his... "In love with yerself..." Alida clips off at Geviaur's expressions, her aspect not quite so chill, now that a known person (a-la Tayte) has made herself comfortable with them. His small surprise at the Vintner's joining them is noted by those passionless eyes of the bluerider's, and she can't help but observing Tayte's reaction from the corner of her eyes as she again speaks to the towering young man, "Yes... Y'remind me uv' H'vier." Zing. As for being bred a cheat, "There's a little uv Bitran in everybody." Is there a hint of the darkest imp in the rider's slender smirkie? An arch of brow for the other woman invites her to let fly with that unvoiced whatever it is. No matter, the cards are now passed to the bartender-at-hand for cutting. Geviaur nods easily, grin flashing wider again with ready agreement to the bluerider's assessment of his manner. "I'm a likable guy," he says genially, gesturing to one of the wandering waiters in order to procure himself another drink - a collection beginning to stack up, though his words are still coming relatively clearly. He chuckles, a deep resonating sound in response to Tayte's open admission, and he seems little inclined to reclaim his marks. "Got some Bitran myself, Tayte. Though, there would be worse people to be cheated by," he adds, with a twinkle in his eye that probably is best to be avoided altogether. "H'vier. Haven't met the man. I take it he's devilishly good looking." An optimistic conclusion, as he sits back to wait for the cards to be dealt out - taking the opportunity to eye a woman standing at the bar across the way. Enter K'del, shaking icy rain out of his hair as he makes his way in from the ledge. Despite the warmth of the Snowasis, he's not immediately inclined to remove his outer layers, and instead only scrapes his boots before stepping further into the cavern. It's Tayte's blonde head that catches his attention, and it's towards the vintner he moves, stepping around various other tables in order to sidle up next to her - standing, only, of course. "Tayte. Just who I needed--" He pauses, registering those others present, and then hastily giving them a brief nod of greeting. Tayte has a myriad of different smiles at her disposal and the one she gives Alida has a little laughter hidden at the edges. "You think?" She has to ask the silvery blonde when she draws the comparison, "I mean the height's probably about right, and the muscles-- although, maybe a bit different." Now the golden blonde is really looking at the young man. "And certainly younger." By at least ten turns. "But yes, very good looking." There are dimples in Tayte's smile now. Hopefully she got that out and done with before K'del arrived. It doesn't change that her look when he approaches is suddenly exceptionally guilty. Maybe he'll throw his hands up at her here if he heard. "Kas," look at that smile play all innocent. Of course, that waiter Gev looked to has looked to Tayte, who looks apologetically back at the big man, "I'll make sure he brings your drink. In the meantime, I'd better get that man," She gestures to one who looks half in his cups and might be a hazard to himself and others trying to get to the bar, "Another drink. Kas, can it wait a few?" She asks the bronzerider as she rises. But whether it can or not, she goes. Can't have anyone breaking the Accident Free record tonight. "Yer a prick..." Alida ripostes casually to the man across from her, the bluie obviously *not* having offered her own name, at this point. As for H'vier...well, let's just see how Tayte reacts, first. Green eyes still observe the Vintner from their sides, and - in that way - can't help but pick up K'del as he motors his way towards their very booth. If anything, the paler-blonde's features become a little more flat once again, and she starts dealing out cards to only the original pair at the booth, 'assuming' that the other woman likely can't or won't want to hang around to play cards. She's working, after all...and the comment about H'vier isn't likely meant to be reassuring, that's for sure. Well damn! Tayte responds quite well to what could have been inflammatory words of a certain bronzerider...leaving the bluie to quirk her head slightly aside - the vertebrae in her neck clicking softly - and then note to the other blonde, "Wear some better shoes..." as a form of farewell. Apparently ignoring K'del for the moment, the woman clips off to Geviaur, "5 card, straight up. Nothin' wild..." as she finishes up dealing. Doubly awesome: Tayte takes her leave, and H'vier is a name that's being bandied about; doesn't K'del look thrilled. The weyrleader pauses, gaze sliding towards Alida, and then back towards Geviaur. "Being compared to H'vier is not," for the record, "a compliment. By any means. I'll-- no, no thank you." No cards. Though he hasn't taken his leave yet, either, as if he's uncertainly still trying to work out what to do, now that Tayte has wandered off and left him hanging. The remote look Alida gives Geviaur assures him that he will most certainly continue being *not* in the know about her, if she has it her way. As she deals and he takes up his cards, it gives the bluie another chance to myopically examine him, those hands of the man's and their condition noted by astute eyes, which then return to the task at hand...spreading out her own cards in a conservative spray cupped protectively in her hand. Perhaps the tension in the air is palpable on a certain level, for the gold flit behind Alida rustles her wings, and takes to the air in lazy fashion, swirling around over the heads of bar goers before landing somewhere away from the humans. A shove of one of the man's proffered eighth-marks over to the table's center takes place, followed by a low rumble of darkest, contralto laughter in her chest as K'del brings the Smith up to speed on being compared to H'vier. Over her shoulder to the bronzer, "Maybe they oughta' meet up..." Geviaur considers his cards, large thumb fanning them just enough to allow the pips to show, and posture yet again assuming one of repose, settled back against the plush cushions of the booth. He raises Alida, throwing two pieces of his own into the center. K'del's comment earns a look, though, dark eyes flicking up to the man. No offense taken, just more of that lazy grin. "Lucky for him, being compared to me /is/." He pats the table, a second invitation to the hovering weyrleader. "At least sit, man. Let me buy you a drink. My brother's in Savannah, we owe the weyr for giving us a home." It's a genuine, and very generous offer... and one that is very soon forgotten as the dusky woman arrives and bends to whisper something in his ear. His lips purse, grin lost for a moment in true contemplation. He looks at his cards... which, let's be honest, are /quite/ good. If anyone cares to notice. Then he shoots Alida a wink, as though they are the best of besties, and drops his cards on the table. "You win, mystery woman." An appropriate coinage is slid K'del's way - to make good on his offer of a drink - but then the smith is on his feet with only a flick of a salute as farewell. His hand is taken, see, by that woman. He's powerless to resist, and soon is gone. Poor man. K'del's reaction to Geviaur is one of utter bewilderment: he stares, not really taking any pains to hide it, and seems genuinely disconcerted by the smith, staring after him even after he's gone. When he glances back, it's mostly to eye the marks left on the table. "Who was that?" he wonders, addressing Alida idly, without making any effort to (a) reach for the marks or (b) take a seat. He'll stand. It's fine. And, "H'vier'd probably beat him to a pulp, but they're probably a good match for obnoxiousness." Indeed, his hand was good...and hers was only decent. But it doesn't matter, now that the 'prick's' gone with his newest piece of tail, Alida looking after them for a moment and muttering, "Sunnuvabitch..." in both curse and black humor. K'del's expression is taken in with a faint pursing of lips, the woman then shrugging, flicking up cards, squaring the deck again. "Figures 'e's one uv R'hin's..." Snork. "You know as much as I do, now," her alto notes almost drolly to the bronzerider, those marks he left on the table left scattered. "Boy's got the kind'a muscles y'get from long Turns uv' intense work combined with genetics. Mentioned he might have some Bitran in'em." Her tumbler of scotch is lifted to lip, sipped from just so. Ahhh. "Hands used ta holdin' tools, usin' 'em." Squint. "Farrier...Smith...dock worker...stuff like that." As for H'vier likely beating him to a pulp, the woman merely nods, then notes, "Never know whatcher' workin' with until the shit's hit the fan." Nose-wrinkle. "Pair uv pricks." On this, at least, K'del and Alida can certainly agree: "Pricks," he says, with more vehemence - and very nearly venom - than is surely warranted. Surely that's more about H'vier than the nameless Geviaur, of course, not that he qualifies the statement. "Drink to that. Or would, if I had a glass. Know Savannah came with a variety of hangers on, but..." He shrugs. Clearly, he hasn't kept up with the exact details of those involved. "Not sure I'd say he's a 'boy,' though. Surely he's not far off being an age with you?" She listens to, watches K'del's response with trained, neutral eyes, a faint smirk-smile touching the woman's mouth for a moment before she murmurs, "Buy ya one with these..." Hand-gesture. Those marks left over after Geviaur's run of 'luck.' Addendum: "Always good ta keep a few tabs on unknowns y' invite inta yer home." A chill little grin might give lie to the woman thinking of herself, a few Turns ago. As for her 'boy,' "A turn uv speech..." Perhaps likened to calling someone like H'vier an 'old man:' derrogatory. And, just for K'del's utterance, "Why, K'del... How old do you *think* I am?" Cue a patently-false batting of long eyelashes, and a pointed stare. Will he sweat? "That's the easiest drink you've ever bought, isn't it?" says K'del in answer, smirking, though his nod seems to accept the offer-- not to mention the way he raises his hand to attract the attention of one of the servers. "Reckon I think you're about as old as-- whoever he is." The bronzerider's dimples show as he makes that remark, timed for his venture onto the bench opposite Alida. "Which is a good deal younger than I am, but not teenager-young, at least. Early twenties? In any case, tend to figure R'hin won't have complete undesirables in his crowd." "Fer *once*..." Alida mutters of that drink, the server K'del hales soon coming over to them and taking his order. The man's dimples make her think of Geviaur again, and she internally rolls her eyes at the comparison between the two males before noting glibly, "Geviaur." Smirk, sip. "One uv my instructors always berated us about bein' kids." Snerk. "Overheard 'im once even bitchin' out the thirty-somethin's with rank: 'Fuckin' punk-ass boys 'n girls.'" A soft headshake with her memories, and soon green eyes flick to the Weyrleader's, the bluie offering a soft-voiced option in sudden thought. "Never know. If y'wanna' keep an eye on'im... Search 'im. Got an excuse, now." Snert. K'del's order is a match for what Alida's already drinking, and is made with a smile as the bronzerider slides over the marks in question. Having made the request, he leans back against the backrest of his booth, regarding the blonde bluerider with amusement. "Geviaur," he repeats. "Hah. Guess that's one way to remind people of your superiority over them. Me... guess it drove me nuts, being the 'boy Weyrleader' for so long. Still am, to some people. Generally try and avoid it." Of Searching the boy-slash-young-man in question, the bronzerider only shrugs, though the idea isn't dismissed outright. Scotch it is, and again, soon enough, K'del's drink is brought to the booth, where Alida pays for both her drink and his with that eight-bit, a tip for the server included with it. Ain't her hard-earned work that got those marks, after all. A faint wrinkle eases over the woman's brow when K'del notes his own encounter with 'boy,' fades away with her low, "Almost had another one, a few sevens ago." A'rist and Lynner. "Would'a been... interesting." And *how*. Sip. A slight tip of her head sideways at the man's response to her idea presages her sudden, "Since this'll go permanently missing when we leave, I intend ta put it ta decent use." There's about 3.5 marks of coinage on the tabletop, and about a third of that is counted, shoved over lightly to the Weyrleader. "Buy the Weyr some special extras from that. Hatchin' feast, candidate's dinner... what the fuck ever." The rest that she apparently 'won' is outright pocketed. Before commenting, K'del pauses to take a sip from his drink, inhaling the peaty aroma with quiet appreciation as he does so. Then, the glass slid from one hand to the other, and he grins. "Won't refuse," he says of the marks, nod marking his appreciation. "Can't imagine any weyr is flush enough, these days, not to take what it can... thank you, Alida." His gaze drops towards his drink, considering it, before he backtracks: "What do you mean, 'almost had another one?'" "Weyrs *need* a good time..." Alida murmurs thoughtfully, nodding almost absently to K'del as the gears in her head turn. Indeed, the stuff she ordered is of good quality. Not the best, for that's so expensive as to be more in R'hin's realm, but very enjoyable, especially in the current, crappy weather. A small blink out to K'del has the woman looking in faint surprise and them small suspicion at his inquiry, but she soon shrugs a little and murmurs, "A'rist ain't much older than you were when y'became Weyrleader the first time." A'rist as Weyrleader... Lythronath as senior bronze. You draw the conclusions, or so her wizened gaze might silently say. Sip. A'rist. Lythronath. Yes; K'del gets it, this time, and grimaces because of it. "I'd forgotten," he admits, though it's hard to tell exactly what it is he forgot: the flight? A'rist's role in it? Who can tell. "It's a strange thing, thinking about it," he offers, then. "No doubt I was as... young, emotionally, as he is. Didn't feel like it at the time, though, not wholly. Can't imagine how it must've felt for the older riders, having to follow someone who really was just a boy." She listens as she drinks, Alida looking around on occasion, though her eyes always return to K'del, to those abandoned cards atop the table. A few moments after the man's done, "Y'ever find out just what it *is* with Lythronath 'n him? Why's that bronze got a thing against blues?" Frown. "Given what happened ta G'laer's sister's blue..." stare "...and Cadejoth, I'd really like ta know what makes that dragon, *both* uv' 'em tick." Partially out of pure self-defense, anyway. "Not sure it's just blues," says K'del, after a moment, his expression turned more thoughtful than ever, his gaze lowered towards his drink. "It's... shells, I don't even know. Tried to get A'rist to explain it to me, make me understand, after..." What happened to Cadejoth, presumably. "Seems like Lythronath just doesn't interact or react the same way other dragons do. A'rist gets kind of... weird, too, when they're too closely involved." Plainly, it bothers him, for all that his shoulders shrug. "Cadejoth was hard enough, when I was a weyrling. Can't imagine being partnered with a dragon like Lythronath." She's intent on him, now, anything that touches Alida worthy of complete attention. "All dragons in general, sure. ..but I think blues, extra-special." She'll stick to her guns. The look of small exasperation on her features shows the bluie's impatience with less-than palatable 'explanations.' "He told me once that I couldn't understand how it was between 'em." Grumble. "I *get it* that Lythronath's super-primal, an' A'rist's gonna have ta work even harder than I gotta' sometimes ta hold 'is dragon back." Sip, scowl. She looks 10 Turns older when she does that. "But... *fuck..." Growl, siiigh. "I gotta protect my own, especially since 'e's gotta' blue hide." As for Cadejoth, "Ilicaeth tells me he's pretty mellow, fer a bronze. Easy-goin'." Head-quirk, peer. "What; not a stolid, practical-enough fella' for ya?" Smirk. For all of that, K'del can only shrug all over again. "He said the same to me," he says. "And I don't like it any more than you do, promise. Cadejoth's just spent more time than I care to think about stuck on the ground," and making everyone aware of exactly how miserable he is, "and... shells, the idea of that happening over and over again worries me." He takes another sip of his drink before answering the rest, his expression now turned more rueful. "Picture me as a fifteen turn old who took himself very seriously, utterly determined to prove himself. Imagine pretensions of greatness; a fervent belief that I'd not only Impress bronze, but one day really be someone. Then pair me with a loveable, over-enthusiastic canine of a dragon. He wasn't exactly what I expected." At least - now - he can grin about it. "Damn it..." Alida sighs aloud, her frustration over potential harm to her lifemate making the cautious yet also reckless woman grasp at those cards, and slap them down on the table top. "Yeah... Ilicaeth's been bitchin' some at times that 'e couldn't sleep over Cadejoth's yowlin'." Green eyes again stare forthrightly into blues as she collects herself again, and finally the blonde clips out, "A mating flight's a random thing... can't expect dragons ta be on their best behavior." Or people. "So I take what they deal us with lots uv salt. Ya get wounded here 'n there, it's just part 'n parcel uv' the game." But... is unspoken. Over and over again, as K'del said. Word of Cadejoth's personality finally brings a hint of a smirk-smile again to Alida's mouth, the expression actually touching her eyes, for once, and she finally polishes off the last of her scotch, feeling the gentle burn with a faint sigh. "Canines're damned good companions 'n workers, overall." K'del's wrinkled nose serves as apology for his lifemate's conduct, though it's not terribly heartfelt; for Alida's frustration, he can only nod, exhaling through his teeth, then busying himself with is glass. "He's doing the best he can," he says of the much younger bronzerider. "Do believe that much. So... we just have to hope for the best. They're not all bad." Of his dragon, now, he nods, releasing a low chuckle as he agrees, "They are. And... he's my best friend, in a way. He's loyal. He leads this Weyr, cares for every dragon. He's exactly what I needed, only I couldn't see it at the time. So." A shrug. "What can you do? I learned, at least. He forgave me." She almost-automatically waves off K'del's nose-wrinkle, something inside the woman quietly laughing at the memory of some of Ilicaeth's complaints, but word of Lythronath sobers her quickly enough. "It's not a question uv 'bad... Just..." Eyeroll. "I like the deck stacked in my favor, like anybody else would." Especially when their lifemate's involved. A knowing set of nods is offered to word of bronze and rider becoming best mates, Alida noting as she slowly rises from the booth, "S'why Ilicaeth basically enjoys 'im in 'is role: Cadejoth actually cares about 'is family. Kinda' like Hrae." Word of Cadejoth's forgiveness of his rider's earlier 'problems' with K'del prompts a small moue of concern to creep over the bluie's features for a moment, though it's banished with a murmured, "Remember; a *good* celebration..." of those marks she handed over, the words substituting for a standard farewell as she simply begins to walk towards the exit...followed by swooping Pyrite. K'del could say a lot of things, no doubt, but he doesn't: Alida's parting remark draws a smile, and in the end, the only thing he calls after her is a simple: "A very good one." It's a done deal. Promise. For now... well, he has more scotch to drink, and then there's Tayte to go find. |
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