Logs:Thick as Thieves
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| RL Date: 12 August, 2012 |
| Who: Tiriana, Agnethe |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Former convict and current Weyrwoman meet. |
| Where: Snowasis |
| When: Day 16, Month 6, Turn 23 (Interval 10) |
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| A pleasantly warm evening has the weyrfolk out in droves, and the Snowasis reaps the benefits. There's a crowd, not so far into its cups as to be unruly, but far enough that the air vibrates with laughter and good-natured (and some not so good-natured) ribbing amongst those participating in poker games, dice games, and various other pastimes in some dark corner or that. Amongst these jolly revelers is Agnethe. Less jolly, if one is paying attention, more quiet... even now, as she apparently collects her winnings from a few less cheerful riders gathered around a game of dice. She offers no condolences, or even braggery, just holds out her hand and waits for the money to be handed over - then, with passing smile, she turns and goes to the bar to sit on a stool and spend her hard-won money on a nice refreshing beverage. Already at the bar is Tiriana, the Weyrwoman at that same pleasantly-tipsy point where all is right in the world and any company is still good company. Yes, even she has those moods. Tonight, as Agnethe comes over to take the free seat by her (some people just not being brave enough to risk it however peaceful she looks), the rider lifts her brows and then twists to spot the dice-players. "Take 'em for all they're worth?" she wants to know. "Can't say much 'bout their worth, so I'd say that and then some," Agnethe returns mildly - this coming before she makes that connection between the face of the woman beside her and the big shiny title that woman bears. It takes until after she gets her drink, some tall cool glass of something, and twists in her seat to lean against the bar, legs crossing gracefully in front of her. /That's/ when Tiriana is really recognized, and there's a flash of that recognition in her expression, a raise of the eyebrows and brief pursing of the lips. A nod follows, meant as a respectful greeting, and she'll tip her glass to the weyrwoman in addition. The flash of recognition, that must be something Tiriana knows well, because she takes it as her due and lifts her own glass slightly, half a toast with a long swig for follow-through. "Can't say much about most people's, that hang out around here, anyway," she says, with a faint proud look as she surveys her Weyr's bar. "And them, especially, you know?" Agnethe turns to consider the mishmash of folk currently rubbing elbows in the bar, ranks varying from the well esteemed to the positively lowly, and she ventures a nod. "Tends to be that way. Places like these. Find any sort o' people." She too doesn't seem to find it a wholly bad thing, a quirk of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she watches a pair of rough looking sort of men arguing over cards at the back of the room. "Least they paid up. Not always the case. Men can be such babies when it comes to losin'." "Places like here, sure," agrees Tiriana. "But not just any Weyr, or bar, or--you know. It's special, here. The Reaches." She gestures along, like that's going to help get her point across to Agnethe. She still looks quite pleased, even smug, about that, even as she turns her gesture into a wave for the bartender to come get her another. "When it comes to women, anyway. Guy beats them, /that's/ all right. But one woman proves she's smarter, or tougher, or just better than them, and they get all bent out of shape." "It is," Agnethe agrees readily, the words coming somewhat more quietly as she watches the buzzing hubbub, her glass clasped between her hands and rested against her chest. "It's something else. That's why I'm still here." A swig of her drink, and she nods along with Tiriana's words, a breath of a laugh following. "Don't take it lightly, for sure. Saying all sorts of unkindness. They couldn't have been beaten honestly, /surely/." Of course, they may have good cause for general suspicion in this case, but she shakes her head all the same. "You born around here, Weyrwoman?" "Me?" says Tiriana, distracted by the latter question in her current easily suggestible mood. Talk of discrimination is swiftly put behind her in favor of talking about her favorite subject: herself. "Southern, actually, but I don't count it. I'm from Ierne," and that place earns as much pride in the naming as her own Reaches. "Place as much like here as anywhere else on this planet--sure had beat Telgar, too." "Ierne's nice," Agnethe says, almost fondly. "Not that I spent much time in the weyr proper, but outlying areas. From Crom, myself," she adds, offering the information despite being unasked. Her opinion of her natal home gets far less affection, her tone going ever so slightly dry as she speaks the name. "Not too far way, but a whole different world from here." She pauses, taking a moment to mull her words over in her head as she fidgets with her glass. "Been wanting to say a thank you. To you, or whoever had the say so. For letting us - me - come here. Stay." "Crom," the Weyrwoman repeats. She looks about to say more, but in the end elects not to; the night's too nice to ruin thinking of Aughan. Especially with thanks coming her way. "Huh?" she says, brilliantly. "Oh, you mean--well. Not like all the rest of us, all the ones that matter anyway," meaning her, mostly, "aren't already a bunch of criminals. So... yeah." The gratitude, in any case, seems to make her unusually abashed, hidden poorly under a gruff reply. Agnethe isn't one to belabor the point. The thanks were offered somewhat reluctantly anyhow, and so that gruff response is accepted with just a nod before breezing right on by to the lighter, non-chewy conversational fare that one ought to have with relative strangers while sitting at a bar. "You play at all?" she asks, gesturing with her glass to the room at large. Poker, dice, darts, take your pick. Tiriana snorts at that, skeptical at best. "I know /how/ to play 'em all," she offers with a shrug. "All right at darts but the temptation to stab somebody is pretty strong at that one. As for the rest of them, she just shrugs. "Rather just drink and heckle the losers, anyway," is admitted a beat later. "Anyway, most of 'em probably cheat so only an idiot--or an even better cheat--would try it." Agnethe can't help a laugh at that last comment, a light melodic sound tinged with surprise as she shoots the weyrwoman a sidelong look. "Suppose that's sound reasoning." Of course, she says this as the girl who just took that ragtag group of riders for their bets, regardless. Her drink, nursed throughout this exchange is reaching its bottom, and a final swallow has her pushing it back across the counter towards the barkeep, with a gesture that she's done. "I'll leave you to your heckling then, Weyrwoman." And, almost as an afterthought before she leaves, she'll extend a hand for a proper introduction. "Agnethe." "Tiriana," her own name's offered, though surely it's known already and anyway, she's not one to turn down a title at any time. "See you around. And don't rob too many of my people blind--leave some for the bartenders, if nothing else." She smirks, lifts a hand in waving, before she returns to her own drink. |
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