Logs:The Least
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| RL Date: 6 April, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, Rafevan |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lots of people are buying Rafevan drinks, Irianke among them. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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| Word's circulated the Weyr that everyone is out, more or less whole, and in the infirmary getting treated. And someone who was there has surely mentioned the Smith kid who managed to blow up the wall and not anyone on either side, and that someone has bought Rafevan a drink. Probably several someones have, by this point of the afternoon; because while everyone else is circulating around celebrating the Weyr's success, Rafe has cornered a table to the side to nurse another drink, only half-heartedly joining the cheering when someone recounts the story all over again. "For a man who just rescued five people from a sure death of frightening smells and boredom," Irianke starts, claiming the seat next to him after shooing whoever was there away. "You don't look thrilled. Or are you already that drunk?" She is most certainly not sober. And look, she's brought a companion to her own drink, sliding the second whisky over to Rafevan. "Thank you." Certainly a little drunk. Rafevan's eyes take a moment to focus on Irianke when he looks up at her, and his tongue's slower yet. "Weyrwoman," he says. "It's been an exhausting few days, is all. For everyone. Don't seem to have much celebrating left in me, just happy it's done. Everyone is okay?" "From what I can tell," says Irianke, which is a neat answer for all she must know given her position. "They'll be fine, physically. Emotionally is another answer." She toasts the unknowns of that to the air, and takes a long pull from her drink. "Kyaaaaaaaaaaaah," she breathes out, her face scrunching at the burn. "We all deserve the day off." To that, Rafe can only nod slowly, accepting the answer even if it doesn't make him any happier. "I doubt we'll get it," he says then, practical--or an obsessive drunk, unable to stop working even now. He takes another gulp of his own drink. "We need to start clearing the debris, shoring up the rest of that passage to make sure nothing else collapses. Who knows what, well. There could be other weak points in the area. We'll have to find out, before anyone else gets hurt." Irianke plays her fingers about the rim of her glass. Her presence seems to have caused most of the tale recounters to disperse, though some linger close enough to listen in. "You have my permission to take the rest of the day and tomorrow off. You've done enough, apprentice. I imagine your promotion can't be that far off, what with our glowing recommendations." The goldrider reaches out to pat the young man's hand. "Thank you," she says again, as if she can't say it enough to express just how truly grateful she is. Rafevan is drunk. Where normally, he has such careful control of his features--arching brows, ghosts of a smile, just enough to hint beneath the surface--now he just regards Irianke uncomprehendingly. Bewildered. "You're doing that?" he asks. "Doing what?" Alcohol makes people slow. As much liquor as Irianke has imbibed this afternoon, uncharacteristically, makes even Irianke slow. She blinks owlishly at the smith apprentice. "Giving you the day off?" "Recommending me," says Rafevan. "It would be the least we could do." The goldrider's finger slides up her temple, rubbing at it. "Obviously not now, but later, once we're all done being r'lieved and celebrating." Oh, the vowels drop. Soon the consonants will follow. But before then, Irianke, aware of her impending doom of intoxication, gets to her feet. "Enjoy your days off." Wouldn't do for the visiting goldrider to appear so sloshed in the middle of the day. "The very least," says Rafevan, who is trying for some of his usual sardonic amusement then, to cover his ongoing confusion: her explanation doesn't seem to help much in wiping that off his face. While she gets up, he sits exactly where he is, tilting his head to track her progress. "Thank you," it occurs to him to say then. She doesn't say goodbye, but flashes a charming, mostly drunk, smile at Rafevan before walking away. |
Comments
Laine (11:59, 7 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
Poor Rafe, holding back such a bombshell of a secret. He's really charged with having to navigate that minefield. Must be feeling pretty short-fused right about now. (Yadda yadda, explosion puns~)
Tiriana (23:24, 7 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
I see what you did there. Just don't blow my cover! XD
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