Logs:Our Little Brownrider
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 21 April, 2015 |
| Who: Alida, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: There's discussion of a certain student-cum-brownrider between two jaded 'old' riders. Oh, and drinking. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr: Greenhouse |
| When: Day 26, Month 7, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Sunny, clear, warm. |
| Mentions: Edyis/Mentions, Bristia/Mentions |
  |
| It's the day after the hatching, and the Weyr is relatively quiet -- most sporting a hangover. It's early enough that most people are up are those who have something to do or somewhere to be. The greenhouse is all but deserted, which is undoubtedly why R'hin (who is not looking in the least bit hung over -- unusual for a post hatching day), is off to one side, inspecting some random plant. Or something -- it's hard to tell from a distance. For once, Alida's not looking for her own bit of privacy...nor is she one of those utterly assed-out post-partiers. Instead, the blonde's purposefully entering the greenhouse with a quiet step, her golden firelizard zipping in just behind the bluerider, her garb that of the casual, summertime 'Reachian resident. Pyrite gets the lay of the land much faster than her owner - soon cirling over R'hin's head and making pleased noises - returning to Alida to announce exactly where the Wingleader is in a satisfied chirple. Give her some moments, and the woman steps into the bronzerider's view...bearing a couple of small glasses and a third-filled bottle of something deeply colored in both hands. "You look like shit..." she notes in a darkly humored, easy alto. There's no guilt in R'hin's expression, certainly -- he's too well-practiced for that -- instead straightening as he spots the firelizard, leaning against one of the planters, and eyeing it with the wary trust of someone who has never fully accepted the use of the creatures. He's in a similar posture by the time the firelizard's owner arrives, mouth twisting at the bluerider's words. "Heard that a few times already," with a gesture of his hand as if to say, try again. His gaze might just be on that bottle, those glasses with a quick flick of attention, then back to the rider. "But it's from *me*..." Alida notes only a hint drolly, her mouth ticking into a vague smirk-smile before the blonde sends her pet off - with a quick carress - to do her own thing within the greenhouse. "I'd like ya ta try this with me, if ya can. See if it's 'worthy.'" Worthy enough to earn the 'R'hin stamp of approval,' apparently. Is her 'if you can' a small challenge, though? Moving over to the closest location that has a bench - or going for a seat on the ground, if necessary - the bluie sets down those things in her hands, and sets about unstoppering, then pouring. The stuff smells potent, spicy, but not sharp. While doing such, the woman's neutral, yet candid voice notes, "Saw ya yesterday, in the Galleries." Beat. "Y' didn' look too pleased about that brown choosin' Edyis." The look the bronzerider bestows her is one of curiosity, and interest, but something else, too. Worthy. "Of?" is R'hin's only response to that, either not noticing or glossing over the implied challenge. The bench isn't far, though he continues to lounge against his chosen spot as he watches her manhandle the bottle. His, "Did you," is markedly more flat, and a shade more unfriendly. Apparently he doesn't take it as an invitation to talk -- just to watch. "You've got a well-honed palate, at least from what I've observed..." Alida notes around a faintly-impish grin, the bluie lifting the glasses up and walking them over to R'hin in unhurried fashion. For the man's flatter words, the blonde just sighs deeply, shakes her plaited head, and seeks to hand off one of the glasses to the bronzer. "Apparently I'm unwittingly touchin' a nerve." Lip-twist. Greens settle on greys, though not in their usual, intense fashion, then travel the road-map of 'old' pain that might be left upon the man's face from his days in the desert. "She's my student, too, R'hin. Maybe even a friend." That's a very rare word, from the bluerider. "I'm sure y'got reasons ta feel the way ya seem to." But...why? He's not one to turn down the offer of a drink, especially one so talked up. R'hin accepts the offered glass, with a nod, though he doesn't immediately take a sip, instead chuckling under his breath at her words. "Your student too, is it?" Since the why isn't asked, he doesn't offer. Maybe he wouldn't have, even if it had been uttered aloud. Instead, he lifts the glass to his nose, breathes in deeply, and takes the smallest sip, eyes half closed. His, "Mm," is more thoughtful than enlightening, as he takes a slightly larger mouthful. R'hin should recognize this stuff right away: the spiced rum that Edyis has brought him before, and that she inexplicably took back. But *this* time, the brew has definitely improved even further...not that it was 'bad' before. Alida, too, takes her own sip of the stuff...finds herself nodding and almost smiling a little...if it wasn't for how the man responded to her about the newly-minted brownrider. "Okay; I'll shoot. Why?" is inquired with some honest respect of the bronzerider. The Savannah rider nods, briefly, at the taste of the rum, though doesn't comment on it aloud, instead holding his glass casually, the liquid unfinished. With another, brief twist of lips, R'hin murmurs: "A person can be a person, useful and interesting and whole, without a dragon." He pauses for a moment, to fix eyes on her expression, as he says, "And sometimes, giving someone a dragon makes them far less. Less capable, less flexible, less able. Diminished." She awaits the man's judgement with some patience and restraint, for R'hin's speaking of Edyis, and Alida's all ears. And the bluerider's expression? Is all silent understanding, touched with hints of her own jaded bitterness. "Yeah..." is finally commented, another sip of the rum taken, the stuff not truly burning down her throat, though its heat is indeed felt. "A wide world, fer one like her... not bound by Weyr...'r Hold, Craft." A flick of eyes out beyond them is given to the softly-chirpeling firelizard - who's found some kind of insect to toy with upon a leaf - leaves the blonde continuing, "Her path's altered, again. Weyr strictures." A small purse of lips presages her low, "Ed's usually able ta roll with punches...though this is a huge one, I'll admit." Head bob, and those green eyes re-affix to greys again. "She'll do 'er best...an' hopefully with our help." A small lift of her glass up into the air between them. "Mixed feelins 'r not...here's ta our little brownrider." While her smirk is typical in breadth, there's ample hints of true feeling for the not-scribe within it. R'hin's oddly silent throughout her speech, watching the bluerider avidly, pale eyes intent, though his expression is otherwise reserved. There's neither disagreement nor agreement as to her assessment, the bronzerider reserved in a way that is normally his dragon's dominion. He does, however, lift his glass, though his own toast is subtly, but intentionally different, "To the brownrider." She knows he's 'observing' her, and *this* time, Alida allows enough of her inner feelings to be seen upon her expressive features - so often schooled to flatness or twisted into less-pleasant expressions - to perhaps show R'hin she's not futzing around. Once they've both toasted the brownpair, there's a quirk of the bluie's lips for the man's slightly-differing words, and the blonde's addending to them, "The brownrider who now gets ta see maybe even more uv' the underbelly uv' life, and from a different perspective." Snert. "May she avoid at least some uv' what you an' I haven't." Oh, but wait! There's *more*! "Almost fer'got: you gotta' couple minutes ta spare ta'day? That is, *if* that stuff meets with yer approval?" Cue a lift of her glass-holding hand's index finger to R'hin's own glass. "Do you think I require that much to keep my liquor cabinet stocked?" R'hin asks, with some amusement, as he takes a couple of steps over, setting the empty glass on the bench, before straightening to regard her. "You know where my ledge is," at least, he assumes she does. "Though if there's any strings attached, well -- the rum is not that good," that sounds more like R'hin-of-old, dry humor cracking his throat. "I believe it's ta make up fer 'er swillin' so much off'a you, over the Turns..." Alida smirks companionably in answer, then draining her glass. "No strings...unless ya consider yer blessing on it as such." With all that *that* might entail. "Indeed I do. Yer door unlocked? If not, guess I could store it in Leiventh's wallow." The thought of how the bronze might respond to such evinces a low chortle from the bluerider. "I'd imagine she shares it generously around," R'hin says. If he's aware of Alida's reticence at leaving the crates on his ledge, it doesn't show in the way he pushes away, taking a slow pace or two down the row as if he considers the conversation done. Her latter question, however, stops him, and he gives her a fleeting grin. "You'd have to ask them. The mysteries of draconic privilege are unknown to me, even after all this time." There's a wry humor that suggests he's not exaggerating; as if he honestly doesn't know. "Could be..." Alida responds with a shrug of shoulders, the woman having nabbed up all the accoutraments of boozing, then turning her head so she can eye R'hin and catch that quick grin of his...and offer a likewise one in return. "Fat lotta' good it'll do," is hmphed lightly of their respective lifemates. Let that be her farewell to him, the bronzerider given just one more parting nod of head before Alida's making for the entrance/exit, Pyrite soon zipping over to her mistress with an air of satisfaction. The faint chuckle from R'hin's direction bespeaks agreement, the noise fading as the bluerider departs. |
Leave A Comment