Logs:I Like Harpers
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| RL Date: 12 September, 2013 |
| Who: Israfi, K'zin, Suireh |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin and Harpers Israfi and Suireh get (re-)acquainted. There are interesting things and promises of talks and tomorrows to come. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 10, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Anvori/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Leova/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated! |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
Surely most good boys and girls are in bed or heading that way by now - or at least contemplating leaving the Snowasis for home. Well, aside from Israfi, of course, since he's just arriving, hair wet and outer clothing wrinkled enough to suggest he's been outside for some time, the harper pauses just inside to casually shrug his sack off his shoulder. Once he's got his bearings (or perhaps warmed up enough?) he strides towards the bar, leaning against it just near K'zin as he makes a motion to get the barstaff's attention. "Recommendations on what'll warm me up quickest? Whiskey, do you think? Maybe cider?" that seems to be directed to K'zin, the harper turning his curious and affable attention towards the rider. K'zin's attention pulls away from a pair of brunettes at the far end of the bar when Israfi arrives, so he's already glancing at the man before his question. "They might have some of the mulled hard cider left. Hot. It's pretty good, even if they do only have it around now." Alas. Seasonal beverages. K'zin appears to have a whiskey in hand, though, so that can't be a bad choice either. "Weather still nasty out there?" He asks casually upon another glance that notices the wet hair. "Hard cider, mm? That sounds like it'll do nicely." Israfi lets his sack drop to the ground, and drops onto the seat, turning his easy, warm smile on the barmaid as she comes to take his order. "Make it two," he adds, with a glance sidelong at K'zin, a nod of thanks for the recommendation. A grimace flows across his features at the question, though it turns into a wry laugh: "It stopped snowing, at least, though the drizzle just made all the earlier snow complete sludge. The stablehands about bit my head off for riding in it -- not for me, of course, for my runner. He's a tough one, though." K'zin's eyes briefly follow the man's movement, the sack hitting the ground, and then the exchange with the barmaid. He swallows down the rest of his whiskey easily (there wasn't much left) and nudges the glass toward the business side of the bar, smiling in answer to the nod from the man. "Sludge is one of the things we're famous for around here. You must be new." He concludes. "Sludge and ice, really. The snow a bit, I suppose." What with the mountains of it that will pile in the bowl in a few short months. "Some of the runners here are trained to handle the stuff better than others. Is yours new like you?" There's interest in the way he tilts his head and the way he speaks of the training and the runners indicates some familiarity with the stables and their denizens. "I've been here for a few months, but I've been in and out. More out," a vague gesture probably intended to indicate outside the Weyr, "Than in, though I'll probably spend a longer stretches of time here now the weather's starting to turn." Israfi has a pleasant, warm-but-not-overly-encouraging smile for the barmaid when she sets two glasses down, sliding over a coin in return. With a gesture towards the glass closest the bronzerider, he says, "Please," before lifting his own and taking a deep, appreciative gulp. "She's new to me, locally bred. She fared the trails far better than I." A glint of amusement. "I'd have brought my runner from Honshu but I doubt she'd appreciate being carried around by a dragon, and she served me well." K'zin is politely attentive toward the older man, the fingers of one hand drumming idly on the bartop. It's not an indication that he's bored, just-- some kind of movement to keep the hand occupied lest it get in trouble elsewhere of its own accord. Like with the blonde that slides in beside K'zin on the otherside, leaning forward on the bar to order her drink. It might be a testament to the bronzerider's genuine interest in Israfi's answers that he doesn't do more than glance sidelong when a new body arrives in the vicinity. He laughs for the words about the man's former runner. "I'd expect the heart-attack she'd've had would've made her useless to you here at any rate. The local stock is good. Do you ride mostly trails and distances?" He's casually curious. "And what is you do out and in?" This seems to be the next logical question, though he adds, "My thanks," as he accepts the drink, and after raising it in a 'cheers' sort of gesture takes a swallow. "She was a tough old thing," Israfi says with the fondness one develops for oft-used animals. He, too, notices the blonde, in a casual way, but takes another gulp of his cider in time to the other's cheers, exhaling. "I do most of the small holdings between the Weyr and some of the Holds. Just back from Ogren via Keogh way, in fact. The trails'll be unpassable in another seven or so I imagine." A quirk of lips, and a slight shift of shoulders is intended to draw subtle attention to the knot on his shoulder. "Mostly bringing news, new songs, skill up some of the older children. Fend off the occasional marriage proposal. I try to stay away from the Lessa and Menolly stories -- tales of young teenagers being snatched up to become famous makes them all restless, I find." Suireh has arrived. It's late in the evening, and the drizzly weather that was earlier snow has made Snowasis an inviting refuge. K'zin and Israfi are seated at the bar with warmed ciders in hand. The shift of Israfi's shoulders aided by the fact that K'zin's now actively looking to see it has him exhaling an 'Ahh' of understanding. "Yeah, I'd say so. About the trails. Mostly the main ones are things that get any attention. I wonder if they'll put snow shoveling the roads into our rotations this winter." It's his first winter as a 'real rider', so it's one of the fun things he'll get to find out in the coming months. "I like harpers." It's sort of an odd comment, but it's accompanied by a grin that doesn't indicate any funny business. "Maybe you should try the Lessa and Menolly stories to fend of the proposals. Give them ideas of how better to use their energy." Not that it's necessarily the same crowd, but his smile is amused at the idea. "Sounds like a busy time out there. No wonder it's more out than in." Israfi, it should be said, is displaying some of the residuals of that inclement weather, with damp hair and slightly-wrinkled clothing. There's a sack resting at the foot of the stool he's perched on to suggest he's fresh off the trail. "Well -- the benefit of a snowy winter is I get to laze about the Weyr for a couple of months at least." He's joking -- at least, the easy grin that comes to his expression suggests as much, "At Honshu I had to work the whole Turn around. This is practically a holiday for me. So maybe you can hold off on that snow-shoveling idea?" An easy chuckle escapes him, and he leans back a moment to regard K'zin with interest. It is an odd sort of comment, and one that has the harper intrigued. "I hope there wasn't an unspoken 'to play with' or some such at the end of that. We do try to be well liked -- in most cases. But no, the story of the three-hundred firelizards just makes children dig holes all summer. I made that mistake once at Honshu." It's a night for cozy and the slender woman by the hearth rises from one of the more comfortable seats and makes her (and her empty mug's) way to the bar, shouldering herself in between two seated people and hailing one of the bartenders. She gets fast service. The sandy-haired man eyes the girl in askance, but says nothing as he refills her steaming, very spiked, klah. "Thanks," there might be a smirk and a wink for the disapproving, but still departing-towards-another-customer, man. "Laze about?" K'zin raises a skeptical brow, "Don't you know that's what dragons are for? So we can brave the blizzards to blink you wherever you need to be to make the most of your time?" He's joking, right? There's a slight curve to his smile that suggests so. The bronzerider's mouth opens again, presumably to shed light on that which has intrigued the harper, but Israfi will be left wanting of an answer, as the slender woman slides between them. This woman, unlike the blonde that's departed his other side, gets more of a look, though it's not a gawk, just a long look, and he lifts his drink taking a few long swallows. "And what will you do while I sit and teach children how to count? Helpfully shovel snow around the cotholder's path? No, I'm sure you have much better things to do." It seems to be a genuine sentiment; at least there's a lightness in Israfi's tone as he says it. "Besides, I doubt you know every little cothold all the way up the--" hard not to notice Suireh's arrival, and it incites the briefest of pauses, "--mountain. Suireh, so good of you to join us. I was just about to ask you over to come meet my new friend." He gestures towards K'zin, except... he doesn't know the bronzerider's name, either. "He's been kindly offering dragonrides in lieu of our winter hibernation." When named, not by the bartender now at the other side of the bar, but a voice all too close, and a little unfamiliar, Suireh pivots and stares for that half-second too long before she places, "Israfi," in a very confused fashion, that's not masked quickly enough. "Right. Right, you're posted here too." As if the harper world were so large at High Reaches. "I-," it's that awkward moment where, when not expecting to run into anyone you actually know and having to make small talk, your brain goes absolutely blank. It shows all over her furrowed pretty face. "Your new friend." And it's now to K'zin that the harper woman looks and then takes a long drink. K'zin, driving women to drink without a word. "Hi," is spared at the end, in decidedly un-Suireh-like fashion. There'll be embarrassment in spades later for having interrupted someone else's conversation. "Learn to count, of course." K'zin doesn't miss a beat in answering the question dryly. If the reason for his need to drink down a sizable amount of cider (the only evidence being the glass) now set on the bartop, it might become obvious as his dusky cheeks touch with some color. "Evening, Journeywoman," at least he manages that without something shameful like a stutter, even if it does sound too stiffly formal. "K'zin," He offers to Israfi, not leaning indelicately forward, but rather slightly back. "Rasavyth's rider." "Israfi," the other Journeyman says smoothly, without a trace of awkwardness at the rider's formality; indeed, he holds out a hand towards K'zin by way of greeting, looking pleased. Of course, that involves either leaning forward or backward around Suireh; he opts for a lean forward, around the bar, over their drinks. Suireh's reaction earns more than a passing look; it gets a bemused twitch of brows from the other harper, who is quick to leap into the momentary pause with, "You two are already acquainted, then?" a deliberately mis-guessed comment. "Waki," except on Suireh's tongue it sounds more like a poorly pronounced wacky. "Oh. I'd say we're as acquainted as you and I are, Israfi." Then to K'zin, though she hasn't stopped looking at the bronzerider throughout, "I saw you Impress. From the galleries. What a- coincidence. Two people I know and I just walk right in between them." The sharp features try to form a smile and fails, in this truly caught off guard moment. "As you were discussing? The snow? Rides?" K'zin's not one to be rude, so he shifts to leaning forward and oh-so-carefully reaches to clasp the other man's hand. Of course, Suireh's looking at him, and this somehow makes his elbow go wide and tip his drink over. Thankfully, the glass doesn't break, even if the warm cider is wasted as it dribbles over the business end of the bar. "Crackdust." He swears under his breath, and his hand is pulling away from Israfi, looking for anything to sop up the mess. "Uh," It's not a promising beginning. To Israfi, the one word explanation is offered, "Weyrbrats." To Suireh, as his cheeks blush to a prettier shade. "Yeah? I didn't know you were there. Probably should've figured." Then his brows knit, "Don't they teach something at Harper about being observant? Or is that only when you're on duty?" Which presumably this late, she isn't. His voice is attempting a tease, but there's a nervous edge. "What are the odds," Israfi's wry sort of grin is easy enough. His clasp of K'zin's hand is brief, given the disaster that follows, reaching for a napkin that doesn't do much, before he leans back and tugs a hand through still-damp hair. He doesn't paint the picture of fastidiousness he normally does, a fact that has him smoothing down his shirt and adjusting his sleeves. The clothes are still wrinkled, though, despite his efforts. "Harper hibernation," he supplies, by way of the current conversation topic, but it's distracted: he's more interested in the reaction of rider to newer harper and vice versa. "Childhood sweethearts?" At that, Israfi receives a withering look that's followed quickly with a renewed sense of balance in the form of a crooked smile. "Do you really think between my father, my uncle, and my aunt any of my childhood sweethearts are alive to tell the tale now? Besides which, do I look like someone who would have had childhood sweethearts? Wait," only belatedly recognizing having dug a hole for herself after the fact, "Don't answer that." But K'zin? Oh, K'zin. All his bantering gets him is a hand placed on his shoulder and the the teeniest, little smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. Still fumbling over the mess, K'zin pauses when Suireh's hand touches his shoulder. Less a pause, and more a freeze. It's momentary though. Is Israfi observant enough in his off hours to notice that when K'zin's mouth opened to answer the question about the nature of his past with Suireh, it looked like maybe he was going to have a different answer? Well, there's still a mess to be tended to, only when he reaches for the rag the barmaid brings, and she waves him off is he left with nothing to do but look awkward for a second. Then, "So do all Harpers at 'Reaches sleep through winter?" An attempt to change the subject back to, well, the subject. Oh, but Israfi would so love to answer that! Still, the harper appears to respect her wishes, even if there's a twinkle of amusement glinting in his gaze. He settles, instead, for draining the rest of his cider before it gets too cold. He's noticed. (Of course he's noticed.) But he's adept enough to at least pretend otherwise, while he's pushing to his feet after reaching for his rucksack. "Well, I'd best hit the baths and see if I can coax one of the lovely kitchen workers into a nice meal before it gets too late." "Don't let your wife know you called another woman lovely," says Suireh, her voice lilting melodically. Singsongy? More pats for K'zin's shoulder, except now, Israfi is the sole fixation of the singer's visual attention. "I might need a ride the day after next, if you have the inclination and time." The dark-haired girl finally turns from Israfi, a fleeting look of something bright in her eyes until they refocus on the bronzerider after a succession of blinks. "Nice meeting you, Israfi." K'zin offers to the departing Harper. He really must like Harpers, or have heeded them enough to learn his manners. "Thanks for the drink." He adds. The one he spilt everywhere. It did him good up until then. He quietly asks the barmaid for another drink and solemnly promises not to spill the next one, "Even so, a short glass, I think? Something not prone to tipping." He adds with a charming if goofy smile. Suireh's request intrudes onto his awareness a beat too late to be smooth about it. "Huh? Oh, sure. Anywhere you like." One of the perks of having a dragon. There's an awkward second then, "Everything-- been good? Since you-- got back?" However long ago that was. Either he genuinely doesn't know when that was or is pretending well that he mark her return. "She's very understanding of my predilection for a good, hot meal," Israfi's replying, completely at ease with the other harper's jibe, chuckling as he settles the strap of the sack on his shoulder, his gaze drifting from Suireh to K'zin. "It's why I married her. Thanks for the drink recommendation, bronzerider. Much appreciated." He's already striding away from the bar, narrowly dodging a more drunk patron as he disappears into the hallway. "To the Hall." It's a boring sort of trip, her dry voice being indicative enough of that. "Reporting my findings to my Master. Hoping I'll become the quickest promoted Master in history." Ever ambitious, Suireh's voice hiccups when Israfi leaves, and the harper is silent as she watches the other harper's back. "Did I overhear you say he teaches children to count? Hrmm." Is it a rhetorical question? It must be, cause she doesn't give K'zin much time to respond. "I-," and there it is again, his words catching up to her ears and she's moving away to rest a hip against the bar stool Israfi vacated. Pale gray eyes look flatly at K'zin, and it's only the playful corners of her mouth that betray her amusement, "And how do you know if I've been back long enough for anything to have been good? Stalker much?" "The Hall? I'll try not to get kicked out this time." K'zin's response is wry, but there's some hint of truth there too. "What're you studying just now?" It's more than manners that makes him ask. Suireh was always interesting to him. That much hasn't changed. "He said he taught kids to count, I said he could teach me. Even though-- well, you know me and math." He's a wiz. It's a Smith necessity. This answer comes belated, much after the fact, given how little time she gave him to answer, which probably means he shouldn't have answered, but... well, Suireh has a knack for robbing him of his ability to read some social cues. "Oh, I didn't," He tries to be reassuring, as if she needed it, "But can't even a moment with you end up good? Or not good?" Cheeseball. There's a goofy grin on his face very reminiscent of a teen Waki trying to make her laugh. "If you'd like, I can try to work some stalking in to my busy schedule." So busy he's up this late drinking. She's trying not to laugh. But it's a lost cause and a small one escapes. Time, experience, they've both softened the sharp-eyed, aloof girl. Later, she might blame the liquor she's had, but for now, she just eases herself onto the edge of that stool and gives K'zin her full attention now that Israfi has left. Never mind that her uncle watches the pair from the otherside of the bar every so often, through his lashes, from the corners of his eyes. "It's been interesting. I've never journeyed before and I never realized how tiring it could actually be?" She sips from her mug of now cold klah, and wrinkles her nose in distaste. "And you? How has Impression, graduation, and now ferrying people around the world treated you?" K'zin is not unaware at whose bar they sit. Leova has only ever received his utmost respect (and sometimes fear as respect). Anvori receives these things by grace of association of both Leova and Suireh. He keeps his eyes where they belong: on the incoming drink, and the marks slid over are a little extra, for the help of the barmaid in cleaning his mess. Once he has the drink in hand, he does look at Suireh - her eyes, and her face, never lower (because he'd like to go on living, thanks). "Did you journey far? Learn a lot besides how tired it can make you?" He queries further, picking up his drink. Her question takes a moment to compose an answer to, "Things are well enough. It's not really what I expected it would be, but not bad. Sometimes tiring and frustrating, but--" He shrugs his shoulders, "Not bad. My dragon would probably enjoy picking your brain about the history you've been--" Well, he's not sure what the right word is, so he settles for the ineloquent, "-doing stuff with." "Mostly Nabol." She utters it offhandedly, but in a finite sort of way. There's no discussion there she'll willingly venture in to. "And... if I were gifted enough to hear and converse with dragons, I would be happy to oblige him, but as it is- I imagine if that were the case, I wouldn't be a harper now." Suireh isn't above teasing the once-smitten bronzerider with a what-if, "What if... I rode either Hraedhyth or Iesaryth." Those pale, gleaming eyes are a little too innocent and that hand that places itself on the bar is a little too inviting. "Nabol?" K'zin manages not to choke on his swallow of whiskey. He turns to look at her, and the look is serious, intense, and a lot more adult than she's probably ever seen him. He looks like he's about to say something, but then doesn't, and just takes another drink. He has time to recover from whatever he didn't say (or maybe those two words that she said), in answering her other question. "Rasavyth will gladly let me pick your brain on his behalf. Unless you're less obliging when I'm a part of the equation. He is more charming than I am." He'll grant. "If you rode Hraedhyth, obviously I'd be weyrleader now." Goofy grin. Not even a little serious. "If you rode Iesaryth... well, maybe you'd still be in charge and we wouldn't be having stew for dinner quite so often." Not that the tithes are exactly anyone's fault in particular. The ol' inviting hand trick gets a notice, but his other hand seems to need to join the first around his glass. Extra precautions, surely, what with the promise he made to the barmaid. If Suireh notices the just not choking, she says nothing. She even says nothing when he looks upon her like an adult might than the youth she might remember better. There are other things to look at, the wall, the ceiling, the top of K'zin's head, and finally her hand on the bar counter. Slipping off her stool is a fluid enough action, but what follows next, perhaps, surprises even her as the hand on the counter lifts to curve about the once Smith's cheek. "It was good to catch up as adults. You've grown up a lot," a beat, and a wry, "Not rising to my bait. I'll see you day after next?" She's so certain of it, she's already walking away, though the last 'things' to leave are her fingers as they trail off his cheek over shoulders across his back and into the air. Yes, people change as they grow up and become successful Harpers or less successful bronzeriders. But some things fall into the category of 'the more things change, the more they stay the same'. The hand to his cheek strikes K'zin dumb, both in voice and in visage. Suireh still has the same ol' Suireh Effect that she had when they were teens. He stares at her, only managing to find his voice when she's paces away, "Yeah!" That's all. One word, and it was a struggle. He probably buries his face on an arm too soon for Suireh to really be gone, it's a slump of self-rebuke, and maybe the barmaid is the only one to hear the words, "Stupid, stupid, stupid," mumbled by the man, drink clasped firmly in hand. |
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