Logs:Model Behavior
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| RL Date: 16 December, 2015 |
| Who: Kh'tyr, Olivya |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Kh'tyr and Olivya both set great examples. |
| Where: The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 7, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
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>---< The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr(#533RJs$) >------------------------------<
Despite its subterranean locale, the creamy wall paint, pale woods, and
frosted glass give the cavern a light, airy feel. Oil lamps reflect softly
in the polished wood of high-backed booths, glimmering through the opaque
glass dividers that help lend intimacy to the seating arrangements;
round-backed booths carved from stone, lined with deep, terra-cotta
colored padding and the addition of strategic, lyric shapes painted in a
subtle red shade. The sweeping, half-circle shaped bar with its top of
smooth stone, backed by cut-glass-fronted cabinetry flows gracefully into
the soft lines and mellow colors that dominate the Glass Fountain.
All the atmosphere aside, the main attractions of the room are clearly the
massive, multi-pronged chandelier that hangs from multiple chains from the
ceiling and the re-worked leak - which no longer resembles a leak at all,
having been channeled through glass to become a beautiful piece of art. A
curving wave and a series of glass bubbles guide the water past a bank of
glows, allowing the light to shine through the water and turn it into a
sparkling fountain. From its dark, dim, shabby history, the Glass Fountain
has become an elegant place with lattice-stands to hold the menus with
their selection ranging from typical 'bar food' to high-end dishes and
fancy desserts.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Kh'tyr M 33 5'9 solid, dk. brown hair, dk. brown eyes 0s
Olivya F 31 5'8 firm, blonde hair, blue eyes 2m There is the soft buzz of conversation and light and warmth. Drinks flow at the Fountain and there's a good turn out for the evening, dinner and duties well past and anyone now 'off-duty' except for those unlucky souls to be stuck with something over night. Olivya must consider herself very much off-duty, since the blonde would-be Weyrlingmaster is-- yes, she's sitting in a man's lap. This certainly wouldn't be an impression anyone would want to leave on weyrlings, but the greenrider doesn't seem to care. One arm is twined around the brownrider's shoulders and another gripping her glass; her distinctive red jacket has been thrown aside, revealing her firmly muscled arms. They aren't alone at the booth that they occupy, in the middle of the back wall, with three of the brownrider's wingmates also there with a lively banter carrying between them. "Model behavior," Kh'tyr's voice cuts through the din without being loud. "Tell me, Livvy, will you be teaching that to every greenrider who passes through the barracks?" The brownrider comes to a stop next to her seat (who might as well only be a seat and not a man at this juncture for all the attention the assistant weyrlingmaster is giving him). The wingmates? Also furniture. Nevermind, too, that Kh'tyr must be into his drink to dare so public a spectacle. Model behavior, indeed! Olivya was just brushing her lips against the man's ear to whisper something, though the words never make it past her lips as Kh'tyr's voice reaches her ears. Instead, she's lifting those soft blue eyes under their fan of lashes to the assistant weyrlingmaster, before she shifts straighter. Or well, at least not to have her lips directly on someone else as she answers him lightly, "And why not to every bluerider, or brownrider, or bronzerider, or goldrider? Let's not be unequal, Kh'tyr, remember?" The furniture opens his mouth to speak, but the greenrider lifts a finger to press against his mouth and shush him gently. "No no, darling. We don't need your opinion here." Or maybe she doesn't want someone else defending her, likely, as a matter of pride. "Oh, yes!" Kh'tyr agrees it with the wild enthusiasm of the very sarcastic (and well buzzed). "Sluttiness for everyone. We can fornicate right here, right now, and make the point. Lead by example." This brownrider is bold enough to try to get hold of her arm and seek to pull her out of that piece of furniture's grasp and into the pleasantly tight embrace he would dare her to partake in. Olivya could certainly fight against him, but she doesn't. That furniture does try to keep hold of her for a moment, but he's too late. And indeed, she twines her arms around Kh'tyr's neck, anyone who may have glanced over seeing nothing but a greenrider moving from one man to the next (and like that isn't common enough for them to ignore, especially when they can chalk it up to that Monacoan). She leans forward to murmur quietly, suggesting, "Sweetie, go home and sleep it off. Preferably with someone so that you can remember that there's nothing wrong with sex." Well, damn, that didn't work. Kh'tyr's eyes narrow, "Not too drunk to haul you out over my shoulder, you know." It's kept low. Those around might simply think he's whispering sweet nothings save for the annoyed look. "I'll stop making a scene the moment you do." So mature. Fort's weyrlings are in great hands. "Was I making a scene?" challenges Olivya with the dry edge of humor. "You know, just because you're watching something doesn't make it a scene." But her fingers ruffle lightly through his hair and she moves to draw away, adding belatedly to his threat to haul her off, "I meant, go home with someone else. I don't reward bad behavior; it's a bad practice." See, she is a good teacher! "Just because you're in a Weyr doesn't make this an appropriate place to be snugged up to some asshole," Kh'tyr probably is well aware that she was snugged up against him just a moment home. "You make less of yourself, Olivya." And he's disappointed in her. It's genuine disappointment, really. He's turning to leave her there, without another word. "I am never less of myself," is Olivya's tense, firm response to Kh'tyr's back, but she doesn't lift her voice to say it in this crowd. Whether he hears her or not-- But perhaps his words hit some spot, since she doesn't return to that piece of furniture there but instead retreats to the bar. (She does eventually leave with the man, though. Poor guy.) Hopefully he's more animate once they find a piece of furniture to occupy. Poor Liv. |
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