Logs:Handling It
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| RL Date: 12 November, 2015 |
| Who: Alida, T'gar, Ilicaeth, Asaroth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A weyrling and rider meet up over drinks... |
| Where: ...in a bar. (HRW: Snowasis) |
| When: Day 7, Month 4, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Foggy, damp, cool. |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Ellerey/Mentions, Jenilynn/Mentions, Kresten/Mentions, V'ret/Mentions |
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| The weyrlings are only allowed one drink. One drink. T'gar is here amongst the Weyr dwellers at the counter, his one alloted drink here before him as he tries to savor and make it last. He's also engaged with the bartender in getting a second one. "...one more and I'll pay," he's promising the blonde, one promise after another as he leans up against that counter towards her. The blonde bartender's not even giving him her full attention since the bar is jumping this evening, so the answer he gets is a distracted one: "You don't have any marks, Rat. Remember?" Before he could interject, she's already on the move to the next patron. Alida's returned from visiting the South, the woman having already eaten dinner at Monaco Weyr after her long day of conducting business with various folk who supply her with rarer alcoholic delicacies that she can profit from. Her palatte, however, demanded something much more home-brewed this evening, and so the palest-blonde can be found strolling into the Snowasis, looking all around (as is her wont), and soon bellying up to the bar...just beside T'gar. If she notices him individually, the alert but somewhat distant bluerider gives no clue, Alida instead waiting until the 'tender looks in her general direction, then rapping her knuckles lightly upon the bar-top. A few perhaps odd gestures with her fingers and hands secures her order, and that other blonde (the bartender) bobs her head, moving off to pour up more 'fun.' When Alida arrives, T'gar is looking resigned to his one-drink fate for the night. His head turns a fraction only to steal a glance at the new arrival beside him and finds Alida. He says nothing at first until the blonde bartender leaves. "Long time," he says in a way as if they were old friends, bringing his glass towards himself. Even with T'gar's 'greeting,' Alida's not really warming up much at all, the woman turning a little and leveling her cool green gaze upon the tall weyrling for a moment. There's a low grunt and a bob of her braided head in sere acknowledgement, and then she's turning her back to the bar in order to allow her eyes to notice exactly what's up in here tonight, and with who. With that tacit acknowledgment and dismissal, all T'gar could do is merely look at Alida for her low grunt and return to his drink. With his back to the crowd since he's now perched on one of the stools, he lingers on a swallow of the drink he has, savoring its flavor as he watches the bar tenders working behind the counter. The tables in the bar are filled with ongoing card games and the dart game is happening between a few Glacier riders. It's not loud and raucous like it would be months ago when the Savannah wing was around, but the card tables more than make up for it. And, randomly, that's where Alida's gaze winds up filtering over to: where Savannah and Glacier held their weekly darts game. It seems like forever, and somehow just a couple sevendays ago to the blonde, her eyes softening some, her near-expressionless features slowly altering into a thoughtful, perhaps even faintly melancholy expression. It's about then that her mixed drink of rye, applejack, lemon juice, sweetened syrup, and bitters arrives in a lowball glass - the 'tender clearing his throat to capture Alida's attention - the woman turning around, and fishing a sixteenth coin from a pocket and sliding it over to the other woman. "Want another after this one..." her alto notes just loudly enough to be overheard, the bluie then quirking her head slightly, and finally muttering, "Actually, make it *now*. Please." As the 'tender moves off to take care of not only Alida's second order, but also other business, the Glacier rider offers askance to the air in T'gar's general direction, "How're you weyrlings handlin' it?" Ilicaeth's busy talking with other dragons, listening to the weyrling ones...but he's rarely too busy to take note of his human. « Might be interesting ta' find out a little more about some uv' those kids. » Opportunities, knowledge, inside information...and plain old curiosity are good motivators for both of them. (Ilicaeth to Alida) Listening to the sounds behind him, Rat's glass is reaching the midpoint level before Alida's question cuts through his thoughts. "Pretty demanding," he notes first her orders to the bartender long gone, his gaze sliding towards her to see her profile. "Sounds like someone's had a rough day." Beat. "Handling it," his answer comes now. "Handling what?" There's a bob of Alida's head to recognize that T'gar spoke to her, the bluie's mouth quirking into a faint half-smirk for his return of said inquiry. As for rough days, there's a small shrug, and a clipped, "Not more 'n any other." After looking at her glass of cheer, the woman lifts it up for a sniff, then sips sparingly, testingly. Hmm. "Not bad." Another drink is taken before green eyes flick over to more directly notice the weyrling again, the woman replying, "Heard that some uv' the babies 'r...like their daddy." Beat. "Ain't gonna be easy on anybody, 'specially the lifemates uv said babies." "I haven't seen anybody demand their drinks right away so far tonight," Rat points out in his smart alec way as he looks over the bottles he could see behind the counter. "Which tells me you're either in a hurry, or you've had such a shitty day that you're drowning it in that drink there. You not be in a hurry if you're here, now, asking me questions." He takes a swallow of his drink with a grimace before he answers on the rest. "Yeah," he says. "Doubt all of them are like that one. Mine is. Ellerey's, looks like. Maybe V'ret's Zoth. Not easy, no, but I'm managing." Again, there's that half-smirk for T'gar's assessment of her drink situation - something a little more sharky in it, this time - but Alida doesn't speak further of it. "Didn' say all. Nor 'most,'" Alida notes between sips, then quieting to listen to the weyrling. At some point in this part of their conversation, that second drink arrives, and Alida bobs her head to the 'tender, who flashes a smirk back, then departs...with a few other folk nearby wondering at this speedy service for the bluerider, in particular. They don't say or do anything about it, however, just roll their eyes. For word of those specific weyrlings, Alida simply nod again, and notes dryly to T'gar, "Let's go see 'im." Already - her 1.5 drinks in hands - the leather-clad woman is moving away, towards the main exit, as if expecting Rat to keep up. T'gar takes in all that happens with the bluerider in studied silence until she's declaring they go see Asaroth. He straightens from that with a frown and a, "Go see--? Why would you want to do that? Wait--" But Alida's up and heading out, the weyrling downing the remaining drink he has with a curse before setting the glass down and heading off after her. As for the young bronze, he's on the garden ledge away from where most of the residents congregate, curled up in the elements as if he was pointedly waiting for his lifemate. There's one eye trained on the Snowasis entrance, so it's likely that he sees Alida coming out with Rat hot on her trail. Well, then; don't have so far to go, eh? It's too dark murky and 'bleh' outside, yet, for any human to want to hang out on the patio ledge, but baby dragons? Why not. Alida's not explaining her sudden fancy in any fashion to the once-cussing T'gar, the blonde instead pulling up not too far away from where the baby bronzling hangs out...and looking at him in silence. Studying him, in that guard way of hers. Her half-full drink is sipped, while the full one is held securely, the blonde finally noting politely, "Asaroth." Just over her shoulder to the young man is murmured, "You two got any plans, after y've graduated?" Ilicaeth is just cautious enough not to overwhelm the young bronze with the full force of his adult personality, but Ilicaeth doesn't quite 'coddle' Asaroth, either, as slowly drifting, golden sands pile up before the other's mental 'cave' entrance/doorway. « Ilicaeth. » his raspy, dry, genial baritone notes. (To Asaroth from Ilicaeth) By the time T'gar reaches them, he finds Alida standing before a watching Asaroth. The little bronze hasn't moved from his curled position, his gaze shifting from bluerider to weyrling and back with the heavy familiar silence that has become him. There's no greeting from him, only the deadpan stare of the ugly-looking bronze. Flanking the woman, "He's not friendly," he gives out friendly, perhaps as a warning. "And the only plans I have past weyrlinghood is drinking to my heart's content with a girl in my bed. That might come before the graduation. It's best to aim high." Apparently, that's high. Looking her way, "Why? What was your plans?" he asks now. There's a marked silence from the bronze, heavy. Imposing. Almost tangible. It's the flicker of a dank scent that would touch the blue - the smell of a decaying cave left underwater for too long, its darkness within oppressive. Whatever's in that cave watches Ilicaeth like a hawk, and there's the faint hissing in the background. (To Ilicaeth from Asaroth) There's no words for his rider as Ilicaeth assesses the young bronze's reaction to his genial, simple greeting, but images and feelings suffice quite well. Kid's 'hissy.' Heh-heh. (Ilicaeth to Alida) So, they both study one another, then. Equitable. Silence never bothered Alida, and it's only when T'gar reaches her, warns her about his lifemate that the woman murmurs almost casually, "I try not ta assume any uv' 'em are. 'specially Lythronath babies." Smirk. For the bronzer's words of his 'plans,' there's another smirk, a drink, then the bluie's quiet, if slightly sarcastic reply of, "Truly grand." Making certain Rat is placed firmly at her side - not her flank - Alida answers his question with a low, "To get the fuck *out* uv' Weyrlinghood in one piece, an' ta make my own way in my own fashion." Shrug. Green eyes flick all around them, noting anybody around - dragon or human or firelizard (hint: there's nobody lingering nearby, outside on this dreary night) - the woman then quirking her head slightly, for a couple of moments. A faint smirk-smile touches her mouth as she notes idly, "Ilicaeth says Asaroth's 'hissy.'" Still genial, Ilicaeth baritone utters low, rich laughter at the young one's hissing cave, the darkness and scent not seeming to bother the blue. His sands suddenly rasp and 'hiss' back at the bronzeling, but not in a confrontational way. Merely echoing the sound. (To Asaroth from Ilicaeth) "Well, I hardly know about this Lythronath," Rat says with a frown, staring between Alida and his dragon. "If he's so horrible as some I've heard claimed, then why didn't all of his progeny turn out like him? Seems like me and Ellerey got the short end of a stick, there." As for her plans of getting out weyrlinghood, "One and the same," is hia simple response to that. Her observation draws a pause, and then a blithe, "He gets that way when he meets other dragons. He stops eventually. He hardly uses words. I'm pretty sure he's going to charm the lady dragons. You'll see." He's also joking. Asaroth in his cave continues to hiss, the sound more like the escaping steams of the hot springs rather than a snake's. When the blue hisses back, his own hissing reaches up a higher and louder pitch. There's a sound of claws scraping surface somewhere deep within that cave, but the darkness stays. (To Ilicaeth from Asaroth) "Why the long face?" Alida inquires almost lightly of T'gar's frowny staring. "Never said Lythronath was 'horrible.'" What other people say, however, is up to them. "He's primal, true." Beat. "Likes ta push others...get 'is claws an' teeth in during Flights. Territorial." Her first drink finished, the woman starts in on the second, her mouth twitching into a small smirk-grin for word of the youthful bronze's reaction to her blue lifemate. For his words of post-graduation, there's a knowing riposte of, "Most bronzers get it in their heads that they wanna' reach even higher. You'd not be the first 'r last ta want a chance at secondin', leadin' a Wing." Or *more*. As for Ilicaeth's reaction to Asaroth, there's another shrug. "Ilicaeth don' mind. He c'n handle both sides uv the personality fence decently." Smirkie. Steaming hiss? Ilicaeth's been 'fortunate' enough to hear that real thing once, when he was at the Smithcraft Hall. The blue offers his rider's memory of that belching of steam to the young one, seeing how it measures up to Asaroth's. His rasping sands have become motes of dust and shimmering mica upon the air, trying to reflect any light available into that cave's darkness. (To Asaroth from Ilicaeth) Shaking his head only once with a sniff, "No long face," is what Rat says to that. "Thought all dragons were territorial. What makes this one so different?" Lythronath, he means. "As for what I get in my mind, I like to harbor no expectations," he tells Alida as he looks down at his bronze. "Wingleader, Weyrleader....right now it's all the same to me. Who knows what will happen between tonight and the day I graduate." Some would think that sounds ominous, but there's a quick smile in her direction. Asaroth doesn't look like he's going to fall for any tricks and it shows. There's a decaying smell now, the hissing pitch slowly matching that of the given memory, but those motes of dust will seem to have a hard time penetrating the darkness of the cave. His attention is gotten, though, for only a pair of glowing eyes to appear deep within the cave. (To Ilicaeth from Asaroth) Mhm. The look Alida 'awards' Rat is a little sly, but she doesn't push. Headshake. "Actually, most uv' 'em *aren't,* 'cept during mating flights, 'r if they think their home Weyr, 'r queens 're in danger, somehow. Shrug, sip. "Can't tell ya anymore about Lythronath than I already have. He's rough, simple, primal. You want more, y'd better talk ta A'rist." Beat. "'r have Asaroth chat up 'is daddy." Smirk. "Seriously?" is inquired with both dark humor and a tiny smattering of snark of T'gar's lack of expectations. "The only 'expectation-less' human's a dead human." If she's put off by Rat's perhaps odd-sounding words, the bluie shows it not. Hey, yeah! That's what Ilicaeth truly wanted: to engage the hissy bronzeling. When those glowing eyes appear far back in the 'cave,' the blue alters his memory-hiss to include huffs and puffs of that billowing steam as they exit pipes, adding in sighs of slowly-released, lower-pressure steam. (To Asaroth from Ilicaeth) "Asaroth barely even talks to me," Rat notes with a hand to his chest. "I doubt he'll get real chatty with anyone else, if at all." Alida's disbelieve finally draws some semblance of laughter from the weyrling as he nods once and says, "Then I must be dead. You expect something, if you don't get it then it's the worst feeling. I don't like disappointment, do you? I know what I want. What I need. I don't expect to get what I want or need. I know what I'll work for, but for now, I'm just surviving and trying to understand my dragon. Maybe that's the only expectation I've got." Asaroth watches. He watches those huffs and puffs, and he watches Ilicaeth. It's a heavy stare, intense and dark. A small scrape of claws could still be heard. (To Ilicaeth from Asaroth) "Just like 'is daddy, 'r so Ilicaeth's told me before..." Alida notes in a comparison between Asaroth and Lythronath. Word of him being dead draws a faintly critical and vaguely creepy regard from the bluerider for a moment as she studies Rat, the blonde soon smirking a tad for his last words. "And *there* ya have it: expectation uv' survival, understanding...an' maybe graduating." During their latest round of chatting, the woman's slowly and inoffensively squatted down - not getting any closer to 'hissy' Asaroth in the process - and set down her only-sipped-at drink so she can more steadily regard him on his 'level.' "'caeth says 'e's 'steamy,' too. Hissing like steam. "How's 'is health?" Out of left-field, that comes. To be sure, Ilicaeth is there, in those tiny motes and flecks of dust and mica upon the air, but he's also concentrating on raiding his rider's memory for more hisses and steaming sounds, then 'replaying' them for the bronzeling. Most of the sounds are 'craft-generated,' but a couple come from nature itself, in the vexed hiss of a Southern wildcat (tawny spots on darker coat, rippling muscles beneath fur, sharp and savage teeth), and the hiss of heavy waterfalls spraying into a river far below (rainbows and reflections and the scent of fresh moisture upon greenery-laden air). (To Asaroth from Ilicaeth) "Not exactly expectations to graduating," Rat tells her, "but, do plan to graduate. I do expect to have a woman in my bed once these restrictions let off. You can take that. What do you expect these days?" he asks now as he watches her get down to a watchign Asaroth's level. His further observations through her blue draws a light shrug from him, not seeming the least bit worried about any weird thing his dragon does. "Maybe he's teasing him," he suggests then. "Not too sure. I'm still learning him, and he doesn't like to give hints. He seems well enough as the rest of the dragons, so, that's something." The sounds, depending on their rapidity of being shown, are getting imitated by Asaroth. It's interaction, at least, even if there are no words coming to Ilicaeth's mind from the bronze. It's just a mingling of scents and imitation sounds, the pitches slightly up or down from the original, as if the young bronze was making a game out of it whether that was the blue's intention or not. (To Ilicaeth from Asaroth) "Believe me, you *don't wanna* be cooped up in there any longer than necessary..." Alida notes dryly of not only the Barracks, but of weyrlinghood, itself, green eyes flicking up and over to T'gar before fastening themselves back to Asaroth, again. His words of women in his bed are shrugged off, the inquiry given thought before Alida responds with quiet intensity, "I expect the shit ta hit the fan soon, with this plague." Like it hasn't already? As for their dragons, again, Alida simply shrugs. "Could be." She's not going to worry over it. Slowly standing, stretching, the bluie finds herself nodding at T'gar's assessment of his lifemate and their bond, Asaroth's health. "*Gotta* avoid that fuckin' thicktail." Because eeewwww...or so says the woman's wrinkled-up nose. "Thanks fer showin' 'im off." Smirk. If Asaroth's making a game of it, Ilicaeth's quite willing to play, the blue rarely too grown up for even the simplest kinds of fun. He filters into their wordless conversation various hisses that *he* remembers of late, like a golden little firelizard's hiss at having her sleep interrupted by Ilicaeth, and a tunnelsnake's puffed-up hiss when backed into a corner by that same firelizard. All of their hisses and puffs - and even Ilicaeth's own exhaled 'chuff' - become a sort of non-musical symphony of sorts, the steam billowing around the cave's entrance, and making Ilicaeth's sand condense and pattern itself down into various sand sculptures. (To Asaroth from Ilicaeth) "Not in my plans," Rat says of being cooped up with wry grin. "Been hearing about this plague. Doesn't look good, but, maybe it'll miss us completely." Right. He nods on her assessment, watching Asaroth before he answers, "Yeah, learned that one already," he says on thicktail. "Damn bastard's vindictive. I know that much about him." He nods to her thanks, anyway. Asaroth continues to imitate each one thrown his way. It's almost as if he's abosorbing each one given, the imitation acting as if he's trying to commit them to memory. The eyes pair are dimmer than before but the hisses from him manage to maintain and keep up with the older blue as if his life depends on it. (To Ilicaeth from Asaroth) "Smart *you*..." Alida notes again around a small smirk, the woman quickly sobering when Fort's plague comes up again. "Heard from some folks that most uv' Boll's Blood is dead. Others say it's just the Lord 'n Lady." Headshake. "We're close ta Fort territory." No good can come of this, at least in Alida's mind. Word of Asaroth actually being vindictive brings a lofting of one pale brow, then another look over at the baby bronze before the woman sighs, responds with, "I got a hide ta scrub." Interaction time's over, apparently. "Enjoy yer imprisonment." Weyrlinghood, imprisonment. What's the difference? The blonde bobs her head to Rat, and pivots on a heel, pacing her way back inside the Snowasis, soon lost in the crowd. And, if she happened to 'forget' her quarter-drained drink out there on the stone of the patio, well, who would be the wiser? It's like playing Simon! Puff-chuff, whoosh-hiss! Not only does Ilicaeth offer Asaroth his own repetory of those kind of sounds, but he tries to encourage the young one to offer up his own, new sounds for Ilicaeth to 'return,' as well. (To Asaroth from Ilicaeth) "Yeah, heard from the Weyrleader about that," Rat says grimly on the deaths. "Must be a great time to be a dragonrider, with all these deaths happening around." But, anyway. He nods to Alida once she excuses herself, adding in her wake, "Imprisonment. Funny." It's only a moment before he realizes that she's left her drink right there, and by the time he picks it up, she's gone. Really, the weyrling doesn't hesitate, and with a toast of it in the direction Alida's gone, Rat drains it down to the very last drop before he and Asaroth finally head back towards the barracks. Asaroth takes and takes but it looks like he has none of his own to give. Poor inexperienced bronze. He'll at least try mixing some of the sounds to create a new one at a different pitch, until the blue or he has had enough of the game. (To Ilicaeth from Asaroth) And, unlike his rider, Ilicaeth has some time on his hands right now, and so will continue to encourage Asaroth's 'sound mixes' while replying with variations of his own, until the bronzeling falls asleep, or he does. Whichever comes first. |
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