Logs:Let's Be Friends
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| RL Date: 23 October, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, X'vae, Z'riah |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: X'vae tries to make friends. Z'riah tries to get him laid. Farideh has none of it. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Wind, rain, and snow combine to make for miserable, sleety weather today. |
| Mentions: K'zin/Mentions, Moriyah/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Crude language, adult themes. |
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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.
Rain and snow have made an unbearable day overall, from the cold that seeps into the bones with any prolonged stay outside to the slushy, frozen puddles. Snowasis has an appeal of its own - warmth and liquor, both of which Farideh seeks on this winter's evening. She slips in, picking her way gracefully through the tables, not even bothering to take off her jacket or unwind her scarf. Her hands come together as she steps up to the bar, rubbing away the lingering chill as she orders her first drink of the day. "Sack, please," she says, offering the bartender-on-duty smile for his promptness. Once she has her glass in hand, she moves past the immediate crowd at the bar and meanders around, looking for an empty booth or table to establish herself at; while on that search, she stumbles upon X'vae. Recognition comes after open appreciation, and then a sunny smile. "X'vae, wasn't it?" Don't mind her, she's just going to slide in across the booth from the bluerider, making herself right at home, permission or no. The bluerider might not have been alone the whole time. But he obviously is by the time Farideh sits down at the table. Unfortunately for her, it's only a few moments before Z'riah is following in her wake with some drinks of his own. "I got shots. You need to get some shots in you. But they're bringing beer soon, too. Hey." The last is offered to the vaguely familiar woman. "I didn't get shots for you. But I can if you're sticking around." And she might have to because it's her side of the booth he's sliding into. "Farideh!" X'vae's hail is bright as she joins him. "I have something for you. Not here, though." But apparently the bluerider has been using his alone time to the end she intended it: to think of gifts for her. Then Z'riah arrives and he has a warm smile of appreciation for the greenrider. "Great!" He's enthusiastic about shots, and beer, "You'll join us, won't you, Farideh?" He looks all adorably hopeful, like a puppy hearing the leash come off its wall hook. "You can have mine," he offers his shot selflessly; he'll wait for the additional which they ought to be able to get from the server passing by. "Do you know Zif, Farideh?" He asks with slightly raised brows. Enthusiasm is greeted with a wide smile, but Farideh doesn't have to reply to the bluerider before Z'riah is standing there, interrupting the thread of their conversation. Her brows knit, briefly, as she looks at the greenrider. "You look.." Eyes narrow. "Familiar." But it's not worth the strain on her pretty little head, so she's waving a hand and scooting over an inch to allow the other man more room on the booth bench. "I suppose I can. It's not like I have somewhere better to be." She forgoes the pout for a sullen look, but perks back up when X'vae offers her his shot. "What are we drinking?" while she sniffs at the glass curiously. "Only my friends get to call me Zif," points out Z'riah like this is a very firm rule of his that must never be broken. "Just drink." Seriously, who asks what a drink is before drinking it? That's no way to live. But, spoiler alert, it might kind of hurt going down. The greenrider is already on the lookout for a passing server, flagging down one that isn't really passing them, but who responds to his yell across the bar for her attention. "More's the better for us," X'vae answers her lack of somewhere better to be with one of his more charming smiles. The bluerider purposefully misinterprets the greenrider, "Are you saying we're not friends anymore, Zif?" One hand goes over his heart; he's wounded! And then grinning. "So let's all be friends then. Farideh works in the laundry here," and Z'riah should know about that time X'vae pissed off a laundress during weyrlinghood. That was a rough week for everyone who had to see him. (Except maybe Z'riah.) "But that certainly can't be the most interesting thing about you, Farideh. Do tell, and do you prefer Farideh or is there a nickname your friends get to call you?" There's due amusement for Z'riah's method in getting a server's attention, but it's hardly anything he's not used to. Amusement shines in the laundress' eyes, her gaze flicking back and forth between the two riders; how often is it that someone else does the arguing, not her? "You cannot expect to know all of my secrets after seeing me twice," Farideh says, but her voice holds the quality of someone supremely tickled. "I hate the cold weather. I love to swim. I hate boring people. I don't particularly like the laundry, but," spoken as she ticks off her list on her fingers, "It is better than the alternatives." Not that any of those things are surprising or interesting; still, she seems pleased, and takes Z'riah's word to just drink. Unfortunately. As soon as she swallows she coughs and covers her mouth with a hand, wincing, and turning accusing eyes on the greenrider. "That was horrible. What was that?" Z'riah grins at X'vae. If his boot happens to make contact with the bluerider's shin under the table, at least there's no true desire to hurt his friend in it. "The laundry. Fascinating. Xev definitely needs friends in the laundry." He won't call him a slob or anything out loud, though. "He could use some help with his sheets, too, if you know what I mean." But since the server comes to see what the hell he wanted to begin with, Z'riah's attention turns there to order some more shots. Another whole round for all of them on top of the extra for X'vae to catch up. It means he doesn't answer Farideh's question about what it was. But there's more coming! X'vae was grinning until the boot made contact. He has to make a playful wince, though of course there's no real harm done. "Well," to the female brunette, "Suppose we take you swimming somewhere with warm weather, then might you part with a few more secrets?" Since, clearly, unravelling the mystery that is Farideh has become his new goal (of the immediate moment, though the offer seems genuine enough). "As it happens, we've been making a thorough surveying of tropical beaches, trying to find Yizibeth one she likes nearly as much as the ones at Monaco. Was it Nerat we were going to try next?" He tilts his head toward the greenrider. "I already had help with my sheets, thank you," he answers his helpful friend, "I met a lovely greenrider," he tells Farideh more than Z'riah, but adds with a flick of his gaze for Z'riah, "who has a boyfriend," because that kind of thing matters to him, "who helped me pick out sheets from the stores." "Be careful whom you make friends with. They like to gossip." As if gossipy laundresses isn't a given in any Weyr anywhere. Brunette eyebrows lift, hazel eyes lifting from the greenrider to the bluerider. "Sheets? You got sheets from these stores?" Farideh wrinkles her nose and that puts her opinion on that matter out in the open. More pressing- "That would be lovely," she says with another sunny smile, "but Ista's beaches are the best anywhere. Nerat is overgrown, and looks like a herdbeast next to a runner." She waves her hand again, dismissing that idea as a feasible one; no, no, she's right, you're wrong. "Sounds like it's Ista we'll be trying next," says Z'riah as he sets his empty shot back down on the table. "He has horrible taste in everything except friends, so don't ever count on him getting anything really nice for you. Or himself." At least he doesn't outright tell Farideh that X'vae hooking up with her would basically mean she's probably a terrible person. He's a good, if currently very unwanted, wingman. He's not even trying to talk himself up to the trapped brunette. And then more drinks come, yay! Z'riah sets another in front of each of them, two in front of X'vae, and the pitcher of beer goes into the middle with the mugs to pour it into. There's a laugh from X'vae for the way Ista is settled between the two brunettes. "Ista it is, then." He's agreeable to the exchange; after all, it's not his dragon they're trying to satisfy. He reaches for the first shot and manages only to make a hiss after it's gone down rather than a cough. "It's not like I have more than a wingrider's salary," is his defense for the sheets and probably also the point about the niceness of any gift he gets. "But at least I'm thoughtful," he adds as his redeeming gift-giver quality. "You won't regret it." Black sand and crystalline waters? Anyone who doesn't like it should be considered questionable company, her quick answer suggests. All this talk of bad tastes and low incomes makes her sigh tolerantly. Farideh frowns down at the shot Z'riah gives her, but when in Rome and whatnot; she lifts it, closes her eyes, and throws it back. "Not any better the second time," she gasps, reaching for her glass of sherry so recently abandoned. "Yizibeth is looking forward to it," says Z'riah as he lifts up his own shot for a brief cheers then swallows it in one easy gulp. "Give it a minute and the next one will taste a lot better," the greenrider says with a grin. That's how poor people drink. They get drunk fast so it doesn't matter how bad it actually tastes. "He is really thoughtful. I've heard the women he's been with." Hopefully no one minds the explicit sound Z'riah mimics after that because it sure won't stop him from making it. X'vae's groan and blush is enough to display that this is familiar embarrassment, right? It doesn't even seem like they're working an angle together. "I'm sorry, Farideh. I just-- broke up-- and--" suddenly the words aren't coming so well so he takes the second shot. "Anyway, Z'riah thinks I need to get laid, but I don't." So there's that out on the table now. "But I do love beaches and swimming, and charming women as friendly company." He adds this reassuringly. The kick aimed at Z'riah's shin under the table might be meant to hurt just a little bit more than the one that had been aimed at him earlier. A carefully blank look settles over Farideh's features, as she glances between the two men. "Does that usually work for you two?" She leans back against the booth, sliding her glass closer. "Luckily," eyes on X'vae, "you aren't my type," then to Z'riah, "neither are you." So now that that's decided, she takes a long drink from her glass and tries to look elsewhere. This just got awkward. "Oh, honey. You aren't my type, either. Unless you've got a great big dick tucked between those legs of yours." Z'riah glances down toward her lap as though he expects to find nothing of interest there, but looks back up at her quickly enough. And then he's sliding out of the booth. "I need to take a piss. You girls have fun while I'm gone." "You can hit him, if you like," X'vae volunteers Z'riah after he's left (he probably still would have if he were still there, what a pal!). "It's really-- I'm not-- we're not--" The words. They're not working. He reaches for the beer, blushing and letting his eyes drop to the table. "I'm sorry, Farideh," is the best he can come up with, but he sounds genuine. Farideh's eyes follow the greenrider's leave of their booth, but rather than come back to X'vae, they remain centered on something farther out. "Yeah, me too." She purses her lips and starts to scoot out off the bench, not sparing the bluerider a look until she's out and standing independently. "Thanks for the drinks," she offers, lifting her glass. Her expression evens out as she turns to leave, making her way back through the crowd like the way she came in. Z'riah isn't gone very long. That means he didn't meet anyone worth hooking up with in the latrines. Not that that's usually somewhere he tries very hard. But it's happened before. When he gets back, he slides back into his seat like he hasn't even noticed that Farideh isn't there anymore. Except he has because he says, "No luck?" X'vae is gazing pensively at his beer. He sighs. "For the hundred-thousandth time, Zif, I'm not looking to get laid, and I'm beginning to think you don't actually want me to get laid anyway." Because what kind of girl (that Xev would go for) would for that? He turns that 'thinking' look on Z'riah and says nothing. "Of course I want you to get laid. You get all annoying and mopey when you haven't gotten any for too long." Or maybe that's him. "But, fine, if you really aren't looking," like Z'riah has already been told plenty of times, "more for me." Since Xev knows perfectly well that Farideh was totally his type because Z'riah barely has a public-facing type. Anything's game. "What?" "Nothing." Like a woman, 'nothing' means something; something he's not saying. X'vae drinks his beer without looking at Z'riah. "I'll let you know when I want a wingman, Zif," he relents after a few sips. "I'm just not ready yet. Especially not after turnover." Not when there's a woman he loved(s?) carrying his child somewhere in the world. "I just want to make some friends. So, maybe if you'd stop trying to hook me up with them...?" He lifts his brows; it's a request. "Fine," is said a little flippantly. Fairly typical, really. Z'riah studies his friend for a few moments, then lets his gaze shift out over the crowd after he pours himself his own beer. "I don't have a good feeling about that one, though. If you need more friends," he totally doesn't, "you could do better than that." "So she's good enough to bed but not good enough to befriend?" X'vae queries over the lip of his mug, no small amount of amusement reentering his tone. Not that this sort of thing is news to him. "If I have to look for another you, I'll never find another friend in the world." He adds before he takes a long swallow from his mug. That makes Z'riah grin like a fool at X'vae. "That's the smartest thing you've said all day, man." Possibly also the nicest, but him saying nice things isn't really that strange. But smart things? Those are obviously fewer and farther between. "I'll stop trying to hook you up. Until you tell me that's what you want. I promise." The greenrider doesn't sound happy about it. But he's a good friend. Really. The bluerider nods, accepting, even after his eyeroll for Z'riah's assessment of his words. It's after a few more sips that he says ruefully, "That brownrider looks like your type." Because he's a good friend too. Brownrider? Z'riah looks reflexively toward the acquired target, then glances a grin back toward X'vae. "Good eye, my friend. Wish me luck!" The greenrider lifts his mug to his bestie, then slips out of the booth to go make his move. |
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