Logs:No Lightening of Z'yi's Purse
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| RL Date: 30 June, 2009 |
| Who: N'thei, Z'yi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 27, Month 1, Turn 20 (Interval 10) |
| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RJs) Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed. When one has developed an aversion to the best place in the Weyr to play poker, that being the bar, one makes do. N'thei's way of making do is to set up shop in the living cavern. In the middle of the day. Most anyone with any common sense steers clear of the cluster of men at a side table, aside from one or two of the kinds of girls that attach themselves to poker players for no reason other than that they're poker players. "Tapped!" is the sudden declaration from the bluerider across the table, who pushes dramatically back from the table, cards flopped gracelessly down in front of him, all the air of a man who's just spent his month's salary in the emptiest way possible. Poker. In the living caverns. In the middle of the day. Z'yi, recently stripped of the main reason for skulking about in the living caverns, has a pile of homework in one hand and a plate in the other, precariously balancing a glass of water in the crook of his arm as he goes about his business. And then he's walking past N'thei And Co, and pausing to gaze at the bluerider who's sprawling with an eyebrow raised. "Are you okay, sir?" he questions after a moment of blink-blink'd curiosity. "No," answers N'thei in lieu of the bluerider, grinning-- which as often as not has the effect of scaring the bejeezus out of people. "He's fucking broke, and you'd think he'd be used to it by now." The bronzerider, scooting comfortably down in his chair, is on the other end of the financial spectrum judging by the pile of marks at his elbow, and maybe that's why the bluerider snorts while he stands. "It's a whole Wing of criminals, weyrling. If you get the chance, you ask for Avalanche, not Glacier," is the bluerider's advice, put with grudging good humor. "Yes, sir," Z'yi replies, finally shifting to move his glass down on the tabletop. "Though, if I may say so, sir, I may fit in moreso with the criminals than with the law-abiding citizens." His lips twitch, as if a desire to smile is suddenly repressed. The bluerider's parting advice: "I wouldn't advertise that if I were you." It's all a sort of ritual complaint from him, though, the sound of long-standing suffering in his voice while he strolls bowl-ward, leaving an empty chair. "Why don't you sit then, son," offers N'thei graciously, a shift beneath the table to kick out that empty seat. Though it looks like the game's pretty much broken up, the others filtering off with fewer complaints, the bronzerider seems planted still. "And let me lighten your purse a little." "If I had a purse to lighten, perhaps that would work better," Z'yi drolly remarks to N'thei. "I keep my marks tucked back." For more industrious things than playing poker. "Besides, sir, it would appear to me that you've lightened enough purses, today," with a glance to the pile of marks in front of said bronzerider. N'thei, putting away his money with no small satisfaction, "No such thing as lightened enough." There are few enough things that make him happy these days, but a plump measure of marks certainly seems to have put a bit of brightness back behind his eyes. "Sit a spell anyway. The only weyrling as I can tolerate, and I would like to check up on how A'son does." Z'yi is obliged to sit, then, settling his hides down first and his plate firmly on top. Homework is on the backburned compared to food! The blueling takes a long draw of his water, and then re-assesses N'thei with a slight, slight smile. It's humorless. "On how A'son does precisely what, sir?" he questions, an eyebrow popping upwards in halfway-sarconic question as he takes a first bite of sliced wherry and tubers. "At giving piggy backs and tucking you in at night." N'thei, leaned back already, laces his hands across his stomach, elbows on the arms of the table, and favors Z'yi with a bland look. "As a weyrlingmaster. Your weyrlingmaster. Would like to know how it is with the smug little bastard calling shots, and it's not something I expect to experience first hand any time soon." Z'yi grimaces, slightly. "To be honest," the quiet man states with something of a dark look about his eyes, "I'm not sure if I'm the person to be asking, regarding A'son. He... he and I had a," at this point Isz pauses to seek words, shuffling a piece of biscuit from one side of the pool of gravy in the middle of his plate to the other, "...well, an altercation, a while back." He leaves it at that, a slightly sour set to his mouth the only obvious thing indicating his mood regarding that particular assistant weyrlingmaster. Where Z'yi may not be the best person to ask, N'thei may not be the best person to whom one should admit to having, well, an altercation with A'son, not the way he cocks his head, forehead lowered, brows raised. "About what." Rut roh. "I made B'tal cry. Sir. Apparently I'm an idiot for not realizing he... had a thing for me, sir." Z'yi takes a bite. "And apparently I'm worthless compared to him, so." A laconic shrug of the shoulders. "Oh, and I'm an idiot for focusing on my /dragon/," and annoyance pops up in deep bass tones, "--instead of 'opening my heart' to a relationship." Repression's a bitch. "Sir." He settles down to eat, in earnest, at this point. Oh, in that case. Never mind. It's actually funny, so says the spread of a smirk. "A'son chastised you for not realizing a greenrider--" Oh, the disdain. "--has a thing for you?" Sometimes, being N'thei is awesome. "Did he actually use the term 'open your heart?'" Please say yes. "No, sir. But it was implied." It's what Isz took away from the conversation, at the very least. The bluerider finishes up with the last of his wherry, and settles back in his chair, eyeballing the rest of his food with the sort of expression one uses when assessing just how much one more can eat. "He thinks I'm a prick." Idle toying with food. "I think that makes me happy." "Oh. Damn." N'thei even makes a face, has to relace his fingers just to give himself something to do to release that little bit of frustration that the term wasn't actually, honestly bandied about. Then, seriously, "It shouldn't. He's not a bad sort, little self-righteous sometimes. Not one as you ought to piss off just for the sake of pissing someone off. That's what you lot have Leova for, neh?" "Leova. She's... distant." Z'yi doesn't have much more to say on that front. Actually, on any fronts. He's not too talkative, y'know; best to stay quiet than say something that may come out wrong. So, instead, he eyes N'thei thoughtfully for a moment, then finishes off his plate by sopping his biscuit in the remainder of his gravy. N'thei, frank; "No, she's not. She's fucking nosy." So sayeth the voice of experience. He's content to let that silence stretch on for a spell, but-- well, it's not as though he has a revolving door of people he's willing to talk to these days. "Don't mean to pry, son. It's a hard thing, I think, to be a man and a weyrling at the same time, and A'son's been through it. Seeing as you're not a little asshole--" Like some. "--thought it might be worth mentioning that he likely means well. That's all." "Oh?" Z'yi lifts an eyebrow, regarding Leova, but he's content to leave sleeping dogs lie. So he polishes off his water, slowly, sip by sip, gaze raking over the caverns-- looking for familiar faces, perhaps. "I understand," Isz comments to this last. "And I appreciate it, sir. I have a feeling A'son and I will not be seeing exactly eye-to-eye anytime soon, but," an eloquent shrug of the shoulders. "I'm not sure if it really matters." Oh, indeed. Just a nod about Leova, take him at his word on that one, and N'thei's starting to unfurl from his chair, to gather up the cards he never bothered to collect when the game dispersed. "Don't see eye-to-eye with him myself, most of the time, but he takes his beatings like a man, and have to respect that if nothing else." Counting, to be sure he hasn't missed any, he's obliged to agree along the lines of, "Doesn't matter. Least not as long as he calls the shots, neh?" "True'r words, sir," Z'yi returns, his countenance calm and slightly resigned. "I'm sure we'll eventually have to-- work it out," with another slight grimace. At N'thei's counting, Isz slowly launches himself from his own chair, gathering up his dirty dishes and rolling up his homework. "And I'd better be off before Meara has my arse for missing class," the weyrling notes, with an amiable enough nod to N'thei as a parting gesture. Another nod. Not much with decent farewells, N'thei will stay till he's located whichever card walked off, letting Z'yi take his leave without further words-of-questionable-wisdom. |
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