He is not weird.
Who: Javeri and Fadra
Where: The Sandbar
When: Afternoon of day 15, month 9
What: Javeri runs into Fadra at the Sandbar and loses her temper. As Fadra remarks it is not much of a temper to begin with.
It's early enough, and undoubtedly there's work to be done elsewhere, but Fadra's not doing it; perhaps it's work better done when she's completed her morning rounds. As it is, she sits in her usual stakeout, elbows on the bartop, eye level with her latest conquest - an empty bottle of something unlabelled and by that virtue undoubtedly ominous. She's staring at it as if she can intimidate it into refilling, but as of yet has had no such luck.
There's not anything for Javeri to be doing right now! Surely there might be if she stretched her brain, but since her brain doesn't stretch too far to find it she's discovered space to escape the Weyr for a bit. She's got a smile in place as the door is held open for her by a young man wearing no shirt. For his troubles he just gets a pat on the arm as the weyrling heads for the bar and then slows down when she makes note of someone else already there. Well, nothing to be done for it! At least she doesn't try to sit right next to Fadra. Nope, a couple seats between them is a beautiful thing.
Watching the walls morph through the warped glass as she spun the bottle around slowly, Fadra saw the door swing open, followed by the entrance Javeri and her companion. She hadnt had that much to drink, had she? She lifted her head in surprise, though not quite as startled as she probably should have been, Fadra blinked hard for a few moments. An expression of consternation crossed her features when the weyrling seated herself - for all that, her proximity still seemed to be too close. "Bugger. Don' y'have somethin' t'be doin' besides..." and Fadra gestured grandly with one hand, encompassing the area. Besides being in her sights?
"I'm here working!" Javeri says brightly not because it might annoy the brownrider, but because she's just in a good mood. "I didn't know you were here." Maybe she would have avoided the place if she had? "No lessons to be at right now. We're not behind on anything. And Chadamalith is trying to become one with the ocean whatever that means so I thought I'd come have a drink." She looks about for anyone else she might speak to, but there's not enough selection so she sticks it out where she is. "Would you like a drink?" There's a pause where she looks at the empty bottle before Fadra and amends her words to, "Another drink?"
"Uh-huh," Fadra remarks dubiously, slanting her gaze at the younger woman with just as much incredulity. "Working. /I/ was working." As if to emphasize the point, she plucks the bottle up by it's neck and holds it demonstratively. The gesture changes to a hail to the bartender before she unceremoniously slams it back to the counter - a practice that, judging from the lack of reaction, is not uncommon. Whatever anyone says, the brownrider will not turn down alcohol from any source, and it seems Javeri has purchased a refill of that bottle, or perhaps a new one entirely. "One with th'ocean," she echoes. "Sounds ridiculous."
Since she's sitting with an assistant weyrlingmaster and all Javeri just asks for a beer. Whatever else she might have asked for had she not run into Fadra will just go unasked for. Alas for booze that might have been. "Actually I am working," she says sunnily as she gestures around. "Nolee's asked me to come up with ideas for a decoration in here. And some smaller things to sell and she likes my ideas and asked for sketches, which I am no good at, and everything." Isn't she a helpful woman? Although there's a downward turn of her lips when her blue's actions are called ridiculous. "It is not," she says defensively. "It's not ridiculous at all. Don't say that about him!"
There goes that extremely mobile eyebrow of hers, though her attention is briefly taken from Javeri in favor of the bottle being brought her way. "Time for dessert," she says matter-of-factly as she stands on the rungs of her stool, leaning forward over the counter and groping blindly beneath it for a corkscrew that no one had the foresight to hand her, while she says, "Is there nay any justice in th'world? Sharding...'tis a /bar/, should nay be /decorated/." You'd think someone suggested painting her dragon /blue/. "'Tis so. Nay any harm in admitting it. 'Twas nay anything personal." POP. There goes the cork. "I'll say exactly what I want," Fadra says, and there's a subtle change in her tone - it's the weyrlingmaster tone, not the camraderie-at-the-bar tone.
There is, it is said, a time and a place for everything. This is, likely, neither thing. That does not stop Javeri however who folds her arms over her chest and levels what might have been a glare on anyone else towards Fadra. She's a bit too much of, well, a wimp, to truly glare. "You don't have to," she declares in an even tone. "You don't have to say mean things when I already spent months in the barracks listening to things said about him like he's weird when he's not and I don't care who you are or what you say it is not. It is personal. How could it not /be/ personal? So, go ahead. Get mad at me and punish me or tell on me or whatever. But it's not ridiculous and he is not ridiculous and and...and fine." Fumbling at her belt to reach the pouch a few marks are tucked into she stares down at the bar the whole time.
Fadra spares Javeri only a cursory glance as she pours the contents of the bottle into a more managable glass. "I could call him infinitely worse," the brownrider points out. Sipping lazily and looking mighty pleased with herself, Fadra fixes her gaze on the weyrling across the bar from her. "If'n it makes y'feel better, y'can call Sully whate'er y'like, so long as tis nay 'lunch'." She finishes the glass resolutely and is filling it in the next second. "Your too damn sensitive," she says between sips.
"I can't help how I am and I don't care what you say about me." Javeri manages to pay for her drink and Fadra's and since she's paid for her beer she might as well drink it. She does so in silence for several long drinks with her eyes on the bar the whole time. Because it's Javeri and she is who she is there comes a point when she sets down her bottle and mumbles a rather contrite, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper." She's such a wuss. Now at least she stops staring at the bar to look at the ceiling. "It's not really decorations," she then says. "Sort of like a giant mobile for the ceiling. Only not hanging low. I was thinking of maybe using some netting as well as vines. It would not distract from being drunk."
A harsh, barked laugh leaves Fadra. "That was your temper." It's not a question, but a bland, amused statement. She's disappointed; there's got to be more anger than that. Probably, the brownrider feeds of misery and fury, and therefore needs as much as possible to sustain life. Eventually, Sulizath's only shrugs and remarks, "I've seen worse." Fadra casts a circumspect look at the ceiling, then. "Somethin' t'use as leverage fer fights. All th'better t'swing drunkenly from."
"I do not like to lose my temper or cause trouble," Javeri says as she finishes looking at the ceiling and looks towards Fadra a moment instead. "I'm not the grumpy one. That's you. Although I met one of High Reaches' weyrlings and he was pretty grumpy too. Not as much as you. I guess you'd have to be at least a hundred and be a crotchety old man to beat you." Again her head tips back and not just for a drink but to take in the ceiling again. "Umm. No! It'd not be sturdy like that. It's art. Not...for swinging in a fight. Not for using in fights. Are there a lot of fights here? I've not seen hardly any ever."
Is that a smile? Banish the thought. "'Tis realism, nay grumpiness," Fadra says without enough conviction to make it true. Snort. "Nay since they turned it into a sharding ...sit-down." She scowls at the bartender, though it's not the man's fault that she's living in a softer Ista. "Sorry excuse for a bar, anymore."
"Well, if you don't like it maybe you should find other people that don't like it and start a new one." Javeri, ever the helpful woman. "I know some of the sailors complain about the same stuff." And the bluerider knows sailors. "I bet you could find a ship captain or two who'd be willing to help front the money. Get some people at the Weyr and the Hold to come in on it." Now her eyes light up with the whole idea. "Plain cups and plates if needed. I could do them in no time even around my weyrling duties. And since I'm not crafted they'd be cheaper than with a stamp. But just as good!" A smile, not so unusual for her, creeps around her beer as she takes another drink. "And you could safely hide away from people like me who wouldn't dream of going there!"
"Never did have th'entrepreneurial spirit," Fadra says, but it's clear that there's more to her dismay than that. It's just the change that seems to get her down, and she suddenly seems unwilling to socialize. "Nay put th'net up," she warns as she leans across and grabs her bottle like it's the only thing keeping her grounded, "'twill end up swung from either way. Don't be late fer lessons," she warns immediately after, and then she's out - and there's a flash of brown that's undoubtedly Sully that joins her as she disappears around the corner without so much as a farewell or a look back.
Where: The Sandbar
When: Afternoon of day 15, month 9
What: Javeri runs into Fadra at the Sandbar and loses her temper. As Fadra remarks it is not much of a temper to begin with.
It's early enough, and undoubtedly there's work to be done elsewhere, but Fadra's not doing it; perhaps it's work better done when she's completed her morning rounds. As it is, she sits in her usual stakeout, elbows on the bartop, eye level with her latest conquest - an empty bottle of something unlabelled and by that virtue undoubtedly ominous. She's staring at it as if she can intimidate it into refilling, but as of yet has had no such luck.
There's not anything for Javeri to be doing right now! Surely there might be if she stretched her brain, but since her brain doesn't stretch too far to find it she's discovered space to escape the Weyr for a bit. She's got a smile in place as the door is held open for her by a young man wearing no shirt. For his troubles he just gets a pat on the arm as the weyrling heads for the bar and then slows down when she makes note of someone else already there. Well, nothing to be done for it! At least she doesn't try to sit right next to Fadra. Nope, a couple seats between them is a beautiful thing.
Watching the walls morph through the warped glass as she spun the bottle around slowly, Fadra saw the door swing open, followed by the entrance Javeri and her companion. She hadnt had that much to drink, had she? She lifted her head in surprise, though not quite as startled as she probably should have been, Fadra blinked hard for a few moments. An expression of consternation crossed her features when the weyrling seated herself - for all that, her proximity still seemed to be too close. "Bugger. Don' y'have somethin' t'be doin' besides..." and Fadra gestured grandly with one hand, encompassing the area. Besides being in her sights?
"I'm here working!" Javeri says brightly not because it might annoy the brownrider, but because she's just in a good mood. "I didn't know you were here." Maybe she would have avoided the place if she had? "No lessons to be at right now. We're not behind on anything. And Chadamalith is trying to become one with the ocean whatever that means so I thought I'd come have a drink." She looks about for anyone else she might speak to, but there's not enough selection so she sticks it out where she is. "Would you like a drink?" There's a pause where she looks at the empty bottle before Fadra and amends her words to, "Another drink?"
"Uh-huh," Fadra remarks dubiously, slanting her gaze at the younger woman with just as much incredulity. "Working. /I/ was working." As if to emphasize the point, she plucks the bottle up by it's neck and holds it demonstratively. The gesture changes to a hail to the bartender before she unceremoniously slams it back to the counter - a practice that, judging from the lack of reaction, is not uncommon. Whatever anyone says, the brownrider will not turn down alcohol from any source, and it seems Javeri has purchased a refill of that bottle, or perhaps a new one entirely. "One with th'ocean," she echoes. "Sounds ridiculous."
Since she's sitting with an assistant weyrlingmaster and all Javeri just asks for a beer. Whatever else she might have asked for had she not run into Fadra will just go unasked for. Alas for booze that might have been. "Actually I am working," she says sunnily as she gestures around. "Nolee's asked me to come up with ideas for a decoration in here. And some smaller things to sell and she likes my ideas and asked for sketches, which I am no good at, and everything." Isn't she a helpful woman? Although there's a downward turn of her lips when her blue's actions are called ridiculous. "It is not," she says defensively. "It's not ridiculous at all. Don't say that about him!"
There goes that extremely mobile eyebrow of hers, though her attention is briefly taken from Javeri in favor of the bottle being brought her way. "Time for dessert," she says matter-of-factly as she stands on the rungs of her stool, leaning forward over the counter and groping blindly beneath it for a corkscrew that no one had the foresight to hand her, while she says, "Is there nay any justice in th'world? Sharding...'tis a /bar/, should nay be /decorated/." You'd think someone suggested painting her dragon /blue/. "'Tis so. Nay any harm in admitting it. 'Twas nay anything personal." POP. There goes the cork. "I'll say exactly what I want," Fadra says, and there's a subtle change in her tone - it's the weyrlingmaster tone, not the camraderie-at-the-bar tone.
There is, it is said, a time and a place for everything. This is, likely, neither thing. That does not stop Javeri however who folds her arms over her chest and levels what might have been a glare on anyone else towards Fadra. She's a bit too much of, well, a wimp, to truly glare. "You don't have to," she declares in an even tone. "You don't have to say mean things when I already spent months in the barracks listening to things said about him like he's weird when he's not and I don't care who you are or what you say it is not. It is personal. How could it not /be/ personal? So, go ahead. Get mad at me and punish me or tell on me or whatever. But it's not ridiculous and he is not ridiculous and and...and fine." Fumbling at her belt to reach the pouch a few marks are tucked into she stares down at the bar the whole time.
Fadra spares Javeri only a cursory glance as she pours the contents of the bottle into a more managable glass. "I could call him infinitely worse," the brownrider points out. Sipping lazily and looking mighty pleased with herself, Fadra fixes her gaze on the weyrling across the bar from her. "If'n it makes y'feel better, y'can call Sully whate'er y'like, so long as tis nay 'lunch'." She finishes the glass resolutely and is filling it in the next second. "Your too damn sensitive," she says between sips.
"I can't help how I am and I don't care what you say about me." Javeri manages to pay for her drink and Fadra's and since she's paid for her beer she might as well drink it. She does so in silence for several long drinks with her eyes on the bar the whole time. Because it's Javeri and she is who she is there comes a point when she sets down her bottle and mumbles a rather contrite, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper." She's such a wuss. Now at least she stops staring at the bar to look at the ceiling. "It's not really decorations," she then says. "Sort of like a giant mobile for the ceiling. Only not hanging low. I was thinking of maybe using some netting as well as vines. It would not distract from being drunk."
A harsh, barked laugh leaves Fadra. "That was your temper." It's not a question, but a bland, amused statement. She's disappointed; there's got to be more anger than that. Probably, the brownrider feeds of misery and fury, and therefore needs as much as possible to sustain life. Eventually, Sulizath's only shrugs and remarks, "I've seen worse." Fadra casts a circumspect look at the ceiling, then. "Somethin' t'use as leverage fer fights. All th'better t'swing drunkenly from."
"I do not like to lose my temper or cause trouble," Javeri says as she finishes looking at the ceiling and looks towards Fadra a moment instead. "I'm not the grumpy one. That's you. Although I met one of High Reaches' weyrlings and he was pretty grumpy too. Not as much as you. I guess you'd have to be at least a hundred and be a crotchety old man to beat you." Again her head tips back and not just for a drink but to take in the ceiling again. "Umm. No! It'd not be sturdy like that. It's art. Not...for swinging in a fight. Not for using in fights. Are there a lot of fights here? I've not seen hardly any ever."
Is that a smile? Banish the thought. "'Tis realism, nay grumpiness," Fadra says without enough conviction to make it true. Snort. "Nay since they turned it into a sharding ...sit-down." She scowls at the bartender, though it's not the man's fault that she's living in a softer Ista. "Sorry excuse for a bar, anymore."
"Well, if you don't like it maybe you should find other people that don't like it and start a new one." Javeri, ever the helpful woman. "I know some of the sailors complain about the same stuff." And the bluerider knows sailors. "I bet you could find a ship captain or two who'd be willing to help front the money. Get some people at the Weyr and the Hold to come in on it." Now her eyes light up with the whole idea. "Plain cups and plates if needed. I could do them in no time even around my weyrling duties. And since I'm not crafted they'd be cheaper than with a stamp. But just as good!" A smile, not so unusual for her, creeps around her beer as she takes another drink. "And you could safely hide away from people like me who wouldn't dream of going there!"
"Never did have th'entrepreneurial spirit," Fadra says, but it's clear that there's more to her dismay than that. It's just the change that seems to get her down, and she suddenly seems unwilling to socialize. "Nay put th'net up," she warns as she leans across and grabs her bottle like it's the only thing keeping her grounded, "'twill end up swung from either way. Don't be late fer lessons," she warns immediately after, and then she's out - and there's a flash of brown that's undoubtedly Sully that joins her as she disappears around the corner without so much as a farewell or a look back.