What's N'thei's problem with X'lar.
RL Date: 9/21/08
IC Date: 10/21/17
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr(#555RJ)
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.
X'lar heads in from the patio ledge.
X'lar has arrived.
One purpose and one purpose only: N'thei is here to drink. He's well in his cups by now, sitting down the end of the bar with the order of the day, a mug and a shot. There are a few glasses left scattered around him, either remnants of his own debauchery or someone was sitting there until a moment ago. Around him, people talk talk talk away in the usual blend of bar-talk, gossip and flirtation mainly, but most people seem happy to leave him to his own devices.
It takes X'lar a while to jockey into position at the bar. While N'thei might already be in his cups, X'lar's only just deciding to begin to drink. "Ale," he calls out over the din of the usual blend of bar-talk. It's not until the ale's arrived, the marks passed and he's taken one long drink of the booze that the Istan notes N'thei's close proximity. "N'thei," X'lar finally says. It could be a greeting. A sidelong glance is sent toward the Weyrleader before his attention returns to studying the depths of his drink.
"What." N'thei gets the word out before he realizes that the saying of his name was meant more to be a pseudo-greeting than any particular demand for his attention. He looks up, head remained low but eyes lifted from his mug, to find X'lar down the bar, and there's a moment when he does a particularly bad job of pretending the young man's presence doesn't grate his nerves. --But don't take it personally; most everyone grates him in some way. "Where's Lujayn?" As if X'lar exists only within the sphere of the goldrider's influence.
"What's your problem with me?" X'lar asks. Well, at least he gets to the point, right? He takes another drink from his beer, staring at it for another moment before looking once more to the older bronzerider. But he'll at least answer N'thei's question too, while he's at it. "Lu's busy," the Istan teen explains. "She and I might be close, but we're not connected to the hip." His voice is nothing but amiable. Most of that characteristic warmth of the Istan's is remarkably still intact.
N'thei ignores that first question because... well, just because he doesn't feel like answering it. Or he might be too drunk by now to get his head around any kind of reasonable response. "No? But you are still..." He trails off, shakes his head, and knocks back the shot with a long breath exhaled around the down-the-throat burn. "How is it with the eggs? Fourteen was it?"
"15," Xie replies back. "Always willing to give me one less inch, huh, N'thei." He grunts and goes back to drinking. At least he and N'thei can have that in common. But that's not to say he doesn't repeat himself either. "Is it because I'm Istan?" he asks. "Young? A Threat? What?" And then he'll also try to clarify his latter trailed off remark. "I'm still what?" Asking too many questions? Probably. His ale gets his attention again. Maybe there's a scientific ratio with regard to ale consumption and questions asked. More ale, less questions?
Meticulous enunciation; "Would like to know." N'thei turns a shade toward X'lar, his one elbow on the bar next to his mug, his hand raised as if he was about to make some great elucidation. "Exactly what went through your mind to make you suggest-- no, to make you even think that you're a threat to me." In his very best I'm-listening tone.
"You can't see them, but I'm grasping at straws right now," X'lar tells N'thei mildly. He sighs into his ale. "I have no idea why you might think of me as a threat. Because frankly, I'm not. I'm just a guy whose dragon caught one of your Weyr's junior golds. I don't know why you don't like me, I'm just grasping." He makes a gesture like grasping at invisible straws. His head turns to get a better look at the Weyrleader.
"So." Let him get this straight. N'thei lowers that elucidating hand so his finger can tap on the bar next to a puddle of ale while he works through X'lar's logic. "Because I don't like you, you must be a threat to me. Rather than just me not liking you on general principle." Eyebrow-lift makes a question-mark at the end.
"If you remember, I also suggested it might be because I was young or an Istan, too," X'lar tells N'thei. "I don't bloody well know why you don't like me. We got along well enough once." He nods toward an alcove where a game of cards is being played. "From what I remember we had a good time playing cards over there once." He merely shakes his head, frustration now evident in the teen's demeanour.
N'thei glances over-there, blinks once heavily in that direction. Before looking back even, he explains, "Yes, then you started showing up here all the time, sucking up to our queenrider, damn near ensured Rielsath wouldn't look anywhere else, didn't you. Plus--" His finger raises and hovers aimlessly for a long spell, silence settling in firmly after that plus. Thought's gone off somewhere to die a liquory death.
"I wasn't sucking up to your queenrider," X'lar comments, almost sounding disgusted at the very thought. "I barely even started talking to Lu until after Telgar's hatching where Tiriana and Phara Impressed. Malsaeth had been talking to Rielsath much longer than that." He pauses before looking back to N'thei, gesturing onward, "Plus, what?" And then, just if N'thei doesn't believe him, X'lar will intone back to him: "I genuinely like Lu. What's so different between C'len and Nolee's relationship?"
All that and the only thing that N'thei's really got out of it is to ask, "What's so different about whose what?"
"C'len and Nolee," X'lar repeats. "The Weyrleader and Weyrwoman. You know. Just the leaders of Ista."
Great. "What have they got to do with it?"
"C'len's Reachian, Nolee is Istan," X'lar tells him. "They both seem pretty close. C'len seemed to like Nolee beforehand. Much like me with Lu."
Talk him through it. "And the point is...?" N'thei winds that finger around and around in front of him, waiting for X'lar to wrap-it-up.
"Do you have the same kind of issue with C'len as you have with me?" X'lar asks.
This is all very confusing for N'thei, who truly cannot associate X'lar's situation with C'len's. Just does not gel in his mind. "No, why would I?" Brows knit and everything.
X'lar lets out a sigh of frustration. He steels himself and finally says, "Let's try something else." He takes another deep drink from his ale. Finishing it. Tossing more marks out for another ale. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel less dislike with me?" It's a question tossed out like the marks for his ale.
N'thei takes a breath, which has the positive result that he doesn't just blurt out the answer in bluntness compounded by drink. "Do you really want me to answer that?" Upon exhaling.
"Yes," X'lar tells N'thei. "I might not be able to do it, but I can certainly try." He braces himself with another long drink of his second ale.
"Stop being such a little ass-kisser." N'thei, disappointed to have to say it but there it is.
X'lar laughs suddenly at hearing N'thei's suggestion. "You really think I'm an ass-kisser?" he asks. "I'm not sure if I am or not. But I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
N'thei opens his hands wide, then closes them back to a clasp that encapsulates his mug. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it, so do what you want with it." The actual truth of X'lar's ass-kissing-ness isn't high on N'thei's list of things to worry about, judging by the careless cast to his tone.
"I think there's a difference between being diplomatic and kissing someone's ass," X'lar notes. "I know I'm the foreigner here. I know that in this case? I'm the odd man out. So it's in my best interest to pave the way with good intentions and smooth lines of communication." There's a pause before he admits, "It's in my best interest to put the best foot forward."
Okay, so that actually broke N'thei's blase overtones and into the realm of actual irritation. "Look around you, boy. Where do you think you are? Do you think anyone here wants you blowing smoke up their ass? We don't even like each other, let alone outsiders." Someone down the bar hears enough to lift his mug in a vehement toast-- agreed!-- except he's so drunk he just passes out face-first on the bar right afterward.
"Gotta remember where I come from," X'lar tells him, and perhaps even the drunkard in the distance. "Things are a lot more relaxed in Ista. I grew up with expecting visitors to the Island, and expecting tons of them." There's a pause, a sudden realization before he says, "So maybe it is more of a cultural thing..." He trails off and shrugs the realization off, quickly tossing back the rest of his ale. "But whatever," he finally replies. "I think we both give each other headaches." He tosses more marks on the bar for the next ale.
"No." N'thei puts down his drink hard right at that word. "No no no. You--" He! A point in that direction. "Need to remember where you are, not the other way round. You can't expect to stay here--" Here! He points down at the bar. "And act like it's Ista. It isn't. So just you adapt to our culture or just go on home." Nod. Firmly.
"So what you're saying is that instead of blowing smoke up people's asses, I should tell you to f' off?" X'lar asks, smirking. But, from the looks of it (perhaps because of the ale intake) he's willing to accept what N'thei's telling him. "Point taken. I'll adapt."
"If that's the way you feel, then yes. Grin-and-bear-it might be the Istan motto, but this isn't Ista." In case the onset of winter alone hadn't driven home the point. N'thei shakes his head at X'lar's willingness to roll with it though; really, this is a no-win situation for X'lar.
X'lar considers N'thei's next response before just rolling his eyes and taking another drink from his ale. "Right," X'lar tells him. And that seems to be all he's willing to say now. Food for thought, even if it's damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.
Standing, surprisingly steady, N'thei adds helpfully, "And next time-- don't fucking ask me what my problem with you is. Because you are a small, small, /small/ footnote on a long list. Drink up." Charitably, after fishing around in his pocket, he puts an extra bit of mark on the bar next to X'lar's arm, nods to it indicatively. Least he can do, after being a total jerk, is buy the boy a round.
"Thanks so much, N'thei," X'lar replies back dryly. "I'll be sure to remember that as well." A snort, possibly laughter follows. But then he's back to drinking when N'thei's standing.
Drunken wealth distributed, N'thei departs for less-chatty locations. He really shouldn't be allowed in public.
IC Date: 10/21/17
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr(#555RJ)
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.
X'lar heads in from the patio ledge.
X'lar has arrived.
One purpose and one purpose only: N'thei is here to drink. He's well in his cups by now, sitting down the end of the bar with the order of the day, a mug and a shot. There are a few glasses left scattered around him, either remnants of his own debauchery or someone was sitting there until a moment ago. Around him, people talk talk talk away in the usual blend of bar-talk, gossip and flirtation mainly, but most people seem happy to leave him to his own devices.
It takes X'lar a while to jockey into position at the bar. While N'thei might already be in his cups, X'lar's only just deciding to begin to drink. "Ale," he calls out over the din of the usual blend of bar-talk. It's not until the ale's arrived, the marks passed and he's taken one long drink of the booze that the Istan notes N'thei's close proximity. "N'thei," X'lar finally says. It could be a greeting. A sidelong glance is sent toward the Weyrleader before his attention returns to studying the depths of his drink.
"What." N'thei gets the word out before he realizes that the saying of his name was meant more to be a pseudo-greeting than any particular demand for his attention. He looks up, head remained low but eyes lifted from his mug, to find X'lar down the bar, and there's a moment when he does a particularly bad job of pretending the young man's presence doesn't grate his nerves. --But don't take it personally; most everyone grates him in some way. "Where's Lujayn?" As if X'lar exists only within the sphere of the goldrider's influence.
"What's your problem with me?" X'lar asks. Well, at least he gets to the point, right? He takes another drink from his beer, staring at it for another moment before looking once more to the older bronzerider. But he'll at least answer N'thei's question too, while he's at it. "Lu's busy," the Istan teen explains. "She and I might be close, but we're not connected to the hip." His voice is nothing but amiable. Most of that characteristic warmth of the Istan's is remarkably still intact.
N'thei ignores that first question because... well, just because he doesn't feel like answering it. Or he might be too drunk by now to get his head around any kind of reasonable response. "No? But you are still..." He trails off, shakes his head, and knocks back the shot with a long breath exhaled around the down-the-throat burn. "How is it with the eggs? Fourteen was it?"
"15," Xie replies back. "Always willing to give me one less inch, huh, N'thei." He grunts and goes back to drinking. At least he and N'thei can have that in common. But that's not to say he doesn't repeat himself either. "Is it because I'm Istan?" he asks. "Young? A Threat? What?" And then he'll also try to clarify his latter trailed off remark. "I'm still what?" Asking too many questions? Probably. His ale gets his attention again. Maybe there's a scientific ratio with regard to ale consumption and questions asked. More ale, less questions?
Meticulous enunciation; "Would like to know." N'thei turns a shade toward X'lar, his one elbow on the bar next to his mug, his hand raised as if he was about to make some great elucidation. "Exactly what went through your mind to make you suggest-- no, to make you even think that you're a threat to me." In his very best I'm-listening tone.
"You can't see them, but I'm grasping at straws right now," X'lar tells N'thei mildly. He sighs into his ale. "I have no idea why you might think of me as a threat. Because frankly, I'm not. I'm just a guy whose dragon caught one of your Weyr's junior golds. I don't know why you don't like me, I'm just grasping." He makes a gesture like grasping at invisible straws. His head turns to get a better look at the Weyrleader.
"So." Let him get this straight. N'thei lowers that elucidating hand so his finger can tap on the bar next to a puddle of ale while he works through X'lar's logic. "Because I don't like you, you must be a threat to me. Rather than just me not liking you on general principle." Eyebrow-lift makes a question-mark at the end.
"If you remember, I also suggested it might be because I was young or an Istan, too," X'lar tells N'thei. "I don't bloody well know why you don't like me. We got along well enough once." He nods toward an alcove where a game of cards is being played. "From what I remember we had a good time playing cards over there once." He merely shakes his head, frustration now evident in the teen's demeanour.
N'thei glances over-there, blinks once heavily in that direction. Before looking back even, he explains, "Yes, then you started showing up here all the time, sucking up to our queenrider, damn near ensured Rielsath wouldn't look anywhere else, didn't you. Plus--" His finger raises and hovers aimlessly for a long spell, silence settling in firmly after that plus. Thought's gone off somewhere to die a liquory death.
"I wasn't sucking up to your queenrider," X'lar comments, almost sounding disgusted at the very thought. "I barely even started talking to Lu until after Telgar's hatching where Tiriana and Phara Impressed. Malsaeth had been talking to Rielsath much longer than that." He pauses before looking back to N'thei, gesturing onward, "Plus, what?" And then, just if N'thei doesn't believe him, X'lar will intone back to him: "I genuinely like Lu. What's so different between C'len and Nolee's relationship?"
All that and the only thing that N'thei's really got out of it is to ask, "What's so different about whose what?"
"C'len and Nolee," X'lar repeats. "The Weyrleader and Weyrwoman. You know. Just the leaders of Ista."
Great. "What have they got to do with it?"
"C'len's Reachian, Nolee is Istan," X'lar tells him. "They both seem pretty close. C'len seemed to like Nolee beforehand. Much like me with Lu."
Talk him through it. "And the point is...?" N'thei winds that finger around and around in front of him, waiting for X'lar to wrap-it-up.
"Do you have the same kind of issue with C'len as you have with me?" X'lar asks.
This is all very confusing for N'thei, who truly cannot associate X'lar's situation with C'len's. Just does not gel in his mind. "No, why would I?" Brows knit and everything.
X'lar lets out a sigh of frustration. He steels himself and finally says, "Let's try something else." He takes another deep drink from his ale. Finishing it. Tossing more marks out for another ale. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel less dislike with me?" It's a question tossed out like the marks for his ale.
N'thei takes a breath, which has the positive result that he doesn't just blurt out the answer in bluntness compounded by drink. "Do you really want me to answer that?" Upon exhaling.
"Yes," X'lar tells N'thei. "I might not be able to do it, but I can certainly try." He braces himself with another long drink of his second ale.
"Stop being such a little ass-kisser." N'thei, disappointed to have to say it but there it is.
X'lar laughs suddenly at hearing N'thei's suggestion. "You really think I'm an ass-kisser?" he asks. "I'm not sure if I am or not. But I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
N'thei opens his hands wide, then closes them back to a clasp that encapsulates his mug. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it, so do what you want with it." The actual truth of X'lar's ass-kissing-ness isn't high on N'thei's list of things to worry about, judging by the careless cast to his tone.
"I think there's a difference between being diplomatic and kissing someone's ass," X'lar notes. "I know I'm the foreigner here. I know that in this case? I'm the odd man out. So it's in my best interest to pave the way with good intentions and smooth lines of communication." There's a pause before he admits, "It's in my best interest to put the best foot forward."
Okay, so that actually broke N'thei's blase overtones and into the realm of actual irritation. "Look around you, boy. Where do you think you are? Do you think anyone here wants you blowing smoke up their ass? We don't even like each other, let alone outsiders." Someone down the bar hears enough to lift his mug in a vehement toast-- agreed!-- except he's so drunk he just passes out face-first on the bar right afterward.
"Gotta remember where I come from," X'lar tells him, and perhaps even the drunkard in the distance. "Things are a lot more relaxed in Ista. I grew up with expecting visitors to the Island, and expecting tons of them." There's a pause, a sudden realization before he says, "So maybe it is more of a cultural thing..." He trails off and shrugs the realization off, quickly tossing back the rest of his ale. "But whatever," he finally replies. "I think we both give each other headaches." He tosses more marks on the bar for the next ale.
"No." N'thei puts down his drink hard right at that word. "No no no. You--" He! A point in that direction. "Need to remember where you are, not the other way round. You can't expect to stay here--" Here! He points down at the bar. "And act like it's Ista. It isn't. So just you adapt to our culture or just go on home." Nod. Firmly.
"So what you're saying is that instead of blowing smoke up people's asses, I should tell you to f' off?" X'lar asks, smirking. But, from the looks of it (perhaps because of the ale intake) he's willing to accept what N'thei's telling him. "Point taken. I'll adapt."
"If that's the way you feel, then yes. Grin-and-bear-it might be the Istan motto, but this isn't Ista." In case the onset of winter alone hadn't driven home the point. N'thei shakes his head at X'lar's willingness to roll with it though; really, this is a no-win situation for X'lar.
X'lar considers N'thei's next response before just rolling his eyes and taking another drink from his ale. "Right," X'lar tells him. And that seems to be all he's willing to say now. Food for thought, even if it's damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.
Standing, surprisingly steady, N'thei adds helpfully, "And next time-- don't fucking ask me what my problem with you is. Because you are a small, small, /small/ footnote on a long list. Drink up." Charitably, after fishing around in his pocket, he puts an extra bit of mark on the bar next to X'lar's arm, nods to it indicatively. Least he can do, after being a total jerk, is buy the boy a round.
"Thanks so much, N'thei," X'lar replies back dryly. "I'll be sure to remember that as well." A snort, possibly laughter follows. But then he's back to drinking when N'thei's standing.
Drunken wealth distributed, N'thei departs for less-chatty locations. He really shouldn't be allowed in public.