[Log] Swallowing His Pride
Who: I'daur, Tavrie
When: Day 27, Month 12, Turn 10
Where: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr
What: Tavrie rescues I'daur after his encounter with Talien in the storeroom.
Notes: Partial log.
Zunaeth> Nabrimeth senses that Zunaeth's voice extends only reluctantly, and well on into the night. << Nabrimeth? >> he asks. << Can yours do mine a small little favor? >>
Dragon> Zunaeth senses that Nabrimeth's voice returns like gather dresses rustling over grass, a hinder undertone of laughter and giddy joy underneath low, sweet words. << What is it yours requires? >>
Zunaeth> Nabrimeth senses that Zunaeth hesitates, still reluctant, and finally gruffly tells her, << He is in the storerooms. Can yours come find him? >> Helpfully, he offers an image of the stores, then the particular door that, locked, prevents his rider from exiting.
Dragon> Zunaeth senses that Nabrimeth's voice resounds again, curious and amused at the same time. << If you know he is in the stores...why does mine need to find him? She comes. >>
Zunaeth> Nabrimeth senses that Zunaeth admits, << He's... kind of stuck there. >>
I'daur has at least found him a crate to sit on top of while he waits, grumbling under his breath sometimes, but mostly just sitting there in silence. The door's still shut and firmly latched, and he glances at it repeatedly in the meantime, having long since given up trying to jar it free.
The padded yet firm footfalls of someone in a hurry approach the door and stop. After a moment of agonizing silence, a key jangles and clatters in the hole and the door is opened a foot or two. In pops a curious looking head, eyes searching for someone she seems to know is there. "Sir?" Tavrie queries tentatively.
"Tavrie," I'daur says at once, pushing himself stiffly to his feet. "Hi." He tries to make that greeting sound a little less eager as he shuffles for the door, anxious to get free of that room at last. "Thank you for coming. Hope Zunaeth didn't bother you or Nabrimeth."
Tavrie, a little pink in the cheeks and seeming even more bubbly than usual, giggles happily and offers him a rather soggy sort of smile. "How'd you get stuck in there," she asks, grinning audaciously, waiting to close the door behind him.
"It's... kind of a long story," admits I'daur as he slips out and pauses, glancing back to Tavrie. "I must've kicked the door when I went in, and it shut and accidentally latched itself behind me. Feel kind of stupid, to be honest. You won't, ah, let this get out, will you?" He shoots her a look, gauging--he knows well the signs of alcohol, but he doesn't comment on that just now.
Tavrie rocks forward on the balls of her feet than back on her heels, leaning forward to aim her grin more pointedly at him. "I won't teeeeell," she chides him, clearly more amused than should be. "I just came from tasting wine," she says, trying to mimic a Lord Holder's style and dignity with a lift of her chin and a slight accent to her syllables. "B'yan bought me a bottle...all of my own! You want to come help drink it?" she asks, still grinning like a mad thing.
"I dragged you down here," I'daur notes, though he's plainly interested in the offer. "Shouldn't drink your wine, too. 'Sides, don't really care for wine. We didn't drag you away from that, did we?" Pause. "I can walk you home, at least, though--s'the least I can do, really."
Tavrie smiles at him. "Nonsense, it's fine," she notes, wafting a hand dismissively. "Come on, I chose a good one. It isn't all tangy and woody. It's so sweet and nice," she says, twirling once and then stepping over to try and glomp his arm, seeming happy with the offer of being walked home. The petite young woman smiles up at him in a winning manner.
I'daur looks quite dubious about this suggestion, but still. He offered. So, studiously not looking at Tavrie, he sets off, on a course to take them back to her weyr.
Tavrie seems quite buzzed, but her walking is unimpaired...if a little bouncy. "Won't you tell me tales..tales of being a rider?" she asks. "Or places you've seen?" she asks as they walk along together, her arms wrapped around one of his.
"Ah. Well." I'daur hesitates. "Let me get you home, and then we'll see about that," he offers gruffly, sneaking a glance sideways at the young woman clinging to his arm. "I'll... try to think of something."