[Log] Scapegoating
Who: Ananta, Rimara, Tiriana
When: Day 10, Month 1, Turn 19
Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
What: Ananta makes a scene. Rimara pays for it.
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.
Contents:
Ananta
Rimara
Obvious exits:
Hallway Patio Ledge
Ananta sits at the bar with her newly found friend. They've both got drinks they're nursing and seem to be deep in some conversation, broken up by Ananta's laughter. "OK, then you can stay with me. I have 4 corners in my weyr, you can pick one." Ananta gives a sly grin while turning away. "Seriously, I'd love the company. No one really comes to visit much." Not that she invites anyone. A change of subject as she starts to smell warm stew. She gives a little whistle to the cutie, "make that two please"
Rimara seems a little hesitant, her expression guarded. Not unfriendly, no, but just the tiniest bit wary. "That's kind of you to offer," she ventures, fingers of her left hand playing with the empty whiskey glass in front of her. "Don't like to put folks out, though." Again with the hesitancy. She again shifts on her stool, tapping her foot against one wooden leg. Her shoes show signs of dampness, probably from the snow. "If you're sure ..." Tempting. Yes, definitely a tempting offer, and she's obviously weakening. The stew arrives, providing perhaps a welcome distraction. Money is offered, and change given that is slipped quickly inside her pouch. "Thanks." Looks like Ananta has a roommate for the night, at least.
N'thei might have retired to the back for the night, but Tiriana arrives soon after to take over terrorizing the bar on his behalf. She slides up to the bar to catch the present tender's attention while she slides onto a stool near Ananta and Rimara. He gives her a drink automatically, without asking what she wants, and then leans over for a brief conversation: where's N'thei, how's the take, everybody paid up, anybody need firing. Apparently, they don't, although Tiriana gives one of the
"No worries, like I said, I'd like the company. And I only snore after drinking." Ananta laughs at herself again, "Oh and I sleep in the nude." Nice touch. If that doesn't make Rimara comfortable with the offer, what more will. A wink is given, hopefully followed by relief on Rimara's face. A sudden shift in the energy of the whole room. It's as if a lightening bolt slashed through the room. And now she's sitting on a stool nearby. A lean and a whisper, "maybe we should order her a round."
When someone travels, they get a keen sense of where-ever they find themselves. The not-so-subtle shift in the atmosphere doesn't go unnoticed, and when Ananta whispers to her, she knows exactly where to look. Her head turns and she studies the young woman who just entered. Perhaps it's a bit mercenary of her, but Rimara can't miss the total self-confidence and demeanor exhibited by the new arrival. Both spell "A Person of Importance" in capital letters. "If you think it best," is the whispered response. She turns back to her food, picking up the spoon and stirring. "Who is that?" she asks, her question, perhaps, drowned out by the sound of multiple conversations in the bar.
It's hard not to pick up snippets of conversation around her--snoring and sleeping naked--and those bits draw Tiriana's attention, and a curl of her lip, toward the two girls nearby. She eyes the pair for a moment, then turns back to her own glass, taking a drink of it before she asks of them, faux-nice, "Do you need something?"
Ananta leans in to whisper "More like APITA--you know?" No need to explain. While leaning forward, she turns her head back towards the woman giving all the commands. And can't help but sit up straight when her question was given. "I need a lot of things." A happy little smile given back. Perhaps a head tilt as well. What a sweetie. She leans back for another whisper, "Tiriana, I think. I avoid people who make me feel bad feelings inside." Another laugh.
Rimara doesn't need much more explanation, but she says nothing, perhaps feeling discretion the better part of valor. She's new here, and that lends itself to a certain amount of caution in her dealings with the weyrfolk. Eating her stew seems the best course of action at the moment, and that's what she does. When the question is asked, she turns again to look at the woman near them. "Food's good, whiskey's good---what more could anyone need?" she replies. "<
Rimara doesn't need much more explanation, but she says nothing, perhaps feeling discretion the better part of valor. She's new here, and that lends itself to a certain amount of caution in her dealings with the weyrfolk. Eating her stew seems the best course of action at the moment, and that's what she does. When the question is asked, she turns again to look at the woman near them. "Food's good, whiskey's good---what more could anyone need?" she replies. "M'am," is added after a beat. She turns back to her stew, and gives a sort of smile at Ananta's comment. "I see," is her only comment. Discretion. Yes, indeed.
Disdainful, Tiriana snorts at Ananta's answer. "I just bet you do," she says, with a half-shake of her head. Rimara's is harder to find fault with, and she glances at her own whiskey for a moment before nodding. Still-- "Better be paid up. Tab's only for the regulars." A jerk of her head indicates the gamblers and drunks at the back tables; then she shoots the bartender a look, asks him for confirmation, "Are they paid up?" Just in case.
A bit of a dismissal for /the/ Tiriana, "Well, suppose we both do, hmmm?" Rumors can't help but float around a weyr. "I'll be sure to work on my drunkedness and rable rousing, so I can become a card carrying member of such a fine establishment." She looks around...lifts a napkin. "Are there applications, do I need to sign up for such privileges? Being served warm ale in mugs of questionable cleanliness." She'll stop there or not. "How's the Weyrleader lately?" Perhaps, a quick check for the nearest exit.
There's a degree of self-preservation which dictates the survival instinct. Rimara continues to eat her dinner, dipping a piece of bread into the bowl to sop up any bits of gravy. She isn't sloppy, and seems to have some manners, at least. The discourse between Ananta and Tiriana appears to go over her head, or else she's very good at ignoring tensions around her. Her expression remains studiously neutral; an obvious mask over discomfort. In response to Tiriana's comment regarding payment, she does not. "Paid in full," she says, voice as even as her expression. "Otherwise, I'd not be sitting here, M'am." A respectful nod, although there's a flicker of discomfort in her eyes at Anata's last words. This can't end well, and Rimara seems to know that.
"Perfectly happy to come play bouncer for a little bit," Tiriana says, with a not-very-nice smile for Ananta. "Not that I'm not more than capable of handling it myself." Another snort. "I bet," she asides to Rimara's comments. The bartender, at least, stays where he is, polishing his glasses and serving up refills to said regulars; his lack of reaction seems to be confirmation enough for the testy weyrwoman.
It's a good thing Ananta is paid in full, and that she's spotted the exits, /and/ that's she'd never really liked this place much anyhow. Another lean into Rimara "I hope you're quick. We'd better grab our stuff. Doors behind you. Follow me, and I hope you didn't plan on become a regular." And in her mad dash to grab her bag and get off the chair and land on two feet, Ananta knocks her mug to the ground. Shattered glass and ale flying. She is not going to stay around to see who gets hit. Whether Rimara is coming or not, Ananta is out of that hole.
Admittedly, albeit Rimara has finished her dinner, she'd not planned on leaving quite this soon. Which means Ananta leaves the bar alone. Boots, skirt and legs beneath fall victim to the splash of ale when the mug hits the stone floor. There's not even really a chance to say anything at this point. Ananta is gone, and Rimara remains behind---perhaps to pick up the pieces. Even though she didn't break the glass, she /was/ sitting with the other girl. A look at the floor, then to the fleeing Ananta, then to Tiriana. Flashes of fear in her eyes, and a nervous expression on her face. A flush of color on her cheeks. "I ... I can clean it up," she offers. << Just don't kick me out in the cold, >> seems to be implied by her wary, nervous face.
Ananta has disconnected.
The flight of one girl makes Tiriana look half-smug and half-irritated still; the smashing of the glass, though, draws her gaze downward and pulls her mouth into a frown. Fortunately, she's further away than Rimara, and mostly manages to avoid the splashing. "Best be doing that," she says, voice very deliberately even as she looks back to the remaining visitor. "And then of course there's replacing the mug--"
No stranger to cleaning up spills and breakages, Rimara nods, then stops. Her brows knit for a moment, and she shakes her head. "I'll clean it, but with all due respect, M'am---I didn't break it. I've paid for anything /I/ break, but not for someone else." She seems adamant on this point, all the nervousness dissipated. "Ananta said she lived here in the weyr, so she should be easy to find. If you want, I'll fetch her back so she can settle up." There's nothing snide or nasty about her voice or demeanor; she's respectful all the way through her speech. If it gets her kicked out, well, so be it.
"You didn't catch it when it fell," Tiriana points out, as though this were reason enough to justify her request. "And since she lives her, and she'll be so easy to find, then you can settle up with her later, on your own. We weyrwomen have more important duties to see to, understand." And she now slides off her stool, finishing up her drink and pushing the glass across the bar to the tender. "Take care of her," Tiriana tells him, too, with a nod toward Rimara as she sidesteps around the spreading puddle and heads toward the back herself.
The expression on Rimara's face isn't pleasant, and her jaw is set in firm lines. "And a good evening to you." A beat. "M'am," she adds, and it doesn't really sound like a respectful title. Be that as it may, Rimara is the outsider here, so she's left with little choice but to offer coinage or some other form of payment. A resigned sigh, and a weary expression turned on the bartender. "How much?" she asks, and follows by requesting a rag and floor mop. If the price is more than what she has, well, maybe they need a new barmaid....
When: Day 10, Month 1, Turn 19
Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
What: Ananta makes a scene. Rimara pays for it.
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.
Contents:
Ananta
Rimara
Obvious exits:
Hallway Patio Ledge
Ananta sits at the bar with her newly found friend. They've both got drinks they're nursing and seem to be deep in some conversation, broken up by Ananta's laughter. "OK, then you can stay with me. I have 4 corners in my weyr, you can pick one." Ananta gives a sly grin while turning away. "Seriously, I'd love the company. No one really comes to visit much." Not that she invites anyone. A change of subject as she starts to smell warm stew. She gives a little whistle to the cutie, "make that two please"
Rimara seems a little hesitant, her expression guarded. Not unfriendly, no, but just the tiniest bit wary. "That's kind of you to offer," she ventures, fingers of her left hand playing with the empty whiskey glass in front of her. "Don't like to put folks out, though." Again with the hesitancy. She again shifts on her stool, tapping her foot against one wooden leg. Her shoes show signs of dampness, probably from the snow. "If you're sure ..." Tempting. Yes, definitely a tempting offer, and she's obviously weakening. The stew arrives, providing perhaps a welcome distraction. Money is offered, and change given that is slipped quickly inside her pouch. "Thanks." Looks like Ananta has a roommate for the night, at least.
N'thei might have retired to the back for the night, but Tiriana arrives soon after to take over terrorizing the bar on his behalf. She slides up to the bar to catch the present tender's attention while she slides onto a stool near Ananta and Rimara. He gives her a drink automatically, without asking what she wants, and then leans over for a brief conversation: where's N'thei, how's the take, everybody paid up, anybody need firing. Apparently, they don't, although Tiriana gives one of the
"No worries, like I said, I'd like the company. And I only snore after drinking." Ananta laughs at herself again, "Oh and I sleep in the nude." Nice touch. If that doesn't make Rimara comfortable with the offer, what more will. A wink is given, hopefully followed by relief on Rimara's face. A sudden shift in the energy of the whole room. It's as if a lightening bolt slashed through the room. And now she's sitting on a stool nearby. A lean and a whisper, "maybe we should order her a round."
When someone travels, they get a keen sense of where-ever they find themselves. The not-so-subtle shift in the atmosphere doesn't go unnoticed, and when Ananta whispers to her, she knows exactly where to look. Her head turns and she studies the young woman who just entered. Perhaps it's a bit mercenary of her, but Rimara can't miss the total self-confidence and demeanor exhibited by the new arrival. Both spell "A Person of Importance" in capital letters. "If you think it best," is the whispered response. She turns back to her food, picking up the spoon and stirring. "Who is that?" she asks, her question, perhaps, drowned out by the sound of multiple conversations in the bar.
It's hard not to pick up snippets of conversation around her--snoring and sleeping naked--and those bits draw Tiriana's attention, and a curl of her lip, toward the two girls nearby. She eyes the pair for a moment, then turns back to her own glass, taking a drink of it before she asks of them, faux-nice, "Do you need something?"
Ananta leans in to whisper "More like APITA--you know?" No need to explain. While leaning forward, she turns her head back towards the woman giving all the commands. And can't help but sit up straight when her question was given. "I need a lot of things." A happy little smile given back. Perhaps a head tilt as well. What a sweetie. She leans back for another whisper, "Tiriana, I think. I avoid people who make me feel bad feelings inside." Another laugh.
Rimara doesn't need much more explanation, but she says nothing, perhaps feeling discretion the better part of valor. She's new here, and that lends itself to a certain amount of caution in her dealings with the weyrfolk. Eating her stew seems the best course of action at the moment, and that's what she does. When the question is asked, she turns again to look at the woman near them. "Food's good, whiskey's good---what more could anyone need?" she replies. "<
Rimara doesn't need much more explanation, but she says nothing, perhaps feeling discretion the better part of valor. She's new here, and that lends itself to a certain amount of caution in her dealings with the weyrfolk. Eating her stew seems the best course of action at the moment, and that's what she does. When the question is asked, she turns again to look at the woman near them. "Food's good, whiskey's good---what more could anyone need?" she replies. "M'am," is added after a beat. She turns back to her stew, and gives a sort of smile at Ananta's comment. "I see," is her only comment. Discretion. Yes, indeed.
Disdainful, Tiriana snorts at Ananta's answer. "I just bet you do," she says, with a half-shake of her head. Rimara's is harder to find fault with, and she glances at her own whiskey for a moment before nodding. Still-- "Better be paid up. Tab's only for the regulars." A jerk of her head indicates the gamblers and drunks at the back tables; then she shoots the bartender a look, asks him for confirmation, "Are they paid up?" Just in case.
A bit of a dismissal for /the/ Tiriana, "Well, suppose we both do, hmmm?" Rumors can't help but float around a weyr. "I'll be sure to work on my drunkedness and rable rousing, so I can become a card carrying member of such a fine establishment." She looks around...lifts a napkin. "Are there applications, do I need to sign up for such privileges? Being served warm ale in mugs of questionable cleanliness." She'll stop there or not. "How's the Weyrleader lately?" Perhaps, a quick check for the nearest exit.
There's a degree of self-preservation which dictates the survival instinct. Rimara continues to eat her dinner, dipping a piece of bread into the bowl to sop up any bits of gravy. She isn't sloppy, and seems to have some manners, at least. The discourse between Ananta and Tiriana appears to go over her head, or else she's very good at ignoring tensions around her. Her expression remains studiously neutral; an obvious mask over discomfort. In response to Tiriana's comment regarding payment, she does not. "Paid in full," she says, voice as even as her expression. "Otherwise, I'd not be sitting here, M'am." A respectful nod, although there's a flicker of discomfort in her eyes at Anata's last words. This can't end well, and Rimara seems to know that.
"Perfectly happy to come play bouncer for a little bit," Tiriana says, with a not-very-nice smile for Ananta. "Not that I'm not more than capable of handling it myself." Another snort. "I bet," she asides to Rimara's comments. The bartender, at least, stays where he is, polishing his glasses and serving up refills to said regulars; his lack of reaction seems to be confirmation enough for the testy weyrwoman.
It's a good thing Ananta is paid in full, and that she's spotted the exits, /and/ that's she'd never really liked this place much anyhow. Another lean into Rimara "I hope you're quick. We'd better grab our stuff. Doors behind you. Follow me, and I hope you didn't plan on become a regular." And in her mad dash to grab her bag and get off the chair and land on two feet, Ananta knocks her mug to the ground. Shattered glass and ale flying. She is not going to stay around to see who gets hit. Whether Rimara is coming or not, Ananta is out of that hole.
Admittedly, albeit Rimara has finished her dinner, she'd not planned on leaving quite this soon. Which means Ananta leaves the bar alone. Boots, skirt and legs beneath fall victim to the splash of ale when the mug hits the stone floor. There's not even really a chance to say anything at this point. Ananta is gone, and Rimara remains behind---perhaps to pick up the pieces. Even though she didn't break the glass, she /was/ sitting with the other girl. A look at the floor, then to the fleeing Ananta, then to Tiriana. Flashes of fear in her eyes, and a nervous expression on her face. A flush of color on her cheeks. "I ... I can clean it up," she offers. << Just don't kick me out in the cold, >> seems to be implied by her wary, nervous face.
Ananta has disconnected.
The flight of one girl makes Tiriana look half-smug and half-irritated still; the smashing of the glass, though, draws her gaze downward and pulls her mouth into a frown. Fortunately, she's further away than Rimara, and mostly manages to avoid the splashing. "Best be doing that," she says, voice very deliberately even as she looks back to the remaining visitor. "And then of course there's replacing the mug--"
No stranger to cleaning up spills and breakages, Rimara nods, then stops. Her brows knit for a moment, and she shakes her head. "I'll clean it, but with all due respect, M'am---I didn't break it. I've paid for anything /I/ break, but not for someone else." She seems adamant on this point, all the nervousness dissipated. "Ananta said she lived here in the weyr, so she should be easy to find. If you want, I'll fetch her back so she can settle up." There's nothing snide or nasty about her voice or demeanor; she's respectful all the way through her speech. If it gets her kicked out, well, so be it.
"You didn't catch it when it fell," Tiriana points out, as though this were reason enough to justify her request. "And since she lives her, and she'll be so easy to find, then you can settle up with her later, on your own. We weyrwomen have more important duties to see to, understand." And she now slides off her stool, finishing up her drink and pushing the glass across the bar to the tender. "Take care of her," Tiriana tells him, too, with a nod toward Rimara as she sidesteps around the spreading puddle and heads toward the back herself.
The expression on Rimara's face isn't pleasant, and her jaw is set in firm lines. "And a good evening to you." A beat. "M'am," she adds, and it doesn't really sound like a respectful title. Be that as it may, Rimara is the outsider here, so she's left with little choice but to offer coinage or some other form of payment. A resigned sigh, and a weary expression turned on the bartender. "How much?" she asks, and follows by requesting a rag and floor mop. If the price is more than what she has, well, maybe they need a new barmaid....