[LOG] - Weylaughn: Turndays and Scandals
Title: Turndays and Scandals
Summary: Weylaughn just wanted to drink and read in peace. Along came a greenrider. Then a recordskeeper. Then everything just went weird.
Characters: Edyis, L'sha, Weylaughn
Location: Resident Quarters, High Reaches Weyr
Time: Day 27, month 10, turn 35 of Interval 10
RL Date: 09/17/2014
Somehow or another - most likely by charming just the right people, knowing him - Weylaughn has secured a private chamber of his own. It's meant for two people, but he's the only one that occupies it; curiously for as boisterous a personality as he is in public, Wey seems to be reclusive when it's time for himself. This is one of those times, with the Holder bearing the tremendous burden of two bottles of wine, a lone glass, and a satchel stuffed full of things that suspiciously resemble borrowed records and books. He's picking his way along the passageway that leads, inevitably, to his curtained - and hopefully temporary - dwelling.
L'sha pokes his head into the Residents' Quarters, as if looking for someone. Or anyone. He walks tentatively into the common room and looks around. Spying Weylaughn through an arch, he grins and heads toward the holder. "Evening, Weylaughn, mind if I join you?"
Oh ho! If ever there was anything that could catch Weylaughn's attention, it's the sound of his own name. He stops in mid-step and half-pivots on a heel, allowing him to cant a glance - and an amiable grin - over his shoulder at the greenrider. He lifts the bottle-bearing hand and waggles a pinky, since that's the only digit free to do so. "Evening, L'sha! I don't mind at all - if you don't mind that there's but one glass to spare." His grin goes just a bit lopsided in an attempt at being apologetic that falls, well, short of the mark. "What brings you down here, if I may be so bold?"
L'sha smirks at the man. "Two bottles and one glass? Sure, I'll be glad to share. I was just looking around for...well, whoever's around, really. Someone to celebrate my Turnday with. Most of my friends are out of the Weyr or too busy, so I thought I'd see if I could find someone. It'd be so ''boring'' to celebrate alone.
Weylaughn's brows wing skyward at that revelation. "Your- oh! Oh, that's -terrible- to hear," and it truly is. The lad's horrified and motions, without a second thought, for the greenrider to follow. "How busy can your friends be to -not- want to celebrate? Here, here. Would you mind carrying one of these?" He extends the hand that's precariously holding the two bottles and will release one only if/when L'sha has taken one. "If I'd known, I'd have at least convinced one of the lovely bakers to make a pie or- or something. I was just going to get some reading done," but that's clearly going to wait.
L'sha smiles and takes one of the bottles from Weylaughn. "Oh, it's not that big a deal, really. It's just quite a coincidence that they all happen to be away at the moment. It's a bit of a downer, but look, now I've found someone to celebrate with!" He grins.
"It -is- important, though," if only to Wey. He pulls the curtain back to his room, which is nicely equipped with two beds, a pair of trunks, and the other basic necessities of life in a Weyr. He flips a glow-lamp open, puts the bag gently on one bed and sits next to it. "It's the day you were born, after all. It's the one day that's yours." And hundreds, if not thousands of other people's... but, still. This is not the time to split hairs. "Here. Take the glass. I know I've a cork remover around here somewhere..." Cue some rummaging in pockets and the like. "How old are you, anyway? If- ah. If it's not improper to ask, that is?"
L'sha takes the glass and sits down, crossing his legs daintily. "If you say so. Normally, I wouldn't really care, it's just another day, but it is a good excuse to get together with friends and have a party. I did visit with my parents, so I guess there's that." He suddenly looks offended as Weylaughn asks his age, but the expression is quickly followed by a smirk and a wave of his hand to show that he's kidding. "I'm nineteen. Which is another thing, I won't be a teenager much longer. I won't be young and cute anymore." He pouts a bit, half-seriously.
"Mother always tries to throw a grand party for us on our turnday," Wey replies, which sheds some light on where his opinion comes from. "Anyway- ah! Here we go." The first bottle is opened and held out with the offer of pouring. It's Benden red, of course, because... why wouldn't he drink the best when he's planning on drinking alone? Of course, at L'sha's last words, Weylaughn's brows lift again. "Don't be daft," he declares, without further elaboration given - perhaps because he doesn't feel its needed. "I'm not far behind you, you know? Just a few more months and I'll be 'round that corner. At least you don't have to worry about being married or having children or- or any of -that-."
L'sha grins and holds the glass up for the wine. He takes a sip and nearly chokes on it, but manages to maintain his composure. "No, no marriage or kids for me." Snerk. "Well, unless a dragon with a female rider flies Rillaeth, I suppose anything's possible." He takes another swig from the glass, then wipes the rim off with a cloth and offers it to Weylaughn. "Very nice." Referring to the wine, presumably.
And that's the precise moment that certain Holder sensibilities twitch. Just a little. Weylaughn gives L'sha a curious glance as he reaches to take the glass for a sip or two of his own. "Ah. Well, I meant that riders in general don't have certain... responsibilities." His mouth pulls briefly to one side - though, to his credit, there isn't judgment there, just a dubious assessment of the rider. The obvious isn't addressed, though; he'll be happy to divert the conversation to the wine. "Ah, it is. It's a fine year, though not the best I've had by far. Well worth the marks, though." The glass is wiped off with a kerchief and handed back.
L'sha's left eyebrow twitches slightly in response to the twitch of Wey's sensibilities, but the greenrider doesn't comment. "True, I'm like most weyrbrats, I was fostered with the Lower Caverns women. Riders don't really have time to be good parents, but mine always tried to make at least some time for me. I didn't mind being fostered, though. It's like they say, 'It takes a Weyr to raise a child.'" He takes the glass back and drains it, then refills it from the bottle, with...quite a lot of wine. A bit too much for polite drinking, really. He takes a large swig and wipes the glass, handing it back with a smirk. "Mmm. I'm afraid I don't know much about wine, except that I like to drink it." He grins.
Weylaughn settles back to listen, hands on his thighs and back straight - as always. The recounting of his rearing is worth a curious sound from the Holder, who is clearly trying to fit all of that into his particular worldview. "Ah. I see," and that word is drawn out thoughtfully. "I suppose I was fortunate to have stayed with Mother, even after my father denied her. She married properly after that and raised me with her other children at a fine, small Hold. It- ah. It's quite hard to imagine being raised by so many others. Do you really think it's better that way? In the Weyr's way?" As for the wine? Well. He's not about to comment on -that-, not when he's intent on draining the glass when it's offered. He'll be mindful to refill it, of course, but passing it? He -might- be tipsy enough to have briefly forgotten. "Oh, well. Mother's very well-versed in it. She taught me all she knows."
In contrast to the ramrod-straight posture of the holder, L'sha's is downright lazy, leaning back on his elbows on the bed opposite Wey's. His right leg remains crossed over his left, his booted foot bouncing a bit. He shrugs. "I don't know if it's better or not, but I suppose I turned out all right. I don't think I would have done well in a hold." He pulls a face and shakes his head. "Definitely not. I'm too much of a free spirit." He grins, then looks at Wey as he's forgotten to pass the glass back. "Hey, don't drink it all, now."
"Well," Weylaughn concedes, "I think you did, too." He's about to dip in for a long sip when he's called out on it - and then there's a bit of a laugh and a sheepish grin. "Ah. Here. Sorry about that," he does have just enough control of his faculties to wipe the glass off before leaning over to offer it up to the rider. "No- I suppose the Hold life isn't for everyone, is it? It suited me- but I wonder if that's just because I was -raised- that way." The tip of his tongue pokes out thoughtfully - and just kind of stays there while he considers that thought and, oh, maybe that second bottle of wine he's yet to open. Then, abruptly: "Why -don't- you think you would have done well in a Hold?"
L'sha chuckles and leans forward to take the glass back. "That's okay, just don't let it happen again." His fingers brush Wey's as he takes the glass. He sips the wine, shrugs and says, "Too many rules, too many social restrictions. Plus, the whole 'sleeping with men' thing definitely wouldn't have gone over too well." He tosses off the last nonchalantly, then wipes the glass and hands it back.
The brushing of fingers doesn't seem to trouble Wey, at least. It's going to happen. "I make no promises that I can't keep," he replies and, newly divested of the drink, he's free to reach for that spare bottle and pop it open with near-expert ease. "I never really- ah. It didn't -seem- like there were many rules," he replies, brow furrowed while he thinks. "Not for me, anyway." It's that last bit, see, that properly catches him askance. He does keep a grip on the bottle, but he doesn't reach for the glass - not immediately, anyway. "... ah. And I suppose there is that." His tongue runs out to wet his lips briefly. "Ah. That's- I've never-" One can almost imagine his Holder brain starting to smoke with confusion. He finally does take the glass - and drains it. "... how. Ah. How does -that- all... work? And why? Women are perfectly lovely. Why... why -men-?"
L'sha says, "Well, I suppose there are plenty of rules in a Weyr, but there's just so much focus on who marries whom, this bloodline and that. Not for me, sorry." His lips press together to keep from smirking at the look on Wey's face. "It's not that unusual in a Weyr. Sure, women ''are'' perfectly lovely, but I've always felt more drawn to men. I mean, have you looked around this Weyr? It's chock full of gorgeous, fit men. You don't see too many ugly, fat riders." He grins. "And many of them aren't averse to hopping into bed with another man. As far as I'm concerned, I'm right where I need to be."
Consider poor Wey to be gobsmacked, if only for the moment. There's a good moment or two when he seems ready to say something, but nothing manages to come out. He sucks his teeth for a long moment and finally says, "Blood -is- important, though. Especially when it comes to Lords and proper Holds. S'why Mother said I ought to come here. To talk to the Weyrleaders and, ah. Well. It's a long story." Or not. But he fills the time by filling the glass again and handing it over. No wiping this time; that formality seems to have been wholly dispensed with. "I- I suppose, to be fair, I've never thought of it like that. It's not the usual way- ah, not my usual way, I guess - of looking at people." Mostly men. He means men. "And it wouldn't matter -anyway-," he continues, clearly past the point of reining in his tongue, "since Mother would still expect me to marry and have children."
L'sha accepts the glass and takes a long swig, watching Wey over the rim of the glass. "So you've never thought about it?" He leans back on his elbow again and cocks his head to the side. "Not even once?"
"Ahhh." That's Weylaughn's 'thinking' noise. Any other time and that wouldn't be a necessary, auditory filler. Finally, vehemently, he shakes his head. "No, not ever. I'd only ever heard vague... notions of how riders were. Ah. Sexually." To his credit, his posture remains as steady as ever; consider it a well-trained quirk. "It just- it never crossed my mind. Why would it?"
L'sha pffffs and leans over to the side, giggling, but keeps the glass upright. "Oh, don't worry, I'm only teasing. You're holdbred, so I'm not surprised. A bit disappointed, but not suprised." He tries to stand up from the bed, gets dizzy and sits back down. Miraculously, only a tiny bit of wine sloshes out of the glass. Even drunk, the greenrider moves gracefully. Most of the time. "Would you mind helping me up? Drunk a bit more than I'd thought." He holds out a hand to Weylaughn.
Off in one of the relatively private, curtained off quarters in the dorms, a certain rider and Holder are off drinking and chatting. "Disappointed?" Weylaughn has yet to connect those dots, but he will. Eventually. The giggling is a bit infectious, with the decently-boozed Holder soon chuckling a bit himself. That chuckling builds a bit when the greenrider seems to have trouble getting up. He can't help it. Really, he can't. And by the time he does contain himself, there's that offered hand and request for help. "Ah, here. Hold for just a moment," because he needs to put the bottle down - and, no, he was not at all giving half a thought to drinking directly from it. He pushes to his feet and reaches to take L'sha's hand and offer some measure of dubious stability. For now. Faranth help the rider if he pulls too hard - or not hard enough.
L'sha lets Weylaughn pull him up off the bed, but when he stands, he's a bit too close to the holder and ends up face to face with him, still holding the man's hand. There's a look of slight surprise on his face as his dark blue eyes stare into Weylaughn's. It would be embarrassing for Wey if someone were to walk in on them now...
There is a list of things one can expect to run into in a weyr, and then there's those things that you run into but couldn't ever really expect. One of those things probably should be ''nocturnal'' visits but most riders have the sense to use their own private weyr for the purpose. Nevertheless regardless of what was going on before a very tired Edyis started making her way to her cot, what goes through her mind upon spotting the familiar rider and the wannabe lord is far from innocent. Being the wonderful generous person that she is, (and yes that might be an entirely facetious statement.) She cannot help but utter a helpful comment. "You know L'sha, it works better if you take him back to your Weyr. Less of an audience unless your into that kind of thing." Smirk, smirk, smirk, oh the glorious gossip.
The Holder tries. He does. There's a slight tightening of his hand on the greenrider's for the sake of keeping him from falling back. Weylaughn reaches with his free hand to catch L'sha by the shoulder to steady him - and he's -just- opening his mouth to utter some kind of wine-scented apology or reassurance or something when everything takes a violent left turn into awkward territory. "Wait. What?" His head snaps around to fix on Edyis and, like the perfect gentleman he is, he promptly lets go of L'sha entirely and holds his hands up, palm out, as if to placate the woman. "It wasn't- we were just talking and he- I-" Of all the terrible times for an inebriated stutter to kick in...
L'sha's face goes beet red as Edyis picks the ''worst'' possible time to make an entrance. Great, way to make it even worse, L'sha. He quickly lets go of Weylaughn's hand and sets the wineglass down somewhere. He waves cheerily to Edyis as if nothing happened. "Oh, hi, sweetie! Weylaughn was jus helpin me up. Bit too much wine." Yeah, right, like she'll believe that. "'Smy Turnday today, y'know. 'M nineteen." He walks over to the scribe and holds his arms out for a hug.
"There is no shame in going native Wey, really L'sha's a total sweetheart." She grins, accepting the hug from the drunken greenrider. "I think you forget L'sha, I've known you since candidacy, but happy turnday. Nice pick by the way, he's got the whole broodingly handsome and good taste in wine going for him." Righting the rider on his feet grinning. "Now off you two go before you make a scene, and enjoy the birthday festivities in your weyr."
"Exactly like that," Weylaughn agrees with L'sha, while he fusses at straightening his clothes up unnecessarily. The preening ends with a passing of palms over his head and a brief lacing of fingers behind his neck. "I'm sure he'll be better served in... ah. In your care, of course." Not in his. Oh no. And with that threat - as he perceives it, anyway - being levied? He takes a stumbling step back, wide-eyed. "I haven't- no. No, no no no. I mean, I have all of that, but- I-" Quickly! Think quickly! "I am getting more wine," he declares a bit too loudly. And, though he marches stiffly off and with a bit of unsteadiness to his stride, he is not at all getting more wine. Or, if he does, he doesn't bring it back, because the Holder is going AWOL.
L'sha also shakes his head at Edyis, "No, no, 'snot like that. It was innocent, rilly--" As that word is uttered, the faint shriek of a green dragon is heard. The rider winces in pain and grabs his head. Must've been much louder in his head. "Ow, shardit, Rillaeth!" Nothing like a dragon screaming in your head to sober you up. "She though I was calling her a nickname, she really hates that." He shakes his head again, this time more vigorously, to clear it. "Ow. Uh, bye, Wey--" And he's gone. He turns back to Edyis. "Listen, it really was innocent, he was just helping me up. We were just talking, I swear! Don't spread this around, would you? It might put him in a bad spot."
There is a distinct narrowing of her eyes as she watches the holder depart, shaking her head with a sigh. "He's going to put himself into a bad spot L'sha, and it's what he deserves for leading you on like that." The scribe notes with a frown after he's left. "Sorry If I ah- ruined your turnday. I promise drinks?" She offers in a gesture of peace.
Summary: Weylaughn just wanted to drink and read in peace. Along came a greenrider. Then a recordskeeper. Then everything just went weird.
Characters: Edyis, L'sha, Weylaughn
Location: Resident Quarters, High Reaches Weyr
Time: Day 27, month 10, turn 35 of Interval 10
RL Date: 09/17/2014
Somehow or another - most likely by charming just the right people, knowing him - Weylaughn has secured a private chamber of his own. It's meant for two people, but he's the only one that occupies it; curiously for as boisterous a personality as he is in public, Wey seems to be reclusive when it's time for himself. This is one of those times, with the Holder bearing the tremendous burden of two bottles of wine, a lone glass, and a satchel stuffed full of things that suspiciously resemble borrowed records and books. He's picking his way along the passageway that leads, inevitably, to his curtained - and hopefully temporary - dwelling.
L'sha pokes his head into the Residents' Quarters, as if looking for someone. Or anyone. He walks tentatively into the common room and looks around. Spying Weylaughn through an arch, he grins and heads toward the holder. "Evening, Weylaughn, mind if I join you?"
Oh ho! If ever there was anything that could catch Weylaughn's attention, it's the sound of his own name. He stops in mid-step and half-pivots on a heel, allowing him to cant a glance - and an amiable grin - over his shoulder at the greenrider. He lifts the bottle-bearing hand and waggles a pinky, since that's the only digit free to do so. "Evening, L'sha! I don't mind at all - if you don't mind that there's but one glass to spare." His grin goes just a bit lopsided in an attempt at being apologetic that falls, well, short of the mark. "What brings you down here, if I may be so bold?"
L'sha smirks at the man. "Two bottles and one glass? Sure, I'll be glad to share. I was just looking around for...well, whoever's around, really. Someone to celebrate my Turnday with. Most of my friends are out of the Weyr or too busy, so I thought I'd see if I could find someone. It'd be so ''boring'' to celebrate alone.
Weylaughn's brows wing skyward at that revelation. "Your- oh! Oh, that's -terrible- to hear," and it truly is. The lad's horrified and motions, without a second thought, for the greenrider to follow. "How busy can your friends be to -not- want to celebrate? Here, here. Would you mind carrying one of these?" He extends the hand that's precariously holding the two bottles and will release one only if/when L'sha has taken one. "If I'd known, I'd have at least convinced one of the lovely bakers to make a pie or- or something. I was just going to get some reading done," but that's clearly going to wait.
L'sha smiles and takes one of the bottles from Weylaughn. "Oh, it's not that big a deal, really. It's just quite a coincidence that they all happen to be away at the moment. It's a bit of a downer, but look, now I've found someone to celebrate with!" He grins.
"It -is- important, though," if only to Wey. He pulls the curtain back to his room, which is nicely equipped with two beds, a pair of trunks, and the other basic necessities of life in a Weyr. He flips a glow-lamp open, puts the bag gently on one bed and sits next to it. "It's the day you were born, after all. It's the one day that's yours." And hundreds, if not thousands of other people's... but, still. This is not the time to split hairs. "Here. Take the glass. I know I've a cork remover around here somewhere..." Cue some rummaging in pockets and the like. "How old are you, anyway? If- ah. If it's not improper to ask, that is?"
L'sha takes the glass and sits down, crossing his legs daintily. "If you say so. Normally, I wouldn't really care, it's just another day, but it is a good excuse to get together with friends and have a party. I did visit with my parents, so I guess there's that." He suddenly looks offended as Weylaughn asks his age, but the expression is quickly followed by a smirk and a wave of his hand to show that he's kidding. "I'm nineteen. Which is another thing, I won't be a teenager much longer. I won't be young and cute anymore." He pouts a bit, half-seriously.
"Mother always tries to throw a grand party for us on our turnday," Wey replies, which sheds some light on where his opinion comes from. "Anyway- ah! Here we go." The first bottle is opened and held out with the offer of pouring. It's Benden red, of course, because... why wouldn't he drink the best when he's planning on drinking alone? Of course, at L'sha's last words, Weylaughn's brows lift again. "Don't be daft," he declares, without further elaboration given - perhaps because he doesn't feel its needed. "I'm not far behind you, you know? Just a few more months and I'll be 'round that corner. At least you don't have to worry about being married or having children or- or any of -that-."
L'sha grins and holds the glass up for the wine. He takes a sip and nearly chokes on it, but manages to maintain his composure. "No, no marriage or kids for me." Snerk. "Well, unless a dragon with a female rider flies Rillaeth, I suppose anything's possible." He takes another swig from the glass, then wipes the rim off with a cloth and offers it to Weylaughn. "Very nice." Referring to the wine, presumably.
And that's the precise moment that certain Holder sensibilities twitch. Just a little. Weylaughn gives L'sha a curious glance as he reaches to take the glass for a sip or two of his own. "Ah. Well, I meant that riders in general don't have certain... responsibilities." His mouth pulls briefly to one side - though, to his credit, there isn't judgment there, just a dubious assessment of the rider. The obvious isn't addressed, though; he'll be happy to divert the conversation to the wine. "Ah, it is. It's a fine year, though not the best I've had by far. Well worth the marks, though." The glass is wiped off with a kerchief and handed back.
L'sha's left eyebrow twitches slightly in response to the twitch of Wey's sensibilities, but the greenrider doesn't comment. "True, I'm like most weyrbrats, I was fostered with the Lower Caverns women. Riders don't really have time to be good parents, but mine always tried to make at least some time for me. I didn't mind being fostered, though. It's like they say, 'It takes a Weyr to raise a child.'" He takes the glass back and drains it, then refills it from the bottle, with...quite a lot of wine. A bit too much for polite drinking, really. He takes a large swig and wipes the glass, handing it back with a smirk. "Mmm. I'm afraid I don't know much about wine, except that I like to drink it." He grins.
Weylaughn settles back to listen, hands on his thighs and back straight - as always. The recounting of his rearing is worth a curious sound from the Holder, who is clearly trying to fit all of that into his particular worldview. "Ah. I see," and that word is drawn out thoughtfully. "I suppose I was fortunate to have stayed with Mother, even after my father denied her. She married properly after that and raised me with her other children at a fine, small Hold. It- ah. It's quite hard to imagine being raised by so many others. Do you really think it's better that way? In the Weyr's way?" As for the wine? Well. He's not about to comment on -that-, not when he's intent on draining the glass when it's offered. He'll be mindful to refill it, of course, but passing it? He -might- be tipsy enough to have briefly forgotten. "Oh, well. Mother's very well-versed in it. She taught me all she knows."
In contrast to the ramrod-straight posture of the holder, L'sha's is downright lazy, leaning back on his elbows on the bed opposite Wey's. His right leg remains crossed over his left, his booted foot bouncing a bit. He shrugs. "I don't know if it's better or not, but I suppose I turned out all right. I don't think I would have done well in a hold." He pulls a face and shakes his head. "Definitely not. I'm too much of a free spirit." He grins, then looks at Wey as he's forgotten to pass the glass back. "Hey, don't drink it all, now."
"Well," Weylaughn concedes, "I think you did, too." He's about to dip in for a long sip when he's called out on it - and then there's a bit of a laugh and a sheepish grin. "Ah. Here. Sorry about that," he does have just enough control of his faculties to wipe the glass off before leaning over to offer it up to the rider. "No- I suppose the Hold life isn't for everyone, is it? It suited me- but I wonder if that's just because I was -raised- that way." The tip of his tongue pokes out thoughtfully - and just kind of stays there while he considers that thought and, oh, maybe that second bottle of wine he's yet to open. Then, abruptly: "Why -don't- you think you would have done well in a Hold?"
L'sha chuckles and leans forward to take the glass back. "That's okay, just don't let it happen again." His fingers brush Wey's as he takes the glass. He sips the wine, shrugs and says, "Too many rules, too many social restrictions. Plus, the whole 'sleeping with men' thing definitely wouldn't have gone over too well." He tosses off the last nonchalantly, then wipes the glass and hands it back.
The brushing of fingers doesn't seem to trouble Wey, at least. It's going to happen. "I make no promises that I can't keep," he replies and, newly divested of the drink, he's free to reach for that spare bottle and pop it open with near-expert ease. "I never really- ah. It didn't -seem- like there were many rules," he replies, brow furrowed while he thinks. "Not for me, anyway." It's that last bit, see, that properly catches him askance. He does keep a grip on the bottle, but he doesn't reach for the glass - not immediately, anyway. "... ah. And I suppose there is that." His tongue runs out to wet his lips briefly. "Ah. That's- I've never-" One can almost imagine his Holder brain starting to smoke with confusion. He finally does take the glass - and drains it. "... how. Ah. How does -that- all... work? And why? Women are perfectly lovely. Why... why -men-?"
L'sha says, "Well, I suppose there are plenty of rules in a Weyr, but there's just so much focus on who marries whom, this bloodline and that. Not for me, sorry." His lips press together to keep from smirking at the look on Wey's face. "It's not that unusual in a Weyr. Sure, women ''are'' perfectly lovely, but I've always felt more drawn to men. I mean, have you looked around this Weyr? It's chock full of gorgeous, fit men. You don't see too many ugly, fat riders." He grins. "And many of them aren't averse to hopping into bed with another man. As far as I'm concerned, I'm right where I need to be."
Consider poor Wey to be gobsmacked, if only for the moment. There's a good moment or two when he seems ready to say something, but nothing manages to come out. He sucks his teeth for a long moment and finally says, "Blood -is- important, though. Especially when it comes to Lords and proper Holds. S'why Mother said I ought to come here. To talk to the Weyrleaders and, ah. Well. It's a long story." Or not. But he fills the time by filling the glass again and handing it over. No wiping this time; that formality seems to have been wholly dispensed with. "I- I suppose, to be fair, I've never thought of it like that. It's not the usual way- ah, not my usual way, I guess - of looking at people." Mostly men. He means men. "And it wouldn't matter -anyway-," he continues, clearly past the point of reining in his tongue, "since Mother would still expect me to marry and have children."
L'sha accepts the glass and takes a long swig, watching Wey over the rim of the glass. "So you've never thought about it?" He leans back on his elbow again and cocks his head to the side. "Not even once?"
"Ahhh." That's Weylaughn's 'thinking' noise. Any other time and that wouldn't be a necessary, auditory filler. Finally, vehemently, he shakes his head. "No, not ever. I'd only ever heard vague... notions of how riders were. Ah. Sexually." To his credit, his posture remains as steady as ever; consider it a well-trained quirk. "It just- it never crossed my mind. Why would it?"
L'sha pffffs and leans over to the side, giggling, but keeps the glass upright. "Oh, don't worry, I'm only teasing. You're holdbred, so I'm not surprised. A bit disappointed, but not suprised." He tries to stand up from the bed, gets dizzy and sits back down. Miraculously, only a tiny bit of wine sloshes out of the glass. Even drunk, the greenrider moves gracefully. Most of the time. "Would you mind helping me up? Drunk a bit more than I'd thought." He holds out a hand to Weylaughn.
Off in one of the relatively private, curtained off quarters in the dorms, a certain rider and Holder are off drinking and chatting. "Disappointed?" Weylaughn has yet to connect those dots, but he will. Eventually. The giggling is a bit infectious, with the decently-boozed Holder soon chuckling a bit himself. That chuckling builds a bit when the greenrider seems to have trouble getting up. He can't help it. Really, he can't. And by the time he does contain himself, there's that offered hand and request for help. "Ah, here. Hold for just a moment," because he needs to put the bottle down - and, no, he was not at all giving half a thought to drinking directly from it. He pushes to his feet and reaches to take L'sha's hand and offer some measure of dubious stability. For now. Faranth help the rider if he pulls too hard - or not hard enough.
L'sha lets Weylaughn pull him up off the bed, but when he stands, he's a bit too close to the holder and ends up face to face with him, still holding the man's hand. There's a look of slight surprise on his face as his dark blue eyes stare into Weylaughn's. It would be embarrassing for Wey if someone were to walk in on them now...
There is a list of things one can expect to run into in a weyr, and then there's those things that you run into but couldn't ever really expect. One of those things probably should be ''nocturnal'' visits but most riders have the sense to use their own private weyr for the purpose. Nevertheless regardless of what was going on before a very tired Edyis started making her way to her cot, what goes through her mind upon spotting the familiar rider and the wannabe lord is far from innocent. Being the wonderful generous person that she is, (and yes that might be an entirely facetious statement.) She cannot help but utter a helpful comment. "You know L'sha, it works better if you take him back to your Weyr. Less of an audience unless your into that kind of thing." Smirk, smirk, smirk, oh the glorious gossip.
The Holder tries. He does. There's a slight tightening of his hand on the greenrider's for the sake of keeping him from falling back. Weylaughn reaches with his free hand to catch L'sha by the shoulder to steady him - and he's -just- opening his mouth to utter some kind of wine-scented apology or reassurance or something when everything takes a violent left turn into awkward territory. "Wait. What?" His head snaps around to fix on Edyis and, like the perfect gentleman he is, he promptly lets go of L'sha entirely and holds his hands up, palm out, as if to placate the woman. "It wasn't- we were just talking and he- I-" Of all the terrible times for an inebriated stutter to kick in...
L'sha's face goes beet red as Edyis picks the ''worst'' possible time to make an entrance. Great, way to make it even worse, L'sha. He quickly lets go of Weylaughn's hand and sets the wineglass down somewhere. He waves cheerily to Edyis as if nothing happened. "Oh, hi, sweetie! Weylaughn was jus helpin me up. Bit too much wine." Yeah, right, like she'll believe that. "'Smy Turnday today, y'know. 'M nineteen." He walks over to the scribe and holds his arms out for a hug.
"There is no shame in going native Wey, really L'sha's a total sweetheart." She grins, accepting the hug from the drunken greenrider. "I think you forget L'sha, I've known you since candidacy, but happy turnday. Nice pick by the way, he's got the whole broodingly handsome and good taste in wine going for him." Righting the rider on his feet grinning. "Now off you two go before you make a scene, and enjoy the birthday festivities in your weyr."
"Exactly like that," Weylaughn agrees with L'sha, while he fusses at straightening his clothes up unnecessarily. The preening ends with a passing of palms over his head and a brief lacing of fingers behind his neck. "I'm sure he'll be better served in... ah. In your care, of course." Not in his. Oh no. And with that threat - as he perceives it, anyway - being levied? He takes a stumbling step back, wide-eyed. "I haven't- no. No, no no no. I mean, I have all of that, but- I-" Quickly! Think quickly! "I am getting more wine," he declares a bit too loudly. And, though he marches stiffly off and with a bit of unsteadiness to his stride, he is not at all getting more wine. Or, if he does, he doesn't bring it back, because the Holder is going AWOL.
L'sha also shakes his head at Edyis, "No, no, 'snot like that. It was innocent, rilly--" As that word is uttered, the faint shriek of a green dragon is heard. The rider winces in pain and grabs his head. Must've been much louder in his head. "Ow, shardit, Rillaeth!" Nothing like a dragon screaming in your head to sober you up. "She though I was calling her a nickname, she really hates that." He shakes his head again, this time more vigorously, to clear it. "Ow. Uh, bye, Wey--" And he's gone. He turns back to Edyis. "Listen, it really was innocent, he was just helping me up. We were just talking, I swear! Don't spread this around, would you? It might put him in a bad spot."
There is a distinct narrowing of her eyes as she watches the holder depart, shaking her head with a sigh. "He's going to put himself into a bad spot L'sha, and it's what he deserves for leading you on like that." The scribe notes with a frown after he's left. "Sorry If I ah- ruined your turnday. I promise drinks?" She offers in a gesture of peace.