Log: A Few Words With the Weyrleader
Who: An'dren, P'draig
When: Day 26, month 13, turn 21 of the 10th interval
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy's giving cooking at the 'Bar at last hurrah, An'dren has some things to talk about.
The Sandbar, Ista Weyr(#447RJ)
The Sandbar is bathed in the pink and orange light of the setting sun. Standing on stilts over the water's edge with a broad ramp leading up from the beach, the thatch-roofed building sits well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar and it's smooth surface is etched with decorative carvings of shipfish and flowers and other emblems of the tropical location. Shelves behind the bar are lined with bottles and glasses of various shapes and sizes and hanging in prominent view are slates listing the menu, beverages both alcoholic and not as well as a handful of greasy appetizers provided by the kitchen to the rear of the bar.
The dry winter season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. At the height of mid-day, clouds interrupt the sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.
These days it's rare to find P'draig behind the stove here at the Sandbar, but tonight he's been cooking for Kip instead of preparing things over at the Beach House. Laughter breaks out behind the bar as he tosses an apron at his replacement and catches up a bottle of beer. "Hey, you know, it's fun to cook down here," he says with a wink to the cook as they trade places and he gives a little salute, gives his shirt a little flap against accumulated sweat and pulls up a stool to the bar, elbows settled comfortably as he starts in on his beer.
An'dren's been sitting at a table with two other riders, talking business over dinner and some drinks. Now he's by himself, dinner having long since been cleared away and the riders called off to other duties, and he lounges in his chair, nursing half a bottle of beer as he watches the men at work behind the bar. He wasn't waiting for anyone, exactly, but when P'draig tosses his apron to someone else and takes a seat at the counter, Andy rises and pads over to him, smiling politely down at the brownrider. "Evening," he says. "Mind if I join you? Gets a bit lonely when you're by yourself on such a nice night." He considers this, then amends, "I do, anyways."
Up come gray-blue eyes curiously and once P'draig sees who's come over, he has a welcoming smile for the Weyrleader. "Welcome to," he says easygoing. "Though chances on lonely for me are pretty slim," he jokes and tilts his head off in the direction where T'mic is currently entertaining some friends. "He'd be by in a bit most likely, but he's pretty into his conversation." Beer bottle lifted and swigged from.
An'dren follows that tilt of the head over to T'mic. "Well, I won't fight him for you once he's come over," he says with a grin. "Are Aath and Jekzith down here, too?" He doesn't pull up a stool, instead settling with his arm propped against the bar, posture relaxed despite his still standing. "I was surprised to see you back there," he adds with a tilt of his own head towards the other cook, who's taking over where P'draig had left off. "I thought you'd be at the Beach House."
P'draig chuckles, bobs his head once. "He's more likely to ask you if you want to come over and bring the beers or other drinks with you," the brownrider notes with comic fondness for his weyrmate, then shakes his head. "Jekzith's flying, about a mile out," another head-tilt towards the ocean. "Not sure where Aath is, but it's likely with a coterie of blues, browns and bronzes in attendance." Another swig of beer down the hatch and Paddy laughs. "Yeah, will be soon. Not open yet. Grand night coming up though."
"He getting restless?" An'dren asks. "You've got plenty on your plate, but I can't imagine they'd occupy Jekzith much." He isn't as concerned about Aath, it seems, possibly because she's got that constant crowd of boys to keep her pleasantly distracted. He takes a sip of his beer when P'draig does and, at his comment, says, "I'm looking forward to it. Do you have a date set, or are you still settin' it all up?"
"Jekzith? Oh he just likes to fly. He doesn't really ... lie around much," P'draig explains with a grin. "Too much energy for that. He's a non-stop kind of dragon until he curls up to go to sleep." The brownrider's bottle tilts and he nods his head down the beach. "Training the cooks on the menu. Soon."
"I've noticed that," An'dren says, faintly amused. "I was afraid he'd just let all that energy build up, but it's good to hear he doesn't mind going off on his own. Though, really, now that I think about it, I suppose I shouldn't have worried." He scratches absently at the back of an ear, then perks up at the mention of a menu. "Yeah? Planning anything special for the menu?"
"Why would he?" P'draig asks, looking over at the Weyrleader curiously. "I don't know all that many dragons that are that clingy. THough Aath is actually one of them. Of course, like you were saying, most of the time she's pretty readily distracted with pretty boys." The brownrider grins widely at the question about the menu. "Yep. Got some help with the desserts actually when I did my try out for my rank. From a baker who is pretty much on the star track for pastry cooking."
An'dren drains what's left of his beer and sets it down on the bar, flicking his hand 'no thank you' when the bartender attempts to replace it with a fresh bottle. "It seems a few dragons've been feeling left out, what with their riders being drafted into other occupations and all. I don't know if it's so much clinginess as it is a desire to feel more useful." He's happy enough to move immediately from that back to the topic of the Beach House, which is a little less problematic for him, at least. "Dessert," he says, "is my favorite part. Congratulations, by the ways, on making Journeyman."
"Have they? I missed that, had my head pretty down in the restaurant planning," P'draig notes semi-apologetically. "There's plenty of things dragons can do though," he points out. "And at least, they don't h ave very long memories." A bob or two of his head: "Thanks. It ... was really satisfying to finally get that achievement. Even if it's just honorary."
An'dren waves P'draig's semi-apology away. "As you should," he says. "You've had a lot to do for the Beach House. It's coming along well, now, from what I hear." It's part statement, part question -- /is/ it coming along well? -- and then he's tilting his head slightly. "Are there? There's not many of 'em, but still, there are a few dragons who feel like they need to be contributing actively to the Weyr. Riuth's one, but it's easier for him, I think. Considering." Andy grins after a thoughtful pause. "Honorary or not, it's still a major achievement."
"LIke I said, opening soon," P'draig says with a somewhat enigmatic grin. "Sure, Riuth's in charge, kind of a big job," the brownrider notes and tips up his beer bottle again, brings it to nearly empty. "It was my big goal before I impressed ... it feels like ... getting back around to something, a loose thread you know, and tying it up the way it was supposed to be."
The enigmatic grin gets a slight raise of eyebrows in return, though An'dren doesn't ask.
Instead, he nods and says, "I've an idea, yeah. I'm glad our riders are getting to pursue their old crafts again," although some of them might not want to, which he certainly won't say aloud. "It gives 'em some diversity, yeah? And I think more than a couple of them see it the way you do, tying up a loose end."
More beer! Beer good. "For the ones who want to get back to it, sure," the brownrider agrees. "For me ... I never really stopped. Cooking has always been a part of who I am since I decided to pursue it seriously. I can't imagine /not/ doing it, you know? Just like I can't imagine not having Jekzith in my head," Paddy explains.
"I never really got involved with any crafts," An'dren admits. "I hadn't been back at Ista for long before I Impressed, and I'd barely settled in to my job. Anyways, I was a hunter, and Riuth does a fair share of that for me every few days." He slants a look out to the moonlit beach. "I can't imagine not having Riuth, though, so if it's anything like that, then yeah, I can understand."
"Mm. Sounds like something you could pair up with on though. Depending on the prey," P'draig suggests. "In the blood," he murmurs about his own craft, finishes off his beer and sets the bottle down. "I'll be sending around invites for the opening."
"Oh, certainly," An'dren agrees with a nod. "We've done it a few times, gone hunting together outside the Weyr. It's been awhile, though." Then P'draig's setting his empty bottle down, and Andy pushes off from the bar and straightens out of his lean, evidently taking it as a sign that the brownrider's about to take his leave. "I'll be sure to stop by," he says, nevermind that P'draig never said he'll be sending Andy an invite. It was implied, wasn't it?
"Worth making the time for if you can," P'draig says with a smile, understanding maybe about dragon-rider time. "Sure, if you want a preview, swing by. Everything is working and it's looking nice," the brownrider claims as he slides off his stool. "Have a good night, sir." And Paddy heads over to where Mic is holding court to slide an arm around his weyrmate and draw him away for home.
"I'll do that. Good night," An'dren says, and there's a wave for T'mic, too, should the greenrider happen to look his way. Then he's heading out onto the beach himself, where a dragon-shaped shadow is breaking away from the darker night to meet him.
When: Day 26, month 13, turn 21 of the 10th interval
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy's giving cooking at the 'Bar at last hurrah, An'dren has some things to talk about.
The Sandbar, Ista Weyr(#447RJ)
The Sandbar is bathed in the pink and orange light of the setting sun. Standing on stilts over the water's edge with a broad ramp leading up from the beach, the thatch-roofed building sits well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar and it's smooth surface is etched with decorative carvings of shipfish and flowers and other emblems of the tropical location. Shelves behind the bar are lined with bottles and glasses of various shapes and sizes and hanging in prominent view are slates listing the menu, beverages both alcoholic and not as well as a handful of greasy appetizers provided by the kitchen to the rear of the bar.
The dry winter season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. At the height of mid-day, clouds interrupt the sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.
These days it's rare to find P'draig behind the stove here at the Sandbar, but tonight he's been cooking for Kip instead of preparing things over at the Beach House. Laughter breaks out behind the bar as he tosses an apron at his replacement and catches up a bottle of beer. "Hey, you know, it's fun to cook down here," he says with a wink to the cook as they trade places and he gives a little salute, gives his shirt a little flap against accumulated sweat and pulls up a stool to the bar, elbows settled comfortably as he starts in on his beer.
An'dren's been sitting at a table with two other riders, talking business over dinner and some drinks. Now he's by himself, dinner having long since been cleared away and the riders called off to other duties, and he lounges in his chair, nursing half a bottle of beer as he watches the men at work behind the bar. He wasn't waiting for anyone, exactly, but when P'draig tosses his apron to someone else and takes a seat at the counter, Andy rises and pads over to him, smiling politely down at the brownrider. "Evening," he says. "Mind if I join you? Gets a bit lonely when you're by yourself on such a nice night." He considers this, then amends, "I do, anyways."
Up come gray-blue eyes curiously and once P'draig sees who's come over, he has a welcoming smile for the Weyrleader. "Welcome to," he says easygoing. "Though chances on lonely for me are pretty slim," he jokes and tilts his head off in the direction where T'mic is currently entertaining some friends. "He'd be by in a bit most likely, but he's pretty into his conversation." Beer bottle lifted and swigged from.
An'dren follows that tilt of the head over to T'mic. "Well, I won't fight him for you once he's come over," he says with a grin. "Are Aath and Jekzith down here, too?" He doesn't pull up a stool, instead settling with his arm propped against the bar, posture relaxed despite his still standing. "I was surprised to see you back there," he adds with a tilt of his own head towards the other cook, who's taking over where P'draig had left off. "I thought you'd be at the Beach House."
P'draig chuckles, bobs his head once. "He's more likely to ask you if you want to come over and bring the beers or other drinks with you," the brownrider notes with comic fondness for his weyrmate, then shakes his head. "Jekzith's flying, about a mile out," another head-tilt towards the ocean. "Not sure where Aath is, but it's likely with a coterie of blues, browns and bronzes in attendance." Another swig of beer down the hatch and Paddy laughs. "Yeah, will be soon. Not open yet. Grand night coming up though."
"He getting restless?" An'dren asks. "You've got plenty on your plate, but I can't imagine they'd occupy Jekzith much." He isn't as concerned about Aath, it seems, possibly because she's got that constant crowd of boys to keep her pleasantly distracted. He takes a sip of his beer when P'draig does and, at his comment, says, "I'm looking forward to it. Do you have a date set, or are you still settin' it all up?"
"Jekzith? Oh he just likes to fly. He doesn't really ... lie around much," P'draig explains with a grin. "Too much energy for that. He's a non-stop kind of dragon until he curls up to go to sleep." The brownrider's bottle tilts and he nods his head down the beach. "Training the cooks on the menu. Soon."
"I've noticed that," An'dren says, faintly amused. "I was afraid he'd just let all that energy build up, but it's good to hear he doesn't mind going off on his own. Though, really, now that I think about it, I suppose I shouldn't have worried." He scratches absently at the back of an ear, then perks up at the mention of a menu. "Yeah? Planning anything special for the menu?"
"Why would he?" P'draig asks, looking over at the Weyrleader curiously. "I don't know all that many dragons that are that clingy. THough Aath is actually one of them. Of course, like you were saying, most of the time she's pretty readily distracted with pretty boys." The brownrider grins widely at the question about the menu. "Yep. Got some help with the desserts actually when I did my try out for my rank. From a baker who is pretty much on the star track for pastry cooking."
An'dren drains what's left of his beer and sets it down on the bar, flicking his hand 'no thank you' when the bartender attempts to replace it with a fresh bottle. "It seems a few dragons've been feeling left out, what with their riders being drafted into other occupations and all. I don't know if it's so much clinginess as it is a desire to feel more useful." He's happy enough to move immediately from that back to the topic of the Beach House, which is a little less problematic for him, at least. "Dessert," he says, "is my favorite part. Congratulations, by the ways, on making Journeyman."
"Have they? I missed that, had my head pretty down in the restaurant planning," P'draig notes semi-apologetically. "There's plenty of things dragons can do though," he points out. "And at least, they don't h ave very long memories." A bob or two of his head: "Thanks. It ... was really satisfying to finally get that achievement. Even if it's just honorary."
An'dren waves P'draig's semi-apology away. "As you should," he says. "You've had a lot to do for the Beach House. It's coming along well, now, from what I hear." It's part statement, part question -- /is/ it coming along well? -- and then he's tilting his head slightly. "Are there? There's not many of 'em, but still, there are a few dragons who feel like they need to be contributing actively to the Weyr. Riuth's one, but it's easier for him, I think. Considering." Andy grins after a thoughtful pause. "Honorary or not, it's still a major achievement."
"LIke I said, opening soon," P'draig says with a somewhat enigmatic grin. "Sure, Riuth's in charge, kind of a big job," the brownrider notes and tips up his beer bottle again, brings it to nearly empty. "It was my big goal before I impressed ... it feels like ... getting back around to something, a loose thread you know, and tying it up the way it was supposed to be."
The enigmatic grin gets a slight raise of eyebrows in return, though An'dren doesn't ask.
Instead, he nods and says, "I've an idea, yeah. I'm glad our riders are getting to pursue their old crafts again," although some of them might not want to, which he certainly won't say aloud. "It gives 'em some diversity, yeah? And I think more than a couple of them see it the way you do, tying up a loose end."
More beer! Beer good. "For the ones who want to get back to it, sure," the brownrider agrees. "For me ... I never really stopped. Cooking has always been a part of who I am since I decided to pursue it seriously. I can't imagine /not/ doing it, you know? Just like I can't imagine not having Jekzith in my head," Paddy explains.
"I never really got involved with any crafts," An'dren admits. "I hadn't been back at Ista for long before I Impressed, and I'd barely settled in to my job. Anyways, I was a hunter, and Riuth does a fair share of that for me every few days." He slants a look out to the moonlit beach. "I can't imagine not having Riuth, though, so if it's anything like that, then yeah, I can understand."
"Mm. Sounds like something you could pair up with on though. Depending on the prey," P'draig suggests. "In the blood," he murmurs about his own craft, finishes off his beer and sets the bottle down. "I'll be sending around invites for the opening."
"Oh, certainly," An'dren agrees with a nod. "We've done it a few times, gone hunting together outside the Weyr. It's been awhile, though." Then P'draig's setting his empty bottle down, and Andy pushes off from the bar and straightens out of his lean, evidently taking it as a sign that the brownrider's about to take his leave. "I'll be sure to stop by," he says, nevermind that P'draig never said he'll be sending Andy an invite. It was implied, wasn't it?
"Worth making the time for if you can," P'draig says with a smile, understanding maybe about dragon-rider time. "Sure, if you want a preview, swing by. Everything is working and it's looking nice," the brownrider claims as he slides off his stool. "Have a good night, sir." And Paddy heads over to where Mic is holding court to slide an arm around his weyrmate and draw him away for home.
"I'll do that. Good night," An'dren says, and there's a wave for T'mic, too, should the greenrider happen to look his way. Then he's heading out onto the beach himself, where a dragon-shaped shadow is breaking away from the darker night to meet him.