Log: Sandbar Chat
Who: Caitlyn, Danielle, Fayre, P'draig, Seliene, Zahava
When: 17:50 on day 11, month 3, Turn 13, of the 10th Interval
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy drowns his sorrows a little at the Sandbar and gets a visit from Fort, Danielle brings him liquor to see him through the rest of his time at Ista. Seliene, Caitlyn and Fayre come by and more chatter ensues. Sel brings a gift of socks. Zahava drops in as well.
Ista Weyr -- The Sandbar(#4182RJ)
This dockside tavern stretches over the water, accessible from beach, docks or harbour itself. The light sound of slapping waves can be heard beneath the floorboards, and there are no walls, allowing tropical breezes to waft through and indulging patrons in panoramic ocean views. The carved wooden bar takes up the north end of the room, covered with a wood and reed roof that protects it from impromptu showers. The rest of the booths rest along the outside of the floor, all situated to be oceanside and set with brightly coloured cushions. The thatched wood roof continues along those booths leaving the center of the area open-air, though a metal canopy rests along the outside of one wall, ready to be drawn atop for rain or Threadfall. Further to the north and south the beach continues on for kilometers, black sand sparkling in the bright afternoon sun. Waves wash upon the beach with a steady roar, sending spray flying into the air at the furthest end of the beach to the south where a collection of rocks litter the shoreline.
Danielle comes trotting in with a skin of something slung over one shoulder and obviously scanning the mingled crowd for someone. Spotting a familiar head of hair she begins weaving her way towards it, "Paddy!" She calls over the mild hub-ub.
It's just past the dinner hour and P'draig has slipped away from the bustle of the Weyr's living caverns to have a quieter meal and a drink down at the bar. There's a bowl of chowder on the counter in front of him and a mug of ale ready at hand to the brownrider, seated on one of the stools at the bar proper. Due to the hour, the bar's pretty quiet.
A familiar voice turns P'draig's head from his food, the rest of him swiveling around on the stool and a smile hitches up the corners of his mouth. "Danie! What're you doing down this way?"
"Come to see you, why else would I come to someplace that the very air sweats?" Danielle replies as she comes up to the counter, setting the skin on top and sliding onto the stool next to him. "And to offer my congratulations and condolences. That's quite a clutch on the sands."
The clutchsire's rider looks a little tired and down at hells actually, but his smile widens with good humor at his friend's remark. "It's not /quite/ so sweaty now," he says with good humor. "And thank you. Jekzith's ... well he's very proud," adds Paddy with a laugh, then leans over to offer Danie a hug.
Danielle leans in and returns the hug, "I bet. What brown wouldn't be, especially yours? And here, to cool you off when it gets -too- hot," She says, holding up the skin as they part again. "Something special for special occassions. It's a liquor come from Nabol actually. Made from tartfruit and boy is it a refreshing zing," She says, looking quite pleased with her find.
"Eh y'know, yeah Jekzith. Into everything." P'draig grins over at Danie. "Oh? Huh. Interesting. /Tart/fruit?" He takes the skin and gives it a shake, opens it up and has a sniff. "Whoa ... bet I can figure out some yummy things to do with that in the kitchen too."
[More casual chat likely ensured - Danie had to disconnect suddenly.]
An empty bowl of soup sits in front of P'draig along with a half-empty mug of ale. He's chatting with another rider wearing a Fort knot, this threaded with green. However after a moment, his conversation companion rises and departs with a wave, leaving what looks like a wineskin behind with Paddy. The brownrider looks down into his mug and drains it then summons the barkeep for another.
Seliene pads up the dock and into the bar, her sandals slapping softly on the wooden floor as the ocean murmurs beneath. She has the ruddy cheeks and sweat-damp hair of one who has recently finished a stint in the kitchens, though it looks as though she took the time to comb her hair and wash her face before emerging from the weyr proper. "Ah..." she murmurs, her eyes adjusting to the light. "There you are."
P'draig has just ordered that refill when he hears a quiet voice nearby and he turns about on his stool for the second time that evening to spy out Seliene approaching. "Heya Sel." Though mostly his usual self, there's a certain something about Paddy that speaks of fatigue or a troubled mind.
Seliene smiles, one hand casually tucked behind her as she approaches. "Receiving visitors from Fort?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder at the departing back of the Fortian.
"Yep. Danielle brought me some sort of crazy Nabolese liquor." P'draig hefts up the skin off the bar and shows to Seliene. "Hard day's work?" he inquires of the Candidate taking in her appearance.
Seliene shrugs, slipping into a chair across from the brownrider. "More of the same," she replies. "The calm before the storm, as they say. Everyone is getting edgy; they can sense that the hatching is drawing nearer."
P'draig spins back around to face the bar as his ale arrives and he slides a small mark piece across the countertop. "Yeah that. Calm before the storm. And then everything changes or goes back to ... something. Not quite the same." The rider seems a little morose.
Seliene folds her hands into her lap under the table. "Now, here I'd thought you'd be excited about returning home. I get the impression you're a bit pensive about that, though. Why?"
"No, I'll be glad to go back home," says Paddy quietly and tips up his mug of ale. "I've made some good friends here, but it'll be good to be back at Fort."
Seliene says "But you're worried about what you're going to find there when you do get back?"
P'draig shakes his head. "No, not really," he quirks a look over at the Candidate. "Frankly, I'm getting restless for those eggs to hatch for reasons of my own. I need to get home. Need to get things back on track."
Seliene ahs, looking down at her hands for a moment. "Well, I won't intrude." She shifts her position and lifts her hands from her lap. In her right hand is a small bundle of something wool-looking and brown. "Here. I made these for you. I know how cold it can get at Fort sometimes."
"It just seems to be the way of things with me right now. There's always complications." There's dry wryness in P'draig's tone and then his brows hike up in surprise. "Er, you made me something? Sel ... that's really sweet." He reaches out for the bundle of woolly stuff. "Hey Fort's not even that bad, try the Reaches sometime."
Seliene grins a bit. "I'm from Benden," she reminds the brownrider. "I came here to get away from the winter. Socks are useful if you're a rider around here, but not for anyone else. I think I'm going to have to start shipping pairs off to my siblings."
Fayre wanders in from the beach.
Shaking out the socks and holding them up, P'draig grins. "Mm, well they'll be useful all winter up Fort way," says the brownrider with a broad smile. "And you can send me more anytime if you've got the time. I've got big feet and I go through socks really quickly."
Seliene says "Yeah, well...they should fit. I've gotten pretty good at gauging sizes by looking at people's feet. I'll be happy to send more up your way, when you go back."
P'draig folds the socks back up and sticks them in his pocket for safe-keeping. "Guess that is one thing I'll miss about Ista. Going around barefoot all the time," he says with a bit of a laugh.
Seliene shares the laugh, nodding. "Its the one thing I truly love about this place," she agrees. "Though, sometimes, I miss a good snowball fight."
Fayre meanders in from the beach, pausing for a moment to stomp here sandal-clad feet on the floor boards, (mostly) ridding them of Ista's traditional black sand. As she gets herself settled into the bar, she overhears a few snippets of conversation, including that of Seliene and P'draig. "What? Snow? Hope I never run into the stuff. Chapped skin and a case of the chills doesn't work for me."
"Missed most of the snow this season. We're heading into spring now. Guess that wound up being pretty decent planning on my part," he jokes with a wink for Seliene then draws his ale mug nearer. P'draig's sitting at the bar on one of the stools, Seliene's in the next seat over.
Seliene chuckles. "Too bad you can't spend all your winters in the south, eh? Have a nice little summer weyr here on the island, then return with the vtols to Fort in the spring?"
"Thread doesn't wait for you to get back from vacation," says P'draig far less jauntily. "Even in winter it falls over Boll." He's quiet a m oment. "Still, I'm sure I'll come visit." He turns alightly as Fayre approaches, though he doesn't spin his stool around this time. "Hey there," he greets.
Fayre collects a few empty mugs from nearby, long-abandoned tables. Carefully craddling them in her arms, she ducks behind the bar and stashes them with the other dirty glasses. She pops back up a few seconds later, offering a smile to Seliene and P'draig. "Howdy there. I can't make Thread go away, but I can serve you a drink if you'd like it?" She tips her head in the direction of Seliene's candidate knot, "And I can get one for you, too, but nothing with a kick, of course."
Seliene's lips twitch in a semblance of a polite smile. "I'm fine, thanks," she states. She turns back to P'draig. "Are you feeling guilty because you haven't been able to help your friends with all these erratic Falls?" she asks him.
P'draig taps his mug. "Just got this refilled, thanks. But if I come up empty, top it up?" suggests the brownrider to Fayre with a grin. Seliene's question makes him roll his shoulders, then he does. "A little."
Fayre flicks a finger off her forehead, her version of salute. "Will do, 'rider." She grabs one of the many stashed-away dirty mugs and begins to stubbornly scrub it with a clean, white cloth. Though she doesn't watch her hands, she deftly twirls the glass around, making progress against the stains that rim its innards. Turning her attention back to Seliene, she continues, "Well, if you change your mind miss, we've got plenty of options for candidate and weyrling-types." Her expression darkens at the continued mention of thread, "We get a lot of distraught riders lookin' for a way to forget after a 'fall."
Seliene taps a finger on the tabletop. "That's not your fault," she points out to the brownrider. I'm sure none of them blame you or resent the fact that you're here and not there with them right now. True, I know that doesn't make you feel any better about it but...what would say if it were one of your friends in your place, instead of you?"
"I'm sure they don't," agrees P'draig. "It's just frustrating being ground-bound so long, only able to fly drills." He chuckles softly and shrugs. "Buy 'em a drink," is his easy answer and he tips up his mug of ale. "Cheers," he says before he drinks.
Seliene frowns but doesn't say anything for a moment. "What're you going to do when you get back to Fort?" she asks him suddenly.
Fayre raises the now-clean mug in her hand in response to P'draig before placing it to the side and starting the process all over again with another stain-riddled glass. She looks expectently at P'draig, clearly curious about what his answer will be. She pipes up, "Will it be strange now that you've been her for ages?" but stays quiet beyond that.
"Rejoin the wings, hopefully learn those new formations your brother was working up. Spend time with friends I haven't been able to see since Jekzith got stuck to the Sands. Travel around a little when I'm not on duty, go see my family." Paddy's got a list a mile long of things to do it seems. "Maybe. Maybe not," he nods Fayre's way.
Seliene raises an eyebrow. "That's quite a list," she murmurs. "You won't be bored, that's for sure." She tilts her head slightly. "Which wing do you fly in, when there are no weyrlings underfoot?"
Fayre whistles softly under her breath. "Quite a lot for you to do. 'course, that makes sense; you dragon rider folk certainly have a lot of duties. Plenty for you to catch up on, I assume." She sets down the latest mug with a soft 'clink' and speedily moves onto the next. The bartender chews on her lower lip, thinking a moment before asking in a dark, low voice, "It must be hard. Flying with weyrlings most of the time, I mean. Most inexperienced, most likely to suffer casualities. I hope you don't blame yourself."
"Mm. It's been kind of a quiet time while I've been here. Mostly spending my time cooking and tending to Jekzith," notes P'draig with a slight grin. "I float, pinch in wherever an able-bodied rider's needed when there's no Weyrlings." He shoots Fayre a long look. "Sometimes," he finally says simply and knocks back some more ale. "Refill?" he wheedles about the mostly empty glass.
Seliene says "Being Weyrlingmaster is probably the hardest job in the weyr. Hopefully, you'll have a bit of time to relax before you're called to duty again. Maybe I'll be able to swing a ride over to Fort and pay a visit."
Fayre nods slowly, her eyes downcast and her expression sad; an emotion not usually displayed on the young bartender's face. "Of course." She says quietly, placing her third clean mug with the other two. She ducks below the bar and emerges with a bottle of ale in her hands. After carefully popping off the cap, she expertly pours the drink and stops before there's any risk of overflow. Okay, she might have spilt a drop or two, but they're quickly mopped up with her rag. "It really isn't your fault. I'm sure you do the best job you can training the young'uns." She notes, screwing the bottlecap back on.
Caitlyn wanders in from the beach.
"All Weyrlingmasters do. I think the guilt and the questioning are just part of the job. Especially with Thread the way it is," says P'draig evenly enough, waiting for his mug to get filled back up again and then he lifts it once more for a mere sip. "And maybe you'll be riding over yourself Sel. Time'll tell won't it?"
Seliene rolls her eyes a bit. "I won't hold my breath," she mutters. "I'll just be happy when all this is over." Turning toward Fayre, she tilts her head slightly. "Okay, you've got another customer. What were those candidate-approved drinks you mentioned?'
Caitlyn ambles in, the woman's hair still damp after a likely bath - her fingers moving through the wavy mass to fluff it out, try and dry it faster. Moving over to the bar, the bluerider scans for signs of the owner, Kip.
Fayre blushes slightly and scratches her head like a child caught stealing a bubbly pie. "Well, er, they're not exactly my speciality, but let's see what we've got down here." She disappears once more, stowing away the ale bottle and reappearing with a few containers with a variety of liquids. "Well, we've got some redfruit juice, this tasty fruit stuff that's a mix of a bunch of things, and some people like this red one. It's sweet at first, but has a bit of a bitter bite at the end. I'm not a fan, but to each their own." She glances around, noticing Caitlyn's expression. "Can I help you, miss? Looking for something in particular?"
Seliene grimaces at the selection, eyes drifting toward P'draig's ale mug with a tad bit of longing. "Uh...redfruit juice, I guess."
"Is it /no/ drinking, or just no getting soused, Sel?" asks Paddy, brow furrowing trying to sort out the differences between Weyrs. "Anyway. We'll see come Hatching day. Want to put a wager on it?" he asks Seliene teasingly.
Caitlyn looks over at Fayre, smiling quietly to the other woman and nodding. "I take it Kip's not on today. I'd like a... Oh shards..." the short woman suddenly murmurs, a little consternated. "It's a drink Kip made up for me special, not on his usual list." Cait doesn't appear happy to have to explain, but tries anyway. "Uhm...it's made from whatever berries are around, and chunks of ice, and light rum...and a little thick berry syrup - all blended and finely crushed together into a frosty slurry."
Seliene shrugs. "I can't keep track. I've just avoiding it, since some folks seem to get...alarmed...at my drinking capabilities." She coughs a bit. "A wager? You think I'm gonna want to bet against myself?"
"One mug won't get you drunk," notes P'draig with a shrug and then he eyes Seliene more closely. "You have a really high tolerance or something?" Then he grins at her again. "Sure, why not. It's better than all the craziness that gets tossed around in the galleries." He looks over from his seat right up at the bar on a stool as Caitlyn approaches. "Good evening Caitlyn."
Fayre twitches her fingers eagerly. "Wagering, you say?" Her chestnut eyes immediately light up and she raises a curious eyebrow at P'draig before grinning at Seliene. "And there you go, miss. Either you'll walk away from the hatching with a dragon or you'll get to go and party to your heart's content afterward. Win win, eh?" She nods once at Caitlyn, "Yeah, not his shift tonight, but I can try to help you out. Can't guarantee I'll be as good as 'im." The bartender sets out to find the requested ingredients, starting with one of the clean mugs at her side.
Seliene raises her mug to Fayre. "This is true," she agrees. She smiles a bit at P'draig as she looks over glass at him. "Guess you won't be able to find out this time, eh? If I Impress, its fruit juice and water for two Turns. If not, I'll be bending my elbow all night at the after-party, toasting you on your way home."
Zahava wanders in from the beach.
"Yep, there you go, so it's more wagering on one win or another," says P'draig with a soft chuckle. "So d'you want to wager on impression or having one heck of an after-party?" he asks teasingly. He lifts his mug towards Seliene. "Here we can always toast to whatever good fortune falls right now."
Seliene grins. "I'll wager you a pair of new socks that we'll both be happy, no matter what the outcome of that hatching. I'll either be in the barracks with my new lifemate, or in here, trying to finish off a bottle of whatever spirits you can get your hands on."
Zahava steps into the bar, lifting a hand to push her hair out of her face, a smile on her lips that does much to lift the tiredness that lingers around her eyes. Her eyes go to the bar, and the smile falters when she sees an unfamiliar barkeep, and not the one she's known so long, thus, she doesn't immediately notice those of her friends who are here as well.
Fayre deftly snatches a few fresh berries from the Sandbar's plentiful supply and tosses them into the glass. Next, she shovels out a healthy portion of ice from the nearby covered bucket before adding in a light splash of rum and thick syrup. As she covers the top with her hand, she sets about shaking it up and down, throwing in a few wrist flicks for good measure, to crush the ice and mix the whole thing together. She asks of P'draig, "Dya run your weyrlings hard? I'm curious to know what this lass might be getting herself into. Though, I suppose every weyrlingmaster has their own style." She nods in the direction of the latest arrival, a pleasant, business-like smile on her face. "H'llo there, anything I can help you with?"
Caitlyn watches Fayre dubiously, attentively, as the woman assembles her drink - the bluerider obviously having a standard to set the newcomer's mixology skills by. "Well, I hope we're both happy with it..." she murmurs to the bartender, sighing softly.
P'draig pats the skin of whatever Danielle brought. "Will this do for that?" asks the brownrider with a grin and picks it up to pop the top off so the kitchen worker can get a whiff. His gaze flickers over to Fayre. "I mix it up at Fort. Ride them hard for some things, not as much for others," explains the Fortian Weyrlingmaster. "I make sure they get trained well, don't let anyone lag behind or if they do, I don't release them to get tapped. But I'm not really a big believer in lots of punishments over small things." Her greeting to Zahava turns his head and he blinks in surprise. "Za?!" he calls out to the Fortian goldrider.
Seliene leans in to sniff the skin and raises her eyebrows appreciatively. "That'll do," she quips, grinning. "Just promise me you'll bring me some in two Turns if I do manage to Impress. I'm thinking I really want to try that." She turns her head, looking over at the new arrival from Fort. "Looks like they're all turning out tonight to visit you."
Caitlyn peers at the mixing, jiggling Fayre and her hands as they create the daquari, the rider's brows drawing together some as she worries over her drink. "Gotta be nice and powdery ice," she murmurs to Fayre, "so the drink is all slushy-thick." A semi-familiar voice calls out, and Cait finds herself looking around a few other patrons to see P'draig and Seli - the bluerider then turning around to peer at... "Zah!"
Zahava's lips part as she nears the bar, preparing to offer the traditional greetings, but then she hears a part of her name spoken by a familiar voice, and she turns her head towards the sound, forgetting Fayre as she spots P'draig. Smile broading, she lifts her hand to greet him warmly. "P'draig! I wondered if I would see you here," she says, moving in his direction, only a quick flick of a glance to his companion whom she does not recognize. And then, distracted again by her name, her head turns once more, this time to Caitlyn, and she waves her fingers at her friend.
Fayre frowns under Caitlyn's dubious gaze. "Well, ma'am, we'll see how it turns out. I've never made it before, after all." She sets down the suitably-mixed drink, breathing in a whiff of fresh fruity scent. "Have at it, and tell me what you've think. Don't be afraid to say it's not quite to your liking. We just got a shipment of berries in, though, so the taste should be good, if not the texture, yeah?" Her 'brows furrow as everyone around her seems to recognize the Fortian goldrider, but a smile remains on her face.
"I solemnly swear that I will keep you a glass should things turn out that way," says P'draig with due seriousness though there's still some gaiety to his manner. Apparently, he's gotten mellow at least off of the ales he's been drinking. Zahava's approach brings him to his feet though and he offers the goldrider an exuberant hug. "Good to see you!" he exclaims delightedly. "It's been a good day for visitors. Danie was here earlier."
Seliene leans in a bit closer. She mutters to P'draig, "... that?... wearing... goldriders... but... her."
You sense Seliene leans in a bit closer. "Who is that? She's wearing a goldriders knot but I don't recognize her."
Caitlyn wiggles her own fingers back at the Fortian weyrwoman, grinning widely at Zahava - and then she's distracted by Fayre, turning back to the bartender. After eyeing her drink, Cait lifts the glass to her lips, taking a tentative sip for flavor, then more to mouth the contents for the texture. A close of eyes for a long moment, and then she nods gravely to the other woman. "The taste is *excellent*. The texture...uhm...well, needs to be finer - like snow, really. But it's not bad this way, either. You got the blend of rum to berries correct, as well as the amount of ice. Congratulations, for a first time." Her smile resurfaces as she lifts the drink to Fayre, also pushing over a coin in the process. "I'm Caitlyn, blue Kintryth's."
Zahava flicks a glance at Seliene, having caught some of her mutter, and misinterpreted it, as she returns P'draig's hug somewhat more delicately. Stepping back, she smoothes her skirt almost primly. "Danielle? Oh, good. How are you?" she asks the brownrider, tilting her head to the side.
Seliene's murmur, earns a quick glance from P'draig and then he just goes ahead and does the formal introduction thing. "Seliene's a Candidate here, Za, Seliene, this is Zahava, rider of gold Ciath at Fort Weyr." He forgot something in that introduction. Probably not deliberately. "Yep, Danie left me some good liquor to celebrate with after the Hatching," he jerks a thumb at the skin. "Me? I'm all right. Looking forward to coming home. Shells I've missed you all!"
A twinkle appears in Fayre's eyes as she chuckles, producing a rich, deep, masculine-sounding laugh. "Always pleased to hear a drink is well received. I'll try to improve the texture next time you're in when I have a shift...Caitlyn." She tacks on the rider's name once she's introduced herself. With a grin, she responds, "And I'm Fayre." She clasps the coin with a pudgy hand and tosses it into the Sandbar's till in one smooth motion, grabbing a clean towel to wipe off her hand's in the process. She looks between Seliene, Zahava, and P'draig, simply watching the three.
Seliene ohs, leaning back and smiling quite earnestly. "Weyrwoman...I'm sorry. I should have realized. I'm afraid I didn't recognize you. Well met." She extends her hand, unaware that she might have been misunderstood through her muttering earlier.
Caitlyn nods affably at Fayre, taking another draught from her daquari before replying, "Nice to meet you Fayre. You must be rather recent to your position here. Either that, or I've not been in the 'Bar enough, of late." Her own laugh is a muted thing, not the more usual Smith-like tones, and she murmurs, "Thank you," before moseying over to the little gathering a few seats down. "Well, look what the feline dragged in..." is drawled archly to Zahava, Cait's brows wiggling up and down.
"Seliene, well met," Zahava replies politely. "Fort's duties to Ista, and her queens." This last is said with a sidelong glance for P'draig, and a grin. "Are you? I was half-afraid Ista would sink into your bones and make you never want to come home... at least the winter is over." She turns then to Caitlyn again and smiles, though there's a tightness to that smile. "Sometimes it feels like that," she quips lightly, nonetheless. "And how are you doing?"
With a trace of a wistful smile on her face, Fayre lightly shakes her head. "Actually, been here at the Weyr my whole life. It's only recently I've made my way into the bartending business, though. Parents didn't want me to be in this environment a whole lot till I 'came of age', or some such nonsense. I was hidden away in the kitchens chopping tubers before this, so that'd be why you never saw me, I s'pect." Now that her hand's are clean, she begins to scrub away at the bar's surface; those things always seem to have a knack for picking up dirt and spots of spilled drinks.
"Nah," says P'draig with a grin Zahava's way as he reaches for his mug of ale and sits again, this time with his back to the bar. "Ista's fine for a short visit, very nice people, mostly lovely weather. But Fort's home." His eyes flicker between Zahava and Caitly and his brows lift just a little. He shoots a brief look Seliene's way, shrugs and then tips his mug up for another drink.
Seliene slowly withdraws her hand, her smile fading as she pulls her fingertips in for an inspection. "Hmmm..." she mutters, dusting her hands together and replacing them on her lap. She catches P'draig's look and her eyebrows rise once more, curious.
Caitlyn 'ahhs' softly at Fayre when the bartender speaks up, nodding at her as the bluerider slowly moved over towards the other group of people. "No matter, still nice to meet you," she adds with a smile back to Fayre. Once her concentration is upon Zahava, though, the Istan rider breaks into a wider smile. Cait is a noticer of facial and vocal subtleties, and so the goldrider's slightly strained smile causes her to murmur something softly near Zah's ear. Paddy and Seli get her attention when she's done, with a murmurs, "Heya, you two. What's up?"
Zahava gives Caitlyn a little shake of her head and a reassuring smile. "Do you mind if I join you?" she asks, turning back to P'draig, and including Seliene with a flick of her eyes, that lingers for a moment more until she frowns slightly. "Did you say Seliene?" she asks of the young woman, though it was P'draig who made the introduction.
Fayre squints closer at Zahava before abruptly stopping her stubborn scrubbing of the bar. "Well, I'll be. Been a while since I've seen you. Have you enjoyed your time out of the kitchens as much as I have?" She shuckle and adds, "I think you've done a lot more with your life than me, though." She shoots a grin at P'draig. "I'm glad you seem to think we're nice people; I think the weather has that effect on us. Pretty sure I'd be a grumpy little thing if I lived at High Reaches."
P'draig tilts his mug a little towards Caitlyn. "Ale and conversation," he notes with a slightly quirky smile. For Zahava there's a beaming grin and he nods to the empty stools to one side of him. "Of course, Za. Fancy a drink?" Over his shoulder he shakes his head at Fayre. "Now do I strike you as grumpy? I was born and raised in the Reaches!" He makes big eyes at the bartender, then settles back comfortably, back resting against the edge of the bar. "Oh yeah," he adds as an afterthought. "Sel's T'rien's sister," as Zahava seems to pick up on the name.
Seliene looks up, her hand straying toward her glass. She nods as she lifts it to her lips. "Well, I didn't; P'draig did. But that's my name, yes..." She glances again at P'draig, then back to the weyrwoman. "T'ri's mentioned you a few times, in his letters," she points out. "I get the impression that you're friends."
Caitlyn nods thoughtfully to Zahava, then tipping her drink to her lips again, sipping deeply. "Winter being over means it's going to get really hot and muggy here all too soon," the bluerider sighs, shaking her head. "Wouldn't mind visiting Fort then, for once, just to escape," she observes wryly to all of the little group, including Fayre. The bartender's words earn her a smirk, and a, "I think the extreme heat and humidity make for grumpy people, personally. But I'd rather that than being half-frozen to death at 'Reaches." The final is for P'draig, who gets a smirk.
Zahava nods quickly as she sits down, trying to keep up with everything. "Yes, that's right," she says to Seliene with a quick smile. "He's mentioned you often. T'rien is a good friend of mine. It's good to finally meet you," she continues before turning to Fayre. "Ah, well. Three more turns in Fort Weyr's kitchens, first, but I miss it sometimes," she says. "And do you know how to make a Fireball?" she asks.
"The cold gives you a tough skin," notes P'draig with a wink for Caitlyn, very mellow indeed now compared to earlier. The brownrider finishes off that last ale and sets the empty mug down, putting some more coin on the counter. "I think I'm done for the night," he says with a quirkly little grin. "Tir came and visited a bunch. Always good to have visitors." He hops off his stool and straightens up. "Sel, if for some reason the kitchens swallow you before the eggs Hatch: good luck. Za, I'm sure I'll see you back at Fort soon, Caitlyn, see you around. Fayre, thanks for the drinks. I'm going for a walk before bed." So saying, the brownrider steers a course outside, whistling a little tune softly.
You paged Caitlyn, Fayre, Seliene, and Zahava with 'Thanks for the RP y'all. Time to hit the hay!'.
Fayre barks a laugh, her slightly overweight body quivering jovially. "Well, no, not with those big puppy eyes you don't look very grumpy. But I think I, being born an' raised in these tropical parts, would get snarky if shoved into a frigid environment, y'know?" She traces the rim of a clean mug idly, still smirking. She looks like she's about to respond to Zahava's request, but she's distracted by the sounds of a potential brawl over in a shady corner of the bar. "If you folks will excuse me, I think those two have had enough to drink." The bartender hastily scoops up P'draig's empty mug and coin before making her way over to avert the drunken fight.
Seliene snorts good-naturedly. "Saying nothing good, I'm sure. That's what big brother's are for, right?" She sets her glass down, running a finger along the condensation. She lifts a hand and waves as P'draig departs, smiling warmly. "G'night, Paddy. I'll see you before then, I'm sure." She glances outside briefly, making a face. "I should probably think about finding my cot soon, too."
Caitlyn makes a face at P'draig's observation of the cold, muttering to him as he leaves, "Telgar's cold only made me shudder for ninteen Turns. Later Paddy." Fayre's words about a potential brawl have Cait rolling her eyes empathetically at the large woman. "Nice talking with you, Fayre." An amused look for Seliene as the others take their leave. "What's this? Am I boring everyone to death?" she smirks.
When: 17:50 on day 11, month 3, Turn 13, of the 10th Interval
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy drowns his sorrows a little at the Sandbar and gets a visit from Fort, Danielle brings him liquor to see him through the rest of his time at Ista. Seliene, Caitlyn and Fayre come by and more chatter ensues. Sel brings a gift of socks. Zahava drops in as well.
Ista Weyr -- The Sandbar(#4182RJ)
This dockside tavern stretches over the water, accessible from beach, docks or harbour itself. The light sound of slapping waves can be heard beneath the floorboards, and there are no walls, allowing tropical breezes to waft through and indulging patrons in panoramic ocean views. The carved wooden bar takes up the north end of the room, covered with a wood and reed roof that protects it from impromptu showers. The rest of the booths rest along the outside of the floor, all situated to be oceanside and set with brightly coloured cushions. The thatched wood roof continues along those booths leaving the center of the area open-air, though a metal canopy rests along the outside of one wall, ready to be drawn atop for rain or Threadfall. Further to the north and south the beach continues on for kilometers, black sand sparkling in the bright afternoon sun. Waves wash upon the beach with a steady roar, sending spray flying into the air at the furthest end of the beach to the south where a collection of rocks litter the shoreline.
Danielle comes trotting in with a skin of something slung over one shoulder and obviously scanning the mingled crowd for someone. Spotting a familiar head of hair she begins weaving her way towards it, "Paddy!" She calls over the mild hub-ub.
It's just past the dinner hour and P'draig has slipped away from the bustle of the Weyr's living caverns to have a quieter meal and a drink down at the bar. There's a bowl of chowder on the counter in front of him and a mug of ale ready at hand to the brownrider, seated on one of the stools at the bar proper. Due to the hour, the bar's pretty quiet.
A familiar voice turns P'draig's head from his food, the rest of him swiveling around on the stool and a smile hitches up the corners of his mouth. "Danie! What're you doing down this way?"
"Come to see you, why else would I come to someplace that the very air sweats?" Danielle replies as she comes up to the counter, setting the skin on top and sliding onto the stool next to him. "And to offer my congratulations and condolences. That's quite a clutch on the sands."
The clutchsire's rider looks a little tired and down at hells actually, but his smile widens with good humor at his friend's remark. "It's not /quite/ so sweaty now," he says with good humor. "And thank you. Jekzith's ... well he's very proud," adds Paddy with a laugh, then leans over to offer Danie a hug.
Danielle leans in and returns the hug, "I bet. What brown wouldn't be, especially yours? And here, to cool you off when it gets -too- hot," She says, holding up the skin as they part again. "Something special for special occassions. It's a liquor come from Nabol actually. Made from tartfruit and boy is it a refreshing zing," She says, looking quite pleased with her find.
"Eh y'know, yeah Jekzith. Into everything." P'draig grins over at Danie. "Oh? Huh. Interesting. /Tart/fruit?" He takes the skin and gives it a shake, opens it up and has a sniff. "Whoa ... bet I can figure out some yummy things to do with that in the kitchen too."
[More casual chat likely ensured - Danie had to disconnect suddenly.]
An empty bowl of soup sits in front of P'draig along with a half-empty mug of ale. He's chatting with another rider wearing a Fort knot, this threaded with green. However after a moment, his conversation companion rises and departs with a wave, leaving what looks like a wineskin behind with Paddy. The brownrider looks down into his mug and drains it then summons the barkeep for another.
Seliene pads up the dock and into the bar, her sandals slapping softly on the wooden floor as the ocean murmurs beneath. She has the ruddy cheeks and sweat-damp hair of one who has recently finished a stint in the kitchens, though it looks as though she took the time to comb her hair and wash her face before emerging from the weyr proper. "Ah..." she murmurs, her eyes adjusting to the light. "There you are."
P'draig has just ordered that refill when he hears a quiet voice nearby and he turns about on his stool for the second time that evening to spy out Seliene approaching. "Heya Sel." Though mostly his usual self, there's a certain something about Paddy that speaks of fatigue or a troubled mind.
Seliene smiles, one hand casually tucked behind her as she approaches. "Receiving visitors from Fort?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder at the departing back of the Fortian.
"Yep. Danielle brought me some sort of crazy Nabolese liquor." P'draig hefts up the skin off the bar and shows to Seliene. "Hard day's work?" he inquires of the Candidate taking in her appearance.
Seliene shrugs, slipping into a chair across from the brownrider. "More of the same," she replies. "The calm before the storm, as they say. Everyone is getting edgy; they can sense that the hatching is drawing nearer."
P'draig spins back around to face the bar as his ale arrives and he slides a small mark piece across the countertop. "Yeah that. Calm before the storm. And then everything changes or goes back to ... something. Not quite the same." The rider seems a little morose.
Seliene folds her hands into her lap under the table. "Now, here I'd thought you'd be excited about returning home. I get the impression you're a bit pensive about that, though. Why?"
"No, I'll be glad to go back home," says Paddy quietly and tips up his mug of ale. "I've made some good friends here, but it'll be good to be back at Fort."
Seliene says "But you're worried about what you're going to find there when you do get back?"
P'draig shakes his head. "No, not really," he quirks a look over at the Candidate. "Frankly, I'm getting restless for those eggs to hatch for reasons of my own. I need to get home. Need to get things back on track."
Seliene ahs, looking down at her hands for a moment. "Well, I won't intrude." She shifts her position and lifts her hands from her lap. In her right hand is a small bundle of something wool-looking and brown. "Here. I made these for you. I know how cold it can get at Fort sometimes."
"It just seems to be the way of things with me right now. There's always complications." There's dry wryness in P'draig's tone and then his brows hike up in surprise. "Er, you made me something? Sel ... that's really sweet." He reaches out for the bundle of woolly stuff. "Hey Fort's not even that bad, try the Reaches sometime."
Seliene grins a bit. "I'm from Benden," she reminds the brownrider. "I came here to get away from the winter. Socks are useful if you're a rider around here, but not for anyone else. I think I'm going to have to start shipping pairs off to my siblings."
Fayre wanders in from the beach.
Shaking out the socks and holding them up, P'draig grins. "Mm, well they'll be useful all winter up Fort way," says the brownrider with a broad smile. "And you can send me more anytime if you've got the time. I've got big feet and I go through socks really quickly."
Seliene says "Yeah, well...they should fit. I've gotten pretty good at gauging sizes by looking at people's feet. I'll be happy to send more up your way, when you go back."
P'draig folds the socks back up and sticks them in his pocket for safe-keeping. "Guess that is one thing I'll miss about Ista. Going around barefoot all the time," he says with a bit of a laugh.
Seliene shares the laugh, nodding. "Its the one thing I truly love about this place," she agrees. "Though, sometimes, I miss a good snowball fight."
Fayre meanders in from the beach, pausing for a moment to stomp here sandal-clad feet on the floor boards, (mostly) ridding them of Ista's traditional black sand. As she gets herself settled into the bar, she overhears a few snippets of conversation, including that of Seliene and P'draig. "What? Snow? Hope I never run into the stuff. Chapped skin and a case of the chills doesn't work for me."
"Missed most of the snow this season. We're heading into spring now. Guess that wound up being pretty decent planning on my part," he jokes with a wink for Seliene then draws his ale mug nearer. P'draig's sitting at the bar on one of the stools, Seliene's in the next seat over.
Seliene chuckles. "Too bad you can't spend all your winters in the south, eh? Have a nice little summer weyr here on the island, then return with the vtols to Fort in the spring?"
"Thread doesn't wait for you to get back from vacation," says P'draig far less jauntily. "Even in winter it falls over Boll." He's quiet a m oment. "Still, I'm sure I'll come visit." He turns alightly as Fayre approaches, though he doesn't spin his stool around this time. "Hey there," he greets.
Fayre collects a few empty mugs from nearby, long-abandoned tables. Carefully craddling them in her arms, she ducks behind the bar and stashes them with the other dirty glasses. She pops back up a few seconds later, offering a smile to Seliene and P'draig. "Howdy there. I can't make Thread go away, but I can serve you a drink if you'd like it?" She tips her head in the direction of Seliene's candidate knot, "And I can get one for you, too, but nothing with a kick, of course."
Seliene's lips twitch in a semblance of a polite smile. "I'm fine, thanks," she states. She turns back to P'draig. "Are you feeling guilty because you haven't been able to help your friends with all these erratic Falls?" she asks him.
P'draig taps his mug. "Just got this refilled, thanks. But if I come up empty, top it up?" suggests the brownrider to Fayre with a grin. Seliene's question makes him roll his shoulders, then he does. "A little."
Fayre flicks a finger off her forehead, her version of salute. "Will do, 'rider." She grabs one of the many stashed-away dirty mugs and begins to stubbornly scrub it with a clean, white cloth. Though she doesn't watch her hands, she deftly twirls the glass around, making progress against the stains that rim its innards. Turning her attention back to Seliene, she continues, "Well, if you change your mind miss, we've got plenty of options for candidate and weyrling-types." Her expression darkens at the continued mention of thread, "We get a lot of distraught riders lookin' for a way to forget after a 'fall."
Seliene taps a finger on the tabletop. "That's not your fault," she points out to the brownrider. I'm sure none of them blame you or resent the fact that you're here and not there with them right now. True, I know that doesn't make you feel any better about it but...what would say if it were one of your friends in your place, instead of you?"
"I'm sure they don't," agrees P'draig. "It's just frustrating being ground-bound so long, only able to fly drills." He chuckles softly and shrugs. "Buy 'em a drink," is his easy answer and he tips up his mug of ale. "Cheers," he says before he drinks.
Seliene frowns but doesn't say anything for a moment. "What're you going to do when you get back to Fort?" she asks him suddenly.
Fayre raises the now-clean mug in her hand in response to P'draig before placing it to the side and starting the process all over again with another stain-riddled glass. She looks expectently at P'draig, clearly curious about what his answer will be. She pipes up, "Will it be strange now that you've been her for ages?" but stays quiet beyond that.
"Rejoin the wings, hopefully learn those new formations your brother was working up. Spend time with friends I haven't been able to see since Jekzith got stuck to the Sands. Travel around a little when I'm not on duty, go see my family." Paddy's got a list a mile long of things to do it seems. "Maybe. Maybe not," he nods Fayre's way.
Seliene raises an eyebrow. "That's quite a list," she murmurs. "You won't be bored, that's for sure." She tilts her head slightly. "Which wing do you fly in, when there are no weyrlings underfoot?"
Fayre whistles softly under her breath. "Quite a lot for you to do. 'course, that makes sense; you dragon rider folk certainly have a lot of duties. Plenty for you to catch up on, I assume." She sets down the latest mug with a soft 'clink' and speedily moves onto the next. The bartender chews on her lower lip, thinking a moment before asking in a dark, low voice, "It must be hard. Flying with weyrlings most of the time, I mean. Most inexperienced, most likely to suffer casualities. I hope you don't blame yourself."
"Mm. It's been kind of a quiet time while I've been here. Mostly spending my time cooking and tending to Jekzith," notes P'draig with a slight grin. "I float, pinch in wherever an able-bodied rider's needed when there's no Weyrlings." He shoots Fayre a long look. "Sometimes," he finally says simply and knocks back some more ale. "Refill?" he wheedles about the mostly empty glass.
Seliene says "Being Weyrlingmaster is probably the hardest job in the weyr. Hopefully, you'll have a bit of time to relax before you're called to duty again. Maybe I'll be able to swing a ride over to Fort and pay a visit."
Fayre nods slowly, her eyes downcast and her expression sad; an emotion not usually displayed on the young bartender's face. "Of course." She says quietly, placing her third clean mug with the other two. She ducks below the bar and emerges with a bottle of ale in her hands. After carefully popping off the cap, she expertly pours the drink and stops before there's any risk of overflow. Okay, she might have spilt a drop or two, but they're quickly mopped up with her rag. "It really isn't your fault. I'm sure you do the best job you can training the young'uns." She notes, screwing the bottlecap back on.
Caitlyn wanders in from the beach.
"All Weyrlingmasters do. I think the guilt and the questioning are just part of the job. Especially with Thread the way it is," says P'draig evenly enough, waiting for his mug to get filled back up again and then he lifts it once more for a mere sip. "And maybe you'll be riding over yourself Sel. Time'll tell won't it?"
Seliene rolls her eyes a bit. "I won't hold my breath," she mutters. "I'll just be happy when all this is over." Turning toward Fayre, she tilts her head slightly. "Okay, you've got another customer. What were those candidate-approved drinks you mentioned?'
Caitlyn ambles in, the woman's hair still damp after a likely bath - her fingers moving through the wavy mass to fluff it out, try and dry it faster. Moving over to the bar, the bluerider scans for signs of the owner, Kip.
Fayre blushes slightly and scratches her head like a child caught stealing a bubbly pie. "Well, er, they're not exactly my speciality, but let's see what we've got down here." She disappears once more, stowing away the ale bottle and reappearing with a few containers with a variety of liquids. "Well, we've got some redfruit juice, this tasty fruit stuff that's a mix of a bunch of things, and some people like this red one. It's sweet at first, but has a bit of a bitter bite at the end. I'm not a fan, but to each their own." She glances around, noticing Caitlyn's expression. "Can I help you, miss? Looking for something in particular?"
Seliene grimaces at the selection, eyes drifting toward P'draig's ale mug with a tad bit of longing. "Uh...redfruit juice, I guess."
"Is it /no/ drinking, or just no getting soused, Sel?" asks Paddy, brow furrowing trying to sort out the differences between Weyrs. "Anyway. We'll see come Hatching day. Want to put a wager on it?" he asks Seliene teasingly.
Caitlyn looks over at Fayre, smiling quietly to the other woman and nodding. "I take it Kip's not on today. I'd like a... Oh shards..." the short woman suddenly murmurs, a little consternated. "It's a drink Kip made up for me special, not on his usual list." Cait doesn't appear happy to have to explain, but tries anyway. "Uhm...it's made from whatever berries are around, and chunks of ice, and light rum...and a little thick berry syrup - all blended and finely crushed together into a frosty slurry."
Seliene shrugs. "I can't keep track. I've just avoiding it, since some folks seem to get...alarmed...at my drinking capabilities." She coughs a bit. "A wager? You think I'm gonna want to bet against myself?"
"One mug won't get you drunk," notes P'draig with a shrug and then he eyes Seliene more closely. "You have a really high tolerance or something?" Then he grins at her again. "Sure, why not. It's better than all the craziness that gets tossed around in the galleries." He looks over from his seat right up at the bar on a stool as Caitlyn approaches. "Good evening Caitlyn."
Fayre twitches her fingers eagerly. "Wagering, you say?" Her chestnut eyes immediately light up and she raises a curious eyebrow at P'draig before grinning at Seliene. "And there you go, miss. Either you'll walk away from the hatching with a dragon or you'll get to go and party to your heart's content afterward. Win win, eh?" She nods once at Caitlyn, "Yeah, not his shift tonight, but I can try to help you out. Can't guarantee I'll be as good as 'im." The bartender sets out to find the requested ingredients, starting with one of the clean mugs at her side.
Seliene raises her mug to Fayre. "This is true," she agrees. She smiles a bit at P'draig as she looks over glass at him. "Guess you won't be able to find out this time, eh? If I Impress, its fruit juice and water for two Turns. If not, I'll be bending my elbow all night at the after-party, toasting you on your way home."
Zahava wanders in from the beach.
"Yep, there you go, so it's more wagering on one win or another," says P'draig with a soft chuckle. "So d'you want to wager on impression or having one heck of an after-party?" he asks teasingly. He lifts his mug towards Seliene. "Here we can always toast to whatever good fortune falls right now."
Seliene grins. "I'll wager you a pair of new socks that we'll both be happy, no matter what the outcome of that hatching. I'll either be in the barracks with my new lifemate, or in here, trying to finish off a bottle of whatever spirits you can get your hands on."
Zahava steps into the bar, lifting a hand to push her hair out of her face, a smile on her lips that does much to lift the tiredness that lingers around her eyes. Her eyes go to the bar, and the smile falters when she sees an unfamiliar barkeep, and not the one she's known so long, thus, she doesn't immediately notice those of her friends who are here as well.
Fayre deftly snatches a few fresh berries from the Sandbar's plentiful supply and tosses them into the glass. Next, she shovels out a healthy portion of ice from the nearby covered bucket before adding in a light splash of rum and thick syrup. As she covers the top with her hand, she sets about shaking it up and down, throwing in a few wrist flicks for good measure, to crush the ice and mix the whole thing together. She asks of P'draig, "Dya run your weyrlings hard? I'm curious to know what this lass might be getting herself into. Though, I suppose every weyrlingmaster has their own style." She nods in the direction of the latest arrival, a pleasant, business-like smile on her face. "H'llo there, anything I can help you with?"
Caitlyn watches Fayre dubiously, attentively, as the woman assembles her drink - the bluerider obviously having a standard to set the newcomer's mixology skills by. "Well, I hope we're both happy with it..." she murmurs to the bartender, sighing softly.
P'draig pats the skin of whatever Danielle brought. "Will this do for that?" asks the brownrider with a grin and picks it up to pop the top off so the kitchen worker can get a whiff. His gaze flickers over to Fayre. "I mix it up at Fort. Ride them hard for some things, not as much for others," explains the Fortian Weyrlingmaster. "I make sure they get trained well, don't let anyone lag behind or if they do, I don't release them to get tapped. But I'm not really a big believer in lots of punishments over small things." Her greeting to Zahava turns his head and he blinks in surprise. "Za?!" he calls out to the Fortian goldrider.
Seliene leans in to sniff the skin and raises her eyebrows appreciatively. "That'll do," she quips, grinning. "Just promise me you'll bring me some in two Turns if I do manage to Impress. I'm thinking I really want to try that." She turns her head, looking over at the new arrival from Fort. "Looks like they're all turning out tonight to visit you."
Caitlyn peers at the mixing, jiggling Fayre and her hands as they create the daquari, the rider's brows drawing together some as she worries over her drink. "Gotta be nice and powdery ice," she murmurs to Fayre, "so the drink is all slushy-thick." A semi-familiar voice calls out, and Cait finds herself looking around a few other patrons to see P'draig and Seli - the bluerider then turning around to peer at... "Zah!"
Zahava's lips part as she nears the bar, preparing to offer the traditional greetings, but then she hears a part of her name spoken by a familiar voice, and she turns her head towards the sound, forgetting Fayre as she spots P'draig. Smile broading, she lifts her hand to greet him warmly. "P'draig! I wondered if I would see you here," she says, moving in his direction, only a quick flick of a glance to his companion whom she does not recognize. And then, distracted again by her name, her head turns once more, this time to Caitlyn, and she waves her fingers at her friend.
Fayre frowns under Caitlyn's dubious gaze. "Well, ma'am, we'll see how it turns out. I've never made it before, after all." She sets down the suitably-mixed drink, breathing in a whiff of fresh fruity scent. "Have at it, and tell me what you've think. Don't be afraid to say it's not quite to your liking. We just got a shipment of berries in, though, so the taste should be good, if not the texture, yeah?" Her 'brows furrow as everyone around her seems to recognize the Fortian goldrider, but a smile remains on her face.
"I solemnly swear that I will keep you a glass should things turn out that way," says P'draig with due seriousness though there's still some gaiety to his manner. Apparently, he's gotten mellow at least off of the ales he's been drinking. Zahava's approach brings him to his feet though and he offers the goldrider an exuberant hug. "Good to see you!" he exclaims delightedly. "It's been a good day for visitors. Danie was here earlier."
Seliene leans in a bit closer. She mutters to P'draig, "... that?... wearing... goldriders... but... her."
You sense Seliene leans in a bit closer. "Who is that? She's wearing a goldriders knot but I don't recognize her."
Caitlyn wiggles her own fingers back at the Fortian weyrwoman, grinning widely at Zahava - and then she's distracted by Fayre, turning back to the bartender. After eyeing her drink, Cait lifts the glass to her lips, taking a tentative sip for flavor, then more to mouth the contents for the texture. A close of eyes for a long moment, and then she nods gravely to the other woman. "The taste is *excellent*. The texture...uhm...well, needs to be finer - like snow, really. But it's not bad this way, either. You got the blend of rum to berries correct, as well as the amount of ice. Congratulations, for a first time." Her smile resurfaces as she lifts the drink to Fayre, also pushing over a coin in the process. "I'm Caitlyn, blue Kintryth's."
Zahava flicks a glance at Seliene, having caught some of her mutter, and misinterpreted it, as she returns P'draig's hug somewhat more delicately. Stepping back, she smoothes her skirt almost primly. "Danielle? Oh, good. How are you?" she asks the brownrider, tilting her head to the side.
Seliene's murmur, earns a quick glance from P'draig and then he just goes ahead and does the formal introduction thing. "Seliene's a Candidate here, Za, Seliene, this is Zahava, rider of gold Ciath at Fort Weyr." He forgot something in that introduction. Probably not deliberately. "Yep, Danie left me some good liquor to celebrate with after the Hatching," he jerks a thumb at the skin. "Me? I'm all right. Looking forward to coming home. Shells I've missed you all!"
A twinkle appears in Fayre's eyes as she chuckles, producing a rich, deep, masculine-sounding laugh. "Always pleased to hear a drink is well received. I'll try to improve the texture next time you're in when I have a shift...Caitlyn." She tacks on the rider's name once she's introduced herself. With a grin, she responds, "And I'm Fayre." She clasps the coin with a pudgy hand and tosses it into the Sandbar's till in one smooth motion, grabbing a clean towel to wipe off her hand's in the process. She looks between Seliene, Zahava, and P'draig, simply watching the three.
Seliene ohs, leaning back and smiling quite earnestly. "Weyrwoman...I'm sorry. I should have realized. I'm afraid I didn't recognize you. Well met." She extends her hand, unaware that she might have been misunderstood through her muttering earlier.
Caitlyn nods affably at Fayre, taking another draught from her daquari before replying, "Nice to meet you Fayre. You must be rather recent to your position here. Either that, or I've not been in the 'Bar enough, of late." Her own laugh is a muted thing, not the more usual Smith-like tones, and she murmurs, "Thank you," before moseying over to the little gathering a few seats down. "Well, look what the feline dragged in..." is drawled archly to Zahava, Cait's brows wiggling up and down.
"Seliene, well met," Zahava replies politely. "Fort's duties to Ista, and her queens." This last is said with a sidelong glance for P'draig, and a grin. "Are you? I was half-afraid Ista would sink into your bones and make you never want to come home... at least the winter is over." She turns then to Caitlyn again and smiles, though there's a tightness to that smile. "Sometimes it feels like that," she quips lightly, nonetheless. "And how are you doing?"
With a trace of a wistful smile on her face, Fayre lightly shakes her head. "Actually, been here at the Weyr my whole life. It's only recently I've made my way into the bartending business, though. Parents didn't want me to be in this environment a whole lot till I 'came of age', or some such nonsense. I was hidden away in the kitchens chopping tubers before this, so that'd be why you never saw me, I s'pect." Now that her hand's are clean, she begins to scrub away at the bar's surface; those things always seem to have a knack for picking up dirt and spots of spilled drinks.
"Nah," says P'draig with a grin Zahava's way as he reaches for his mug of ale and sits again, this time with his back to the bar. "Ista's fine for a short visit, very nice people, mostly lovely weather. But Fort's home." His eyes flicker between Zahava and Caitly and his brows lift just a little. He shoots a brief look Seliene's way, shrugs and then tips his mug up for another drink.
Seliene slowly withdraws her hand, her smile fading as she pulls her fingertips in for an inspection. "Hmmm..." she mutters, dusting her hands together and replacing them on her lap. She catches P'draig's look and her eyebrows rise once more, curious.
Caitlyn 'ahhs' softly at Fayre when the bartender speaks up, nodding at her as the bluerider slowly moved over towards the other group of people. "No matter, still nice to meet you," she adds with a smile back to Fayre. Once her concentration is upon Zahava, though, the Istan rider breaks into a wider smile. Cait is a noticer of facial and vocal subtleties, and so the goldrider's slightly strained smile causes her to murmur something softly near Zah's ear. Paddy and Seli get her attention when she's done, with a murmurs, "Heya, you two. What's up?"
Zahava gives Caitlyn a little shake of her head and a reassuring smile. "Do you mind if I join you?" she asks, turning back to P'draig, and including Seliene with a flick of her eyes, that lingers for a moment more until she frowns slightly. "Did you say Seliene?" she asks of the young woman, though it was P'draig who made the introduction.
Fayre squints closer at Zahava before abruptly stopping her stubborn scrubbing of the bar. "Well, I'll be. Been a while since I've seen you. Have you enjoyed your time out of the kitchens as much as I have?" She shuckle and adds, "I think you've done a lot more with your life than me, though." She shoots a grin at P'draig. "I'm glad you seem to think we're nice people; I think the weather has that effect on us. Pretty sure I'd be a grumpy little thing if I lived at High Reaches."
P'draig tilts his mug a little towards Caitlyn. "Ale and conversation," he notes with a slightly quirky smile. For Zahava there's a beaming grin and he nods to the empty stools to one side of him. "Of course, Za. Fancy a drink?" Over his shoulder he shakes his head at Fayre. "Now do I strike you as grumpy? I was born and raised in the Reaches!" He makes big eyes at the bartender, then settles back comfortably, back resting against the edge of the bar. "Oh yeah," he adds as an afterthought. "Sel's T'rien's sister," as Zahava seems to pick up on the name.
Seliene looks up, her hand straying toward her glass. She nods as she lifts it to her lips. "Well, I didn't; P'draig did. But that's my name, yes..." She glances again at P'draig, then back to the weyrwoman. "T'ri's mentioned you a few times, in his letters," she points out. "I get the impression that you're friends."
Caitlyn nods thoughtfully to Zahava, then tipping her drink to her lips again, sipping deeply. "Winter being over means it's going to get really hot and muggy here all too soon," the bluerider sighs, shaking her head. "Wouldn't mind visiting Fort then, for once, just to escape," she observes wryly to all of the little group, including Fayre. The bartender's words earn her a smirk, and a, "I think the extreme heat and humidity make for grumpy people, personally. But I'd rather that than being half-frozen to death at 'Reaches." The final is for P'draig, who gets a smirk.
Zahava nods quickly as she sits down, trying to keep up with everything. "Yes, that's right," she says to Seliene with a quick smile. "He's mentioned you often. T'rien is a good friend of mine. It's good to finally meet you," she continues before turning to Fayre. "Ah, well. Three more turns in Fort Weyr's kitchens, first, but I miss it sometimes," she says. "And do you know how to make a Fireball?" she asks.
"The cold gives you a tough skin," notes P'draig with a wink for Caitlyn, very mellow indeed now compared to earlier. The brownrider finishes off that last ale and sets the empty mug down, putting some more coin on the counter. "I think I'm done for the night," he says with a quirkly little grin. "Tir came and visited a bunch. Always good to have visitors." He hops off his stool and straightens up. "Sel, if for some reason the kitchens swallow you before the eggs Hatch: good luck. Za, I'm sure I'll see you back at Fort soon, Caitlyn, see you around. Fayre, thanks for the drinks. I'm going for a walk before bed." So saying, the brownrider steers a course outside, whistling a little tune softly.
You paged Caitlyn, Fayre, Seliene, and Zahava with 'Thanks for the RP y'all. Time to hit the hay!'.
Fayre barks a laugh, her slightly overweight body quivering jovially. "Well, no, not with those big puppy eyes you don't look very grumpy. But I think I, being born an' raised in these tropical parts, would get snarky if shoved into a frigid environment, y'know?" She traces the rim of a clean mug idly, still smirking. She looks like she's about to respond to Zahava's request, but she's distracted by the sounds of a potential brawl over in a shady corner of the bar. "If you folks will excuse me, I think those two have had enough to drink." The bartender hastily scoops up P'draig's empty mug and coin before making her way over to avert the drunken fight.
Seliene snorts good-naturedly. "Saying nothing good, I'm sure. That's what big brother's are for, right?" She sets her glass down, running a finger along the condensation. She lifts a hand and waves as P'draig departs, smiling warmly. "G'night, Paddy. I'll see you before then, I'm sure." She glances outside briefly, making a face. "I should probably think about finding my cot soon, too."
Caitlyn makes a face at P'draig's observation of the cold, muttering to him as he leaves, "Telgar's cold only made me shudder for ninteen Turns. Later Paddy." Fayre's words about a potential brawl have Cait rolling her eyes empathetically at the large woman. "Nice talking with you, Fayre." An amused look for Seliene as the others take their leave. "What's this? Am I boring everyone to death?" she smirks.