Renewing An Old Acquaintance
Who: G'dri, P'draig
When: Day 5, month 10, turn 21 of Interval 10.
Where: The Sandbar, ISW
What: While visiting Ista on his day off, G'dri chances across P'draig playing tavern cook. +tag scene
The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
As the sun hits its zenith, the Sandbar offers a shady respite from the day's heat. 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 wet autumn season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. At the height of mid-day, clouds interrupt the sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.
Late afternoon at the Sandbar on a nice autumn day, breezy and just about perfect as tropical settings go, and so it's busy but not totally jam-packed yet. Behind the bar, P'draig's trading jokes with Kip and one of the servers and stepping back now and then to flip something in a pan. The scent of steak, mushroom sauce and golden-friend potatoes lingers in the air.
In the act of rolling up his shirt sleeves as he steps off the ramp, G'dri's entrance might only be worthy of note because his is an unfamiliar face 'round here. But then again, perhaps not. After a brief scan of the interior, it's towards the bar his steps take him, though he's happy to wait with patient politeness for the latest joke to be completed before he'll aim to catch the bartender's attention to place an order for something cold to drink. Death before bad manners, and all that.
Kip's a good bartender and he grins at the trade of lines, but then separates himself slightly from the others to nod G'dri's way, brows up. P'draig gives the pan a flip and puts the plate together carefully brings that order out to drop off further down the bar and pauses, doing a double-take. "G'dri?" he queries curiously, gaze fixed on the older man.
Answering the lifted brows of Kip first, it's a light and refreshing fruit juice something-or-other that G'dri requests. His brows go up then, clearly surprised to hear his name and he turns a closer look at the man who spoke. "Yes," slowly. Head tilting, the lines around his eyes deepen as his memory is searched. One finger lifts, just a moment. "P'draig, isn't it?"
A smile breaks across Paddy's face and he nods. "Yeah, been a while," the brownrider says and then hefts that plate in his hand a little. "Give me a second to drop this off," and he proceeds down the bar to drop the plate off, spends a moment or two talking about the contents with the person who ordered it. Personable. Amiable. Kip meanwhile has been mixing up juices. Without any booze and sets the finished glass down in front of the bluerider. Wiping his hands off on the towel tucked through his belt above the fold of his apron, P'draig comes back and reaches under the bar for a beer, pops the top off and takes a swig. "So, what's bringing you down to Ista? A little down time?"
G'dri's smile is quick to form as well as correct identification is made, and of all the things that may have changed about him, that one certainly hasn't. Dipping his chin in a quick nod for the brownrider, go on go on, he settles himself into a more comfortable lean with elbows on the bar top. Though one hand will disappear briefly to fetch the currency required to pay for that drink, a word of thanks given as well. "You could say that. Khameth decided a change of scenery was in order and gave me my marching orders," he replies with amusement. "Didn't expect to find you side-lining as a tavern cook. Been well?"
"Everyone needs those sometimes," P'draig agrees, one hand dropping down to lean against the countertop, the other lifting his beer up for another drink. Behind him the other cook on duty is slinging the more usual bar foods with the sizzle of oil and fat in pans. "Well, you know, used to be a Baker," the brownrider reminds with a lopsided grin. "Never quite gave it up and I've been keeping it up by cooking here a couple of nights a week." He pauses nods out towards the beach. "Even building my own place a bit further down, to serve fancier food."
Not neglecting his own drink, G'dri sets it back down after an appreciative swallow. "Ah yes, that's right. Not much sense in giving up a thing you enjoy, anyway." He turns a little to follow that nod, genuine interest in his expression. "Really now? Quite a venture to undertake. What sort of place are you planning on it being? All day, evenings only..?" As he glances back, his head tips slightly, inviting P'draig to share further details if he's so inclined.
"No, not if you don't have to," P'draig agrees, looking off in the direction of the new construction though it's only dimly visible from here through the open sides of the bar. "Still thinking that part through," Paddy says after a moment, gaze swinging back to G'dri. "It actually started out as a place to live and well ... snowballed." Another swig of beer and the brownrider swallows thoughtfully. "HOw's things at Fort?" Casual.
Amusement crinkles the corners of G'dri's eyes at the brownrider's word choice, his smile once again settling comfortably in place. "Funny how things have a way of doing that," he notes lightly. "Still, the unexpected can be good for the spirit. And well, there's certainly opportunity to explore untravelled paths." With a vague gesture upwards at the ceiling, and one might assume the sky beyond. His expression is partially hidden as he lifts his glass for another drink, and once it's lowered again there's a tinge of wryness in the look he gives the other man. "We live in interesting times," is all he offers at first. A small pause and he makes that more specific with, "Weyrlings are growing up fast. Won't be all that much longer and they'll be ready for their first jumps :between:."
"Yeah, 'course there was a woman involved," P'draig notes with a pass of his hand over his chin and a lopsided grin. "It'll be an adventure, sure. Something a little bit new but not completely different, if that makes sense," the brownrider says slowly then he sobers, looks down at the bar top for a moment, nods. "That's one word for it," voice quieter, but then he looks up again expression warming "Are they? Shells. Doesn't it always seem to both speed by and take forever at the same time?"
Brows twitching, G'dri laughs quietly. "Always something, isn't there?" he murmurs, more to himself though the words are audible. Adjusting his lean so that it only requires one elbow to keep himself propped, his expression turns quizzical. "Not entirely," he admits candidly. "But let me know when it's finished and maybe it'll make sense then?" He shrugs then even as he nods, "My first time actually being involved in the training, but I'm finding it to be so. I still half expect to see them bumbling around some mornings, and others I'm wondering which wings they're going to be tapped into."
"Always something," P'draig agrees, grin wry in turn. "Well I mean that it's still cooking, so that's not different, but it's a new environment to cook in and well, being in charge of my own kitchen, instead of cooking /for/ someone else, because when I left the craft, I was still an apprentice," the brownrider explains. "Oh well, shells, yeah. It -- yeah. Then you turn around and they're getting tapped and you wonder what the heck you're going to do with yourself."
"Ah, right." Blinking a little for the explanation, G'dri shakes his head and hitches one shoulder upwards. "I hope it works out for you, P'draig. Whatever it becomes, so long as it makes you happy, right?" Lifting his glass he tips it in a little toast. A long breath out then, and he turns a little to look out in the direction of the sea. "Hmm, yes. I haven't really thought that far ahead. I'd been out of the world, so to speak, for so long.... You've been at this a while, P'draig." And it might be a bit funny, the elder rider asking advice of the younger, but hey, credit due where experience resides. "How did you settle, in between?"
"Mm and hopefully it'll be useful for Ista," P'draig adds on, gesturing around himself. "You know, someplace to go that's a little bit special, but not a bar, brothel or gambling den," the brownrider continues and leans forward, both elbows resting on the opposite side of the counter from the bluerider. "Almost the whole time I've been a rider," Paddy agrees and puffs his cheeks out a bit. "I take a few weeks off first, then pick up wing duties and hobbies. Otherwise I get a bit stir crazy."
"Nice to have a, hmm, slightly less colourful environment to go spend some time in every now and again," G'dri opines, tilting a briefly amused glance back at the brownrider. A slow, thoughtful nod follows. "Makes sense, and about all any of us really can do. Involved with weyrlings or not, as the case may be. I--" But a silent interruption cuts him off, his gaze turning even more distant for the space of a few moments. "Ah. Don't want to be rude, but Khameth's found something he insists I simply /must/ come observe in person, and well... I did promise him we'd take our day off together." Spoken with that fond sort of rueful exasperation for the whims of draconic lifemates. "It's been good to see you again. Maybe a few less turns will pass before it happens again? Clear skies, P'draig. My best to Jekzith." Finishing off his drink, he offers a casual sort of two-fingered 'salute' before taking his leave.
"Exactly," P'draig agrees, has another swallow from his beer bottle and waves a hand, understanding G'dri's explanation. "Enjoy the rest of the day off. I hope we'll see you back at the restaurant when it opens. Clear skies, G'dri. Likewise to Khameth."
When: Day 5, month 10, turn 21 of Interval 10.
Where: The Sandbar, ISW
What: While visiting Ista on his day off, G'dri chances across P'draig playing tavern cook. +tag scene
The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
As the sun hits its zenith, the Sandbar offers a shady respite from the day's heat. 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 wet autumn season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. At the height of mid-day, clouds interrupt the sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.
Late afternoon at the Sandbar on a nice autumn day, breezy and just about perfect as tropical settings go, and so it's busy but not totally jam-packed yet. Behind the bar, P'draig's trading jokes with Kip and one of the servers and stepping back now and then to flip something in a pan. The scent of steak, mushroom sauce and golden-friend potatoes lingers in the air.
In the act of rolling up his shirt sleeves as he steps off the ramp, G'dri's entrance might only be worthy of note because his is an unfamiliar face 'round here. But then again, perhaps not. After a brief scan of the interior, it's towards the bar his steps take him, though he's happy to wait with patient politeness for the latest joke to be completed before he'll aim to catch the bartender's attention to place an order for something cold to drink. Death before bad manners, and all that.
Kip's a good bartender and he grins at the trade of lines, but then separates himself slightly from the others to nod G'dri's way, brows up. P'draig gives the pan a flip and puts the plate together carefully brings that order out to drop off further down the bar and pauses, doing a double-take. "G'dri?" he queries curiously, gaze fixed on the older man.
Answering the lifted brows of Kip first, it's a light and refreshing fruit juice something-or-other that G'dri requests. His brows go up then, clearly surprised to hear his name and he turns a closer look at the man who spoke. "Yes," slowly. Head tilting, the lines around his eyes deepen as his memory is searched. One finger lifts, just a moment. "P'draig, isn't it?"
A smile breaks across Paddy's face and he nods. "Yeah, been a while," the brownrider says and then hefts that plate in his hand a little. "Give me a second to drop this off," and he proceeds down the bar to drop the plate off, spends a moment or two talking about the contents with the person who ordered it. Personable. Amiable. Kip meanwhile has been mixing up juices. Without any booze and sets the finished glass down in front of the bluerider. Wiping his hands off on the towel tucked through his belt above the fold of his apron, P'draig comes back and reaches under the bar for a beer, pops the top off and takes a swig. "So, what's bringing you down to Ista? A little down time?"
G'dri's smile is quick to form as well as correct identification is made, and of all the things that may have changed about him, that one certainly hasn't. Dipping his chin in a quick nod for the brownrider, go on go on, he settles himself into a more comfortable lean with elbows on the bar top. Though one hand will disappear briefly to fetch the currency required to pay for that drink, a word of thanks given as well. "You could say that. Khameth decided a change of scenery was in order and gave me my marching orders," he replies with amusement. "Didn't expect to find you side-lining as a tavern cook. Been well?"
"Everyone needs those sometimes," P'draig agrees, one hand dropping down to lean against the countertop, the other lifting his beer up for another drink. Behind him the other cook on duty is slinging the more usual bar foods with the sizzle of oil and fat in pans. "Well, you know, used to be a Baker," the brownrider reminds with a lopsided grin. "Never quite gave it up and I've been keeping it up by cooking here a couple of nights a week." He pauses nods out towards the beach. "Even building my own place a bit further down, to serve fancier food."
Not neglecting his own drink, G'dri sets it back down after an appreciative swallow. "Ah yes, that's right. Not much sense in giving up a thing you enjoy, anyway." He turns a little to follow that nod, genuine interest in his expression. "Really now? Quite a venture to undertake. What sort of place are you planning on it being? All day, evenings only..?" As he glances back, his head tips slightly, inviting P'draig to share further details if he's so inclined.
"No, not if you don't have to," P'draig agrees, looking off in the direction of the new construction though it's only dimly visible from here through the open sides of the bar. "Still thinking that part through," Paddy says after a moment, gaze swinging back to G'dri. "It actually started out as a place to live and well ... snowballed." Another swig of beer and the brownrider swallows thoughtfully. "HOw's things at Fort?" Casual.
Amusement crinkles the corners of G'dri's eyes at the brownrider's word choice, his smile once again settling comfortably in place. "Funny how things have a way of doing that," he notes lightly. "Still, the unexpected can be good for the spirit. And well, there's certainly opportunity to explore untravelled paths." With a vague gesture upwards at the ceiling, and one might assume the sky beyond. His expression is partially hidden as he lifts his glass for another drink, and once it's lowered again there's a tinge of wryness in the look he gives the other man. "We live in interesting times," is all he offers at first. A small pause and he makes that more specific with, "Weyrlings are growing up fast. Won't be all that much longer and they'll be ready for their first jumps :between:."
"Yeah, 'course there was a woman involved," P'draig notes with a pass of his hand over his chin and a lopsided grin. "It'll be an adventure, sure. Something a little bit new but not completely different, if that makes sense," the brownrider says slowly then he sobers, looks down at the bar top for a moment, nods. "That's one word for it," voice quieter, but then he looks up again expression warming "Are they? Shells. Doesn't it always seem to both speed by and take forever at the same time?"
Brows twitching, G'dri laughs quietly. "Always something, isn't there?" he murmurs, more to himself though the words are audible. Adjusting his lean so that it only requires one elbow to keep himself propped, his expression turns quizzical. "Not entirely," he admits candidly. "But let me know when it's finished and maybe it'll make sense then?" He shrugs then even as he nods, "My first time actually being involved in the training, but I'm finding it to be so. I still half expect to see them bumbling around some mornings, and others I'm wondering which wings they're going to be tapped into."
"Always something," P'draig agrees, grin wry in turn. "Well I mean that it's still cooking, so that's not different, but it's a new environment to cook in and well, being in charge of my own kitchen, instead of cooking /for/ someone else, because when I left the craft, I was still an apprentice," the brownrider explains. "Oh well, shells, yeah. It -- yeah. Then you turn around and they're getting tapped and you wonder what the heck you're going to do with yourself."
"Ah, right." Blinking a little for the explanation, G'dri shakes his head and hitches one shoulder upwards. "I hope it works out for you, P'draig. Whatever it becomes, so long as it makes you happy, right?" Lifting his glass he tips it in a little toast. A long breath out then, and he turns a little to look out in the direction of the sea. "Hmm, yes. I haven't really thought that far ahead. I'd been out of the world, so to speak, for so long.... You've been at this a while, P'draig." And it might be a bit funny, the elder rider asking advice of the younger, but hey, credit due where experience resides. "How did you settle, in between?"
"Mm and hopefully it'll be useful for Ista," P'draig adds on, gesturing around himself. "You know, someplace to go that's a little bit special, but not a bar, brothel or gambling den," the brownrider continues and leans forward, both elbows resting on the opposite side of the counter from the bluerider. "Almost the whole time I've been a rider," Paddy agrees and puffs his cheeks out a bit. "I take a few weeks off first, then pick up wing duties and hobbies. Otherwise I get a bit stir crazy."
"Nice to have a, hmm, slightly less colourful environment to go spend some time in every now and again," G'dri opines, tilting a briefly amused glance back at the brownrider. A slow, thoughtful nod follows. "Makes sense, and about all any of us really can do. Involved with weyrlings or not, as the case may be. I--" But a silent interruption cuts him off, his gaze turning even more distant for the space of a few moments. "Ah. Don't want to be rude, but Khameth's found something he insists I simply /must/ come observe in person, and well... I did promise him we'd take our day off together." Spoken with that fond sort of rueful exasperation for the whims of draconic lifemates. "It's been good to see you again. Maybe a few less turns will pass before it happens again? Clear skies, P'draig. My best to Jekzith." Finishing off his drink, he offers a casual sort of two-fingered 'salute' before taking his leave.
"Exactly," P'draig agrees, has another swallow from his beer bottle and waves a hand, understanding G'dri's explanation. "Enjoy the rest of the day off. I hope we'll see you back at the restaurant when it opens. Clear skies, G'dri. Likewise to Khameth."