Log: P'draig Keeps Doing That
RL: April 19, 2008.
VR: Day 30, month 1, Turn 16, of the Interval.
P'draig asks for the seat next to Leova, again, then explains why he's at the Snowasis. She drinks klah. He drinks whiskey. Jekzith shares other samples.
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr (#7315RIJ$)
Large with high ceilings, this cavern's most striking features are the little nooks and crannies along the perimeter and the seemingly dangerous jagged overhang of stalactites just above the hearth. More corners have been made from six, slightly curved walls with half-razed stone blocks rising from the ground as well as outcroppings of hollowed walls, making the layout cumbersome for a private dwelling, however decorative curtain rods and opaque fabrics have been installed to turn each defect in the cavern's shape into its own private corner.
Near the hearth, beneath the stone fixture hanging from the ceilings, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches have been set, the upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and even warmer hues of rich colors for winter. Small tables, fit for up to four people each, litter the landscape, while a wooden bar construction claims the wall where a dolly window to the kitchens is unlatched. The cabinetry installed has glass panels, so the various liquors available are visible.
Is it cheating to bring your klah into the Snowasis and drink it, unadorned? If so, then Leova is, settled on one end of a couch with her warm mug cupped in her hands and more or less staring off into space. Near the other end, on the low table, is another mug. Empty.
Brushing a light dusting of snow off his shoulders, P'draig ducks into the Snowasis and unbuttons said jacket, loosening his scarf a titch as the crosses to the bar. A quiet word to the 'keep and a moment later he's got a tumbler of whiskey. The brownrider turns once he's got that drink, runs a hand through snow-damp hair and eyes the lay of the space, spots that available spot on the couch, not reconizing Leova immediately from the back of her head. "Hey there do you mind if I -- oh!" A sheepish laugh follows as Paddy starts to ask about the seat and comes around enough to see who it is that's on the couch.
Leova blinks back to the here and now, eyes wide for once as she looks up. And then it's all back to normal, relaxing back, "P'draig. You keep doing that." She nods with her chin to the empty spot, and even smiles.
P'draig's mouth tugs to the side, humor on his face. He looks a little flushed, an extra brightness in his eyes, but he just settles down, careful not to slosh his glass and folds an ankle over his knee, leaning back into the couch. "Yep. I do. At this rate, every time I see you I'm gonna be asking you if I can sit with you." Joking, of course. "How's things? Just about through, aren't you?" His answering smile's a cheery, friendly thing, covered briefly by his glass as he sips from it.
"So long as I'm not on Vrianth at the time," Leova says in like tone, and gives him a long look. "Getting there. She's actually gotten more used to elevator duty, but she's still picky about who flies with us. Your Jekzith ever do that? And everyone's made it through." /Between/, says her tone. So far.
P'draig laughs a little, head tipping back against the couch. "That'd be messy. Yeah. She big enough to fit two now?" Lightly curious though there's still that flush in his cheeks. "And ahh, nope, Jek'z not like that but Mic's Aath is. She won't let any other dragon carry Mic most of the time and she's a bit fussy about who's on her too." More whiskey down the hatch and a nod. "Good about Between. Very good. S'always a tough one to teach, that." His tone goes thoughtful, eyes fixing on a random point somewhere in the bar.
"She is that. When she wants to." Her nod marks his last, and Leova turns away a little too, only to give him a sidelong look back. "Been celebrating something? Afraid I don't know Mic. Though Vrianth might like her Aath." She too drinks, but it's slowly, making it last.
Vrianth senses that Jekzith has bubbles, because he always does, but today they're pinging with blue jolts of electric sparks, zinging here and there, with no particular outlet. Still bouncy, mostly, his mind's a jangle as he greets her. << Hello! >> And pulling on a vague memory he has something to share with her, filling up a bubble with the taste of whiskey, smooth and rough all at once, liquid fire with a robust flavor pushing its way through.
Jekzith senses Vrianth's gravelly thoughts absorb the energy that pings against them, at least, and are made the brighter for it. Still. The ricochets are distracting. << Easy, >> she says. But immediately tastes the newest bubble anyway. After a moment, what she radiates is the sense that it's familiar somehow, and not just like her own beginnings of fire. << Do you like this one better? Than before. That one. >> There's the memory of the beer back to him, only it's fainter, something her rider helped remember somewhat but not emotionally sharp.
"Ah, yeah. Close you two then. Jek n' me too, but not like that. I guess it's ..." he takes a deep breath, lets it out, focus lost fo a moment and his eyes close. "Hmm - oh yeah, he's not particular about me /because/ of it, I guess. Never outta my head." A motion of his hand towards his forehead, encompassing the whole. Her question makes him laugh and laugh, almost giddy laughte. "Nooo. Not celebrating. Recovering." Beat. "He lost a flight." Up goes his glass again, a long drink this time. "T'mic's at Ista. Assistant Weyrlingmaster. Aath's all diamonds and sparkles and not much else. Fun. But about as deep as a rain puddle." Beat. "So pretty though." Softly though, almost inaudible and he shakes his head again, resurfaces. "Anyway, yeah, Ista's a fun place to visit."
Vrianth senses that Jekzith is still pinging around a little madly, but the 'easy' and her question give him a focal point and he considers the question for a second. << I'm not sure. He likes them both, but for different times. >> A little crackle spurs another flood of bubbles her way, different tastes in each one, some more defined than others. << Each one has a... a time with it. Meal. Fun. Taking the edge off. >> A whisper of high speed, high octane chasing breaks through, is pulled back behind the bubbles.
One of those. Leova gives him another long look, sharper this time. "Did he. Who went up this time?" She's still looking, hands still cupped around her klah, but for once she doesn't just leave with or without an excuse. Because, "'Would have thought you'd be grumpy. They usually are." She drinks. "Assistant Weyrlingmaster? Hope his Aath won't mind too much having to fuss around weyrlings, if she's that sort. Vmireth and Secath are ours, been pretty great."
More bubbles. Vrianth starts to taste these in turn, why not, only there's that whisper. That speed. That's hidden, no less. Her thoughts lace between all those tastes, trying not to pop a single one lest they splash over her. Hunting. (Vrianth to Jekzith)
Loose smile goes looser. "Aath." His head shakes a couple of times. "Doesn't always work that way, everyone's different," notes P'draig lightly, glass going up again. "They've done it before - good to have a good mix of assistants y'know. So everyone has someone they can feel comfortable talking to." The Fortian's head comes to rest against the couch back again. "Good for that too. My mother used to help out here, time and again. Guess it kinda runs in the family."
"Why come here?" Leova's voice stays calm, no matter what's clicking together, and she could as well be asking about the weather. "Knew everyone takes things differently. But it sounds like, depends on who you're chasing too. And Aath's glittery." And it's raining outside. "Heard about that, your mother. Might have been Emilly that said." She swirls the klah in her mug without looking at it.
Those tastes slip right past her, because there's speed and that's bound to win out. So does the vision, because that's not what attracts her, just the speed and the sparks and something like thirst. << Not yet, >> she seems to agree. << Not the picture. Just the rest. Show me. >> And she draws on the whiskey burn, seeking to take its energy, to dilute the drink for him and his.
"Been a couple of hours, time to get Palia," P'draig replies promptly and empties out that glass with a contented sigh. "Good stuff," he notes as an aside and then focuses back on the Weyrling. "Everyone's different. We roll with it." And his head is cocked towards the outside. "Mm. Anyway. Time to be getting back to Fort. I'll see you around, Leova. Hope that wing tapping comes soon if you're hankering for it." His smile's pleasant, though the flush still sits in his cheeks and he pushes up off the couch. "Clear skies t'you and Vrianth." He casts her a loose little salute, then pads back out in the snow.
Vrianth senses that Jekzith rolls the whiskey around in his mind, takes a deep mental breath, a tentative touch of the sparks in her direction when she seeks to absorb and a moment later, carefully, he shares. Speed. Thirst and hunger both. Excitement. Fun. The strain of wings against win, the goal to fly and fly and fly and ... a burst of something wild follows and then he tucks it away again. << We have to go. >> Beat. Then: << Be careful. >>
She lifts her mug his way, idly enough, then drinks before she replies. "You two, too. Take it easy out there." And Leova watches him. Watches him all the way out before she relaxes back into the couch and deliberately closes her eyes.
Jekzith senses Vrianth absorbs this fleeting sensation too, but whatever wheels are turning are hidden from him. << Go, >> she agrees, with a clear bright spark that holds energy without urgency, light thanks without the burn. << Easy, Jekzith. >> And then she too is gone.
VR: Day 30, month 1, Turn 16, of the Interval.
P'draig asks for the seat next to Leova, again, then explains why he's at the Snowasis. She drinks klah. He drinks whiskey. Jekzith shares other samples.
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr (#7315RIJ$)
Large with high ceilings, this cavern's most striking features are the little nooks and crannies along the perimeter and the seemingly dangerous jagged overhang of stalactites just above the hearth. More corners have been made from six, slightly curved walls with half-razed stone blocks rising from the ground as well as outcroppings of hollowed walls, making the layout cumbersome for a private dwelling, however decorative curtain rods and opaque fabrics have been installed to turn each defect in the cavern's shape into its own private corner.
Near the hearth, beneath the stone fixture hanging from the ceilings, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches have been set, the upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and even warmer hues of rich colors for winter. Small tables, fit for up to four people each, litter the landscape, while a wooden bar construction claims the wall where a dolly window to the kitchens is unlatched. The cabinetry installed has glass panels, so the various liquors available are visible.
Is it cheating to bring your klah into the Snowasis and drink it, unadorned? If so, then Leova is, settled on one end of a couch with her warm mug cupped in her hands and more or less staring off into space. Near the other end, on the low table, is another mug. Empty.
Brushing a light dusting of snow off his shoulders, P'draig ducks into the Snowasis and unbuttons said jacket, loosening his scarf a titch as the crosses to the bar. A quiet word to the 'keep and a moment later he's got a tumbler of whiskey. The brownrider turns once he's got that drink, runs a hand through snow-damp hair and eyes the lay of the space, spots that available spot on the couch, not reconizing Leova immediately from the back of her head. "Hey there do you mind if I -- oh!" A sheepish laugh follows as Paddy starts to ask about the seat and comes around enough to see who it is that's on the couch.
Leova blinks back to the here and now, eyes wide for once as she looks up. And then it's all back to normal, relaxing back, "P'draig. You keep doing that." She nods with her chin to the empty spot, and even smiles.
P'draig's mouth tugs to the side, humor on his face. He looks a little flushed, an extra brightness in his eyes, but he just settles down, careful not to slosh his glass and folds an ankle over his knee, leaning back into the couch. "Yep. I do. At this rate, every time I see you I'm gonna be asking you if I can sit with you." Joking, of course. "How's things? Just about through, aren't you?" His answering smile's a cheery, friendly thing, covered briefly by his glass as he sips from it.
"So long as I'm not on Vrianth at the time," Leova says in like tone, and gives him a long look. "Getting there. She's actually gotten more used to elevator duty, but she's still picky about who flies with us. Your Jekzith ever do that? And everyone's made it through." /Between/, says her tone. So far.
P'draig laughs a little, head tipping back against the couch. "That'd be messy. Yeah. She big enough to fit two now?" Lightly curious though there's still that flush in his cheeks. "And ahh, nope, Jek'z not like that but Mic's Aath is. She won't let any other dragon carry Mic most of the time and she's a bit fussy about who's on her too." More whiskey down the hatch and a nod. "Good about Between. Very good. S'always a tough one to teach, that." His tone goes thoughtful, eyes fixing on a random point somewhere in the bar.
"She is that. When she wants to." Her nod marks his last, and Leova turns away a little too, only to give him a sidelong look back. "Been celebrating something? Afraid I don't know Mic. Though Vrianth might like her Aath." She too drinks, but it's slowly, making it last.
Vrianth senses that Jekzith has bubbles, because he always does, but today they're pinging with blue jolts of electric sparks, zinging here and there, with no particular outlet. Still bouncy, mostly, his mind's a jangle as he greets her. << Hello! >> And pulling on a vague memory he has something to share with her, filling up a bubble with the taste of whiskey, smooth and rough all at once, liquid fire with a robust flavor pushing its way through.
Jekzith senses Vrianth's gravelly thoughts absorb the energy that pings against them, at least, and are made the brighter for it. Still. The ricochets are distracting. << Easy, >> she says. But immediately tastes the newest bubble anyway. After a moment, what she radiates is the sense that it's familiar somehow, and not just like her own beginnings of fire. << Do you like this one better? Than before. That one. >> There's the memory of the beer back to him, only it's fainter, something her rider helped remember somewhat but not emotionally sharp.
"Ah, yeah. Close you two then. Jek n' me too, but not like that. I guess it's ..." he takes a deep breath, lets it out, focus lost fo a moment and his eyes close. "Hmm - oh yeah, he's not particular about me /because/ of it, I guess. Never outta my head." A motion of his hand towards his forehead, encompassing the whole. Her question makes him laugh and laugh, almost giddy laughte. "Nooo. Not celebrating. Recovering." Beat. "He lost a flight." Up goes his glass again, a long drink this time. "T'mic's at Ista. Assistant Weyrlingmaster. Aath's all diamonds and sparkles and not much else. Fun. But about as deep as a rain puddle." Beat. "So pretty though." Softly though, almost inaudible and he shakes his head again, resurfaces. "Anyway, yeah, Ista's a fun place to visit."
Vrianth senses that Jekzith is still pinging around a little madly, but the 'easy' and her question give him a focal point and he considers the question for a second. << I'm not sure. He likes them both, but for different times. >> A little crackle spurs another flood of bubbles her way, different tastes in each one, some more defined than others. << Each one has a... a time with it. Meal. Fun. Taking the edge off. >> A whisper of high speed, high octane chasing breaks through, is pulled back behind the bubbles.
One of those. Leova gives him another long look, sharper this time. "Did he. Who went up this time?" She's still looking, hands still cupped around her klah, but for once she doesn't just leave with or without an excuse. Because, "'Would have thought you'd be grumpy. They usually are." She drinks. "Assistant Weyrlingmaster? Hope his Aath won't mind too much having to fuss around weyrlings, if she's that sort. Vmireth and Secath are ours, been pretty great."
More bubbles. Vrianth starts to taste these in turn, why not, only there's that whisper. That speed. That's hidden, no less. Her thoughts lace between all those tastes, trying not to pop a single one lest they splash over her. Hunting. (Vrianth to Jekzith)
Loose smile goes looser. "Aath." His head shakes a couple of times. "Doesn't always work that way, everyone's different," notes P'draig lightly, glass going up again. "They've done it before - good to have a good mix of assistants y'know. So everyone has someone they can feel comfortable talking to." The Fortian's head comes to rest against the couch back again. "Good for that too. My mother used to help out here, time and again. Guess it kinda runs in the family."
"Why come here?" Leova's voice stays calm, no matter what's clicking together, and she could as well be asking about the weather. "Knew everyone takes things differently. But it sounds like, depends on who you're chasing too. And Aath's glittery." And it's raining outside. "Heard about that, your mother. Might have been Emilly that said." She swirls the klah in her mug without looking at it.
Those tastes slip right past her, because there's speed and that's bound to win out. So does the vision, because that's not what attracts her, just the speed and the sparks and something like thirst. << Not yet, >> she seems to agree. << Not the picture. Just the rest. Show me. >> And she draws on the whiskey burn, seeking to take its energy, to dilute the drink for him and his.
"Been a couple of hours, time to get Palia," P'draig replies promptly and empties out that glass with a contented sigh. "Good stuff," he notes as an aside and then focuses back on the Weyrling. "Everyone's different. We roll with it." And his head is cocked towards the outside. "Mm. Anyway. Time to be getting back to Fort. I'll see you around, Leova. Hope that wing tapping comes soon if you're hankering for it." His smile's pleasant, though the flush still sits in his cheeks and he pushes up off the couch. "Clear skies t'you and Vrianth." He casts her a loose little salute, then pads back out in the snow.
Vrianth senses that Jekzith rolls the whiskey around in his mind, takes a deep mental breath, a tentative touch of the sparks in her direction when she seeks to absorb and a moment later, carefully, he shares. Speed. Thirst and hunger both. Excitement. Fun. The strain of wings against win, the goal to fly and fly and fly and ... a burst of something wild follows and then he tucks it away again. << We have to go. >> Beat. Then: << Be careful. >>
She lifts her mug his way, idly enough, then drinks before she replies. "You two, too. Take it easy out there." And Leova watches him. Watches him all the way out before she relaxes back into the couch and deliberately closes her eyes.
Jekzith senses Vrianth absorbs this fleeting sensation too, but whatever wheels are turning are hidden from him. << Go, >> she agrees, with a clear bright spark that holds energy without urgency, light thanks without the burn. << Easy, Jekzith. >> And then she too is gone.