They're everywhere, man
It is a summer night, 20:43 of day 23, month 7, turn 21 of Interval 10.
Seedy Bar, Gar Area
It's a bar and it's seen better days for sure. The drinks are crude and strong, the clientele likewise, including a fair few weasels. The serving wenches tend to buxomness, though not necessarily all pretty and loose lacings on bodices and skirts. There's always a few poker games going on and brawls are not uncommon.
Obvious exits:
Out
What does Snowdrift do in their downtime? Well, a lot of them turn up at random bars, knotless and rowdy. Would explain why three of them are sitting around a table, downing ale like water and making inappropriate comments to the waitstaff-- who don't seem to really mind. Z'yi seems the least sloshed out of the trio, if only by blessing of more body mass; he sips at his ale and laughs uproariously as his bronzerider companion says something, holds a hand out, and leaves with the greenrider-- leaving him all by his lonesome, with an almost full pitcher of ale in front of him and a full glass. "Guess I didn't get the bad end of the deal," except when it hits him that now he gets to foot the bill. "Mother--" The big man catches himself before finishing the statement, morosely takes another sip of beer.
B'kaiv plops down at the larger man's table without so much as a 'by your leave', smelling like he's been bathing in beer but without so much as a stagger to show for it. If he's got designs on that pitcher he doesn't show it - he's looking to flag down one of the waitresses, mark bit tap-tapping on the tabletop. After a second, after glancing at Z'yi and away, then back, he grunts out a, "Hey," and adds a nod for politeness' sake. He is wearing his knot - green, black, and brown - on his jacket, but makes no mention of either his or the lack of his new compatriot's.
Z'yi squints at B'kaiv a minute, thoughtful. "Y'one o' them damned riders?" he drawls out in an impeccable immitation of his best friend's trader burr. He lifts the glass to his lips, takes a drink, keeps that even eye on B'kaiv's form. If his lips twitch once, well, Raith's a smartass. We'll just blame him, eh? He reaches out without looking, and a squeak from the nearest waitress turns into giggles. "Oh, Iszy, whatcha need honey?" He points to Kai, then, after shooting a grin up to the lady- she's not all that and a bag of chips, but she doesn't have anything sagging to her ankles and her smile is bright and cheerful.
A fortress of a man, Z'yi rises to the lofty height of 6'4, with a frame like a brick outhouse: the awkward angles of yesterturn have been discarded for an impressive amount of rounded muscle. The thick build of someone well-acquainted with harsh physical efforts is not tampered with fat; Isz is simply too tall for any to truly stick to his bones. Breadth of shoulders and length of leg may make him appear menacing, given his sheer size, though the general aura about the young man is one of placid solidity. Isziyo keeps his head shorn of any hair, with - at most - a day or so's bristle of darkness showing. Middling complected, his skin is the color of klah with a generous dose of cream, to better match dark eyes and arching, rough eyebrows of black. Full lips and a sharp nose balance the sharp cheekbones and fine structure of his face.
Z'yi appears to be in his early to mid twenties.
B'kaiv considers the man across from him a few moments longer before shrugging out of his jacket. "Not here, I ain't," an undertone of 'want to make something of it' just barely kept below the surface. He adds, "Thanks," for the fetching of the waitress and orders a pitcher for himself, twitching the woman an almost smile. After she moves away Kai plants his arms on the table and leans in, muttering, "Couldn't drown a wher in th' beer here." But it's beer, and probably that's why he's drinking it.
"Uh-huh. Don't think that havin' some big-ass dragon talkin' in your head ain't gonna change by you takin' your jacket off," Isz points out, reaching a hand up to scratch at an itchy spot just above his right ear. He tops off his glass afterwards, and leans back in his chair. He drops the accent, questioning, "What brings you out this way?" in his regular Reachian drawl. "Other than the outstanding quality of ale, whores, and companions, of course," remarked in his sardonic manner.
Kai's chin drops at the poke, and the greenrider's shoulders rise and fall while his eyes narrow at the stranger. He's about half a breath from saying something when Z'yi drops the act; his eyes narrow further before he forcibly settles back as well, though he doesn't relax. "Thought as I'd get drunk," he says clearly - or at least, with the same mush-mouthed accent as before, and without any tell-tale slurring. "Then thought I'd get laid. That a'right with you?"
Z'yi considers a minute. "Yeah, I suppose that's fine," he waves a hand, nonchalant. "Though I'd stay away from Berena," he points out one of the older ladies in the joint-- "She's been in a bad mood all day. Unless you like teeth marks and nail tracks," with a ambivalent shrug that would indicate that Z'yi wouldn't care if Kai prefered relations with a pig, just so long as he wasn't doing it in front of the big bluerider.
B'kaiv gives Berena a careful once-over, does the same to Z'yi as well, even though most of the bigger man is hidden beneath the table. "Sure, I won't take your girl. Or's she your mother?" Berena isn't the only one in a bad mood, then.
Z'yi snorts. "Look, son, obviously you're young and full of it, and I can't blame you for that since I'm not too long out of it myself, but know who to pick a fight with, a'ight?" A placid look is given to B'kaiv. "Unless you're here to find a man, and just ashamed to admit it," mildly; "S'reon just walked out with Steph, but I'm sure he'd be friendly enough to a little attention." Pause, consider. "Steph wouldn't mind, either, I reckon." But not Isz, apparently, as he takes a sip of his ale, and continues scoping out the tavern.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth, having already made herself known to the other Reaches' dragons, announces her presence to the blue with streaks of crayon-y sunshine and a bright, << Hi! I'm Chielyth! >>
B'kaiv says, "I ain't afraid of you," like the bigger man is half the size and barely worth mentioning. "An' I sure as shells ain't your son. I had it up t' here with people thinking as they're better'n me t'day," his free hand chops at his neck, "so unless /you're/ trying t' start something, you can just put your boot in it. I just sat down t' get some beer, an' soon as I got it, I'm gone."
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith is beer and fire and whiskey-wash; sort of like a bad hangover from drinking beer and tequila. But with more heartburn. There is a sizable pause as the owner of such mindscape takes in... crayony brightness... and he drawls out a, << Well, hello, ma'am, >> in tones cautiously friendly.
"I ain't sayin' you need to be," Z'yi replies. There's a squint. "Damn, your lifemate's-- bright." He waves off the comment right after saying it, as if realizing that isn't necessarily the best thing in the world to be saying. He pours himself more beer, because he's already gone through what he poured himself a minute ago. He scratches that spot above his ear again, and falls into companionable silence. Well, companionable on his end, at least.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth takes him all in without so much as a blink, offering herself (birdsong, sunshine, bright primary colors) in return. << You're nice! >> she decides with a giggle of early rising birds. << I'm not ma'am, I'm Chielyth! What's your name? >>
It might be funny, watching Kai posture and pose - he's not a little man, but next to the bluerider his relative size and youth are obvious - except where he quite obviously means every unspoken threat. It's the comment about Chielyth that brings him lunging forward again, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's that supposed t' mean?"
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith offers a whiskey-drenched hello, his hearthfires all smouldering ambers and smoke. << Isforaith, >> he replies. << Of the Reaches. >> Like that's important or something. He attempts to filter her brightness with his general darkness, or reach a middle point with warm firelight, soothing and less... abrasive, to him. << Good to meet you, Chielyth. >> He strives at politeness because he knows, remembers dimly, that Jeibeth would want him to.
Yeah, and Z'yi's sitting over there like a somnolent lion, draped everywhere over his chair and not appearing to give half a damn. Though that's how Z'yi is, come to think. "I mean she's damned bright," Isz replies, a touch of are-you-slow in his statement. "Isforaith's dark, so," he waves a hand as if to dismiss the topic. "Like walking outside after being in a dim room." You get BLINDED.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth projects, << Hi, Isforaith! >> though when he ratchets things down a few candles she doesn't bring them up again. << I like the Reaches. It's fun to fly there! >> She remembers for him the zip-zoom feeling of threading the Spindles, sometimes ahead of and sometimes behind a brown who feels like smoke and silver. << Do you know Corvinth? I like flying with Corvinth. And I cuddle with Wyaeth! >>
B'kaiv glares at the other rider first with both eyes, then just one in case that brings things into focus. "--You're a sharding rider," he spits out after a few too many seconds, settles back again with a murderous glare and head shake. "Shoulda sharding known. Which one'a them," hand flip for the door, "is yours?"
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith counters her memory for wild acrobatics over the artic tundra, skimming glaciers and dangerous canyon double-backs in the far, far, snowy north. They seem dull and dim, as if lit only barely, and a bit grainy for a dragon's viewpoint: something pulled from his lifemate, no doubt. << It is fun to fly, and yes, I know my wing-mate Corvinth. I fly with him frequently. >> A hazy memory, but sharp relief: one of his own, chasing after a beautiful, jade green, Corvinth strongly felt as a brother-in-arms within the scope of such. Perhaps not how Chielyth meant, eh?
"How'd you guess?" Z'yi replies sarcastically, lifting an eyebrow in question to the younger rider. "The blue one," he remarks as to the largest blue at the Reaches, a lanky vision of darkness and rune-covered wings. He doesn't bother giving Raith's name. His eyes unfocus for a brief moment, then he offers B'kaiv - of all things - a smile. "You know C'sel?"
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth oooohs appreciatively for his - Z'yi's - memories, scribbles in shocks of color as the scene goes zooming past. << I like flying with him. He's lots of fun! >> Faranth only knows what sort of 'fun' he has with this innocent, knowing the brown, but there's no depth to her memories to suggest anything more than the obvious. << We should all go together sometime, okay? >>
"Isforaith," Kai supplies promptly when Z'yi doesn't. "She's Chielyth." Any more will have to wait for the exchange of beer and marks, and for Kai to fill his empty mug to the top, watching the rise of foam with an expert eye. When it's poured just the way he likes it he sends another look the bluerider's way, much of the earlier anger drained off. "Yeah. Some. Me an' him gone drinking a couple times. She likes Corvinth."
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith needs a screen between Chielyth and himself-- or perhaps the soothing touch of a sandalwood-scented presence. He tends to be testy without it, though it's hard to muster up the energy needed to be scathing to /Chielyth/. << Yeah, whatever, >> is his reply, lackluster. << Just pick a day that isn't a drill day, 'cause we'll be tired, all right? >> More of a half-hearted plea than an actual request.
"Yeah, I guess that's his name," Z'yi regarding his lifemate. He downs a larger portion of his beer. Rinse, repeat! "Corvinth's a... character," Isz picks his words very carefully. "He and Raith are well matched. He's my wingmate," he states by way of explanation. Another off glance to B'kaiv; "I don't recognize you. Y'come out to the Reaches often?" It's a big place, so he could damned sure come every day and not see the greenrider, of coure, though that doesn't seem to factor into Z'yi's thought process.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth projects, << Okay! We drilled today, >> she continues perkily, and so much for the blue's claims that drilling makes one tired. << We flew and flew and Mikuth said we did good and then I sat in the sun and Kai almost fought with Khazioth's, >> wash of blue, no sunshine for -that-, << only he didn't and then we flew some more and then Kai said let's go drinking so here we are! >> With barely pause for breath, << What did you do today? >>
"She likes him," the younger man repeats, adds with a shrug, "'Course, she likes everyone, pretty much." Another shrug will have to serve as placeholder while he has some beer of his own. "Eh, often enough. She goes by herself, mostly. You ever see this real small green up with Wyaeth, or flying like t' break her neck, that's her.:
Z'yi narrows his eyes in thought; "Think I remember that," he states after a minute. "For the oddity of it." Big ol' Wyaeth, tiny little Chielyth. Odd pairing. Speaking of which-- he eyes B'kaiv speculatively. "You get headaches, at all?" It's stated in the offhand manner that those, well accustomed to the topic spoken of, seem to cultivate.
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith ... digests. << Uh, we woke up. >> He remembers that. Think! << Then Z'yi did some hide crap for our wingleader, bullshit if you ask me, but whatever, not like anyone listens to me anyhow, >> Bitch bitch! Whine whine! << Then we flew out here with those two, >> sort of disgust for the green and bronze all cuddled up in the sunshine not too far off, << And I wanted to go hunting but nooooo. His drinking's more important than my eating. >> (Bitch bitch! Whine whine!)
Not just 'big ol' Wyaeth, tiny little Chielyth'... but he lets her sit near him. Almost touching! "Headaches?" Kai echoes, shakes his head and has more beer. In case that wasn't enough, "Nah. Whaffor?"
"Raith's loud. I get headaches. You're lucky," Z'yi directs in his concise manner, falling silent soon after. His beer is so much more interesting, after all, and now he's scowling for some ungodly reason.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth listens intently, like she expects to be tested later. << What sort of hide crap? Oh! Sharding hidework! >> The swearing does not fit her /at all/, no matter how cheerfully she says the words. Or perhaps because of how cheerfully she says the words. << Kai hates sharding hidework too. Why don't you go hunting now? We could go hunting together! >>
B'kaiv digests this with narrowed eyes, offers, "Huh," as acknowledgement. "We got a loud one too. Mohraith. One of th' weyrlings." Not him, though, he with the beer and the chip on his shoulder and the disjointed conversation. After a while and a refill, "How old's he?"
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith doesn't even think twice; << Don't cuss. It's unbecoming of a lady. >> That's what Jeibeth would say, at least! Can you see the underlying thread of most of his motivations? He'd be entirely too lazy otherwise. Then, beat, a bit dubiously: << I dunno. An' what's weird is that he /likes/ it, >> to retro back to the original topic. Beat. << You sure you wanna go hunting? >>
"Well, Raith was loud. Didn't learn to talk just to me until we were-- well, I think he was six, seven months old." Ha. Isfo/raith/ and Moh/raith/. Go figure. It must be a curse. "Uh, just over a turn and--" brief pause, recall, "--nine months."
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth points out that, << I'm not a lady! >> She's a Chielyth, yay! << Anyway, Kai swears lots. All the time. >> Even though Kai isn't a lady either. << How come you don't like swearing? And sure, we can go! I'm not hungry but I'll fly with you and help if that's okay, okay? >>
B'kaiv snorts and almost nearly smiles - maybe he caught the similarity in names too. "Shells, that all? Chielyth's almost two an' a half. He sounds older." After a few seconds, in which he watches someone too drunk to pay for his beer be summarily ejected by belt and collar, he adds, "She bothering him? 'Cause I can try an' get her t' lay off."
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith has this bad feeling like karma's finally come back to bite him in the ass. << You're green, ain't you? >> he challenges her on her stance of being a lady. << You should tell him to stop. It's bad for 'em, y'know. I tell Z'yi to stop, all the time, >> though the difference is that Isforaith's just messing with Isz. << I don't know, >> about hunting-- << I'm pretty damn comfy over here. >> Have we mentioned he's lazy?
"Is she?" Z'yi seems fairly taken aback at that-- Chielyth being older than Raith. But he shrugs big shoulders, doesn't seem to bother him much after the initial surprise has passed. The face-as-a-door-opener is watched as well, and Z'yi snorts. "She can step it up a bit. He's damned sure not irritated enough, yet." Obviously not the most, ah, typical relationship between blue and lifemate, here.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth doesn't even bother to check. << Yup! How come swearing is bad? >> She goes away for a little while, bounds happily back to announce, << Kai says to shove it up your ass! Swearing isn't either bad. If you don't want to hunt, do you want to cuddle? >> Watch her ping-pong from topic to topic. Better keep up, big bulky blue!
Z'yi also may have just snorted beer through his nose at something. Carry on.
B'kaiv doesn't bother to say yeah, just nods: she's older. Another snort, twin to Z'yi's own, and more beer pass before the greenrider goes on, half-challenging, "Yeah? You got a bug up your butt about him? Or'd he do something t' tick you off?"
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith fires back, whiskey-bent and hell bound: << Hells Bells, tell him to save that shit for his boyfriend, and he better keep his hands off of Isz cuz he ain't into that either, >> without thought for who exactly he's talking to. Uh. Whoops. A moment later, << Uh. >> So eloquent! Brief speechless moment. Enjoy it. << I don't cuddle, >> defensively. Then, grudgingly, << You can share my sunny spot if you want, though. >> Big concession from mister sprawler.
Z'yi chokes on his beer, rather than ejecting it forcibly out of his nasal cavities. That shit burns. "Nah, we've always hated eachother," Isz replies, his tone mild. "I guess he's like a brother, you'd say. Irritating as hell, prickly, hard to get along with, but I love him all the same," matter-of-fact. "He's there for me when I need him, and me for him. It works." Beat. "Doesn't mean I half to necessarily /like/ him." He does, but he'll deny it.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth isn't taken the teensiest bit aback by the blue's outburst - but then again, if she cuddles with /Wyaeth/ she's probably used to it. << Kai doesn't have a boyfriend, just G'dri. But doesn't Isz like getting laid? >> Moment of wilty sadness for poor pariah Isz who doesn't like to get laid. But mention of a sunny spot, yay! brings the little green fluttering over to settle as close to the blue as he'll allow. << How come you don't like cuddling? I bet you'd be really good at it. You're really big. >>
B'kaiv's attention wanders in and out, reminiscent of either a rider talking to his dragon or a really toasted drinker. "Huh. That ain't her at all. Guess it works for you, though." Another here-and-gone behind his eyes and Kai shakes his head, shoves back from the table. "Oughta take her home before she gets too cozy. Hope he don't mind her showing up all hours of th' night."
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith paints the sky blue. For no apparent reason, just to do it. It's a dark blue, about the color of the deepest parts of his hide, and speckled with stars. Maybe it's a cunningly-wraught distraction! (Or maybe it's just Raith being random-- much more likely.) << Uh. >> Another of those Awkward Moments(tm) for the big blue, before he carefully chooses his words in reply, << Not all, um, getting laid, uh, involves-- ah-- /that/ >> A vague memory of a pretty face, blonde hair in braids, very feminine, strong and pouting: amused. << He likes women. >> There's a ghost of a face, much more masculine, a sad face, in memory-- his << Mostly, >> is softly said. As for cuddling? << Y'can't move if you're all scrunched up to someone. >>
Z'yi would think it's much more likely of a rider talking to his dragon-- he hasn't drank that much beer, after all. The bluerider lifts an eyebrow skywards, then shakes his head. "Have fun," he dryly comments. "He'll be awake for it," regarding his dragon and night-time pop-ins. "Clear skies," briefly stated thereafter.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth considers that sky, those stars, adds a few of her own in the appropriate color, yay! << Kai likes women too, >> she confides, empathically sotto voce for the blue's own quiet. << They're nice. >> A bit more passes while she settles in comfortably, casually inching ever closer to her goal of green hide against blue. << Nuh-huh. You can put your wing over me and I can put my tail on yours and we can put our heads together! >> She remembers another blue - or is it a brown? - she likes to turn into a gooey puddle of dragon with, hums happily for the thought.
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith inches away, another foot or so. Nuh-uh, you have cooties! << Huh, >> said distractedly for Kai's preferences. << I really don't like cuddling, >> he adds again, more firmly, as if talking to a yippy little dog: calm firmness delivered in a strong tone. Maybe it'll work! (Though he's already scoping out his secondary spot should Chielyth run him completely off of this one.) Edge, edge away slowly.
B'kaiv tosses back the last of his beer, nudges what's left of his pitcher Z'yi's way so the bluerider has a better chance of drowning any passing whers. "Yeah. You too. You owe me a beer sometime." Not now, though. Now he'll shrug back into his jacket with its incriminating knot, drop the other man a nod, and make his way out of the dingy bar, hopefully to not run into any more Snowdrift riders on the way.
A hand lifted in casual farewell as the greenrider exits-- and Kai does pass by a Snowdrift rider on his way out, though she manages not to grope him. Barely. Hey, she was lookin' for a thug up in this club! Z'yi just shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath as he pours the last of Kai's beer into his big mug, intent on getting wasted-- and so he will, eventually.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth doesn't either have cooties! But when Isforaith makes it clear that there is to be No Cuddling she stops, settles in with a whiff of violets. << Oh. Wyaeth doesn't like cuddling either. Maybe we can cuddle later. >> Despite evidence to the contrary. << --Oh! Kai says we're going to go flying! >> Burst of sunlight, hastily muted, and Chielyth pushes up and away with a rainbow scribble for poor lonely Isforaith. << Bye, Isforaith! I'll see you later, okay? We can go flying then! >>
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith can't find it in him to be mean, but that doesn't mean he can't be /relieved/-- << G'night, Chielyth. I'll fly with you later, >> he agrees, knowing he'll forget about it five minutes later, (yay!).
Bet he thinks he's smart, hiding as he were a rider. Bet he won't think it's so funny when she shows up three in the morning.
--Flame it, need to hit somebody, I think. Or get drunk proper. Or get sharding laid.
Seedy Bar, Gar Area
It's a bar and it's seen better days for sure. The drinks are crude and strong, the clientele likewise, including a fair few weasels. The serving wenches tend to buxomness, though not necessarily all pretty and loose lacings on bodices and skirts. There's always a few poker games going on and brawls are not uncommon.
Obvious exits:
Out
What does Snowdrift do in their downtime? Well, a lot of them turn up at random bars, knotless and rowdy. Would explain why three of them are sitting around a table, downing ale like water and making inappropriate comments to the waitstaff-- who don't seem to really mind. Z'yi seems the least sloshed out of the trio, if only by blessing of more body mass; he sips at his ale and laughs uproariously as his bronzerider companion says something, holds a hand out, and leaves with the greenrider-- leaving him all by his lonesome, with an almost full pitcher of ale in front of him and a full glass. "Guess I didn't get the bad end of the deal," except when it hits him that now he gets to foot the bill. "Mother--" The big man catches himself before finishing the statement, morosely takes another sip of beer.
B'kaiv plops down at the larger man's table without so much as a 'by your leave', smelling like he's been bathing in beer but without so much as a stagger to show for it. If he's got designs on that pitcher he doesn't show it - he's looking to flag down one of the waitresses, mark bit tap-tapping on the tabletop. After a second, after glancing at Z'yi and away, then back, he grunts out a, "Hey," and adds a nod for politeness' sake. He is wearing his knot - green, black, and brown - on his jacket, but makes no mention of either his or the lack of his new compatriot's.
Z'yi squints at B'kaiv a minute, thoughtful. "Y'one o' them damned riders?" he drawls out in an impeccable immitation of his best friend's trader burr. He lifts the glass to his lips, takes a drink, keeps that even eye on B'kaiv's form. If his lips twitch once, well, Raith's a smartass. We'll just blame him, eh? He reaches out without looking, and a squeak from the nearest waitress turns into giggles. "Oh, Iszy, whatcha need honey?" He points to Kai, then, after shooting a grin up to the lady- she's not all that and a bag of chips, but she doesn't have anything sagging to her ankles and her smile is bright and cheerful.
A fortress of a man, Z'yi rises to the lofty height of 6'4, with a frame like a brick outhouse: the awkward angles of yesterturn have been discarded for an impressive amount of rounded muscle. The thick build of someone well-acquainted with harsh physical efforts is not tampered with fat; Isz is simply too tall for any to truly stick to his bones. Breadth of shoulders and length of leg may make him appear menacing, given his sheer size, though the general aura about the young man is one of placid solidity. Isziyo keeps his head shorn of any hair, with - at most - a day or so's bristle of darkness showing. Middling complected, his skin is the color of klah with a generous dose of cream, to better match dark eyes and arching, rough eyebrows of black. Full lips and a sharp nose balance the sharp cheekbones and fine structure of his face.
Z'yi appears to be in his early to mid twenties.
B'kaiv considers the man across from him a few moments longer before shrugging out of his jacket. "Not here, I ain't," an undertone of 'want to make something of it' just barely kept below the surface. He adds, "Thanks," for the fetching of the waitress and orders a pitcher for himself, twitching the woman an almost smile. After she moves away Kai plants his arms on the table and leans in, muttering, "Couldn't drown a wher in th' beer here." But it's beer, and probably that's why he's drinking it.
"Uh-huh. Don't think that havin' some big-ass dragon talkin' in your head ain't gonna change by you takin' your jacket off," Isz points out, reaching a hand up to scratch at an itchy spot just above his right ear. He tops off his glass afterwards, and leans back in his chair. He drops the accent, questioning, "What brings you out this way?" in his regular Reachian drawl. "Other than the outstanding quality of ale, whores, and companions, of course," remarked in his sardonic manner.
Kai's chin drops at the poke, and the greenrider's shoulders rise and fall while his eyes narrow at the stranger. He's about half a breath from saying something when Z'yi drops the act; his eyes narrow further before he forcibly settles back as well, though he doesn't relax. "Thought as I'd get drunk," he says clearly - or at least, with the same mush-mouthed accent as before, and without any tell-tale slurring. "Then thought I'd get laid. That a'right with you?"
Z'yi considers a minute. "Yeah, I suppose that's fine," he waves a hand, nonchalant. "Though I'd stay away from Berena," he points out one of the older ladies in the joint-- "She's been in a bad mood all day. Unless you like teeth marks and nail tracks," with a ambivalent shrug that would indicate that Z'yi wouldn't care if Kai prefered relations with a pig, just so long as he wasn't doing it in front of the big bluerider.
B'kaiv gives Berena a careful once-over, does the same to Z'yi as well, even though most of the bigger man is hidden beneath the table. "Sure, I won't take your girl. Or's she your mother?" Berena isn't the only one in a bad mood, then.
Z'yi snorts. "Look, son, obviously you're young and full of it, and I can't blame you for that since I'm not too long out of it myself, but know who to pick a fight with, a'ight?" A placid look is given to B'kaiv. "Unless you're here to find a man, and just ashamed to admit it," mildly; "S'reon just walked out with Steph, but I'm sure he'd be friendly enough to a little attention." Pause, consider. "Steph wouldn't mind, either, I reckon." But not Isz, apparently, as he takes a sip of his ale, and continues scoping out the tavern.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth, having already made herself known to the other Reaches' dragons, announces her presence to the blue with streaks of crayon-y sunshine and a bright, << Hi! I'm Chielyth! >>
B'kaiv says, "I ain't afraid of you," like the bigger man is half the size and barely worth mentioning. "An' I sure as shells ain't your son. I had it up t' here with people thinking as they're better'n me t'day," his free hand chops at his neck, "so unless /you're/ trying t' start something, you can just put your boot in it. I just sat down t' get some beer, an' soon as I got it, I'm gone."
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith is beer and fire and whiskey-wash; sort of like a bad hangover from drinking beer and tequila. But with more heartburn. There is a sizable pause as the owner of such mindscape takes in... crayony brightness... and he drawls out a, << Well, hello, ma'am, >> in tones cautiously friendly.
"I ain't sayin' you need to be," Z'yi replies. There's a squint. "Damn, your lifemate's-- bright." He waves off the comment right after saying it, as if realizing that isn't necessarily the best thing in the world to be saying. He pours himself more beer, because he's already gone through what he poured himself a minute ago. He scratches that spot above his ear again, and falls into companionable silence. Well, companionable on his end, at least.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth takes him all in without so much as a blink, offering herself (birdsong, sunshine, bright primary colors) in return. << You're nice! >> she decides with a giggle of early rising birds. << I'm not ma'am, I'm Chielyth! What's your name? >>
It might be funny, watching Kai posture and pose - he's not a little man, but next to the bluerider his relative size and youth are obvious - except where he quite obviously means every unspoken threat. It's the comment about Chielyth that brings him lunging forward again, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's that supposed t' mean?"
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith offers a whiskey-drenched hello, his hearthfires all smouldering ambers and smoke. << Isforaith, >> he replies. << Of the Reaches. >> Like that's important or something. He attempts to filter her brightness with his general darkness, or reach a middle point with warm firelight, soothing and less... abrasive, to him. << Good to meet you, Chielyth. >> He strives at politeness because he knows, remembers dimly, that Jeibeth would want him to.
Yeah, and Z'yi's sitting over there like a somnolent lion, draped everywhere over his chair and not appearing to give half a damn. Though that's how Z'yi is, come to think. "I mean she's damned bright," Isz replies, a touch of are-you-slow in his statement. "Isforaith's dark, so," he waves a hand as if to dismiss the topic. "Like walking outside after being in a dim room." You get BLINDED.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth projects, << Hi, Isforaith! >> though when he ratchets things down a few candles she doesn't bring them up again. << I like the Reaches. It's fun to fly there! >> She remembers for him the zip-zoom feeling of threading the Spindles, sometimes ahead of and sometimes behind a brown who feels like smoke and silver. << Do you know Corvinth? I like flying with Corvinth. And I cuddle with Wyaeth! >>
B'kaiv glares at the other rider first with both eyes, then just one in case that brings things into focus. "--You're a sharding rider," he spits out after a few too many seconds, settles back again with a murderous glare and head shake. "Shoulda sharding known. Which one'a them," hand flip for the door, "is yours?"
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith counters her memory for wild acrobatics over the artic tundra, skimming glaciers and dangerous canyon double-backs in the far, far, snowy north. They seem dull and dim, as if lit only barely, and a bit grainy for a dragon's viewpoint: something pulled from his lifemate, no doubt. << It is fun to fly, and yes, I know my wing-mate Corvinth. I fly with him frequently. >> A hazy memory, but sharp relief: one of his own, chasing after a beautiful, jade green, Corvinth strongly felt as a brother-in-arms within the scope of such. Perhaps not how Chielyth meant, eh?
"How'd you guess?" Z'yi replies sarcastically, lifting an eyebrow in question to the younger rider. "The blue one," he remarks as to the largest blue at the Reaches, a lanky vision of darkness and rune-covered wings. He doesn't bother giving Raith's name. His eyes unfocus for a brief moment, then he offers B'kaiv - of all things - a smile. "You know C'sel?"
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth oooohs appreciatively for his - Z'yi's - memories, scribbles in shocks of color as the scene goes zooming past. << I like flying with him. He's lots of fun! >> Faranth only knows what sort of 'fun' he has with this innocent, knowing the brown, but there's no depth to her memories to suggest anything more than the obvious. << We should all go together sometime, okay? >>
"Isforaith," Kai supplies promptly when Z'yi doesn't. "She's Chielyth." Any more will have to wait for the exchange of beer and marks, and for Kai to fill his empty mug to the top, watching the rise of foam with an expert eye. When it's poured just the way he likes it he sends another look the bluerider's way, much of the earlier anger drained off. "Yeah. Some. Me an' him gone drinking a couple times. She likes Corvinth."
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith needs a screen between Chielyth and himself-- or perhaps the soothing touch of a sandalwood-scented presence. He tends to be testy without it, though it's hard to muster up the energy needed to be scathing to /Chielyth/. << Yeah, whatever, >> is his reply, lackluster. << Just pick a day that isn't a drill day, 'cause we'll be tired, all right? >> More of a half-hearted plea than an actual request.
"Yeah, I guess that's his name," Z'yi regarding his lifemate. He downs a larger portion of his beer. Rinse, repeat! "Corvinth's a... character," Isz picks his words very carefully. "He and Raith are well matched. He's my wingmate," he states by way of explanation. Another off glance to B'kaiv; "I don't recognize you. Y'come out to the Reaches often?" It's a big place, so he could damned sure come every day and not see the greenrider, of coure, though that doesn't seem to factor into Z'yi's thought process.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth projects, << Okay! We drilled today, >> she continues perkily, and so much for the blue's claims that drilling makes one tired. << We flew and flew and Mikuth said we did good and then I sat in the sun and Kai almost fought with Khazioth's, >> wash of blue, no sunshine for -that-, << only he didn't and then we flew some more and then Kai said let's go drinking so here we are! >> With barely pause for breath, << What did you do today? >>
"She likes him," the younger man repeats, adds with a shrug, "'Course, she likes everyone, pretty much." Another shrug will have to serve as placeholder while he has some beer of his own. "Eh, often enough. She goes by herself, mostly. You ever see this real small green up with Wyaeth, or flying like t' break her neck, that's her.:
Z'yi narrows his eyes in thought; "Think I remember that," he states after a minute. "For the oddity of it." Big ol' Wyaeth, tiny little Chielyth. Odd pairing. Speaking of which-- he eyes B'kaiv speculatively. "You get headaches, at all?" It's stated in the offhand manner that those, well accustomed to the topic spoken of, seem to cultivate.
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith ... digests. << Uh, we woke up. >> He remembers that. Think! << Then Z'yi did some hide crap for our wingleader, bullshit if you ask me, but whatever, not like anyone listens to me anyhow, >> Bitch bitch! Whine whine! << Then we flew out here with those two, >> sort of disgust for the green and bronze all cuddled up in the sunshine not too far off, << And I wanted to go hunting but nooooo. His drinking's more important than my eating. >> (Bitch bitch! Whine whine!)
Not just 'big ol' Wyaeth, tiny little Chielyth'... but he lets her sit near him. Almost touching! "Headaches?" Kai echoes, shakes his head and has more beer. In case that wasn't enough, "Nah. Whaffor?"
"Raith's loud. I get headaches. You're lucky," Z'yi directs in his concise manner, falling silent soon after. His beer is so much more interesting, after all, and now he's scowling for some ungodly reason.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth listens intently, like she expects to be tested later. << What sort of hide crap? Oh! Sharding hidework! >> The swearing does not fit her /at all/, no matter how cheerfully she says the words. Or perhaps because of how cheerfully she says the words. << Kai hates sharding hidework too. Why don't you go hunting now? We could go hunting together! >>
B'kaiv digests this with narrowed eyes, offers, "Huh," as acknowledgement. "We got a loud one too. Mohraith. One of th' weyrlings." Not him, though, he with the beer and the chip on his shoulder and the disjointed conversation. After a while and a refill, "How old's he?"
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith doesn't even think twice; << Don't cuss. It's unbecoming of a lady. >> That's what Jeibeth would say, at least! Can you see the underlying thread of most of his motivations? He'd be entirely too lazy otherwise. Then, beat, a bit dubiously: << I dunno. An' what's weird is that he /likes/ it, >> to retro back to the original topic. Beat. << You sure you wanna go hunting? >>
"Well, Raith was loud. Didn't learn to talk just to me until we were-- well, I think he was six, seven months old." Ha. Isfo/raith/ and Moh/raith/. Go figure. It must be a curse. "Uh, just over a turn and--" brief pause, recall, "--nine months."
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth points out that, << I'm not a lady! >> She's a Chielyth, yay! << Anyway, Kai swears lots. All the time. >> Even though Kai isn't a lady either. << How come you don't like swearing? And sure, we can go! I'm not hungry but I'll fly with you and help if that's okay, okay? >>
B'kaiv snorts and almost nearly smiles - maybe he caught the similarity in names too. "Shells, that all? Chielyth's almost two an' a half. He sounds older." After a few seconds, in which he watches someone too drunk to pay for his beer be summarily ejected by belt and collar, he adds, "She bothering him? 'Cause I can try an' get her t' lay off."
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith has this bad feeling like karma's finally come back to bite him in the ass. << You're green, ain't you? >> he challenges her on her stance of being a lady. << You should tell him to stop. It's bad for 'em, y'know. I tell Z'yi to stop, all the time, >> though the difference is that Isforaith's just messing with Isz. << I don't know, >> about hunting-- << I'm pretty damn comfy over here. >> Have we mentioned he's lazy?
"Is she?" Z'yi seems fairly taken aback at that-- Chielyth being older than Raith. But he shrugs big shoulders, doesn't seem to bother him much after the initial surprise has passed. The face-as-a-door-opener is watched as well, and Z'yi snorts. "She can step it up a bit. He's damned sure not irritated enough, yet." Obviously not the most, ah, typical relationship between blue and lifemate, here.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth doesn't even bother to check. << Yup! How come swearing is bad? >> She goes away for a little while, bounds happily back to announce, << Kai says to shove it up your ass! Swearing isn't either bad. If you don't want to hunt, do you want to cuddle? >> Watch her ping-pong from topic to topic. Better keep up, big bulky blue!
Z'yi also may have just snorted beer through his nose at something. Carry on.
B'kaiv doesn't bother to say yeah, just nods: she's older. Another snort, twin to Z'yi's own, and more beer pass before the greenrider goes on, half-challenging, "Yeah? You got a bug up your butt about him? Or'd he do something t' tick you off?"
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith fires back, whiskey-bent and hell bound: << Hells Bells, tell him to save that shit for his boyfriend, and he better keep his hands off of Isz cuz he ain't into that either, >> without thought for who exactly he's talking to. Uh. Whoops. A moment later, << Uh. >> So eloquent! Brief speechless moment. Enjoy it. << I don't cuddle, >> defensively. Then, grudgingly, << You can share my sunny spot if you want, though. >> Big concession from mister sprawler.
Z'yi chokes on his beer, rather than ejecting it forcibly out of his nasal cavities. That shit burns. "Nah, we've always hated eachother," Isz replies, his tone mild. "I guess he's like a brother, you'd say. Irritating as hell, prickly, hard to get along with, but I love him all the same," matter-of-fact. "He's there for me when I need him, and me for him. It works." Beat. "Doesn't mean I half to necessarily /like/ him." He does, but he'll deny it.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth isn't taken the teensiest bit aback by the blue's outburst - but then again, if she cuddles with /Wyaeth/ she's probably used to it. << Kai doesn't have a boyfriend, just G'dri. But doesn't Isz like getting laid? >> Moment of wilty sadness for poor pariah Isz who doesn't like to get laid. But mention of a sunny spot, yay! brings the little green fluttering over to settle as close to the blue as he'll allow. << How come you don't like cuddling? I bet you'd be really good at it. You're really big. >>
B'kaiv's attention wanders in and out, reminiscent of either a rider talking to his dragon or a really toasted drinker. "Huh. That ain't her at all. Guess it works for you, though." Another here-and-gone behind his eyes and Kai shakes his head, shoves back from the table. "Oughta take her home before she gets too cozy. Hope he don't mind her showing up all hours of th' night."
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith paints the sky blue. For no apparent reason, just to do it. It's a dark blue, about the color of the deepest parts of his hide, and speckled with stars. Maybe it's a cunningly-wraught distraction! (Or maybe it's just Raith being random-- much more likely.) << Uh. >> Another of those Awkward Moments(tm) for the big blue, before he carefully chooses his words in reply, << Not all, um, getting laid, uh, involves-- ah-- /that/ >> A vague memory of a pretty face, blonde hair in braids, very feminine, strong and pouting: amused. << He likes women. >> There's a ghost of a face, much more masculine, a sad face, in memory-- his << Mostly, >> is softly said. As for cuddling? << Y'can't move if you're all scrunched up to someone. >>
Z'yi would think it's much more likely of a rider talking to his dragon-- he hasn't drank that much beer, after all. The bluerider lifts an eyebrow skywards, then shakes his head. "Have fun," he dryly comments. "He'll be awake for it," regarding his dragon and night-time pop-ins. "Clear skies," briefly stated thereafter.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth considers that sky, those stars, adds a few of her own in the appropriate color, yay! << Kai likes women too, >> she confides, empathically sotto voce for the blue's own quiet. << They're nice. >> A bit more passes while she settles in comfortably, casually inching ever closer to her goal of green hide against blue. << Nuh-huh. You can put your wing over me and I can put my tail on yours and we can put our heads together! >> She remembers another blue - or is it a brown? - she likes to turn into a gooey puddle of dragon with, hums happily for the thought.
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith inches away, another foot or so. Nuh-uh, you have cooties! << Huh, >> said distractedly for Kai's preferences. << I really don't like cuddling, >> he adds again, more firmly, as if talking to a yippy little dog: calm firmness delivered in a strong tone. Maybe it'll work! (Though he's already scoping out his secondary spot should Chielyth run him completely off of this one.) Edge, edge away slowly.
B'kaiv tosses back the last of his beer, nudges what's left of his pitcher Z'yi's way so the bluerider has a better chance of drowning any passing whers. "Yeah. You too. You owe me a beer sometime." Not now, though. Now he'll shrug back into his jacket with its incriminating knot, drop the other man a nod, and make his way out of the dingy bar, hopefully to not run into any more Snowdrift riders on the way.
A hand lifted in casual farewell as the greenrider exits-- and Kai does pass by a Snowdrift rider on his way out, though she manages not to grope him. Barely. Hey, she was lookin' for a thug up in this club! Z'yi just shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath as he pours the last of Kai's beer into his big mug, intent on getting wasted-- and so he will, eventually.
Dragon> To Isforaith, Chielyth doesn't either have cooties! But when Isforaith makes it clear that there is to be No Cuddling she stops, settles in with a whiff of violets. << Oh. Wyaeth doesn't like cuddling either. Maybe we can cuddle later. >> Despite evidence to the contrary. << --Oh! Kai says we're going to go flying! >> Burst of sunlight, hastily muted, and Chielyth pushes up and away with a rainbow scribble for poor lonely Isforaith. << Bye, Isforaith! I'll see you later, okay? We can go flying then! >>
Dragon> To Chielyth, Isforaith can't find it in him to be mean, but that doesn't mean he can't be /relieved/-- << G'night, Chielyth. I'll fly with you later, >> he agrees, knowing he'll forget about it five minutes later, (yay!).
Bet he thinks he's smart, hiding as he were a rider. Bet he won't think it's so funny when she shows up three in the morning.
--Flame it, need to hit somebody, I think. Or get drunk proper. Or get sharding laid.