(no subject)
It is a winter night, 18:47 of day 20, month 3, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.
Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their 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 clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
Obvious exits:
Hallway Patio Ledge
Slight of build, with only subtle curves and slender as a reed, Vyshani is saved from appearing fragile by being possessed of a bright vitality that lends a certain spark of energy to even the calmest of movements. Her golden-tan skin marks her as originating from a semi-tropical locale, and the softness of her accent further identifies her as Bollian. Strong of feature, she has a squared jaw and wide cheekbones, though the slightly layered cut of her just-past-shoulder length black hair softens the edges of her features when allowed to hang loose. Dark brown eyes sit beneath slender, subtly curved brows, evenly spaced from the bridge of her slightly wide, round-tipped nose. Her lips are full, her mouth slightly uptilted at the corners and well-suited to smiling.
Her layered skirts are ankle length, the azure overskirt cinched up along the right side to reveal a swath of the yellow skirt beneath. Her bodice is a matching yellow, lacing up the front and worn over a cream blouse with short, slightly puffed sleeves. Tied around her slim waist is a knee length apron, two large square pockets sewn onto the front and the hem decorated with an embroidered border of twining green vines and large-petalled, tropical flowers. Sensible, sturdy shoes complete the outfit.
The knot pinned haphazardly at one shoulder is the simple coil of a High Reaches Weyr candidate.
Wet. Dreary. Miserable. Winter is still clinging stubbornly to the Reachian slopes, though the more optimistic might speculate that rain really does mean that spring is just around the corner. Bad weather and booze seem to make a winning combination, however, the Snowasis quite full of patrons already though it's still early evening. A mixed bag, some surly, some not, sullen mutterings lost under laughter and raised voices. There's already two card games in full swing, one looking more serious than the other. In amongst the crowd and hubbub, one brightly-clad Bollian lass is leaning her elbows on the back of a chair, looking over the shoulder of one of the players at the casual card table. There's a sudden burst of laughter, and Vyshani straightens up and musses the hair of the young man who's just tossed down his hand. Turning away, she starts to thread her way back across the room towards the bar, calling cheerfully over her shoulder: "Told you I was lousy luck!"
B'kaiv's half-turned in his seat at the bar to watch the games, half-empty mug in one hand. He's incognito tonight, or as incognito as he can get: his jacket is hung up at the bar's entrance, leaving the Fortian knotless, and his shirt sleeves are pushed up over his elbows. He's not been here long enough for his boots to dry, absently chatting with the barmaids and keeping one (or sometimes both) curious eye on the cards. As Vyshani makes her way through the crowd Kai turns fully to appreciate her, elbows braced on the bar and with a crooked smile that none of the other wenches have yet to see. He calls, "Hey," as she gets into earshot, adds a little wave in case that's not enough to draw her over.
There's a few heads within earshot that turn at the 'hey,' lacking as it does an accompanying name. Most turn back again, either from lack of recognition, or from having spotted the huge grin and returned wave -- not little at all, but rather vigorous -- being directed towards the stranger. "B'kaiv!" Vyshani exclaims, promptly veering off course to go over to his table instead, arriving with a little bounce. Her greeting is more along the lines of one for an old friend than just an acquaintance, as she goes to far as to try to give him a quick hug. "It's good to see you. How are you? How's Chielyth? What--" But with a little laugh she cuts herself off. Two questions are enough to bombard him with for starters.
B'kaiv might be a little taken aback at the hug - the rapidly-widening eyes might be a clue - but he suffers the embrace willingly enough, even if it's only one-armed to keep his beer from slopping. "Careful. S'... Vy, ain't it? Vy, uh, shanti?" There's no chair for him to kick out for her, but he can nod her to the neighboring barstool: good enough? "She's good. Real good. Up t' th' Spires, probably with Corvinth or something. You want a beer?" He's already turning to signal the man before the thought strikes and he looks over uncertainly. "You can drink, yeah? Mean, they let you, and all?"
If it were possible for Vyshani to grin any wider, she would. "Oh, you could be holdin' a tray fulla 'em and I wouldn't make you spill a drop," she dismisses that 'careful,' assuming he means of his drink. She plops down on that other stool readily, bobbing her head in a nod that makes her sloppy runnertail bounce wildly. "Vyshani, but Vy works just as well. Better maybe. Easier to remember." She adds a wink for that. "That's the brown you were telling me about, right? Oh, I'd love one, thanks. So long as none of us get drunk, they don't mind. What brings you up here this time?"
B'kaiv, waystation brat that he is, gives her a politely disbelieving snort but is otherwise willing to let it drop. So long as he didn't spill. A wave for the 'keep and two fingers place an order after which he's free to turn back to his companion, crooked smile briefly reappearing. "Yeah, s'you a'right. Just got t' listen t' you rattle on t' know." Still, he has questions to answer, as best he can. "Corvinth's a brown, yeah. C'sel's. He an' Chielyth do all this real fancy flying. She's th' reason I'm here - well, her and th' bar. She got friends up here, and since them Stones fell, I ain't gonna let her come on her own." He even has a question of his own! "How you been? Getting int' trouble?"
Vyshani laughs brightly, dark eyes shining with good humour. "Still sayin' I talk too much. Meanie." A sudden snap of her fingers is followed by a point, "/That's/ why I knew the name!" Propping her elbows on the table, she plunks her chin onto her folded hands, comfortably slouched. "That really made a big mess of things, didn't it? The Star Stones getting clobbered. I wonder if they'll ever get all the damage fixed. Did she visit a lot without you, before?" She's not quite so perky for his own query, though. "Oh, no, not me. I'm stayin' as far away from trouble as I can. These people are crazy. There was even a fight in the barracks! And there's all sorts of trouble with the convicts who're candidates. I just wanna get this over with and go home." Eyes go wide. Was that her out loud voice?
B'kaiv's got a smile for her over his mug, meanie that he is. "Yeah. Shells, dangerous, too. S'how th' riders know how t' get from place t' place, the Star Stones. They're all different, see. Igen, Benden, Southern, Fort. So if you forget...." That's a sentence he doesn't finish, because he's nodding to answer hers. "Yeah. Some do, some don't, but she'd ask me for th' visual and go. She don't mind going on her own, so long as she got... /what/?" The greenrider straightens out of his comfortable slouch, eyes flicking over what he can see of her form. Looking for bruises? "/Shells/, yeah. They wasn't hitting no girls, was they? You a'right?"
There's a small shiver for the unfinished sentence. No one needs to make up horror stories about when travelling :between: goes wrong; the true ones are bad enough. "Oh, I wasn't there when it happened," Vyshani is quick to reassure. "There were a whole bunch of candidates involved though, boys and girls both. They've separated us into smaller groups, and some aren't even allowed in the barracks any more." But the young woman really doesn't like thinking about that, a troubled frown marring her brow. So instead she prompts, "You were saying about Chielyth going visiting? So long as she's got... what?"
The greenrider only slowly relaxes, settling back with a quick glance and nod when their mugs are delivered. Ever the gentleman, he hands one over to Vyshani before tossing back the last of his and exchanging mugs. "Shells," he says with a disgusted head shake. "There's brawling, and there's just being /stupid/." He'd settle into a discontented sulk were it not for her question; he considers her for a second before half-smiling again. "Huh? Oh, friends. She don't mind going on her own so long as she got friends. Like Wyaeth and Corvinth here, Traluuth and Fereleth over t' Benden. She likes going flying." As though that explains her.
Vyshani bobs her head and smiles by way of thanks, straightening up a little so that she can take the mug. Petite little girly-girl that she looks, she doesn't hesitate with taking a first sip followed by a larger appreciative swallow. "What is it with men and brawls?" she asks, amused. "It must be incredible, being able to fly. Like, really fly, with wings of your own. If I had wings, I'd want to fly all the time." Her expression went a bit dreamy for that little bit of whimsy, but she blinks back into reality after only a short time. Refocusing on B'kaiv, she tilts her head curiously. "Can you feel what it's like? When she flies?"
One elbow hooked casually on the bar, Kai looks every inch the bar fly. "'M good at it," is probably predictable, considering his build; he shifts his mug into his other hand so he can slowly build a fist and turn it as though this is the first time he's seen one. "Fighting and math's about all I can do, so why not?" As for flying, "--Shells, /yeah/, it's something. You been flying, but that ain't nothing like having your own. Me and her get up there...." She's not the only one turned whimsical and dreamy; like her, he shakes it off after a second or three. "Sorta. Mean, if I'm listening for it. S'like... well, shells. You got hands, right?" Obviously. "But you don't pay them no mind, 'cept for special. That make sense?"
"Don't you ever worry about getting hurt?" is Vyshani's response to 'why not,' watching him turn his fist. Her own hand twitches, jumps, and is curled firmly around her mug to keep the other company. "Kind of, I think. You're saying that it's... normal for you. Right? Like picking up a mug or something like that." She looks a bit puzzled, and shakes her head. "That makes it sound so ordinary. It must still be special even when you're used to it."
"/Worry/?" Kai echoes. This foreign language she speaks...! "Shells, no. Course it's gonna /hurt/. You worry about getting hungry? Tired?" He tosses back more beer with a fond head shake and amused glance sideways. Such silliness. As for wings or hands, "Sorta, I guess? It's... shells, I dunno. She's always there, but I ain't always paying attention t' her. Like you always got hands, but you ain't, you don't...." His mouth twists as his analogy fails, leaving the greenrider's face all screwed up. "Shells, I dunno. She's Chielyth, and she's... she's Chielyth." Muttered sidelong, "Told you I weren't no good at this," as it's neither a brawl nor math.
Cheekily, "Depends on if I've skipped a meal already or not." Vyshani grins at him over the top of her mug, but as she takes another drink she frees a hand to point at his arm. After swallowing, "That looks like it's old, and no fist ever made a mark like that. Or are you gonna tell me you fell out of a tree when you were little, or something?" The same hand she used to point with is aimed towards his shoulder as he mutters, the intention being a friendly pat. "You and every other dragonrider I've pestered with questions over the turns. Every single one ends up at a loss for words. Some things you just have to experience for yourself to truly understand, right?"
Exasperated, "It just happens!" but more beer drowns (for now) the flare of irritation, and a long exhalation blows out the last of the embers. "This?" He extends his scarred arm, rotating the scar for her delectation as long as she's got her hand on his shoulder. "Shells, no, didn't get that in no brawl. Got it from them sharding raiders." He makes quick work of the story of Leonart and the guy with the knife, embellishing it not at all. His own part is downplayed almost into invisibility, save for how he sort of had to be there to stop the blade with his arm. "Busted a couple of th' stitches, after. Thought th' Healers was gonna dose me with fellis or something." The memory coaxes back his smile, though he leaves the topic of Chielyth - or incoherent riders - alone.
Vyshani looks a bit startled for the outburst, and then promptly apologetic. And despite a couple of landed-fish impressions as she opens her mouth to speak only to snap it shut again, she makes it all the way through that story without a single interruption. And never mind the downplay, she still looks impressed. "The scar would be worse if you'd actually done yourself damage. I'd never be brave enough to face anybody with a knife," she murmurs, tracing the air above his arm before retracting her hand back into her own personal space again. Not to mention that the idea of bitty little her going into any kind of fight is laughable. "There hasn't been any more trouble with those raiders, has there? Mama and Papa haven't mentioned anything in their letters, but I don't really think they would. They wouldn't want me to worry. Some of my friends are Traders and they've probably already started their routes down in Boll."
Somewhere in there is a muttered, "Sorry," and as they both return to their respective bubbles Kai settles his shoulders like he's reminding himself of his body. "Had a baton, just sharding forgot t' use it." More beer, another sideways look and he shakes his head again. "Nah. Least, not as I heard. Or seen, out on sweeps. Think we might'a got 'em, finally. I ain't no Wingleader or nothing, but I ain't heard." So he said. "S'pretty nice, down t' Boll. Even warmer at Fort'n it is here. You miss it? Th' warm?"
"Oh I hope so," Vy says with feeling. "It's not right, preying on other people like that. Bad for business, too." She puffs out a sigh, then has another smile to offer over to the greenrider. "Thank you. It's good to hear from someone else. Most people around here are pretty preoccupied with their own local problems." Turning around on the stool so that she can lean back and indulge in some idle foot-kicking, she nods. "The warm? Yeah. Also the ocean, and having my own room. I don't think I'm meant for the north." Which could just be homesickness talking. "I miss the flowers. Is it spring at Fort yet?"
B'kaiv's got a dismissive snort for those sharding Reachians, too self-absorbed to care about /real/ problems, like the ones down at Fort! "You want t' go sometimes, bet one of th' riders here'd take you. Just t' visit, or whatever." Whatever 'whatever' means. "Shells, yeah," it's Spring. And the greenrider launches into a story of what Chielyth's been up to ever since the weather warmed. Far more talkative when the subject is his green rather than himself, he probably doesn't realize how much his face lights for her either. Beer is set aside so he can demonstrate some of her more daring maneuvers (Cliffs! Trees! Very large rocks!) and he even laughs once or twice before sitting up with the abruptness of riders. "--Shells, I got t' run. Forgot we got watch t'night. Was real good seeing you again, Vyshani. Good luck at th' Hatching, too."
"It's not the same," simply has to be noted for visiting. Because she has to come back. But the change in topic brings Vyshani back to her more normal cheer, her grin steadying and her eyes lighting up as she watches those hand swoops. Nor does she mind that it's Chielyth and not B'kaiv that she's learning about. He's talking, and telling /stories/ and perhaps most importantly, being an absolutely wonderful distraction. "Awww," is pouted for the abrupt need to leave. "It was great to see you too, B'kaiv. Maybe when this is all over, I can be the one to buy you a drink, back at Bolgur." Whenever 'all over' is fated to happen. Her 'thanks' is quick and bashful for the wish for luck, and she'll try to catch him in another hug before he makes good his escape, and she abandons the bar for quieter areas like a good little candidate should.
Gotta remember to stop into Bolgur, next time I got a chance, let them know how she's doing. Don't suppose as they'd let me take her myself. Dunno as I hope she Impresses or not. Them skirts of hers were real something.
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.
Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their 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 clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
Obvious exits:
Hallway Patio Ledge
Slight of build, with only subtle curves and slender as a reed, Vyshani is saved from appearing fragile by being possessed of a bright vitality that lends a certain spark of energy to even the calmest of movements. Her golden-tan skin marks her as originating from a semi-tropical locale, and the softness of her accent further identifies her as Bollian. Strong of feature, she has a squared jaw and wide cheekbones, though the slightly layered cut of her just-past-shoulder length black hair softens the edges of her features when allowed to hang loose. Dark brown eyes sit beneath slender, subtly curved brows, evenly spaced from the bridge of her slightly wide, round-tipped nose. Her lips are full, her mouth slightly uptilted at the corners and well-suited to smiling.
Her layered skirts are ankle length, the azure overskirt cinched up along the right side to reveal a swath of the yellow skirt beneath. Her bodice is a matching yellow, lacing up the front and worn over a cream blouse with short, slightly puffed sleeves. Tied around her slim waist is a knee length apron, two large square pockets sewn onto the front and the hem decorated with an embroidered border of twining green vines and large-petalled, tropical flowers. Sensible, sturdy shoes complete the outfit.
The knot pinned haphazardly at one shoulder is the simple coil of a High Reaches Weyr candidate.
Wet. Dreary. Miserable. Winter is still clinging stubbornly to the Reachian slopes, though the more optimistic might speculate that rain really does mean that spring is just around the corner. Bad weather and booze seem to make a winning combination, however, the Snowasis quite full of patrons already though it's still early evening. A mixed bag, some surly, some not, sullen mutterings lost under laughter and raised voices. There's already two card games in full swing, one looking more serious than the other. In amongst the crowd and hubbub, one brightly-clad Bollian lass is leaning her elbows on the back of a chair, looking over the shoulder of one of the players at the casual card table. There's a sudden burst of laughter, and Vyshani straightens up and musses the hair of the young man who's just tossed down his hand. Turning away, she starts to thread her way back across the room towards the bar, calling cheerfully over her shoulder: "Told you I was lousy luck!"
B'kaiv's half-turned in his seat at the bar to watch the games, half-empty mug in one hand. He's incognito tonight, or as incognito as he can get: his jacket is hung up at the bar's entrance, leaving the Fortian knotless, and his shirt sleeves are pushed up over his elbows. He's not been here long enough for his boots to dry, absently chatting with the barmaids and keeping one (or sometimes both) curious eye on the cards. As Vyshani makes her way through the crowd Kai turns fully to appreciate her, elbows braced on the bar and with a crooked smile that none of the other wenches have yet to see. He calls, "Hey," as she gets into earshot, adds a little wave in case that's not enough to draw her over.
There's a few heads within earshot that turn at the 'hey,' lacking as it does an accompanying name. Most turn back again, either from lack of recognition, or from having spotted the huge grin and returned wave -- not little at all, but rather vigorous -- being directed towards the stranger. "B'kaiv!" Vyshani exclaims, promptly veering off course to go over to his table instead, arriving with a little bounce. Her greeting is more along the lines of one for an old friend than just an acquaintance, as she goes to far as to try to give him a quick hug. "It's good to see you. How are you? How's Chielyth? What--" But with a little laugh she cuts herself off. Two questions are enough to bombard him with for starters.
B'kaiv might be a little taken aback at the hug - the rapidly-widening eyes might be a clue - but he suffers the embrace willingly enough, even if it's only one-armed to keep his beer from slopping. "Careful. S'... Vy, ain't it? Vy, uh, shanti?" There's no chair for him to kick out for her, but he can nod her to the neighboring barstool: good enough? "She's good. Real good. Up t' th' Spires, probably with Corvinth or something. You want a beer?" He's already turning to signal the man before the thought strikes and he looks over uncertainly. "You can drink, yeah? Mean, they let you, and all?"
If it were possible for Vyshani to grin any wider, she would. "Oh, you could be holdin' a tray fulla 'em and I wouldn't make you spill a drop," she dismisses that 'careful,' assuming he means of his drink. She plops down on that other stool readily, bobbing her head in a nod that makes her sloppy runnertail bounce wildly. "Vyshani, but Vy works just as well. Better maybe. Easier to remember." She adds a wink for that. "That's the brown you were telling me about, right? Oh, I'd love one, thanks. So long as none of us get drunk, they don't mind. What brings you up here this time?"
B'kaiv, waystation brat that he is, gives her a politely disbelieving snort but is otherwise willing to let it drop. So long as he didn't spill. A wave for the 'keep and two fingers place an order after which he's free to turn back to his companion, crooked smile briefly reappearing. "Yeah, s'you a'right. Just got t' listen t' you rattle on t' know." Still, he has questions to answer, as best he can. "Corvinth's a brown, yeah. C'sel's. He an' Chielyth do all this real fancy flying. She's th' reason I'm here - well, her and th' bar. She got friends up here, and since them Stones fell, I ain't gonna let her come on her own." He even has a question of his own! "How you been? Getting int' trouble?"
Vyshani laughs brightly, dark eyes shining with good humour. "Still sayin' I talk too much. Meanie." A sudden snap of her fingers is followed by a point, "/That's/ why I knew the name!" Propping her elbows on the table, she plunks her chin onto her folded hands, comfortably slouched. "That really made a big mess of things, didn't it? The Star Stones getting clobbered. I wonder if they'll ever get all the damage fixed. Did she visit a lot without you, before?" She's not quite so perky for his own query, though. "Oh, no, not me. I'm stayin' as far away from trouble as I can. These people are crazy. There was even a fight in the barracks! And there's all sorts of trouble with the convicts who're candidates. I just wanna get this over with and go home." Eyes go wide. Was that her out loud voice?
B'kaiv's got a smile for her over his mug, meanie that he is. "Yeah. Shells, dangerous, too. S'how th' riders know how t' get from place t' place, the Star Stones. They're all different, see. Igen, Benden, Southern, Fort. So if you forget...." That's a sentence he doesn't finish, because he's nodding to answer hers. "Yeah. Some do, some don't, but she'd ask me for th' visual and go. She don't mind going on her own, so long as she got... /what/?" The greenrider straightens out of his comfortable slouch, eyes flicking over what he can see of her form. Looking for bruises? "/Shells/, yeah. They wasn't hitting no girls, was they? You a'right?"
There's a small shiver for the unfinished sentence. No one needs to make up horror stories about when travelling :between: goes wrong; the true ones are bad enough. "Oh, I wasn't there when it happened," Vyshani is quick to reassure. "There were a whole bunch of candidates involved though, boys and girls both. They've separated us into smaller groups, and some aren't even allowed in the barracks any more." But the young woman really doesn't like thinking about that, a troubled frown marring her brow. So instead she prompts, "You were saying about Chielyth going visiting? So long as she's got... what?"
The greenrider only slowly relaxes, settling back with a quick glance and nod when their mugs are delivered. Ever the gentleman, he hands one over to Vyshani before tossing back the last of his and exchanging mugs. "Shells," he says with a disgusted head shake. "There's brawling, and there's just being /stupid/." He'd settle into a discontented sulk were it not for her question; he considers her for a second before half-smiling again. "Huh? Oh, friends. She don't mind going on her own so long as she got friends. Like Wyaeth and Corvinth here, Traluuth and Fereleth over t' Benden. She likes going flying." As though that explains her.
Vyshani bobs her head and smiles by way of thanks, straightening up a little so that she can take the mug. Petite little girly-girl that she looks, she doesn't hesitate with taking a first sip followed by a larger appreciative swallow. "What is it with men and brawls?" she asks, amused. "It must be incredible, being able to fly. Like, really fly, with wings of your own. If I had wings, I'd want to fly all the time." Her expression went a bit dreamy for that little bit of whimsy, but she blinks back into reality after only a short time. Refocusing on B'kaiv, she tilts her head curiously. "Can you feel what it's like? When she flies?"
One elbow hooked casually on the bar, Kai looks every inch the bar fly. "'M good at it," is probably predictable, considering his build; he shifts his mug into his other hand so he can slowly build a fist and turn it as though this is the first time he's seen one. "Fighting and math's about all I can do, so why not?" As for flying, "--Shells, /yeah/, it's something. You been flying, but that ain't nothing like having your own. Me and her get up there...." She's not the only one turned whimsical and dreamy; like her, he shakes it off after a second or three. "Sorta. Mean, if I'm listening for it. S'like... well, shells. You got hands, right?" Obviously. "But you don't pay them no mind, 'cept for special. That make sense?"
"Don't you ever worry about getting hurt?" is Vyshani's response to 'why not,' watching him turn his fist. Her own hand twitches, jumps, and is curled firmly around her mug to keep the other company. "Kind of, I think. You're saying that it's... normal for you. Right? Like picking up a mug or something like that." She looks a bit puzzled, and shakes her head. "That makes it sound so ordinary. It must still be special even when you're used to it."
"/Worry/?" Kai echoes. This foreign language she speaks...! "Shells, no. Course it's gonna /hurt/. You worry about getting hungry? Tired?" He tosses back more beer with a fond head shake and amused glance sideways. Such silliness. As for wings or hands, "Sorta, I guess? It's... shells, I dunno. She's always there, but I ain't always paying attention t' her. Like you always got hands, but you ain't, you don't...." His mouth twists as his analogy fails, leaving the greenrider's face all screwed up. "Shells, I dunno. She's Chielyth, and she's... she's Chielyth." Muttered sidelong, "Told you I weren't no good at this," as it's neither a brawl nor math.
Cheekily, "Depends on if I've skipped a meal already or not." Vyshani grins at him over the top of her mug, but as she takes another drink she frees a hand to point at his arm. After swallowing, "That looks like it's old, and no fist ever made a mark like that. Or are you gonna tell me you fell out of a tree when you were little, or something?" The same hand she used to point with is aimed towards his shoulder as he mutters, the intention being a friendly pat. "You and every other dragonrider I've pestered with questions over the turns. Every single one ends up at a loss for words. Some things you just have to experience for yourself to truly understand, right?"
Exasperated, "It just happens!" but more beer drowns (for now) the flare of irritation, and a long exhalation blows out the last of the embers. "This?" He extends his scarred arm, rotating the scar for her delectation as long as she's got her hand on his shoulder. "Shells, no, didn't get that in no brawl. Got it from them sharding raiders." He makes quick work of the story of Leonart and the guy with the knife, embellishing it not at all. His own part is downplayed almost into invisibility, save for how he sort of had to be there to stop the blade with his arm. "Busted a couple of th' stitches, after. Thought th' Healers was gonna dose me with fellis or something." The memory coaxes back his smile, though he leaves the topic of Chielyth - or incoherent riders - alone.
Vyshani looks a bit startled for the outburst, and then promptly apologetic. And despite a couple of landed-fish impressions as she opens her mouth to speak only to snap it shut again, she makes it all the way through that story without a single interruption. And never mind the downplay, she still looks impressed. "The scar would be worse if you'd actually done yourself damage. I'd never be brave enough to face anybody with a knife," she murmurs, tracing the air above his arm before retracting her hand back into her own personal space again. Not to mention that the idea of bitty little her going into any kind of fight is laughable. "There hasn't been any more trouble with those raiders, has there? Mama and Papa haven't mentioned anything in their letters, but I don't really think they would. They wouldn't want me to worry. Some of my friends are Traders and they've probably already started their routes down in Boll."
Somewhere in there is a muttered, "Sorry," and as they both return to their respective bubbles Kai settles his shoulders like he's reminding himself of his body. "Had a baton, just sharding forgot t' use it." More beer, another sideways look and he shakes his head again. "Nah. Least, not as I heard. Or seen, out on sweeps. Think we might'a got 'em, finally. I ain't no Wingleader or nothing, but I ain't heard." So he said. "S'pretty nice, down t' Boll. Even warmer at Fort'n it is here. You miss it? Th' warm?"
"Oh I hope so," Vy says with feeling. "It's not right, preying on other people like that. Bad for business, too." She puffs out a sigh, then has another smile to offer over to the greenrider. "Thank you. It's good to hear from someone else. Most people around here are pretty preoccupied with their own local problems." Turning around on the stool so that she can lean back and indulge in some idle foot-kicking, she nods. "The warm? Yeah. Also the ocean, and having my own room. I don't think I'm meant for the north." Which could just be homesickness talking. "I miss the flowers. Is it spring at Fort yet?"
B'kaiv's got a dismissive snort for those sharding Reachians, too self-absorbed to care about /real/ problems, like the ones down at Fort! "You want t' go sometimes, bet one of th' riders here'd take you. Just t' visit, or whatever." Whatever 'whatever' means. "Shells, yeah," it's Spring. And the greenrider launches into a story of what Chielyth's been up to ever since the weather warmed. Far more talkative when the subject is his green rather than himself, he probably doesn't realize how much his face lights for her either. Beer is set aside so he can demonstrate some of her more daring maneuvers (Cliffs! Trees! Very large rocks!) and he even laughs once or twice before sitting up with the abruptness of riders. "--Shells, I got t' run. Forgot we got watch t'night. Was real good seeing you again, Vyshani. Good luck at th' Hatching, too."
"It's not the same," simply has to be noted for visiting. Because she has to come back. But the change in topic brings Vyshani back to her more normal cheer, her grin steadying and her eyes lighting up as she watches those hand swoops. Nor does she mind that it's Chielyth and not B'kaiv that she's learning about. He's talking, and telling /stories/ and perhaps most importantly, being an absolutely wonderful distraction. "Awww," is pouted for the abrupt need to leave. "It was great to see you too, B'kaiv. Maybe when this is all over, I can be the one to buy you a drink, back at Bolgur." Whenever 'all over' is fated to happen. Her 'thanks' is quick and bashful for the wish for luck, and she'll try to catch him in another hug before he makes good his escape, and she abandons the bar for quieter areas like a good little candidate should.
Gotta remember to stop into Bolgur, next time I got a chance, let them know how she's doing. Don't suppose as they'd let me take her myself. Dunno as I hope she Impresses or not. Them skirts of hers were real something.