==== September 24th, 2013
==== Q'fex, tasna, Ksenia
==== A rider, a barkeep, and a trader walk into a bar…

Who Q'fex, tasna, Ksenia
What A rider, a barkeep, and a trader walk into a bar…
When There is 1 turn 1 month and 24 days until the 12th pass.
Where Tavern, Southern Weyr

qfex_7.jpg, icon-tasena.jpg, ksenia3.png


Tavern
Of course this should be renovated with alacrity: though the glass is yet to be replaced in the windows, there is a large marble-topped bar along the western half of this standalone building, and a random tangle of chairs and tables much like the living caverns. For now, assistant headmen man the meagre stock of beer and wine and whiskey, and no fancy drinks issue forth.


The dinner hours bring with them the aromas of cooking, and the local tavern is not immune, though far more selective than the main caverns. This evening's fare is of the usual fried varieties, though there is also a baker wannabe waiting near the door, trying to ply folks with her biscuits. They're a little better than a month ago. The two people behind the bar are paying her little heed, though Tasena, at least, has the remains of one of the trial biscuits on a plate off to the side. It's been nibbled. Politely. Otherwise, it's the normal evening crowd, though still sparse at this early hour. "Early", of course, being entirely relative.

A familiar silhouette darkens the door: the weyrleader and tavern son-errant returning. Perhaps a quiet stir from one of the corners - Q'fex isn't necessarily the most loved member of weyrleadership at the moment, with double-paced drills mandated for the unlimited future. He maneuvers to the bar, unpeturbed, and flashes Tasena a smile; no doubt he is, at some rate, familiar. His drink order, though it be unusual, is far from uncharacteristic. "Any milk back there?"

"Sure, milked the wildcat myself just this morning," Tasena answers, crooked smile far more crooked toward the end. "Or there's the normal kind, too," she concedes, leaning with her hands on the edge of the bar, shoulders hunched just slightly. She's hopefully a little familiar herself, by now, and cares little about riders' drills. Except that it might make them even better customers.

Q'fex's lips curve into a crooked thing in return, mirroring Tasena's expression all-too-well. "Nectar of the wildcat would likely do away with me," a callous-fingered hand presses against his sternum, graceful eloquence-in-motion. There is an art to leaning forwards, to lowering one's voice: "Perhaps just a short of the virgin stuff for me, today." And every day before that, except for the one time he fell off the wagon and nearly drank the entirety of Liger under the table. But shh, the first rule of falling off the wagon…

Tas's wink in reply is probably enough answer. She knows the drill. "Take a load off. It'll just take a minute." She reaches for a clean glass, but pauses before heading off to start on that drink order. "Any food tonight? Our cook's gone all veggies-only on us again, happens about once a month, but there's a minion revolt going on, too. Could maybe find something else, if you're not of the tubers and greens crowd."

Q'fex leans back on his stool in response, his grin broadening and easing simultaneously. He even reaches up to finally undo the topmost button on his shirt, shifting his neck about as if enjoying that first truly free moment of the day. He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling to consider for a moment. "Eh, might as well. But. Just tubers. Seems like these days I can't get enough salt." Probably because he's sweating out any bit of it that he would normally retain, trufax. trufex? Whichever~

"Yeah, that's Southern for you, right?" Tasena replies, sounding genuinely amused. She takes her leave momentarily, then, stopping first to call back the fried tuber order, then sets to work on that usual unusual. Soon enough, she's back and placing the glass in front of Q'fex. "Totally different heat here from Igen, isn't it? Sun feels different. There's this sharding humidity… clings to you, day and night. And it only gets warmer from here on out." She picks up a glass that's been hiding behind the bar. Just juice. She's a good girl. On duty. "Makes the surfing better, though. Do you surf, or do your Leader of the Weyrider duties get in the way?"

Ah, sweet, sweet unalcoholic beverage. Hey, at least it's cold. The rider hasn't any problem with taking a long draw of his preferred drink of choice, casually swiping the back of his hand over his upper lip. "Incredibly different," he agrees. "Here, everything sticks to you." The weyrleader's tone is torn; on one hand, it's never a FUN thing, the damp. On the other hand, the sarongs the girls wear coming out of the water… Speaking of. "I don't get up to the coast too often," Q'fex confesses. "Though I have tried my hand at it." He doesn't mention an old High Reaches weyr - from oldtime - MADE him. "I hear that they've made a lively sport of rafting on the rapids, over on the river." He vaguely chucks his chin that general direction.

Tasena makes a small "mmm" sort of sound regarding the rafting, distracted slightly be a couple riders who enter. They apparently only arrived to call away a couple patrons, though, and the four soon leave. "I don't know. I suppose the thrill would be fun, be me? I like to be in control of my own thrills, you know what I mean?" she asks, turning back to Q'fex, grinning before taking a long sip of juice. Stashing the glass again, she picks up a wash cloth instead, but doesn't wander off just yet. "Rafting, though… you've got to put your faith in the raft. In the rapids." She stops to laugh. "Guess that means I have trust issues. What about you? Going to give it a try?"

Q'fex turns his head, just enough to see what has Tas preoccupied. Once the quartet has left, the bronzerider focuses once more in on his milk and the bartender. "Eh. I put my life on the line enough just climbing up my straps every morning." Beat. "You'd get that joke if you knew Kraakenaeth." A dry smile, just a touch at the corners of his mouth. "It's not my… thing." About the rafting.

"I've seen him," Tasena answers, grinning a beat later. There's another exit made by a pair of patrons, though the busy hour is going to arrive soon enough. "Well. I hope you have an outlet, at least." She glances to the side where the other bartender is hard at work chatting up a Serval rider, formerly of oldtime 'Reaches. "I mean… like you said. Put your life on the line everyday. If that's all there is…" She trails off while turning back to the weyrleader, fixing him with an uncharacteristically serious look. "The beach, though… can't get enough. Always liked the ocean. She's predictable. Rhythmic. And when she's not, she lets you know to stay out of her way. But then, I was born on the ocean, so I'm a little biased. Were you born at Igen?"

Q'fex has an inward, crooked smile at mention of an outlet. "Oh, I do." A flashed smile, and another sip — this time he doesn't catch all of the milk mustache. It makes him look only sort-of ridiculous, because he's Q'fex and can even make the worst jackassery somehow pleasing to the eye. Or … something. Damn eyebrows. "The ocean is nice," he responds, cautiously. "Keroon," regarding his origins, perhaps shining light: a land-locked son suddenly around all of these bodies of water. "What do you think about Azov? It's so quiet. It's eerie, almost, how still it is, sometimes."

"Keroon," Tasena echos, nodding slightly. "Are they still, like… the runner capital of Pern? Haven't been anywhere other than Igen and here, myself, since coming forward." She steps away momentarily to take a plate of fried tubers from one of the cook's assistants, then sets it in front of Q'fex, along with the usual salt, pepper and local condiments. "It would be nice to travel, though. See how Pern's come along, and all that." She gestures with some clean cutlery to ask if the rider would like any. "Azov is amazing for swimming," she then answers. "Kind of makes me wish I had a boat, though. It's so big."

"Yes," Q'fex returns, his smile returning simultaneously. "My father is one of the herdsmasters for Lord Keroon." His gaze turns kind-of reflective, "I probably should go visit him one of these days." Since, you know. Family. It's probably been a decade since Q'fex was home. He soaks his tubers with vinegar and another liberal dose of salt before wading in. "I met a.. well. He wasn't a seacrafter. But there are boats for the hire, I hear. Or," he waggles his eyebrows, "Boats to be hired upon." A laugh, then, and he leans back. "Though I'm sure that for my most favorite bartender," (what's your name again Tas? At least he doesn't forget it in a drunken stupor!), "Arrangements could be made if you wanted to visit." A pause: "Though I suppose it's not all about the destination, with a boat. Is it."

It is with a hugely crooked smirk that Tasena answers Q'fex. Still more patrons exit, without a new face in sight. They must have heard about the veggie revolt. It means Tas can pull up a chair, though, at least temporarily. "Not if you just want to see the middle." She reaches down to retrieve her juice and takes a sip before asking, "How'd you end up at Igen? Didn't want to follow in your father's footsteps or something?"

The VEGGIE REVOLT. With Q'fex's luck they'll go pillage the stores or kill all the herdbeasts in the weyrling pen or … Faranth only knows. "The middle." Q'fex dwells on that statement with only the philosophical mien that a dragonrider may give such a thing; as the middle, for dragonriders, is often the very last thing they wish to - and do - see before death claims them. The middle. Between. Same difference, right? "No, I was searched, as a lad." He squints at her, then. "What about you? Where did you come from," a sweeping gesture of a hand, "Back-then?"

Tasena smiles at Q'fex's echo of her phrase, then smiles more while he dwells on it. When he asks his own question, though, she shrugs. "Like I said. The ocean." For a couple seconds, it seems she might just leave it at that, though it might just be a natural pause while she drinks more juice. "Somewhere between the tip of Nerat and Ista Isle," she continues, once the drink is done. There is the faintest hint of begrudging to it, for whatever reason, more obvious when she continues with, "Mostly grew up in Nerat after that, though. Water baby. Reason enough to come to Southern."

"Huh." He furrows an eyebrow at Tasena. "There's about as much different between you and I as any could ever imagine." Youthful and mature-prime, female and male, oldtimer and nowtimer, waterbaby and flyboy. He slowly drains the last bit of his milk, sopping at his fries with the delight of a man who can feel his arteries hardening. "Do you like it?" he asks, then, gesturing with his eyes at the whole thing. "Southern, I mean."

Ksenia walks in from the Weyr Entrance.

Tasena has just about drained her glass of juice and leans over for a pitcher of water, changing up her refill a bit. She pauses before pouring, however, mulling over the rider's question for a moment. Hazel eyes scan the tavern for a moment, then brows furrow slightly. Her expression clears, however, as she continues filling her glass with water, making the most watered down juice ever. "I do. Miss the ocean, but…" She trails off while setting the pitcher back in its home behind the bar. "Didn't exactly have the ocean back at Igen either, right?" Watery juice is sipped, then set aside. "Do you like it? Humidity and leadership and all?"

Watered down juice EVER. Most, that is. Q'fex nods along to the woman's statement. "Well, at least it's closer here," he comments, mildly — about the ocean. He leans back, and gestures with a tuber. "I…" He pauses, and glances around him as if checking for EAVESDROPPERS. There seem to be no spies for the goldriders nearby, however, so he just offers Tasena a lopsided smile. "It's grown on me, dead bodies and all." Then, nose-wrinkling, "Well, except for the humidity." Unless sarongs are involved.

Confidence saunters into the tavern wound in a dress of bright cloth, seemingly stitched together layers of brillance and edged in dangling little bells. A shawl acts more as a sari as Ksenia sweeps in, gives the place a critical eye before swaying her way towards the barkeep. A knot is not present, but it's not hard to mark her for her trader blood. "Something strong and stiff tonight, baba." This is said to Tasena, hopefully? Maybe? Brows lifting as some hint of amusement touches upon her lips. Q'fex is noted. Or perhaps his muttered dead bodies is more noted. "One of those, huh?" Bold as brass, this one. Fetchingly, she leans on the edge of the counter, dimpling to both Tasena and the Weyrleader and whomever else may be near. "Top shelf. I've won the marks this night. Iain'll be proud."

"Yeah, so close you can feel it," Tasena replies quietly, amused about the ocean part. She nods regarding his answer, then grins again about the humidity. Alas, no sarongs here. But then there's a Ksenia to make up for that. "Got it," Tasena tells her in a bright tone. A new customer for the night, and one drinking actual… you know. Alcohol. Her own bread and butter. "We actually have ice today. Talked one of the blueriders into supplying us. It's working out well. Especially with summer coming on. Bourbon okay, or would you rather go with whiskey? Been trying to find out how folks like the new mash, is all."

Dark eyes take in the arrival of the trader — would be hard to miss that much flash and charm, after all. Q'fex swivels a bit to aid in keeping an eye on both of the girls. "One of what?" the weyrleader responds, his voice amused and perhaps just a *touch* condescending; Ksenia lacks the general umbrella of social protection than weyr-residents (and particularly bartenders) have. "Oh, see," half-exasperation, half-joking, to Ksenia: "She likes you." Because the trader is drinking actual alcohol rather than… is that an empty milk-glass?

A pretty smile for the pretty lady; Ksenia's a charmer, widening the smile to a grin. "Whichever you feel would go down smoothly but leave a kick to get me going until tomorrow." She rubs a finger against her bottom lip, tapping her teeth thoughtfully. "I shall leave it a mystery, baba." Easy laughter flows like honey from the trader's lips, aiding in the lean of elbows to bar. For Tasena, "I leave myself in your good graces. I have this many marks." From her bosom, she plucks out a little bag and drops it down, wiggling her fingers over it. "Let's call it a celebration, hmm?" Sly look is cast to Q'fex, but his condescension does little to affect the girl, not lurking beneath that umbrella as a resident.

"And if I didn't like you," Tasena counters, turning an amused, mock-stern look on Q'fex, "I'd be one of the withering masses, bowing and scraping and calling you 'sir'. Like all you are is a knot, a title, and a dragon." You know they're out there. "Now, did you want a refill?" And to Ksenia, "Try the bourbon, on me. If you don't like it, whiskey it is. Celebrations should be enjoyed, so I won't press something on you you don't like." There's just a tiny bit of teasing there, but she lets the words do their own work while gathering both a shot glass and an old fashioned tumbler.

"A celebration. Of…" Q'fex is nosy; Q'fex is BLATANTLY nosy. The man smirks at Tasena, though his expression is wrought of delight: "I knew there was a reason I liked you." He eyes his glass a moment and then nods once, crisply. "Hit me." With more milk, bartender, before he's looking between the girls with a put-upon look of dismay; "And now free liquor. Why, Tasena," oh look, he DOES remember her name, "It's like I hardly know you." His smile is teasing.

Trilling chuckles follow, a dip of Ksenia's head in acknowledgement of Tasena's gift, before she's tossing all that dark hair that spills down her back over one shoulder. "I've got the blood of the Roma, and I've a mind set to drink myself silly and dance 'neath the light of the moons." Cupping the bag of marks between her hands, she shifts her weight from one leg to another, giving Q'fex an unreadable look. "Sir is used entirely too much 'round these parts. Especially for a man gifted with a sad little cup of milk. You should be indulging too." Celebration, remember? "A celebration of life, my dear man. Life. One does not need a reason to dance to the joy of life." Ksenia's enthusiasm is the kind that's fetching, catching and puts high spots of color in mysterious cheeks. "Come, I'll buy you both a round, baba, of whatever you'd fancy." The girl is the sharing sort. Though the sly cast to the lowering of her lashes might hint a private humor of the origination of such marks. "My thanks to you, lovely bartender, for the freebie." The bourbon? When it comes? Is tossed back like a pro drinker. "Ahhhh. Good stuff. Very good."

"Call it market research," Tasena tells Q'fex with a wink before grinning at Ksenia. "She gets it." It takes a moment to retrieve the two bottles, both of which get a quick wipe from the washcloth from earlier, whether they need it or not. She fills the shot glass with the bourbon first, then places it in front of Ksenia. "See, I may as well still be a kid. I peddle this stuff, but what I think is good and what other people think is good might be hugely different, right? So… gotta know whether or not I should offer this when people ask for bourbon. Or if my boss should see about getting more of it. It's…" Tasena trails off a moment, eyes on the shot glass while the trader tosses it back, then she looks up at Ksenia and Q'fex. "Important." To her. Speaking of important, time to grab that pitcher of milk. Milk.

"I can't drink," Q'fex returns to Ksenia, then seems to regret his words. "Well. I could drink. But when I drink, I… well, the more I drink, the more I drink, if you know what I mean." At least he's completely blunt with his inability to self-moderate his alcohol usage. Isn't that like the first step? He looks at Tasena with rue and a laugh: "Market research. I'm going to enlist you to write my memo's to the wings," he lightly comments, though he nods along regarding — bourbon.

"Any desire of the heart is important," Ksenia intones, knowingly to Tasena, while slanting a curious look to Q'fex. "It is important that you moderate your alcohol usage then? Perhaps, what you need is a breath of life." No explanation is given for that, rather she's scooting her glass towards Tasena and some marks from the pouch. "Another shot and then I'll take the bottle. It'll probably take all that I have, but, as I stated, baba, it's a day of celebration." She hitches the shawl from where it slides down her shoulders, not quite the proper nowtimer girl — by a longshot — but she's not flaunting skin either. "Life, dear man, is about letting go of the small stuff. Grab what you can, wring all that you can from it, before tossing it aside to grasp for the next thing." Ksenia is full of confidence and brass; living life to its fullest.

Tasena gives Q'fex one of those sizing-up sorts of looks while refilling his glass. Seeing him in a new light, and all that. "Lots of folk like that," she murmurs quietly before placing the pitcher back in its spot. Probably next to some of that bluerider's ice, going by its temperature. "Nice to know some people still try to deal with it." While Ksenia's words and actions bring a brief smile of amusement, Tasena's expression also sobers after a couple ticks. She fills the shot glass again but leaves her hand on the bottle while she eyes the bag of marks. It's not the bits of pretty wood she's considering though. "Sometimes if you're too far gone, you have nothing left… nothing to let go. Nothing to hold onto." She looks up at the two patrons, then smiles quickly, hefting the bottle of bourbon, while leaving the whiskey behind. "I'll need to check with my boss. It's a tester. Don't know if we have another." At which point she exits, in search of Sevreni, leaving the other bartender in charge.

Tasena walks to the Swinging Door.

Q'fex watches after Tasena, his face thoughtful. "There is more to that woman," he conversationally states to Ksenia, "Than meets the eye. Far more." Only after does his gaze scan back to her, and he kind of starts to remember her statements. "Well," he dryly remarks, "Someone has to overlook everything to make sure that we, ah. Survive to let go of the small stuff." Pragmaticism meets confident breeziness.

"Life's too short to care at all, and is a dark world that aches for a splash of sun." Ksenia dimples another smile, taking the shot glass after Tasena pours it. Brows lift, though the heat of celebration is a melting of her bones, which gets the girl from pushing away from the bar. "Sometimes, you find what you need most at the bottom of the edge of nowhere, baba." Life's philosophies sway to a different beat in this girl. "Rider, baba, there's more to everyone than meets the eye." This is said before toasting the bronzerider and dipping it back, showing the brazen flash of neck. "You won't find a simple man alive. Or woman, that is." Sweeping up her bag of marks, Ksenia's dark eyes peer at Q'fex, mystery lurking in the depths that give nothing away. "A fire beckons. Everyone and everything can wait. Tomorrow is soon enough, baba, to restore life how it should be. You're welcome to come to our fire. Eat our food. Dance 'neath the stars. Get a young thing to warm your bones." Invitation given — hey, Iain never said don't invite the weyrleader to anything — Ksenia sails out, moving with a natural grace that is already giving way to a dance. A dance for the joy of life.

She is like a tempest, a whirling dervish: Ksenia that is, having swept in, upset and ruffled everything, and then left with breezy self-assurance. Q'fex is watching her leave wit ha face half-bemused; "Is that," he starts, but then shakes his head and just enjoys the view until she's disappeared. Then there will be a weyrleader finishing his milk, and maybe a low-voiced discussion with Tasena when she returns, and then, finally, he'll leave… a little bewildered as to the nature of traders, but easier-hearted than when he entered.

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