==== February 11, 2014
==== K'vvan, Ivy, E'bert
==== K'vvan has a bit too much to drink and Ivy seizes the chance to take some revenge on the grumpy greenrider.

Who K'vvan, Ivy, E'bert
What K'vvan has a bit too much to drink and Ivy seizes the chance to take some revenge on the grumpy greenrider.
When It is sunset of the tenth day of the first month of the first turn of the 12th pass.
Where Bazaar Sidestreet

kvvan5.png IvyPB2.jpg E'bert2.jpg


Bazaar Sidestreet
No matter the time of day, the darkness here is almost absolute, adding a certain je ne sais quois that borders on the treacherous. Here and there, cobblestones have gone missing and leave holes that are perfect for snagging the feet of the unaware. The stench is also criminal, a mixture of urine, rotting meat, and other things best left unexamined in the heaps that pile up next to the back doors of certain of the bazaar establishments.


The dirt and grime of the sidestreet seems to be the last thing on the mind of K'vvan as he stumbles down the sidestreet. One hand runs through the dirt of the walls as he steps firmly into something not at all frozen in the temperate winter weather. The other grasps the neck of a mostly-emptied wineskin, which occasionally is lifted to his lips. As he stumbles along a pot hole is misjudged and down goes the greenrider. Closer inspection shows something is missing from his shoulder- no hint of his rank is anywhere.

Despite her best efforts, Ivy's fetched up in the sidestreet again, though this time there's a hulk of brown dragon pacing her a few blocks up where he fits better. At least this way she won't get lost again. As usual when traversing unfamiliar places, her head's down and her hands are shoved in her pockets. At least this makes it easier to spot the fallen greenrider, and while ordinarily she'd salute upon recognizing him, insignia or not, given his state of inebriation she passes on the formalities. Surprise overcomes the memory of their last encounter as she blinks and asks, "…K'vvan?"

K'vvan attempts to roll over, the muck of the sidestreet streaking over his clothing as he does so. A slight groan escapes his lips before he goes limp, still face down in the dirt and puddles. Whatever wine is left in his flask slowly seeps out onto the ground, staining a sleeve of his winter-time shirt with a light pink.

Ivy crinkles her nose as she takes a few cautious steps closer. Prickles is pickled. Concern wars with annoyance as the incident with the klah comes back to her, and she crouches carefully by the man, reaching out to poke at his shoulder a few times. No response. And while she's still pissed off she's not going to let the guy suffocate in the mud, so she digs her fingers in and hauls at his prone form, muttering appropriate fisherman swears under her breath.

For someone of his height, K'vvan has surprisingly little weight. The mud attempts to keep him down, but seeing as it is Igen mud, and half dry anyway, the weyrling is able to turn him over without too much trouble. Another groan escapes his lips and his fingers release the neck of the bottle, leaving it to drip out the last of its contents into the mud. The turn moves the man out of the puddle, though he remains sprawled in the dirt.

Maybe she should have left him on his face then. Ivy skitters back as the greenrider lolls over, losing her balance herself and landing on her ass in the dirt. And there she sits, trying to collect her wits, as any passers-by are either used to drunk people, think she's trying to pick his pocket, or both, and leave them alone. Ivy brushes at some dirt on her sleeve, thoughtful.

The question is, where is Nadeeth? Though she would not fit down the sidestreet it seems strange enough that she would not be trying to find someone to pick up her inebriated lifemate and return him home, out of the chill. For his part K'vvan just lays there, a lump, breathing still, but sans any other movement to pick himself out of the dirt.

"No, Zisiene. Ravene meant every word," E'bert's voice cuts off the sound of his sister's protest as she rounds the corner tugging on his sleeve, "But E'bert she's just scared for you. You know how Mama can be. Please come ba.. Hey, aren't you Ivy?" Zisiene's eyes lock on the scene, "Who's that? Is he drunk? Did you knock him out?" wide eyes, and innocent questions. Zisiene has either not met K'vvan, or she's forgotten him. For his part, E'bert simply stares at Ivy and K'vvan, "How long's he been there?" a much more practical question from the other weyrling, "And would you like some help?" because clearly help is required.

Ivy looks over her shoulder, recognizing the two. Zisiene's question makes her laugh and shake her head. "No, I just found him like this. Yeah, he's all passed out drunk." Ivy, starting to get cocky, leans forward to sort of flop K'vvan's arm around to prove it. To E'bert, "I found him just as he went over. We should probably try to get him home." Her tone is rather unenthusiastic and resigned. "Help would be great. I got him turned over but I don't think I could get him out of here all by myself."

K'vvan twitches, like he might be about to escape the throws of passed out… but then relaxes back into unconscious without actually ever getting up.

E'bert shoos Zisiene on towards the bakery, "You've finished your rounds. Best not to make things worse," and then he's moving to assess the situation, "Zisie, best see if Mars will go get Cha'eal or A'lory," why A'lory? Because he's on K'vvan's wing, and that makes about as much sense as anything else.

Ivy squeaks and drops the flopping arm when K'vvan actually moves, scrambling back away from the man before bursting into a fit of slightly hysterical giggles. "Shards. Hey, no, wait a second," sharply, as E'bert starts to send for the troops. "Wait. He was an ass to me the other day. I have an idea." Yeah, she's no saint. "Watch him for me." And Ivy dashes off towards the larger street. After a few minutes she returns with a large bright pink wherhide case. She sits in the dirt again and opens it. It is full of the treasures of a teenaged girl, bright ribbons, glitter and paints. "Let's see…"

Alas. If only K'vvan knew what was about to happen- he would be about ready to flip. Last time someone did something pink to him… Well, S'kyre would approve anyway. No twitching from K'vvan this time, his body an open canvas for the teenager.

E'bert snerks at Ivy, and simply stands back and watches. Perhaps he should stop his friend, perhaps he should send Mars on his way when the firelizard arrives for directions. There are a lot of things that E'bert should perhaps do, instead he says, "You missed a spot."

"Bet he likes pink," says Ivy in the tone of someone who doesn't give a fig whether K'vvan likes pink or not. She picks a tiny bottle of vivid fuschia sparkly nail lacquer out of her box and shakes it, then gingerly grabs a limb and and wipes the dirt off as best she can before carefully painting the nails, chewing on her lip a little in concentration. Just because she doesn't like the greenrider doesn't mean she's going to do a sloppy job. This probably does get some looks from passers-by…a nonconsensual manicure is a litle more unusual than a mugging. She flashes a grin at E'bert and asks, "Think I should put some little braids in his hair?"

Maybe he'll be grateful when he awakens to have at least one part of his body clean-ish. And protected from chips that come with being a rider who doesn't bother to take care of himself beyond physical grooming! All the movement has him twitching away, and his eyes fluttering though never enough to qualify him as actually awake or aware.

"I think you need to work quick," E'bert says with a critical eye to K'vvan's hair, "Looks a bit short for braids. Here, let me see that ribbon, the bright pink one," and he grins as he kneels down next to the inert K'vvan. Plan? Tie the ribbon into the other rider's hair. It will look so fetching, and all the cool kids wear ribbons like this.

Ivy is a little more confident that K'vvan is not going to awaken mid-makeover, and even goes so far as to tell him, "Hold still, you'll smudge it," quietly but very firmly as she finishes one hand and scoots around to get at the other. She's quite the innate girly girl and the task is accomplished quickly and neatly. At E'bert's instruction, she hands over the frothy pink ribbon. "Make a nice fat bow."

Twitching subsides at Ivy's directive, as if the passed out wingsecond is obeying her directive.

E'bert grins as he oh so carefully winds the ribbon round K'vvan's head. Once, twice, and then the bow is tied so that it's front center, and a nice big fat one, "How's that look?" he leans back to look at his work, and then nods with satisfaction. Having a little sister that insists only you can do her hair right did have its practical side after all. That ribbon's not going anywhere.

"Good boy," Ivy tells K'vvan encouragingly as she applies two sweeping half-moons of shimmery powder to his no-longer-twitching eyelids. "Ugh, he smells like a cellar." This to E'bert. She sits back in her heels to survey the results, with a pleased nod at the bow. "Oh, that is very nice. Okay." They are definitely starting to draw some extra attention now. "I guess we should get him out of here now. Can't leave him alone looking this pretty."

K'vvan is looking way too pretty for the backstreet. Too bad Sadie isn't around to see.

A grunt is given as E'bert manages to get a grip on K'vvan. Shove, push, and the Wingsecond is at least no longer laying down, "Ugh, he's heavy."

Ivy shoves her shoulder under one of K'vvan's arms, trying to help out. "It wasn't so bad rolling him over. Here, if we can get him a couple of streets over we can put him on Udath and take him home. Maybe then Nadeeth can look after him." Wherever she's gotten to. She'll probably like the ribbon. "We can't call anyone though or they'll wonder how he got like this." 'This' meaning pink and glittery, not drunk. Well, maybe that too.

The total and utter lack of help from the greenrider attests that, yes, K'vvan really is completely gone to this world. His puddle-wet arms create a hard-to-grip surface, but those determined enough will find his dead weight able to be shifted.

E'bert does indeed manage to shift the unconscious rider to a point where he can be lifted. Alas try as he might, E'bert can't seem to quite get the lift needed to get the other man over his shoulder. Where is Nadeeth anyway? A quick quiery to Karkath does not shed light on that front, "Heavy," is a repeated grunt as he does manage to at least get K'vvan to his feet, "Get his other side?"

"Gross," Ivy mutters, because eeew, K'vvan is damp. And wine-y. But she does as E'bert asks, and all that weyrling training helps in hauling the greenrider into a larger street, one where Udath awaits in a low crouch. "Help me get him up and we can all go to his ledge and drop him off."

K'vvan's hands hang over the shoulders of the two weyrlings, his hand falling to rest on Ivy's chest. How un-K'vvan-y.

Haul away E'bert does, and under his breath if you listen close you can hear him singing an old sea chanty. When, where, and how he learned it? E'bert would never be able to say, "Haul away joe," is loud enough to be heard, and on the 'joe' K'vvan is finally in place on Udath's neck.

"Thanks E'bert…I think I can get him onto the ledge by myself. Be right back." But then the suddenly groped Ivy blushes bright red to the roots of her hair and only the instinct to not get caught by a bejewelled and awakened drunken K'vvan overrides the instinct to slap. She does shake off those manicured hands as quickly as she can, and between that and the fact that she's just a l'il non-native weyrling, is it any surprise that she gets the wrong destination? Overhasty to be rid of her burden, K'vvan is left in a sparkly pink heap on Cha'el's ledge, and then Ivy beats a path to the baths to get rid of the mud, and the wine, and the weird feelings.

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