==== Feb. 19, 2014
==== Chel, Veresch, Kyara, and Muirnin
==== Friends bump into each other at the Cantina and chat while being Chel's guinea-pigs for a new drink.

Who Chel, Veresch, Kyara, and Muirnin
What A meeting of friends, old and new, over drinks.
When It is the thirty-seventh day of Winter (Feb. 19, 2014)
Where The Dustbowl Cantina / Igen

chel_default.jpg veresch_default.jpg kyara_default.jpg muirnin_default.jpg


The Dustbowl Cantina
To enter the Dustbowl Cantina is to descend: the heart of the ancient tavern lies half underground, at the foot of ancient steps, insulated from summer heat and winter cold by the volcanic rock surrounding it. A windowless place well-lit by glows, it is homey, even cozy, with a certain bijou charm - but for the deep gouges worn in wooden table and solid stone, some clearly lingering evidence of boisterous brawling. The wall behind the well-polished bar, though, remains free from scars or graffiti, as does the door into the small kitchen, and the stairwell up into the owner's quarters: the barkeep and his staff reign, and they guard their territory well. After all, only a fool angers the source of the booze.

With the passage of day into night, the Cantina's business picks up, until it's generally so busy that everyone can be found here. Exhibit A: a scrawny girl of fifteen turns, now out of the bazaar clothes that she wore earlier, but still in the makeup, mostly because she forgot to take it off and had already turned herself into a raccoon once. She's at one of the tiny tables towards the back, where the servers can keep an eye on her and she can keep an eye on the crowd, but not so ratty that she's in the middle of the main noise. In front of her, on the table, is a mug of something she sips from every now and then. Earlier, her face twitched every time. By now, her taste buds are dead.

Muirnin had the day off, and spent it soaking in the tubs, napping, lazing in the cold sun with some scrolls, and now.. Bazaar time! But first, she stops at the cantina on her way to find Freesia, whom she'd met that morning. Deciding to get a drink for her courage, she comes in and goes up to the bar to make an order, then looks around as she waits. As she scans her eyes across the lively and jabbering crowd, her eyes light on a certain 15 turn old, looking coal smudged around the eyes and a bit numb in the face. Frowning, she takes her drink with a nod when it's up and pauses a moment, not sure if she should check on her or leave her alone if she's 'hiding' in a corner here, so she watches her a moment and drinks.

A rambunctious crowd, today made up of as slightly more regulars then refugees, parts minimally when Chel swaggers by. Her mannish gait, employed to elbow a tubby fellow out of her way, fits with her pair of trousers; that rowdy hair's all coiled up in a high bundle off the back of her head by a poor, seen better days, scarf. Either by miracle or professional merit, she's arrived paces in front of Veresch's baby table with a brimming full tube of red belatedly mixing with yellow into a kind of speckled orange liquid. All topped with a sprig of unidentified greenery. With just practical ceremony, it's landed in front of the girl's mug as Chel's opposite fingers spider up towards the circular brim of the mug of nastier taste. "Here," she declares in a half-purr, "This'll be more your spirits." Meanwhile, tubby fellow lurches his way towards the bar, landing scant inches from the pondering Muirnin. Feel the power of his leer. Feel it.

True, Veresch is looking a little straggled-out: hard day of running around, likely. The morning happened awfully early. Both the girls deserve attention, both of them get it: whilst her foot pushes a chair at the table for Muirnin and one hand beckons her closer, she squints up at Chel in a profusion of confusion. Then, because the other girl would never lead her astray, she takes the second mug, pushes the first away and takes a sip of it. She pauses, and her eyes widen at the… "What is this?" she asks, excited, before she takes another sip, larger and much more enthusiastically. "Want to sit down? Oh, do you have more?" Like most female teenagers, she's all for the sweets, and this ain't half bad, sister-girl. "I think Muir will want some as well."

Muirnin feels the leer.. what's worse, she sees it! Ugh! Avoiding the shudder of revulsion, she pastes one of her candy sweet smiles in place and slinks toward the man, all of her hefty curves in motion in just the right way to nearly undulate up to his side. Watching him almost salivate, she leans in close and whispers, "Not if you were the last cock on two legs in all of weyr." With that, she pats his arm softly and saunters right on past and to her friend. "Resch.. hey there," she greets with a much more sincere smile than she'd given that poor sot at the bar, tugging the chair back and putting her cushy butt in it without pause, giving the Chel a nod of greeting, too.

Poor stout fellow; in his drunkenness, he's no wit to keep up with Muirnin and she leaves him flabbergasted, rolling bulging eyes in question at everyone nearby. Did they see that? Chel, as it were, did not. With a singular burning focus, eyelids lightly curtaining in preparation of a wince, the dreadlocked girl's been gauging out Veresch's soul with her stare. Until that exclamation and a thick, whistled breath escapes her. Alive once more, her head's tossed with pride pretending it never flagged. "Something Istan…" Fingers swirl over Veresch's now abandoned mug, "and something Igenite." Eyebrows waggling in mischief, she turns to deliver a crisp nod in return to the woman joining. "Muir?" As in: that's you, yah? "Something f'ya? I can mix more of the…" Oh shit, oh shit, oh— "Mix." Shit. Barely hiding a grimace, she finally firms her fingers around the older mug and chugs its remains. As it comes down, she sniffs. "Yah. Isibel recommended you this."

Kyara would normally opt for the Oasis Inn for a drink after a day like today, but…that would involve some more flying, and her still-recovering arm is really making a good case for not doing so right now, much as it chagrins the greenrider. So, here she is, back in the Dustbowl and wandering to the bar, leathers still donned against the cold and an odd, oblong case slung across her back. The bar is full, so she doesn't automatically go there, her eyes flicking across the room and registering a few familiar faces - as well as a noting a few that aren't when one seems intent on leering at another. She makes a mental note; that'll be something she'll step in the midst of, if need be. Some of those familiar faces greet her, asking if she's got music for them this time, and she grins, acquiescing. Settling down on an empty bit of ledge near the hearth, the greenrider pulls the case from her back, produces the long, richly-hued length of a flute, and starts in on a lively bit of a tune. The prospect of a drink isn't forgotten, just delayed for the moment.

"Hey Muir," Veresch says happily, still sipping at the new mug. Not only is it much better than the stuff in the old mug, it's removing the taste as well. She's not yet seasoned enough to know the danger of mixes in getting one drunk quickly; the teenager is drinking it like she would a glass of water. "You really should taste this stuff Chel made. Half-Ista, half-Igen… just like me." Yeaaah. Her nose wrinkles at the mention of Isibel and her vile recommendations. "I think it was her, yes. What was that?" Whilst her eyes don't glaze and can still focus adequately, there's a lot of happy gregariousness radiating now. "And… oi, is that Kyara over there playing?" She stares with fascination at the rider and the nimble fingers that dance over the flute. There's even applause as the tune fades, though her attention soon returns to the girls. "He turned the bottle down," she informs them woefully, totally out of context. "I thought riders liked booze. S'funny."

Muirnin nods as she hears her name, smiling up at the mocha skinned girl. "Aye, and I'm good," she says, raising her cup up that she brought with her from the bar. Hearing the way Resch is going on though, a little too brightly, she winces at what might have been in the other cup, and now this one. "I had to pick one drunkard up off the floor this morning, I don't want to do it with you too," she cautions. "The yummy ones usually sneak up on you," she says knowingly. Looking out at the rider playing, she tips her head a little, trying to catch sight of her face, the tune making her smile gently, though her eyes slink back over to Resch as she asks casually, "Who?" as if she barely caught on to more of the girl's guy-troubles. "Are you joining us, Chel?" she asks then, piecing the name in with the face standing there and putting it away in the back of her mind.

"She's good," Chel notes, a note of professionalism quashing one of disappointment as she checks of Muir as being well served. "And there's more citrus n'sweet-cane in that than booze, but you should still…" a wavering hand gesture urges Veresch to pace herself. "… Ah well, you'll learn in the mornin', won't you?" A grin is nearly harsh when it flashes too many teeth. But to the tune of the music, she dances backwards, exclaiming pleasantly enough, "I suppose y'can save me a seat, incase." It'd be more of a mysterious exit if she didn't spend the next bit of it shoveling smelly bar goers out of the way. With a soft, low, whistle, she slaps one of them on the ass to do the trick. That frees her up to the bar, where she slouches over it from the customer side, whining gently to her fellow bartender under the din of talking and the more pleasing of the music. Into her hands are slid a hearty native beverage and a bit of water. Shuffling to a good diagonal from Kyara, she awaits the next play's end and then taps two fingers, clink clink, against the alcohol mug.

"I'm never going to get my drink if you lot don't let me rest one!" Kyara laughs, temporarily stashing away her instrument amidst complaints that she only just started. The clinking of a mug grabs her attention, and her eyes land on Chel, to whom she gives a grateful nod and a smile. Rising, she passes the table occupied by Veresch and another, all of whom she smiles at as she goes. It's the way Veresch is drinking that colorful concoction that grabs the greenrider's attention more than anything, and an eyebrow makes the tiniest jump upward when she weighs that action against the girl's slight build. "Hello, Veresch," she says, slowing and grinning. "Careful with that; it'll knock you flat as a hide at your size!" She inclines her head with a, "Good evening," to the other woman at the table, then finishes crossing to Chel nearby. "Thank you," she tells the younger woman with an inclination of her head. "Anything you'd care to hear this evening, while you're making your way around?"

With such people to look out for her, it's highly doubtful that Veresch will ever get drunk. There's a look at Muirnin and Chel, but Kyara's warning is the last straw, and the mug is put down. "We'll save you a seat, come back soon," she promises to Chel, and chooses to lean on the table instead, the transferred weight not enough to make it rock as her chair tilts forward a little. "You're welcome too, Kyara, if you want?" The table's big enough for four anyway, and surely there's another musical tinkerer in the crowd. "It's nothing — tell me about your day? I didn't see you in the caverns today, so I'm guessing you made good on your threat to escape those runty little monsters for a day? Shells, Muir, I still don't know how you do that every day."

Muirnin runs fingers deep into her hair from the nape of her neck and up toward the crown. It musses her hair in a poof around the grip, but the soft raking of nails over her scalp where she usually has it bound back in its braid feels too good for her to care, eyes almost fluttering in her bliss. As the flutist passes, she nods and gives a warm smile and a soft hello before she answers Resch. "Little Ellia was up half the night screaming because she's cutting teeth, so I took her for a couple hours before dawn and finally got her to sleep, but for the mercy they gave me the day off," she nods. "I had a good breakfast, a long hot soak in the baths, a nap, and have been blissfully lazy all day," she says with a buttery laugh almost purring out of her. "Shards it's been nice! But yeah.. I know you're not fond of the ankle biters but .. I don't really have much family elsewise, so I like having them to focus on," she shrugs one shoulder as she pulls her fingers out of her now slightly tussled hair, copper wisps all over the place.

"Welcome." Completes Chel in the soft patter of business well done. "Got a dancin' tune?" There's a bit of a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she asks, half-serious. Considering the audience, a swift-footed caper is not in their best interests. "Tell you what," a chin lifts towards the table Veresch has already offered, "Take a break, settle over there, do us a favor, and your throat is wetted on the house tonight." Without waiting for Kyara's yay or nay, the bartender twists back to the bar to scavenge about behind it. Mecatl's shin-prodded out of the way with a clink and clank and rush of liquid, and then Chel's hair bobs up, beginning to loosen from its high-pinned coils. 'Lo and behold, table in the back, here she arrives with fresh new servings of that speckled orange concoction, none looking the same as the one next to it. What might've been a very proud announcement gets halted when she stares up and out at Muirnin's tussles. "That's a look," says the pot to the kettle. "Umm. But yes. Ladies. I need your wits, if y'got any left." Plunk, plunk, plunk. Hopefully Kyara's there, because there's a fruity something-or-other waiting for her, too. Otherwise, someone's going twice. Probably Veresch. (( http://s3-media2.ak.yelpcdn.com/bphoto/UT5GId-2eiSYxGtSmfXoAA/l.jpg ))

Kyara gives a low laugh at the idea of a dancing tune. At Chel's suggestion, she glances over to the table, back, grins and gives a nod. "Alright, then," she answers, even as Chel is turning away, and she returns to Veresch's table with a shrug. "If you don't mind the extra company, I would be happy to join you," she says, sliding out one of the empty chairs and taking a seat, mindful of her encased flute as she sets it on her lap. Then there are new drinks incoming, which the greenrider gives curious scrutiny to, and she accepts hers with thanks. Now she has two drinks… Oh, the conundrum of which to drink first. With a shrug, she opts for the colorful one. "Wits," she echoes Chel with a nod before taking a pull at the concoction. Hmmm! Very nice. She may have to think about things like this more often…

"They should be glad you're their nanny," Veresch says with a glower, expressions even more open as the alcohol starts to affect her. "At least you're the nice one." As Chel and Kyara head over, she pushes out a chair for the hands-full bartender, scooting drinks around until each has their own. "Always welcome! And… oh. Deep thinking? You've picked the wrong end of the day for that, but I'll try my best for you! Muir will as well, yeah? What's the problem?" She leans a little closer, conspiratorial, but doesn't quite go for her new drinks yet. "Telllll."

Muirnin motions to the chair that's made ready for her and taken readily. "Have at, and well met," she says by way of a more friendly greeting now that the rider's sitting with them. With the comment about her hair, she furrows a brow and combs her fingers from brow back through the straight strands, trying to tame it back down some as Chel commands her attention for a moment. The sweeping quick motions and the sudden flourish of colorful yum in front of her earns a quirked brow. She looks into her cup as if ticking off the reason not to slam it back, but then downs the mixed brew, hissing out a little biting breath as it burns it's way down after. With this, she welcomes the cooler fruity mix, sniffing the sweetness before settling it back to the table untasted, waiting as she focuses her eyes on the bartender. Her hand comes up, fluttering in a rolling motion, urging her on.

Chel's lower lip has vanished somewhere between her teeth, betraying her brave stance as a front for a quivering anticipation focused in the eyes that look too hard at each of the drinks as they're dabbed at. Faces are intricately studied with a mind straining, wishing it were trained in such. With eyes gradually returning to her, Chel sucks in a powerful, chest-raising breath. The back of the chair free for her is grabbed, spun, and she drops her elbows like so much dead weight onto the back of it, hands clasping together with a resounding clap. "It— " and here she staggers, chin dropping just slightly to either show bashfulness or keep confidentiality. It's not like her voice lowers, though; it'd be conversational suicide in this riot. And, finally, with a shift of weight jutting out one hip, she admits cleanly, "Needs a name."

"Kyara, green Liareth's rider," the Whirlie tells Muirnin with an affable smile. "Well met, indeed." Then her attention is on Chel, and she takes another evaluating sip, letting it linger before swallowing as she attempts to discern the flavors within. It needs a name, she says? Kyara rubs her chin thoughtfully. "A name, hmm? What's in this, if I might ask?" Because that's always a good place to being, right?

"It," Veresch repeats doubtfully as she shifts to her feet, heading around to stand behind Muirnin. with a few twists and dextrous fingers, the ruined 'do gets taken down and she starts finger-combing the hair, playing with it. "Hold still," she warns the nanny. "I can't fix it if you twitch." For a second there's the sensation of weight on her head - a small elbow, perhaps - as Kyara's chin-rubbing calls attention to her hands, then her clothes. See, Resh wants to look like that. "Did you get a firelizard you didn't tell us about?" Pause. Hm. "Not a baby. A pet of some sort? This place?"

Muirnin eyes the motion Chel makes and flicks her gaze over the speckled and swirled colors of the drink dubiously. While pondering, she sees.. then feels Resch get up and start to twiddle with her mane. "Just not too tight, please.. it's nice to let my scalp rest a little," she sighs and then all but moans as the girl plays with her hair. "That beats a three turn old yanking on it any day." Her eyes blink back to half mast as she smiles at her younger friend's guesses. "I think she means the drink of 'not here nor there'," she says with a little chuckle, in quiet agreement with Kyara's question, waiting to hear what's within the fruity rorschach glass.

"Yes, the drink…" insists Chel with a sputter of impatience, though her eyes flicker distrustfully from the drink to Kyara to the drink. Her weight maneuvers back the other way, restless. In a second, she's attempting to collect herself with an air of affected mystery. "I… I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell you that?" The question at the end somewhat ruins the effect. Then again, the roll of her eyes in the other direction seems to say. Toe of one boot digs into the heel of the other. Some of her focus gets rubbed off watching Veresch with Muir's hair, her own beginning to look quite ragged there atop her head. "Well," she stops, starts, "it's fruits. The 'cane I mentioned before. A Veresch," the girl's pointed at, "sized portion of wine. You see the herb garnish there and— " A little foot stomp, "And a secret!" It's almost whined in her worry.

As ingredients get named, Kyara sips further at the drink, trying to identify each…until the Secret is adamantly arrived at and kept, and the greenrider chuckles, raising a hand. "Alright, alright, every good drink needs its secret. What inspired it, then?" is her next question. If that was discussed earlier, she wasn't around just yet!

That gets Muirnin a tap of the finger on the top of her head. "Stop twitching. I'm not going to maul you." Veresch watches the guessing-games begin, mouth shut with a thoughtful, skewed smile. Eventually, the hair is tucked into loose, looped parts tucked up, giving the poor girl's scalp a rest. Chel's hair is eyed as well, but she sinks down on her chair first, trying a sip of the new brew. A Veresch portion of wine. Huh. "It tastes nice," she says cautiously after the sip, nodding her approval. "Tastes better than that other stuff that Esa..Isibel gave me. I don't understand how men can drink that stuff." She appeals to Kyara with mute curiosity for that mystery.

Muirnin snorts out a half chuckle, slanted with indignation. "For someone who doesn't like kids you nag well enough," she teases. She does go still though, only finally moving to gingerly touch at the swept up do to check it out. "Thank you, Resch," she smiles and then finally picks up her cup and takes a big swig. The mix of booze and fruit slurry is pretty damned tasty, making her smack her lips a bit and go back for another mouthful. "Hmm.. you could hide quite the kick in there," she muses. "I'm supposed to go shopping later, and usually don't drink anything much stronger than khal. You'll put me under the table with Veresch if I'm not careful," she smirks, giving her younger friend's foot a little nudge with her, giving her a playful bit of a hard time.

A bit of pleasure flashes across Chel's face, tempered by apprehension, and the continued impatience that her brain-trust is slacking. Muir's lip-smacking does bring a trace of pride back to her face, and she dips her chin a second to try and vanquish the sight of it. "That's the thing," a finger wags at Muir and then relates back to Kyara as she cocks her head at them, dreadlocks shifting. "Nooning. Less people in, and them that do might not be looking for something real heavy that's gonna conk 'em out." Ignore her flavor of scoffing at those who go down so easily; she's definitely not judging you guys. Hands spread, "So what about a lighter drink with just a lil' kick to be a nooning time break." Eyes light up, again with that hyper focus for the first sign of response on the gathered faces.

Kyara gives some more quiet scrutiny to her drink, sipping at it thoughtfully…and abruptly pauses. The signature dragonrider vagueness slips across her gaze and, clearing her throat a bit, she rises. "I'm sorry, ladies, but you'll have to excuse me." With a lopsided smirk, she gives a light shrug, securing her flute once more. "Liareth calls. Something of import, apparently. Good evening to you all. And thank you," she tells Chel with a smile, "for the beautiful drink. Good luck with a name!" Then she slips out the door, gone to a dragonrider's duties once more.

"Goodbye, Kyara, and greetings to Liareth!" Veresch frowns, cheerfulness fading a little and clearly deeply in thought. "Why don't you call it the Chel? Or the… or the Nooner? Or a Sunshine Special?" A sip, then another sip, and she click-click-clicks her tongue against her palate to indicate her brain is, indeed, in the on position and slowly starting to fire. "But you know, Chel, this isn't the kind of place where I can see women coming for noon drinks. Too much… " Well, Chel will get the idea. "But if you make it a bit more appetizing for them it'd be nice? Not quite like the place with the tea, but a smaller room with less leering men, or something. I mean, my mother wouldn't come here." Then again, her mother's a harridan by trade and inclination. "Right, Muir? I mean, about the place, not my mother."

Muirnin looks at Resch sidelong, "Yeah, don't get me started on mother," she smirks, the two having shared words about this the other day after her stint in the healer hall with hers. "I think "The Nooner" is a cleaver name, with a couple meanings that would suit it fine. A nice refreshing pick me up mid day," she winks at Chel, hoping she might have a clue to what she refers cause she's not sure Resch would get it. "As far as the place goes.. if you're not woman enough to know how to verbally backhand a guy when he's being an ass," she says, pointedly looking over her shoulder for the leering jerk from earlier, snickering when she finds him half hung over some other guy nearly passed out. "Yeah.. Nooner," she smirks as she looks back at Chel with a nod.

"What, are you saying there should be a special curtained and pillowed area?" Hard to tell if Chel is lipping off defensively or striking upon the seed of a new idea. She's intent either way, pausing only to lick her lips— until Muirnin's chiming in. At the wink, she releases a less than delicate snort, attracting a couple of glances from the gentlemen at the table neighboring them. Fingers flexing, she discovers the fled rider's conveniently leftover first mug. With a casual gesture, it's tipped back, chugged powerfully down, and dropped back on the table as though it were nothing. Nothing but a released sigh and a glimmer of vague relaxation in Chel's eye. "I like… the opportunity it gives. Different drink. Not sure I'm trying to get any of your mothers in. That'd probably take chasin' every man in here out for a night. S'much as the thought amuses me to deny these feckless fellas," she straightens, stretching her back slightly and glancing at the bar — is she on the clock? "There might be a riot. A hilarious, drunk riot."

From here the scene fades to black, the girls drink and chatter until they get called their separate ways.

Add a New Comment