==== October 20, 2013
==== Kalea, Kultir, T'lvier(NPC)
==== Kalea rousts Kultir out of the tavern with the help of T'lvier and takes him home.

Who Kalea, Kultir, T'lvier(NPC)
What Your Drunken Slur Never Sounded So Good
When There are 0 turns, 11 months and 6 days until the 12th pass.
Where Tavern, Southern Weyr

kalea2.jpg kultir2.jpg tlvier.jpg


tavern.jpg

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.


Kultir is sitting at the bar, hunched slightly as he stares into the half full tumbler in his hand. He looks to have been here a rather long time, at least from the exasperated look on the tender's face. He doesn't even look around at the sound of the opening door to the tavern, nor pay any attention to the people sitting at the tables. Draining the amber liquid from the glass, he signals the barkeep for another and rubs his hands over his face and through his hair while he waits.

The thumping of multiple boots heralds the arrival of an exasperated Kalea accompanied by an equally annoyed T’lvier. “I told ye tha I did na say nary a word to ‘im. Just came an’ fished ye outta the kitchens.” T’lvier steps aside to allow Kalea past him, holding the door for the pregnant greenrider. “First decent thing you’ve done in a while,” she tells the brownrider with an arched brow. “Do you really blame me for doubting it?” She doesn’t wait for T’lvier to respond and merely waves the big man to stay back out of her way. Waddling up beside Kultir and propping an elbow on the bar beside him. “So you finally decided to show your face in public eh?” She sighs and tilts her head to look at Kultir, “Where’ve you been love?”

Kultir doesn't flinch when the voice sounds right beside him, he's too far gone for that both in exhaustion and booze-haze. Turning his bleary eyes toward the voice, he finally focuses on Kalea's face and blinks, not sure that she's really there. He swallows hard and opens his mouth to reply but nothing comes out around the lump that stubbornly remains in his throat. He tries once again and finally manages to croak, "Just … around." His shoulders slump dejectedly as the barkeep sets his drink in front of him, his hand going around it with a slight nod of thanks to the man. He draws in a deep breath and lets out a shuddering sigh as he continues, "I … was too … ashamed to come crawling to you, Kalea. I figured … you'd think I wasn't worth the bother either … just like them sharding eggs …" It has finally come out, the one thing he'd been holding back from her, from his friends … from himself.

Kalea’s glare has the barkeep moving off after delivering what will obviously be the last in a string of who knows how many drinks for Kultir. “You’re a bloody fool, Kultir.” She drags a stool over and scoots herself up onto it, sitting right next to Kultir. “I looked for you to bring you home but you’d gone and disappeared.” How the young man got it in his head that she wouldn’t want him home is beyond her. “I figured you’d gone to the jungles to sulk. But I’ve waited long enough and my patience is thin.” All of this is said with a gentle tone. “So your lifemate hasn’t entered the world yet. It isn’t the /end/ of yours. We discussed this time and again before the hatching, Kultir. Of course I want you home.”

Kultir lifts the glass to gulp down half of the contents in one mouthful as she settles onto the stool next to him. A shoulder shrugs at her words as he stares at the amber liquid. "I suppose I am. I was in the jungle … walking the trails, trying to figure out what to do." he says softly, words slurring a little. He glances sideways at her and raises an eyebrow at her, his eyes flicking toward the brownrider he notices out of the corner of his eye. He frowns at the man though it's half-hearted at best before returning his gaze to Kalea's and searches silently for a while. After that long search he dips his head briefly and swallows down the rest of his drink and fishes out a 2-mark piece to toss on the bar. He wavers on his feet as he slips off the stool, steadying himself with a hand on the bar till his head stops swimming and the stiffness in his knees allow him to stand more solidly. "I … guess if you want me there … I want to be there too." His voice is thick with emotion that doesn't quite reach his eyes though tears glimmer at the corners.

T’lvier has sense enough not to say a whole lot. Though when Kultir wavers upon standing the man walks across the room and puts a steadying hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I’ll help ye get mounted then boy. Ye don’ look like yer fit ta manage safely on yer own.” Kalea is left to wiggle ‘round on the stool so that she can stand at last without bumping into either Kultir or T’lvier. “I’ve always wanted you at home, love.” She looks up at Kultir with a sheen of unexpressed tears in her eyes. “I’ve never stopped missing you while you’ve been away.” It had been hard letting the obviously drunk teenager finish his drink, but she’d done so without complaint. She’ll be glad when he’s safely back in her weyr though where he can dry out some.

A glare is given to the brownrider when he touches Kultir but the boy doesn't do more than that, accepting the offer of assistance with a heavy sigh and ducking nod of his head. "Thanks … T'lvier." he says, a little sullenly but much better that than a snarl and truthfully, the boy just doesn't have it in him right now. He swallows hard as he looks down at the petite woman, a tremulous smile curving his lips slightly before he nods. "I guess …" He breaks off and shakes his head slightly. "Let's get … home." He draws in a deep breath, straitens his shoulders and starts for the door, allowing Kalea to follow on her own since he nearly topples sideways on the first step he takes.

T’lvier growls under his breath about drunks in general when Kultir nearly falls over with the first step. “Hold on’ta me,” he grouses and loops one of Kultir’s arms across his shoulders. He attempts to keep the teen steady on his feet and move him toward the door. Exactly how they’ll get Kultir up onto Ryadranth is a mystery to the brownrider right this moment. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to attempt it with his much larger brown. Kalea gasps and reaches out for Kultir but isn’t able to do much for him. After all it could hurt her rather badly if Kultir were to tumble onto her. So she stays back a bit and follows the slow progression toward the door. Her cheeks burning as all eyes turn toward the small group.

Kultir doesn't bother pulling away from the brownrider, not that he'd be able to do much as sloshed as he is. The boy doesn't even pay attention to the stares he's getting … that they are getting … he's had eyes on him and his doings for so long they don't even register anymore. Bleary eyes turn toward T'lvier, a boozy breath getting blown at the man and the boy huffs and grins at him. "You's a … purty good guy …" he slurs drunkenly into the man's face. "… f'r a git." Finally they are out the door and a shiver rushes through the boy's body.

Kalea rolls her eyes at the spectacle and follows along after the pair as they stagger through the door. Kultir because he’s so inebriated while T’lvier staggers due to the uneven steps of the teenager beside him. Kultir gets a slanted glance from T’lvier for his comment followed by a grunted, “I could say the same of ye.” Especially the git part if Tulley knew what it meant. Regardless he manages to get the kid through the door with a minimum of bumps into the door frame.

weyr_entrance.jpg

Weyr Entrance
No standard weyr-arch for Southern: rather, an open-air bridge gracefully curves into the exterior of the bowlwall, the concave swoop of the weyrbowl itself nestled against the far high-rise of the rivercliffs. A pocket of white marble is delineated in gorgeous architecture at the termination of the bridge; stone buildings rise in a vivid vein against the rough-hewn darkness of the cliffs it settles against. The classic arcs only possible by ancient stonecutters show through, Southern's ageless beauty to be admired by all who trespass her walls.

Kultir's shoulder bumps the doorframe, sending him staggering though the brownrider managed to keep him upright. A drunken snicker is answer enough to the return compliment as they finally clear the threshold. "Ye dun even know wha' a git is …" he hiccups in the man's face before turning to see the green dragon. "Rya … (hic), she's a purdy dragon … en't she?" As soon as they are close enough, the boy reaches out an unsteady hand to pat the green hide.

Ryadranth is waiting as patiently as she’s able to this close to the precarious cliffs. At least it won’t take much at all for her to launch skyward again, though the landing was a tad touch and go there for a moment. Kalea’s smile is beautiful when she looks up at her glorious lifemate, thankful the green loves Kultir as much as she herself does. T’lvier is the least happy in this group and wrinkles his nose in disgust at Kultir. “Why don’t ye enlighten me, eh?” Keep the drunk moron talking and perhaps Kultir will make it all the way across the expanse and to Rya’s side. That’s the hope of the brownrider anyhow. “Aye she’s a lovely beast,” he agrees just for something to say. His voice laden with relief that they’ve made it close enough for Kultir to pat Ryadranth.

Kultir is fully engrossed now by the softness of the green's hide, his brain swimming in the booze he's been swilling off and on since the Hatching. He pulls himself away from the brownrider so that he can rest his whole upper body against her, his cheek and hands both brushing against her hide. "She's so … soft … (hic)" he mutters, his eyes closing as he giggles at the feel of the suede hide under his skin.

It’s T’lvier’s turn to roll his eyes and shake his head. “Are ye sure ye want him up in yer weyr lass?” He turns to watch Kalea approach where he stands. “I’d be glad ta launch ‘im off tha cliff or take ‘im up to tha Weyr..” Either option sounds preferable to sending the drunk lout away with the pregnant Greenrider. “That won’t be necessary T’lvier,” Kalea says when the brownrider shocks a laugh out of her. “Just get him mounted up and strapped in. He’ll be fine once he sleeps it off some.” At least she hopes that Kultir will be fine after a stint of rest.
Ryadranth swings her head around to watch the group with a whirling eye. She is concerned for Kultir and it shows in the color of the whirling orb, as well as the curious chirr she gives. This is new for the green as the man-child has never before acted in quite this manner around her. So she’s left wondering what is wrong with Kultir.

Kultir laughs drunkenly as the dragon turns to look at him and pats her once more. "I'm comin' home, Rya." he manages as he fumbles to grip the straps so he can pull himself upwards. He succeeds in getting his hands to grasp the straps but his feet scrabble against the leather, unable to hook themselves into the loops to boost himself up. He frowns down at his feet, trying to watch where they are going and not doing too well at the moment.

Ryadranth warbles happily when the drunken man-child tells her he’s returning home. Finally!! She feels him having trouble with his mounting and attempts to flatten out more along the cliff edge to make herself as small as possible. Kalea laughs out loud and moves to help Kultir up but T’lvier shoulders her out of the way. Leaving her to stand back while the brownrider puts a palm on Kultir’s arse and gives the boy a shove. “C’mon kid. Ye can make it. It’s jes like ye remember..” The kid’s drink addled brain surely remembers the process just not how to make the body move properly to accomplish the task apparently.

Kultir feels a hard shove against his backside and the boy is finally able to get himself up onto the green back though he's not exactly … mounted, more hanging like a firestone sack over the green's back. It takes him a while but, eventually the kid gets up between the neckridges and lists sideways a little till he grabs the ridge in front of him. He grins down at the two riders. "I be … (hic) ready." he mutters, leaning against the ridge to keep his balance.

T’lvier looks up at Kultir and watches the kid shift and sway atop Ryadranth. With a sigh he scrambles agilely up the green’s side and slips a belt around Kultir’s waist. “Lemme get ye clipped in so’s ye don’t fall off and break yer fool neck.” He can’t believe he’s up here helping these two yet again. Why he always answers to Kalea’s distress he’ll never entirely figure out. “There ye damn fool. If’n ye break yer neck when ye get home it’s not on me.” He slides back down Ryadranth’s side and steps out of the way while Kalea makes her own awkward way up Rya’s side and slips into her usual seat. “Let’s get Kultir home eh sweet?” She leans forward and pats Rya’s neck before waving her thanks and farewell to T’lvier.

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