Who

Yules, Kultir, Br'er

What

Congratulations and gossip are both exchanged in the Kitten.

When

It is evening of the fourth day of the tenth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

The Tipsy Kitten, Southern Weyr

OOC Date

 

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The Tipsy Kitten

Here there be drunkards: a marble bar and the gorgeous array of colored bottles behind it would be enough to draw them in, but more yet lures those to enjoy the recreation the Kitten has to offer. Windows allow light to naturally illuminate the first floor of the tavern in the daytime, while green-tinted glows shine after nightfall. A door behind the bar leads to the tiny kitchen, while a stairway leads above to the rooms available for rent. Among the hubbub and the ruckus, a calamity of tables scatter through the open space, plenty enough for dragonpoker tournaments on restday eve.


Timor: moon6.jpgBelior: moon1.jpg

The Weyr has been shaken up a few times in the past few weeks: a new Weyrleader, two new Wingleaders, and even a shiny brand new living space. Where it's cold. So the crowd is a little abuzz when Yules strolls into the room (and by strolls, she's actually purposefully bee-lining towards the bar. A quick word and Yules gets set up with two shots of whiskey, then a third follows it. The beknotted brownrider takes them up in her hands and carefully makes her way to a table that has just been abandoned by some hardworking crafters. Yay! Drinks get set down so Yules can pick one up and sip on it, staring across the room. Searching, perhaps.

Kultir slips into the Kitten as has been his wont the past few weeks when he's not on trapping or scouting runs. Glancing around the crowded room, the tracker makes his way toward the bar for his usual spiced rum before turning to look for a seat. Spotting the brownrider at a table, the young man makes his way there and finally notices the other two shots sitting there. "Evening, Yules. Umm … these seats taken?" He gestures to the chairs and the other two drinks on the table since he'd not simply assume the brownrider is triple-handing it … ever … even if she does.

It's been a while since Br'er has been in the Kitten, with one thing and another. First he was too anxious, then he was too busy obsessing over his weyrmate, then he was too busy being pissed at said weyrmate, etc. etc. etc. But tonight! Tonight Br'er comes stalking in, determined to have some FUN. (Which, as we all know, is rarely an attitude conducive to fun, actual having thereof.) There are Serval riders playing cards over in the corner, and the greenrider shoots a thoughtful glance in their direction… but first, Yules. Yules has to be congratulated, so watch Br'er saunter over. "Evening, wingleader. Congrats!" Shiny white teeth flash in a smile. Kultir is nodded politely at, as an afterthought.

Mid-sip, there's someone before her. Yules looks up and her expression changes from the taut irritation of a lone-drinker to something… well, less irritated. "Hello, Kultir," is her response, and there's a beat of thinking before she nods and waves Kultir into one of the other chairs. At least now Yules isn't drinking alone. "Ahh. I had to cut out early from the party earlier. Um. Because." There's an indicative tip of the glass of whiskey in hand and it's on her way up to lips when there's another congratulations… But it's from someone that makes Yules look a little perplexed: "Br'er. WingSecond." Running down the list of accomplishments, starting with getting named. "Thank you." And so considerately, she adds in her usual slightly-too-loud tone: "How is Q'fex doing?"

Kultir smiles as she waves him into a chair and chuckles softly. "I saw … I hope you made it where you needed to go in time." The young man is all too aware of how too much of a good thing can affect one, having had to make that abrupt departure before himself. The other man's voice is heard and head is tilted upward as he sinks into that chair, the nod of greeting returned and name noted when Yules speaks it. The hunter lifts his tumbler of rum for a slow sip as he leans comfortably back into the chair and listens curiously, wondering how the former Weyrleader is managing his recovery.

"He's being irritating, is what he's doing." Br'er says this with MAXIMUM asperity, though it is unable to hide the bedrock of affection - and concern. "Pushing himself too hard. I'm going to put him in a burlap sack and haul him out of the Weyr before much longer." The threat of kidnapping thus delivered, the greenrider takes up a perch leaning against the bar on the opposite side of Kultir, gazing at the two with a thoughtful expression. "I take it I'm lucky I had to skip that party?"

Yules shrugs a little - from her look of mild embarrassment, she may not have. Ahem. "Did it last a lot long after?" Just curious of course. Br'er's outburst gets a blank look that slowly turns to one of possibly shared frustration though one that Yules doesn't really have anymore: "Still? Is there any way to make him slow down?" Hog-tying? As for today's party… Yules doesn't blush. Nope, but she does hem and haw a moment before contributing, "You know, having alcohol in a really hot place like the Hatchings Sands is just a bad idea." That's her account and she's sticking to it.

Kultir shakes his head reassuringly at the woman with a soft chuckle as he takes another sip of his rum. "No, things pretty much broke up a short time after that." He grimaces slightly at the asperity in the greenrider's tone but nods since he's heard the same from his own weyrmate. "Not sure how to help you there, Br'er … Kalea complains the same way about me often enough when she feels I'm trying to do too much. Doesn't stop me." He can't stop the smile that curls his lips at the hemming and hawwing the brownrider does and shakes his head. "No, liqour and heat don't mix but that was one of the largest places to hold a gathering of that size."

"He's not well enough for the usual distractions." Br'er sucks on his front (shiny) teeth in irritation. "So he's settling for just being aggravating. I'm half tempted to just tie him to a nice armchair already and be done with it." Probably he would grouse about this at further length (the past few months have not been kind to the greenrider's temper) but something in their mention of party details distracts him. The man's eyebrows furrow. "What exactly happened at this party?" DETAILS, people. DETAILS.

Yules huhs quietly and knocks back the rest of that glass of whiskey, then picks up the second one and tries to stare through it. "Probably good. I think I remember T'ral saying I was next." A little frown - was it a threat?" "For dancing with, I think." Definitely a threat, then. Yules gives the new glass a sip and shrugs at them both: "No one complains when I work too much," she observes but there's a brief smirk to accompany it. She made a joke! Br'er's laundry list of issues gets a very nearly sympathetic look and the oh-so-helpful, "Well, now you could do it and no one would interrupt you. And did you not hear yet, about the new Hold we will be having on the Ice Fields? And the new WingLeaders?" Oh hey, something other than the embarrassing little details…

Kultir chuckles at the poor memory the brownrider exhibits for the party earlier in the day and nods. "Yes, he wanted to dance with you but, you know … you had to leave." He nods slightly as Yules outlines pretty much all that actually happened at the party, a slight shrug lifting one of his shoulders as he downs another swallow of rum. "I was late so I didn't actually get to see the promotions." One hand lifts to flick toward Yules' shiny new knot.

"I heard about it," confirms Br'er, leaning more heavily against the bar. It's more of a slouch thing, really. "Can't say I understand it. What could possibly attract us there?" He shakes his head, wonderingly. "The best part of this bloody Weyr is the climate!" That Serval poker game is still ongoing, yet Br'er shows no signs of departing to join it. Instead he's ordering himself a drink - plain fruit juice - while commenting, "You being promoted makes perfect sense. Not sure who this… D'ruk? D'rik? is, though." His nose wrinkles. "Probably some Ja'kai crony."

"Better than throwing up on his shoes." Yules stands by her decisions, or at least this one. When Kultir mentions her knot, Yules reaches up and brushes it, as if thinking to hide it (yeah, good luck), but thinks better of it and her hand drops back down again. "Maybe," she'll hazard a guess, "there's something good there. Like ice. They call it the Ice Fields, so maybe that's what they'll trade." Give the woman a kewpie doll. At Br'er's lauding, Yules gives him a small but honest smile that slides to near-bemusement (or someone dumped their drink down her undershorts), "You know, I don't know him as well as I wanted to. He was Ocelot before this, but now… Too bad," she muses, "He could have made a good WingSecond." Signs of a good working relationship future? Thinking your equal would make a good underling. As a somewhat minimalistically clad young lady breezes past, Yules perks up and looks around: "So, d'you think they're ever gonna put that pole in here?" Why does Yules sound eager for this?

Laughing a little louder than his usual chuckle, Kultir nods his agreement. "I don't think he'd have cared for that, no." As the talk returns to the new Hold in Southern's territory, he listens and adds a point of his own which pretty much says where his thoughts have gone to. "I heard a rumor that there was this huge herbivore that eats whatever grows on the ice-hard ground down that way that has a really thick pelt and was good eating." He shrugs slightly though his eyes show the excitement he feels when considering making a trip down to the new Hold just to check this rumor out. When the other promoted rider is mentioned, he shakes his head slightly, better to remain silent when talk turns to someone you have no clue about. Yules' eager question nets another chuckle as he shrugs at the woman. "I have no idea. I was going to ask Sevreni about it but haven't seen her for a while."

"Bah." Br'er shakes his head. "How does Ja'kai know him so well as to promote him, I wonder." There's an odd undercurrent of spite to the light tone of his voice as he adds: "Maybe they're sleeping together." His drink arrives, and the greenrider takes a moment to down a portion of it before he makes a face at Kultir. "Don't we have enough dangerous animals as it is?" the man observes, dry as salt. "Yules probably has the right of it. I suppose ice would be a profitable business, if the Weyr'll be loaning riders to convey it to clients…"

Yules sounds a little astonished, "A new animal? That we haven't heard of?" Her look is speculative: "Maybe an animal that escaped the old Hold and grew bigger with no predators." Like wherries and tunnel snakes decided to avoid that area or something. Whichever; Yules is distracted from continuing that conversation by Br'er's tone: "Ja'kai does… that?" Given his former position, Yules wrinkles her nose in disgust: "I mean, sure, he'd do flights but…" Yules' whisper is utterly scandalized: "Sex? Ja'kai?" Shudder. As for the Icefields's method of transport, Yules huffs: "Well, we can't really spare a lot of dragons right now! We've got injuries, and Thread falling…" So inconvenient.

Kultir blinks at Br'er's possible assessment of Ja'kai's chosen bedmates and decides that he just doesn't want to know, it's better that way, right? The face-making the other man does gets a grin and another shake of the head. "I'm a hunter, it's what I do … hunt stuff and bring it back to eat if it's edible. I want one of those pelts … if they exist." He shrugs at the brownrider's questions and comment. "No idea, but I want to go see. Just to scout it out, you know?"

"Wouldn't the size be limited by the lack of food?" Br'er questions, though without THAT much interest: he's a dragonrider, not a biologist, damnit. Perhaps he would say more (perhaps he would even just take a chair already) but there is a shout from the Serval poker table, followed by raucous laughter. Br'er, expression amused, turns to see. "Ah - if you two will excuse me…" And off he wanders.

The second glass of whiskey is slowly disappearing into Yules but she's looking a lot better than the last time she was drinking. Br'er's supposition is shrugged at: "What if they eat the ice?" Because that's the most sensible answer, but Br'er's already gone. When the empty second glass touches the table, Yules is just opening her mouth to say something when her eyes go a bit crossed. There's a brief stillness and Yules swears quietly: "If you'll excuse me, Kultir. The Weyrleader has just requested my presence." And that knot is still pretty clean so. The woman's already getting to her feet with an apologetic look either to Kultir or the third glass of whiskey: "Um. Enjoy that." For Yules? That's a pretty good apology, even if she does whirl and march out soon after.

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