I'dre, Zetali


I'dre and Zetali have a bit of back-and-forth at the Dustbowl Cantina, and Zetali offers a mild warning about I'dre's indulgences and backsassing.


It is afternoon of the twenty-eighth day of the eighth month of the fifteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Dustbowl Cantina, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 03 Dec 2018 08:00



"You're not serious, are you? What, are you my mother now too?"


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.

The Dustbowl isn't exactly the sort of place that Zetali would normally go, but the temperatures today are soaring up into the stupid range. After an afternoon of learning sweeps and other various duties that take place in the dusty, hot sun, the former harper has decided to seek refuge underground, leaving brown Odskovith to wallow in the mud on the lakeshore, after a good cleaning and oiling. The brown-haired, green-eyed rider slinks down into the solid stone, immediately sighing in relief at the cooler air. Much better. It's not booze she's here for, though, but… "Water," she inquires, politely, at the counter, leaning her elbows on it and affording a charming, slightly crooked smile to whoever happens to be on duty at the time. Those sea-green eyes sweep the room, though, casually but meticulously looking to see if there are any familiar faces, here…

Most of Igen's summer is kind of up in the stupid range as far as heat goes! Residents here learn very quickly on how to work around the worst of it and then there are times it cannot be helped. Likely the Cantina has seen a few patrons and some 'early birds' for a drink or two. I'dre was undoubtedly in the same or similar position as Zetali: more training under Rukbat's glare and now he's left to seek refuge! Mhiruth is no doubt sprawled (gracefully) near the lakeshore as well, but enjoying more of a sunbath than one in the waters themselves. I'dre's arrival is a quiet one as he moves purposely towards the bar as well and not long after his fellow weyrling makes her request. "You came all the way here just for water?" he teases with a wry looking smirk, settling without hesitation in the seat next to her. From the dampness to his hair and that he's in a fresher looking (and lighter fabric) version of their uniform, he's cleaned up since drills.

The former harper blinks a bit, turning to regard the wayward bluerider. Oh, it's I'dre. Not someone she knows a lot about, other than the fact that he seemed to have a tepmestuous weyrlinghood. Hopefully he's managed to work things out with his lifemate. "I'dre." It's an acknowledgement as much as it is a greeting, given with the faint tilt of her head. "Not really. I came all the way here just to get out of the sun. The water is a nice bonus." She holds up her flask, dangling it; it clunks against her hip with a hollow sound. "Drank through my waterskin a little while ago, and since it's hot enough to roast a wherry on the stones out there… well." She squints a little, as though ignoring her own state of dishevelment and the sweat beaded on her brow. "I could ask the same thing. What're you doing here? Not going to overdo, I hope."

Fault isn't so much in his bond with Mhiruth, but a flaw in I'dre himself; it's his temper he can't control when under stress and as weyrlinghood progressed, it got worse. Most of the weyrlings had no doubt witnessed his failings and those who hadn't, have heard of it. Kind of hard to hide, even now! Notably that I'dre has yet to be tapped (and there may be whispers that he won't be, but that's gossip for you). "Zetali." he returns the greeting, smirk broadening slightly and then on to a grin as he laughs quietly. "Good one. I'll have to remember that!" There's a grimace chasing that and a low sigh. "Tell me about it! You think I'd be used to it, having lived here all my life but…" He's never had to actually be out in the worst of it without much of a choice! A brow quirks at her question and now he's back to smirking. "If I am, are you gonna pull rank on me?" It's both a teasing and challenging tone, though I'dre looks to be in good humour, even as he signals the bartender.

"I'm out of Keroon, or at least the general area. Summer was rough on the plains, but not as rough as this. The wherry would be a little underdone on a rock out there," Zetali muses, shrugging as she mentally dismisses the topic. It's too hot to think about hot food. "I don't think anybody really gets used to this. It's officially stupid hot today." Water's a safe substitute, and she takes up the mug of not-booze offered her, lifting it in silent toast to I'dre. Her mouth thins a little at his challenge; those sea-green eyes lose a few degrees of warmth. "I will if I feel the need to. That is to say, as long as you're not a danger to yourself, to others, or to your dragon." Zetali cants her head to the other side, studying I'dre with a slow, spreading smile that seems too crooked to be fully genuine. "By all means, have fun. I won't stop you from a little." She smiles, sweetly; too sweetly. "Go too far, and you'll see how serious I am about this 'responsible wingsecond' thing." Challenge is met with challenge, hidden behind that easy, lopsided smile.

"I've heard that Keroon is beautiful – and yeah, less hot than this." Which is a pretty tempting selling point, right about now! I'dre will skillfully pay (and tip!) the bartender without so much of a hint of hesitation when his drink is brought to him. It's definitely alcoholic and hard liquor to boot; he's got refined tastes but the amount within his glass will hardly do much damage! And he'll raise the glass to her toast, but his drink is nursed and not shot back like one would expect. See? He's being good. Kind of! Brows lift for Zetali's challenge in return and he'll hold her sea green gaze with his own. Eventually his blue eyes narrow, but not out of anger or annoyance. His lips curve into a smile and he looks far too amused with himself. "Relax, Zetali! I'm not going to do anything stupid." he mutters with a slight scoff, lifting his free hand in a warding gesture though it's sarcastic at best. Leaning forwards and resting his folded arms on the edge of the bar, he peers over at her. "So, how is that going anyhow? The whole Wingsecond… thing?"

"If you like that kind of thing." Zetali pauses only to take a swig of water, eyeing the bluerider thoughtfully. "When you grow up there, it loses some of its meaning. It's all familiar to someone who grew up there, just like I'm sure the mountains aren't even worth mentioning to someone who grew up in High Reaches. For me, Igen is what's different and novel, even if it does get too hot for my tastes." Way too hot. At least the heat doesn't seem to bother the dragons too much. "I wonder if dragons sunborn," she adds, apropos of nothing in particular. She eyes I'dre's drink with slightly narrowed eyes, but she doesn't stop him, and there's something of approval in that sea-green gaze when he doesn't down it all at once. Good. "Well, I'm so glad you're going to exercise moderation like a good wingrider. I'm still staying here until you finish up and head back to your weyr, though," she adds, pointedly. "I'm finished with my work for a little while." How's the wingsecond thing going? "Exhausting, but rewarding. I'm content to let Xanthee sit at the top of the chain, and help her out as best I can. It's lonely at the top, or so it's said. And if I'm exhausted, she must be running on fumes." She is, at heart, just a little bit lazy in some ways. Someone else can run themselves ragged doing the leadership thing. Not her. "I'm content enough to be a supporting role to Xan's leading woman. At least until we all eventually go our separate ways."

I'dre shrugs as he admits, "Not sure if I do. Never had the itch to travel and still don't, despite having the ability to do it!" He blinks for Zetali's sudden musing thought and he takes a moment to roll it around in his head. "I'm going to say… no? Otherwise I'd imagine we'd have sunburned dragons daily here. Mhiruth loves laying in the sun, no matter how hot it gets. If he gets too warm, he'll move." Simple as that, at least in his head! His fingers rest over the top of his drink, poised and ready to lift it but failing to do so as he just stares at her. "You're not serious, are you? What, are you my mother now too?" he scoffs, now with a slight edge to his tone but still remaining reasonable. He holds her gaze again, finger tapping idly against his glass before he's smirking again. "But if you want to waste your evening babysitting me, go ahead! I wasn't just planning on drinking. You gonna shadow me if I decide to play cards? Might pick someone up tonight too and that," he remarks dryly. "Might get a bit awkward." At least he warned her! Sobering, he tilts his head as she answers honestly on being exhausted and his smirk fades to something more grim. "I don't envy any of you. Wasn't surprised that Xanthee got top rank or you as her 'second. More surprised that it wasn't all bronzeriders… it's usually how things go. So… good for you both!" He is definitely not the conservative type and actually approves of female riders; if they have the skill to lead, why the hell not? It's not like HE can.

The former harper shrugs, taking another healthy swig of her cup of water. She can do that, because it won't dissolve the lining of her esophagus! Unlike whatever she can smell in I'dre's cup. At least he's pacing himself. Zetali looks a little blank at his scoffing, and her features remain blank in the wake of his edgy tone. Eventually, those brows arch, sea-green eyes hooding in an expression of skepticism, indifference, or both. "All those months as a weyrling, and you still don't get it, do you?" She shakes her head, puffing out a sigh as she clambers onto a stool at the counter, resting her arms on the counter. "You wanna sass and be sarcastic at me, be my guest. I'll find something more important I can spend my time on." The former harper drains her cup, setting both the empty vessel and payment aside on the counter, sliding it back toward the barkeep's direction. "Enjoy your evening. Don't overindulge," she adds over her shoulder, turning, that slightly frazzled braid of hers whipping to one side as she does. "I don't want to make your life inconvenient, but I will if I feel the need." With that, she pushes herself off the stool and strides back toward the entrance, lifting a hand in silent farewell, not even looking back. "You wanna talk, later, that's fine. Something's bothering you if you got a chip on your shoulder like that. But right now, I don't think it'll do anyone any good. Clear skies… wingrider."

It's whiskey, that I'dre is drinking! Or an equivalent of it. "What don't I get? I'm just being me! I'm sarcastic and I'm blunt. Not gonna sugar coat it and I wasn't being anywhere near disrespectful to you. We're not officially on duty." he points out dryly, reaching again for his glass and taking another moderate knock of it. Briefly, he grimaces, teeth bared at the fleeting kick back before he's clearing his throat. "Like I said, just relax, alright?" It's said in a tone that it could be a form of apology from him. Too little, too late and he can only blink as Zetali gets up from her seat and is already on the move out. His brow furrows and his gaze darkens in something close to regret but that's soon pushed under another smirk and rather standoffish expression. Maybe she struck a nerve? "Yeah… sure." he mutters, mostly to himself by that point but doesn't sound confident at all that a 'talk' is likely to happen. As he turns to face forward at the bar, his hand lifts, but not so much in farewell as to scrub his fingers along his jaw and up through his hair. What was that about moderation? Because he knocks back the rest of his drink, orders another and barely waits a second after it's served to down that one too before pushing back from the bar and getting to his feet. He was being serious about finding further entertainment! Only the Cantina isn't exactly a spot for picking up card games. His path will be for the exit leading to the side streets and, unsurprisingly, the deeper parts of the Bazaar. Mhiruth, ever 'listening', will reach for Odskovith with a gentle touch of clouds drifting over mirror-like water's surface. « He means well. Yours should keep trying with him. Patience may yield what she is looking for. » His way of saying: don't give up on I'dre yet.

By the time I'dre orders his second drink and quaffs that, too, Zetali is already out into the desert heat, striding purposefully towards her next destination, braid trailing behind her as she goes. Her pace is brisk enough that when she steps around and aside from the folk in the avenue, it almost looks like the steps of a dance; now sure-footed in spite of the gritty sand underfoot. She'd taken more than one spill when she'd first arrived, unaccustomed to walking in the stuff, but now it's familiar. Out on the lakeshore, Odskovith stirs in the deeps, raising his head up to blow bubbles with his nose. He's listening, although he's mostly just enjoying playing in the water. «Mine is frustrated.» Odskovith's answer comes with its customary riot of bright colours, and the bizarre sensation of a jumble of textures; a sure sign he's having trouble collating his thoughts. Felt and satin and scratchy wool all blend together in some kind of bizarre blend. «But she wants to help. She's the bestest at helping, you know.» May or may not be true. He manages another sprinkling of bright colours, and a crackle of warmth through Mhiruth's clouds on water's surface; an attempt to cheer and comfort the blue. «Don't worry. She won't give up.»

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