N'tael, Rocio


Rocio tracks down Nate and things are all tense. For a few reasons.


It is evening of the first day of the eleventh month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


The Tipsy Kitten, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 29 Dec 2017 05:00


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"Everybody just ain't here."


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.

The general feeling of ill will that permeates through the weyr in the wake of the Senior Weyrwoman's disappearance. Some people have decided to spend time with loved ones. Others decide to throw a party and buy everyone a round. That is Nate right now. "To Bailey!" That's a loud largeish man who raises a very drunk hand with a shot in it. N'tael lifts his glass and then tosses it back with the rest of the area. "'Nother!" THAT is N'tael, as he puts his shot glass down again.

Amidst Southern's dark hour comes a tiny ray of sunshine from the northern continent. Niamyth emerges from the cold depths of ::between:: high above the Weyr, bugling her triumphant return to the watch dragon as she descends with an air of familiarity. Natural are her movements, smooth is the landing. This is home to her and her lifemate, and they have not set foot upon its soil in over two Turns. When the dainty green lands and settles, Rocio removes her riding helmet and simply breathes in the sweet aroma — it smells of jungle, beach, and a refreshing rain. Blonde hair cascades from her helmet in the form of a single braid as she makes for a quick dismount and heads for the Kitten. A tiny glowbug once asleep in Tlazotezath's mindscape wakens the closer Rocio gets to the double doors and fully glows when she steps inside the pub, "Count me in." Right on cue, as always~

N'tael blinks when the door opens, mouth already opened to order a drink for whomever is joining them - except that the person that enters wasn't at all whom the diminutive bronzerider had expected to come into the Kitten. Standing he has to grab the edge of the table, mostly because he's a little tipsy~, and blurts out, "Ro? What're ye doin' 'ere?" Surprise is his middle name. Talzotezath awakens himself as the glowbug brightens. Dry desert reaches outwards and scours across the small green's mind. « How strange. » Tlaz and Nate are BOTH going to get their asses kicked.

Rocio starts peeling off her riding gloves as she stares down N'tael and makes her way toward his table. Could be that she's going to use one of them to whack him upside his head, or perhaps beat him — who knows! She's a bit unpredictable these days, to say the least. "Fixin' t' smack you into next sevenday if we wasn't in mournin' right now." There's some truth to that statement and even though she's madder than a wet hen at him, she wouldn't ever disrespect him or tarnish Bailey's honor in this moment. The Weyrwoman was a good friend of hers. They shared history. Stories. Bailey was there for her during her Turns leading up to (and after) Impressing Niamyth and she will be greatly missed. Therefore, there's no way Rocio could make a scene tonight. She's saving THAT for SOME OTHER TIME. "What're we drinkin'?" Those gloves of hers are conveniently slipped into her trous' back pockets.

N'tael tracks Rocio as she approaches. No shying away from the violence that she says she's going to dish out. They can agree on that. So instead he'll step forward to squeeze her into a hug. Because she can't say no to that so long as he's also offering up a, "Black rum." Something needlessly hard that will have them all sorts of smashed sooner rather than later.

No one can say no to a boozy Nate hug, right? Rocio returns the hug and takes hold of the drink being offered to her, downing it like a pro. Truthfully, she's not a heavy drinker so this might get a little interesting very soon. Setting the empty shot glass upon the wooden table top, the greenrider rests fingertips next to it as her other hand remains on her hip. Yeah, she's still looking right at Nate. "So." A beat, "How ya been?"

At least Nate shows enough restraint to not kiss the greenrider. That would probably not get much happy reception right now. Considering Nate's a bit of a jerk right now. REaching out he takes up her empty glass and puts it next to his before looking aside, "More!" Nate has no desire to be sober kthanks. "Been better. Can't be sayin' I got much t' complain 'bout 'cept what e'eryone's got." A gestures waves in the direction of everywhere and everyone that is sorrowing for the senior queen's death. "Ye came jus' t' be rememberin' with us?" Surely the news has spread by now.

It takes a decent amount of restraint to not pick a fight with the bronzerider right now. Seriously, it does. But, Rocio finally answers his inquiry with nothing but the honest truth. "Sorta." she starts off saying. "I got clearance t' come home." It might be noticeable to Nate that she isn't hacking and sneezing like she used to. In fact, she looks well rested and has a little color to her tanned cheeks — living in the desert will do that to one's complexion. "So, I gotta meetin' with the Weyrleader t' hand over my transfer hides and t' figure out which wing I'mma be in. What's his name anyway?"

No fights! Just drinking! Like how N'tael shoves over another drink to the girl and picks up his own. No drinking till she takes hers down then. (It's possible Nate's self-defense strategy is to get her drunk so she can't hit him without giving him a chance to duck.) "Healers be ginin' ye somethin' if'n it comes again?" There has to be some kind of Perneese allergy med, right?

Rocio takes hold of the next shot glass, lifts it in 'cheers', and downs it like the first. "I got stuff I can take if things get bad again. They didn't seem t' think it'll get t' that point, though, and that's why I'm here." Not because she had to track him down or anything, right? Right. Southern is home to both she and Niamyth. The shot glass is slid down the table top as an indication that she needs another refill — she's on the fast track to getting hammered for sure! "How many of these have ya had?" Squint.

"Water next?" That asked to the woman behind the bar because if Rocio doesn't drink something between those shots is quite likely that Rocio isn't going to be happy to be home tomorrow. "Ye jus' caught up t' me. Thinkin'…" And N'tael is absolutely going to use measuring her up as a chance to get an eyeful. "Ye mayhap'll have to more if'n ye do 'em sparin' like."

There's a curious look bestowed upon the barmaid after she poses her inquiry. "Do I need a water?" Let's take a moment to remember that Rocio is not a drinker and otherwise un-savvy with 'proper form'. "Lady, when I drink rum, I drink rum. And when I drink water, I drink water!" A fist thumps down on the table top for emphasis, though she does sorta cave in. "Well. I s'pose since you're offerin'. Yeah. I'll take a water…" So much for taking a stand. Still, the greenriding huntress pivots toward N'tael and casts her gaze downward while waiting for her next cold drink of water to arrive. "Damn. I miss her." Bailey, obviously.

"If'n ye don't want t' be waking up sick~" N'tael doesn't get a chance to push too hard before Rocio's bending and taking up the water the barmaid is offering. "F'r me too, aye?" And he'll smile at the woman before taking up his glass and turning to Rocio. Don't flirt with two girls at the same time Nate, it's bad for your health! "More'n a li'l's changed since we had t' be goin'." It's half a warning, just in case things aren't like Rocio remembered.

"Well, yeah." Rocio agrees with Nate's statement. A hand reaches out to collect the ice cold glass of water slid toward her and she takes a few sips before elaborating. "Miss Bailey's gone. Miss Hannah's gone. Mister Renalde is…" Who knows where Southern's former Headman is right now. "Everybody just ain't here." The feeling of Southern being 'different' hasn't really sunk in yet either. She can't really feel anything right now — give it a few days and things will become more noticeable to her. Right now she's here with a friend in a bar having a few celebratory drinks to honor their mutual acquaintance. "I dunno."

At least N'tael can help with that, "Renalde's workin' 'n 'e stores. But gets real tired easy. So he don't be comin' out 'lot." Not that it really makes Southern feel more like 'home'. N'tael will focus on that glass of water for a space. "But ye're back, f'r more 'n a space?" Which is a good question to ask N'tael too. "Tlazotezath wouldn't mind remakin' acquaintance with Niamyth." « Lie. » Tlazotezath has been listening and will make sure BOTH Rocio and Nia know this thing Nate has said is not. True.

« Well, I don't wanna see him neither! » Niamyth is quick to chime into the conversation. Feeding off the general grumbly vibe that Rocio is giving off right now has helped set the tone for the green's current attitude. "Stop sayin stuff that ain't true, Nate. You're awful good at that." Hey, he brought it up this time and she's only responding~ "I don't wanna get into it right now with ya anyway. I should be trackin' down the Weyrleader t' give him my hidework from Igen." Which means that she needs to finish her water and get gone relatively soonish.

A frown replaces any false merryment from N'tael's face. "Ro, I mean it. And ye know Tlazotezath only says them things cuz he's an ornery li'l bastard." Reaching out N'tael is going to try to snag her hand unless she brushes him off violently. "I been missin' ye. 'n Va'os ain't gonna need ye hides right way. E'ery'uns still mournin'."

There's a good portion of what N'tael says that's conveniently glossed over, partly because Rocio doesn't want to throw verbal barbs at him right now. She'd like to (let's be honest) but she's taking a hearty swig of her water right now. "Va'os. That's his name." she says in between another sip. "Well, somebody's gotta take these hides. Otherwise I ain't gotta place t' stay t'night." She and Nia kinda need a weyr to call home now that they've transferred out of Igen. Or she'll be sleeping in the library tonight and Niamyth will be hunkered in the fields.

"Don't be bein' like that!" N'tael's tone is slightly sharp as his hand drops to his side. The lean upon the bar ends too and the drink gets set down. "Ye know ye're always welcome 'n my weyr. Gave Tlaz a big o'l space." N'tael is absolutely inviting Rocio to come spend the night. A flick of his gaze to the bottles against the wall. "We could finish gettin' drunk. Fittin' tribute to Bailey."

"I can be how I wanna be!" Stubborn, thy name is Rocio. She's a breath away from saying something else and there's a brief (repeat: BRIEF) thought to dumping water all over his blonde head. Alas, she resists temptation and ends up downing what's left in her glass before sliding the empty down the table top. "I gotta go." To find someone to take the transfer hides from her possession and to go pour out a bottle for Bailey in private. Believe it or not, there's a large part of Rocio that wants to be alone. To remember Southern's Weyrwoman. To drink and toast her friend's life. All of it. "Good seein' ya." A few marks are pressed onto the wooden surface right before she turns to collect her riding gloves from her back pockets.

N'tael really wants to follow her. REALLY. But it's Tlazotezath who restrains him with harsh desert winds. Sighing the bronzerider leans on the bar. "Hey, why don't ye be takin' 'e bottle with 'e?" REaching behind the bar he picks it up and offers it to the huntress rider. "Case ye need a bribe… or somethin' t' share with a friend."

Rocio retrieves her gloves and straightens once Nate offers the bottle to her. She had half a mind to reach behind the bar herself but thought better of it — she doesn't exactly want to get jailed for stealing when she's in between Weyrs at the moment. That and no one knows her as well as they know him right now. Niamyth's own summery breeze is pushing Rocio toward the door much like Tlazotezath's is keeping Nate put. "Thanks. I'll be seein' ya." Not quite a threat as it is a farewell for tonight. With bottle in hand, the greenriding huntress makes her way out of the Kitten and into the darkness of Southern Weyr.

N'tael watches as Rocio leaves, not replying to that not-quite-treat at the moment. A deep sigh and he turns away once that darkness has taken her up and settles at the bar. The false happiness is gone gold in the face of friendship not quite renewed. Another day. Soon, hopefully.

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