Who

Igraine, C'sei

What

Igraine's a new transplant and C'sei is up for talking, for once.

When

It is sunset of the first day of the first month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Dustbowl Cantina, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 29 Jan 2016 05:00

 

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"Aye, I'd be one of the fools that assume that warmth."


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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.


No one mentioned to Igraine that Igen actually got cold in the winter. So she'd spent her day shopping for appropriate clothing for the chill. After dropping her purchases at her yurt, Igraine had decided that Zingari wwhiskey just wasn't going to cut it tonight. So, with evening setting in, and Rukbat making it's decent, Igraine makes her way to the bazaar and a well known watering hole. She's a sight in her boots, thick black pants and her brightly colored leather coat. The white fur it's lined with peeks out from the hood of the jacket, which is dyed a bright set of yellows, oranges and reds. Igraine makes for a colorful target when she enters the Cantina, proudly displaying her Zingari heritage. For tonight is not a night for shadows and intrigue, oh no, tonight is a night for relxation and drinking! She strides with the grace of a jungle feline to the bar and orders a drink before removing her brightly colored jacket and folding it over her arm. Igraine sports a matching tunic with billowy sleeves and a scooped neckline. She's out to impress this evening as she receives her drink and spins on her heel to find a table, a bright smile set beneath her bright brown eyes. Hmm. Where to sit?

At least the sun was out, even if that could be construed as a cruel joke. Sun without warmth, it's a frustrating tease. C'sei is something of a regular at the Cantina, even if he's not the most social amongst its patrons. So it's not unusual for him to be seated at one of the smaller tables, seemingly comfortable in his self-imposed isolation. A book is laid out in front of him and he leans over it, his fingers wrapped lightly around the tall glass of beer he's nursing. His jacket hangs off the back of his chair and it would appear that he's been here for awhile. He's not completely oblivious and the sight of movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention. Slowly, his gaze lifts from the volume and settles on Igraine and her brightly colored outfit before he absently turns a page.

Igraine scans the room, eyes alight with a cheery spark. Igraine takes a step towards a table near her and decides last minute she's not sitting there! An old man half asleep in his drink is no company!!! Still searching, Igraine slips through the Cantina, eventually taking a seat near C'sei. As she sets her things down, she spies C'sei's gaze and her brown eyes light up as she tosses him a wink and a smile. She slips into her seat, taking a sip from the tall, rum infused drink she's ordered. Ahh, delicious! She settles herself and curls a hand around her drink, the oher coming up to tuck away an errant strand of hair. She's close enough to C'sei that a greeting might be appropriate, so, once more smiling, "Cold evening out, isn't it?" Igraine eyes the book and C'sei's absent page turning. She wonders what he's reading, some of that curiosity leaking into her features.

He's the type that's sort of generally aware when people are moving around him, even if he's not dedicated to the action of watching them. Igraine's somewhat more bright and cheerful than the rest of the patrons, so it's easier to track her movements without looking directly at her. She sits at another table and he returns to his pages, drawing up the will to focus once again. His finger trails across a sentence when her voice reaches his ears. Mustering up a polite smile and effectively revealing just how awkward he can be at these things, "Ah, yes. I suppose that it is." There's a pause here that stands for just a beat longer than might be socially acceptable, where he runs his hand along the binding of his book. "Are you new here?" He tries, sometimes.

Igraine smiles warmly and brightly at C'sei. "I am, I'm Igraine." She replies with a little bow of her head, one of her Raven locks escapes the confines of her ear and slides forward to hang over one of her eyes. "I just transferred in to the Zingari Caravan from one of her sister caravans. I like Igen, so far. Are you from here?" another sip of her drink is taken and Igraine is all ears!

Introductions, "C'sei, Faenwyth's." He makes a vague sort of gesture to his jacket hanging over the back of the chair. In theory there's a rider's knot affixed to it, as long as it didn't fall off somewhere. "A lot of people assume it's hot here all turn long." His fingers continue to ply at the cover of the book, maybe it's a sort of nervous tic. He doesn't look overly anxious though. "Sort of generally, more Igen Hold and less weyr."

Igraine blushes and grins. "Aye, I'd be one of the fools that assume that warmth." She chuckles and tips her drink once more, noting C'sei's idle handling of his book. "Ah, hold born. That's not so bad." Igraine smiles once more, idly wondering if it might be her interactions making the rider nervous. "I apologise, am I interrupting a good read?" She asks, a finger tilting in direction of C'sei's tome.

"Well, it is a desert." C'sei doesn't hold it against her that she might have thought it would be more temperate than this. At the mention of being hold born he sort of cants his head to the side and lifts his shoulders in a half shrug. "More or less." His fingers tighten around and the book and he issues a short laugh, shaking his head. "No, I've read this before. I mean- It's a good read. Just-" The greenrider shuts his mouth, backs it up and tries again: "This is just what I'm like." Sort of twitchy, generally awkward.

Igraine blushes. "I'm sorry! I meant no affront to the way you are, perhaps just a little guilty for interupting your private time." Igraine takes another drink and looks of to the side for a moment before focusing back on C'sei. "I do not wish to make you feel uncomfortable. Though if you don't mind me asking," A soft smile is applied here, "What are you reading?" She truly does look interested, even if what she is doing is just being nosy really.

"I'm in public." C'sei glances around to the space they're in, smiling crookedly now. Even he realizes how impossible it is to expect private time in a place like this. "No, you don't make me feel uncomfortable." It's life that makes him uncomfortable. But that's a silent fact, a feeling that's imparted by his tone rather than in spoken words. "It's a book about this painter. It's a biography." His expression is briefly sheepish, "I don't have the most exciting tastes in the written work, unfortunately."

Igraine sighs softly. "Well I'm glad." His tone is noted, and nodded at. Igraine can understand such feelings. His thoughts on his book have Igraine smiling. "Depends on who you talk to. I happen to find artists facinating. They have an otherwordly quality about them that I just cannot resist. Which painter would you be reading about?" Igraine cocks an eyebrow and grins. She's already met Igen's resident painter.

C'sei's fingers begin again that twitching along the top of the book before he flips the cover closed. His mouth tugs down, a fleeting almost uncertain expression over taking his face before he wipes it away. Her table happens to be close so it isn't that far of a stretch to just move his chair. Aferwards, he'll reach back for his beer and slide the book across to her. The title is stamped into the leather cover, 'Odessa'. "She's been dead for a long time, but her works are still hanging up the Harper Hall and some of the holds."

Igraine grins when C'sei joins her and eagerly takes a look at the volume. "Impressive. You know, Igen weyr hosts a four hundred turn old painter. HIs name is Erikkhan. Rumor has it that they dug up some of his works shortly after the oldtimers jumped forward. I've seen some of them in other weyrs. I heard they sold for a fortune." Igraine idly flips through the pages of the book. She flicks her gaze upwards at C'sei, her eyes sparking with interest. She loved chatting about art and music, it took her mind of her own daily activities. Being a healer is no easy work, and her second job ws no easier.

"I've heard of him." C'sei returns to his beer, finally. That thing has been long neglected, probably since he got there. "But we've never spoken." Which is shocking given what a social butterfly the greenrider is. Not. "It's amazing what art will go for as time progresses. And if they think you're dead." Rather than continue with the same odd set of behaviors he had with handling the book, he folds his hands together and leaves them fingers interlocked on the table. "What do you do for the Zingari?"

Igraine smiles. "I found him quite facinating, you should have him do a portrait. He's quite good, and you have fine features." Igraine grins. "I hope I'm not to forward in saying so." Another sip of her drink and she's looking up to answer C'sei's question. "I am a healer." Igraine chuckles and closes the book. C'sei might notice the slight herbal scent that perpetually clings to the Zingari girl. She makes no mention of other work she does for the Zingari. "Do you enjoy being a rider? What were you before?"

"I think I would make a less than ideal subject." C'sei laughs uncertainly, shaking his head. The compliment results in him sucking in a breath, then scratching the back of his head before taking another drink. "Oh, did you train with the healer hall or?" The or is a catch all for whatever on the road training he might be thinking that traders engage in. With a forced smile, "It's alright as long as you don't die." As for his previous life, his knee bounces beneath the table. "I was nothing, really. Street rat."

Igraine makes a noise of disagreement when C'sei doubts his photogenics. "Psh! I would heartily disagree sir!" Igraine tosses C'sei a wink and drinks from her glass, signaling the barkeep to bring her a second. His question garners a shake of the head from Igraine. "Zingari healers aren't hall trained, we have our own ways and thoughts about medicinal care." Another smile and Igraine finishes off her drink, though C'sei's mention of being a street rat has that smile turning into a thousand megawatt beam. "Oh, that's not a nothing!" Igraine's features take on a delighted, yet secretive air. "I happen to find the street rats to be the more prefferable than most. They are more colorful… more interesting than others."

That he isn't used to people paying him compliments is so painfully obvious just in the way he glances off to the side, his fingers tightening. C'sei breaks his hands apart only long enough to cover his glass, a silent indication that he doesn't need any sort of refill when that barkeep rolls around. He smiles politely at the man with his closed lips. Once gone, "That's what I thought. Still you don't have any interaction or take any… lessons? Does the hall even offer that?" That smile has him ducking his head, sheepish and a little embarassed by her reaction. "It's nothing to a lot of other people." Most people? "And I've been called a lot of things, but colorful has never been one of them."

Igraine blushes. "Forgive me, I've been far too forward." Maybe her drink has something to do with that. Speaking of which, look, there's a new one!!! Igraine takes a drink and clears her throat, remembering that he'd asked a question as well. "We are taught by the clan healer, and it has been that way for as long as any can remember, though I would not doubt that some of us have learned from weyr healers." Igraine smiles. "We do just as well as most craft trained helers though. We had to, being out on the road as we were, before the return of thread." Igraine smiles.

"No, it's fine." C'sei holds a hand up to stave off any further apologies, it's not the fault of other people that he's socially awkward. Quite frankly, it's impressive that he's held a conversation this long without just getting up and leaving. It's a personality quirk. "Hm. That's interesting." He comments quietly on the discussion as he pulls his beer in closer, taking a drink from it finally. "You're still on the road a fair amount now, even with thread. It would make sense to have your own healers."

Igraine nods and makes a noise of agreement. "Indeed we are, though we keep closer to the holds and weyrs now, our wagons only do so much against thread. They are sturdy, and well protected, but it is nice to know we are safe." Igraine tips her head to C'sei. "With many thanks to you and yours for that." A bright smile is given and Igraine takes another drink.

"Ah, you're welcome." C'sei shrugs his shoulders before tipping back his glass and finishing the beer. For a moment it looks like he's going to call for another before second-guessing and deciding against it. "I'm cutting back." He explains by way of his indecision. Curiously he wonders, "When do you go on the road again?"

Igraine smiles softly at C'sei's admission and gives him his dignity in not giving anymore of a response than a soft nod. The change in topic he offers is a good out and she takes it. "Soon, this caravan travels in the winter I'm told. I think they were waiting for our leader's babe to get strong enouh for travel, wee cute thing." Igraine pushes what's left of her drink to the side as she feels her head go a little fuzzy. That's enough of that. Igraine wonders at the strength of the liquor here.

C'sei's book is eventually reclaimed at some point in their conversation, his fingers curl around it and he drags it closer to his person. "I suppose the next time that I'll encounter you will be after the caravan returns." Which is something like several months from now if they're leaving sometime in the immediate future.

Igraine sighs and gives a smile. "I suppose, though that may not be as true as you think. I work closely with S'ayde, green Kataskiath's, I help him with things, I shall be making trips betwixt weyr and caravan all season long." Igraine smiles, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms softly in front of her.

There are so many riders at the weyr, that hopefully C'sei can be forgiven for not being familiar with her friend. Faenwyth undoubtly confirms Kataskiath's existence, of course. His book is drawn to his chest and he shifts an uneasy glance to the door of the Cantina. "It was good talking with you, Igraine." The smile that comes next is apologetic as he rises to his feet and offers an explanation for his departure, "Faenwyth is a jealous mistress."

Igraine gives a nod of her head, not wanting to leave just yet. "It was a pleasure to meet you C'sei. Please thank your Faenwyth for allowing me to steal your focus for a bit." She smiles and gives the rider his leave, not wanting to take up more of his time than he was willing to give. "I hope to see you around." Igraine smiles and inwardly thinks to ask the barkeep for some food to soak up some of the liquor she'd imbibed.

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