Terrian Sacitca Thierry


Two candidates gather to avoid the wet, and somehow Terrian manages to tick off both of them.


It is evening of the twenty-fifth day of the third month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Dustbowl Cantina

OOC Date


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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.

A thunderstorm booms overhead, letting loose a load of rain, lightening and noise loose upon the Bazaar and Weyr beyond it. By and large, the storm means that any business for the day is over; that it is evening means that it at least isn't a huge interruption of business. For the Cantina, it means that business is booming while people wait for the worst of the storm to pass by. Sacitca is one of those caught out in the storm, with a couple other Bazaar-born Candidates who'd been doing some evening visiting as well. The three sit at one of the tables in the midst of the bustle. There is some foodstuffs on the table just recently delivered by one of the waistresses, and a couple open chairs. "It wasn't that bad," Sacitca's saying in response to one of the other Candidates as a particularly loud rumble of thunder clashes ahead. Darn storms.

Rain drips from a wide brimmed hat Terrian has found for just such an occasion. Stepping into the bazaar he shakes the hat, sending droplets scattering around him before he reaches up to take it off. Unlike many of the desert citizens, the former trader guard is well prepared for the weather, his oil-lined clothing shedding the worst of the liquid off of his form. Once divested of his hat he reaches down to undo the buttons on his coat as he scans the room for familiar faces. One catches his eye and so he wanders closer. "Sacitca, haven't seen you in a few days." His eyes wander over to the knot on her shoulder, only to cause one to rise upwards. "Searched huh?"

Also caught out in the rain, but currently absent from the table is Thierry; just as Terrian approaches Saci, he comes in from the other direction - wet, suggesting he's just come in from the outdoors, and carrying a tray of drinks. These are settled onto the table as he slips into the empty seat beside the perfumer, looking narrow-eyed at his former colleague-slash-competitor. "Terr." A brief nod of his head follows, as he starts doling out the drinks to those who ordered them.

The vaguely-familiar voice draws Sacitca away from the debate with the other Candidate about scents, and her brow furrows briefly. "Oh, Terrian, right? I'd suspect it's been a few, yes.." A crooked grin is flashed at him, and she touches the knot selfconciously when he inquires after it. "A few days after you stopped by, yes." She acknowledges, scooting her chair a bit when Thierry returns. She may have moved it a bit when talking to Byrila is all! "Thank you, Thierry," the perfumist murmurs when her drink is dolled out. "Were you two in the Guard together? How are you adapting to the Guard?" It's only polite to inquire.

Terrian's coat is slung over the back of one of those empty chairs so that it can drip to its heart's content. Hopefully no one steps in the puddle. "I'm sure your stall is missing you by now." With his weight off of his feet Terrian streches them out in front of him, then turns a languid look up at Thierry. "Thierry." His tone is slightly warm, though not as much. "So they snagged you huh?"

Thierry nurses his glass against his chest, while his eyes stay fixed on Terrian. "Sorta snagged, I guess. More… /enlisted/. Guess it was decided I needed another new direction in life." As tends to happen to him so frequently of late. The teenager shrugs, lifting his juice to sip on it delicately. "Did I get your drink right, Sass? Couldn't remember all of them properly, so I got what I /thought/ you wanted…"

"Liztea's keeping an eye on it. You've run into her by now, I'm sure." Or at least, Sacitca hopes he has. At the tones shared between the two fellows of the group, Sacitca raises her eyebrows slightly. Byrila murmurs apologies, and slips off to go talk to a family member she's spotted. Sacitca, meanwhile, nods at Thierry. "You did, thank you. Although it would be difficult to order me something I don't like." Just for future reference! "How have things in the bazaar been, guardwise?" She'll keep going with the polite questions.

Terrian, of course, doesn't get a drink, not having been here with they were placed. No worry though, because he reaches out to snag the skirt of one of the passing barmaids, "Wiskey," rolls out before he's turning back to the pair before him, hands reaching up to lace together behind his head. He is utterly relaxed in the crowded confines of the cantina. "Well enough. You know how the rummor mill swirls down there. Got some people jumpy." The former guard recruit is ignored now that he has shared his change of career.

There's warmth in Thierry's smile for Sacitca that Terrian didn't earn for himself, as the former guard raises his glass to chink it off his fellow candidate's. "Cool." He's pleased he didn't get it wrong. "Betcha having all them fucking /girls/ running around in uniform ain't helping none. They're stirring shit, not stopping it." Although it's a comment likely intended for Terrian, Thierry doesn't actually look at him as he says it - he stares, instead, down into his glass.

Sacitca smiles back at Thierry, though it's more uneasy than comfortable. That's probably just because of their current location, however, or the storm raging outside. Which re-inforces it's existence with a loud rumble overhead. "The rumor mill does have it's advantages, however.." Of course, that's the Tlatoani in her speaking. "There were girls in the guard in Oldtime, I remember someone saying." It's said so blandly before she takes a sip of her juice. "I suppose I can understand why they're bringing that change about." Of course, she herself says nothing about agreeing with it!

"They aren't all bad," Terrian chides the candidate gently, raising a rather sardonic eyebrow also. His slow rather gravely voice marches onwards, "Only got one she-bitch in the lot so far." When his whiskey arrives, Terrian unlaces his fingers to lift it to his lips, sipping at the fiery liquid with a small smile. "As for that old time- it's what I've been hearin' also. The weyrleader hasn't raised a fuss so," a shrug.

Thierry shrugs. "I don't like it, even if the Weyrleader's kept his opinion to himself. Don't matter what happened in Oldtime either, because this is /nowtime/. 'S one thing having girls on fighting dragons, but having girls in the guard…" He shakes his head, pulling a disapproving face. "You had any of them trying to boss you about yet, Terr? There's no fucking difference in rank, but they wanna be all woman-like and order you around anyway."

Sacitca decides to keep her mouth shut this time, and instead sips her juice again in silence as she listens to the two men. A small smile might be pulling at her lips at some of the topics Thierry raises, but she's come to accept that there are some things she and he won't see eye-to-eye on. Although.. "Can we deny what was relevent in Oldtime, though? There are almost as many Oldtimers here as there are those of us." Hard to ignore those opinions forever - or at least give some credibility to them. If only a little.

Terrian manages to suppresses an eyeroll at the younger man, but only just. Instead his eyes just look upwards, as if asking for patience, while he sips at his Whiskey again. "I make it a point to avoid pissin' off women. They got a bone to pick, they can be pickin' it off work. Oh duty," a shrug rolls down his shoulders, "we ain't got anythin' what is different." Sacitca's comments get a half-smile and wink from the guard recruit. "It's a bit more lopsided nowtimer down in the bazaar- weyr's got a majority of them."

Frowning down into what remains of his juice, Thierry shrugs at Sacitca's question of relevance. "Like Terr said, there's more of 'em in the Weyr. Makes more sense to be more Oldtimey /there/. But /here/," he taps the tabletop with his index finger, looking from Terrian to his fellow candidate, "it's /Nowtime/. D'your family like them Weyr people coming and messing with how things're done here? Cos mine sure don't." His glass is half-raised to his lips, but he pauses. "Things here /work/. You start tossing in them Oldtimers trying to screw things around, and it upsets the redfruit cart; they don't know what's best for this side, even if they know howta run the /other/ side."

"Oh I know," Sacitca answers Terrian easily with a smile. "I haven't been gone from the Bazaar for that long. But the logic still applies, doesn't it?" Thierry's question gets a wry little grin there, and the Tlatoani woman gives an easy shrug. "You know my family almost as well as I do, Thierry.." The woman says with a smaller smile. When he starts insisting that things here work, the perfumist merely raises her eyebrows at him, in that way many women do. "Perhaps. But things certainly hadn't been perfect for Turns before the Oldtimers started interferring." Her juice is finished, and she sets it down on the table to fiddle with the glass idly. "Granted, there are things that have been done that…are less than ideal, but several things were at least well-intentioned." She hopes. "We can't afford to tell them to mind their own business when Thread's falling from the sky."

"Terrian," The guard sips at his drink, inserting the correction after Thierry shortens his name in the strange manner again. "Teri to my friends." That he directs with a small smile to Sacitca. "She has the right of it. With Thread a'fallin', we're at the mercy of the weyr. She says to jump, we're to say how high. Your father might find himself out on his tush if he isn't careful."

"Nothing's perfect," Thierry agrees with Sacitca, "but when things work, it can fuck things up more by upsetting the balance. We'll see, anyway. Mightn't be for us to worry about, when the eggs hatch." That'll open up a whole /new/ barrel of worms. "Thread fucks things up, granted, but… fuck it, man. It'll sort itself out, one way or the other." He knocks back what's left of his juice, sliding the glass into the middle of the table when he's done. "Called you Terr, not Teri," he snips at Terrian. "And don'tchoo you go worrying about my da. Sersangs've been here longer than you, and'll be here long /after/ you." The candidate pushes back from the table, resting his hand on the back of Sacitca's chair when he stands. "Storm don't sound like it's easing up, Sass. I'm gonna take my chances and bolt for it. See you in the barracks?" Where he'll no doubt be sopping wet still. "Later, Terr." Off he saunters, slipping into his coat and disappearing up the stairs to the storm-ravaged outside world.

Sacitca directs a polite little smile back at Terrian when he provides a nickname for him, and is nodding in agreement with Thierry when he starts sniping at Terrian. "Try not to cause too many puddles in the Barracks," she calls after him. "I'm going to have to get back soon too, regardless of whether it lets up." She makes a face for the rain, and sighs. "Did the two of you have a bad encounter or something, that you seem to dislike one another so much?" It's a genuine question, though the reasons for it aren't explained. Maybe she's just wondering why there was so much testosterone on display. Though it could have been worse.

Terrian rolls the liquid in his glass around for a moment. "Kid's a sore loser. Ain't got nothin' against him personally, just his attitude. Always seems to walk around with a stick stuck up his arse, if you'll pardon me for sayin'." The liquid goes down the man's throat in one last large gulp before he sets the glass firmly down on the table and laces his hands behind his head again. "Hope he doesn't ruin his chances up there by bein' an arse to the wrong people. Surprised that weyrwoman let him stand if the rumors are true about him tryin' to hussle her."

Unfortunately, Terrian's said just the right things to set off Sacitca's lifelong Bazaar loyalty, and whatever she thinks of her fellow Bazaar-Candidate, it's clear she's taken offense to Terrian's words. "I'm afraid I can't. You'll forgive me for saying so, I hope, sir." Her juice is long gone, and so she slides her glass to the middle as well. "It was informative to meet you again," she says coolly, getting to her feet fluidly. "I had best get back before lights out.

Terrian will stand as well, and glance around the room for her weather gear. "Here," He pucks his wide brimmed hat from where it has begun to drip try and offers it out to the woman. "If you leave it with the kitchen with my name they'll hold it for you. No need for you to be catchin' sick walkin' around in the wet." His slow and graveled tone betrays no chance of him actually taking offense at the chill the bazaar pair directs at him.

"Thank you, but I think I'll be fine." Sacitca's pride is not so easily checked, but it does perhaps cool a touch. "I appreciate the concern. Good night." The woman goes over and speaks a moment with the other Candidate that was here with them. It's only a few moments after that that she heads back to the Weyr, likely arriving just in time for lights out.

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