Bailey, M'noq


The art is less interesting than people-watching.


It is evening of the twenty-fifth day of the second month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


The Harper's Solarium, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 08 Oct 2017 05:00


bailey_default.jpg m-noq_default.jpg

"I've never been drawn like a Fortian girl, for your information. At least," she amends, "That I know of."


The Harper's Solarium

The sunlight never shines so bright except when to showcase the displays of art and hand-wrought delicacies that man can bring to bear: here, then, it shines the brightest, through sweetly cunning skylights slanted through the roof high above, producing a quality and quantity of light that is an unnatural marvel given just how cozy this room is well-within the boundaries of the craft complex. It is a long stretch of a room, capable of handling several exhibitions simultaneously, and often filled with people admiring the pieces displayed — and Harpers hovering to guard these treasures from sticky fingers. To the south, a discreet doorway exits into the craft shops; to the north, the bold blue of the Harper's Wing beckons.

It's well past dinner, and the Harpers are having one of those events. One of those where all the upper tiers of everything in the area are required to dress up and go look at the new art, ooh and ahh appropriately and try not to get too drunk on the complimentary wine. It's hot, even indoors where the cooling stone keeps everything a little more temperate — so Bailey's wearing one of those scandalously short dresses of hers, holding a glass of iced wine while her gaze slowly roves over the bit of sculpture she's parked in front of.

M'noq is here on his own this evening, needing to get out and about, and it's basically impossible to get K'vvan to attend anything harper-sponsored. He doesn't even need any of the complimentary wine, so he's a super cheap date, just hanging out on the edges here before ghosting out a bit later. In the meantime, he pauses by the sculpture near Bailey, puzzling for a bit. "Does it seem a bit top-heavy to you? Like, off-balance?"

"You mean like Q'rven's date?" Bailey cracks in reply, glancing in her infamous askance toward the mentioned bluerider and his very, ah, generously provisioned blonde armcandy. The goldrider lifts her glass to her lips, all the better to hide any laugh or smirk she might be otherwise exhibiting.

A blink in surprise, and then M'noq glances over towards the couple Bailey gestured towards. "Oh. Oh. Well now I understand the sculpture a bit better. I withdraw my comment, in that case." There's wry humor in his tone, though he manages to keep his amusement quiet enough that others shouldn't overhear. Anyone looking at them should think they're just talking about the art. "Not that I blame him, though. She seems like nice enough company. I'd be tempted if I didn't have better options."

"If she's what the sculpture's based on, I withdraw any mental commentary as well." Bailey slivers a wry smile toward the brownrider. "I almost won't believe it unless I see them go home together, though knowing Q'rven…" The blueriding wingsecond does have quite the playboy flair, and a certain swarthy charm. She shakes her head without further comment.

M'noq hums softly, considering. "I don't think they're completely implausible as a couple. She's not all that different from other girls I've seen on his arm. Some of them riders, too." No personal experience with him either, so M'noq will give them the benefit of the doubt. "Her smile looks genuine enough… unless he's somehow got a huge family inheritance and she's trying to get her hands on it or something."

"Oh, his family 'inheritance' is huge, all right." How many glasses of wine has Bailey had? Her smirk is much deeper, and her glance at the bluerider says it ALL in terms of, er, exactly what she's talking about. Listen, pants inheritance is better than marks inheritance in some cases, right?

M'noq snorts at that remark and shakes his head. "I'll take your word for that," he says. Q'rven isn't really his type, and he knows better than to ask about how Bailey might have acquired her knowledge in that area. "With her family 'endowment', I bet she has no trouble with finding someone to meet her needs either. That's why I suspect she has something else motivating her than just his… ahem."

"Maybe it's merely mutually beneficial?" Bailey questions, glancing over at the pair one last time. "Stranger things in the world have happened." Or M'noq could be right and Q'rven's just a genuinely nice guy. "They'd have great-looking children," she muses. (Seriously, how much wine have they let her have?)

"Or, maybe they're both infatuated with someone else, and each is only with the other to make the real object of their desire jealous," M'noq guesses. "For sure, great looking kids." He pauses. "Is it bad to wonder if either of them is dumb as a rock, because they're so good-looking? I mean, I don't know him well, and I don't know her well at all." M'noq hasn't had any wine, so he's just carrying on with this conversation as if it's normal.

The throaty laugh that M'noq all-but-startles out of Bailey is high in both amusement and surprise. It's also over the limit of standard form at one of these, and the pair of them attract longer looks from other well-turned-out members of the weyr at large. "I always wonder if the hot ones are fucking dumb."

"Then, do you just end up wondering, or do you go investigate?" M'noq asks, now turning his head to look at her more directly. "I mean, you seem like the type to go after someone you find attractive. Once you get close, if you find out they're dumb, is that a big turn-off, or just a one-and-done situation?" Suddenly, his questions have gotten all personal.

Bailey tilts her head at M'noq, outwardly uncaring as to the attention they've attracted in the last few minutes. "Typically it's be being pursued, not the other way around," she dryly comments. "I'm not one for… long term engagements, so it doesn't really matter either way."

M'noq realizes a little belatedly that he might have gotten into personal territory here, and he feels awkward at Bailey looking at him, even if various other people in the crowd are looking at her. "Ah… I suppose you always seemed to me like the one who would be calling the shots. Sort of like, 'You, me, now. Let's go.'" Perhaps it's painfully obvious he doesn't know her well. "Long term or not, I'd think you'd still end up having at least two conversations with someone you were going to sleep with. I mean, well, I would."

"I'm not saying it hasn't happened," Bailey concedes. Her eyes go faraway for a moment — in memory or speaking to her lifemate, it's not immediately evident. "Even the dumb ones can be charming, in their own way." Her grey eyes momentarily laugh at M'noq before she diverts them to the next sculpture over.

M'noq nods agreement follows along to the next sculpture, taking that as a cue to change subjects. It's easier to talk about mediocre art than awkward, personal questions with someone who can impale you with a look. "What do you think about this one? Does it seem like… something in the face looks familiar? Around the eyes, maybe?" He tilts his head at it for a moment.

"Maybe." Bailey reaches out with long, articulate fingers in a less-than-articulate gesture: as if drawing after smoke drifting away. She returns her hand to her side, the thought that provoked the action gone. "The artist is a resident, from what I understand. It's very possible that the person this is based off of is… walking around us right now."

M'noq hums at that. "Is that what you do when you become an artist's model? You go to their art show and then hang around the piece you modeled for, hoping to overhear compliments?" The brownrider looks over one shoulder, then the other, trying to tell if anyone could be eavesdropping on them. But no one looks like they're paying that much attention, except maybe a couple of people far off still glaring daggers at them for the outburst earlier.

"If I modeled for an artist, I would absolutely do that." Bailey with the no bullshit self-serving attitudes at 10PM for $500, Alex~ "Thankfully, or not, I have never done such a thing." She glances towards M'noq. "What about you?"

M'noq laughs at the suggestion. "I would probably be too embarrassed to show my face anywhere near the area again, so if I did model, it would have to be at some distant Hold or Weyr where I'd be unlikely ever to go." That's not really the kind of immortality he's looking for. "Really? None of your pursuers ever tried to talk you into modeling for you, and then you were like, 'Draw me like one of your Fortian girls' or whatever?" Okay, basically all of M'noq's misunderstandings about people he doesn't know well relate back to some weird, scripted storyline that he makes up, trying to figure them out.

"You don't seem like the type to embarass easily." Bailey's observation, made from behind her wine glass. Which is suspiciously low — she lifts a hand to hail a nearby server, and trades her empty for a fresh one. She pauses with a hand on the tray, lifting her eyebrows at the brownrider in inquiry. "Wine?" she questions. If M'noq ever scripts her life again, hopefully it will involve alcohol at every turn.

"I suppose I generally try to live my life so I don't have to be embarrassed by things," M'noq says. "But mostly that means there are things I don't care if people know about and things I do. Private things should still be private." The difference in what those things are may be a big difference in how Bailey and M'noq live. At her offer, he waves off the glass of wine. "No thank you. I should be heading out soon anyway." Which isn't really the reason why he refuses a drink, but maybe it sounds like it.

"I didn't even know L'xan's name before Nokteryth won," Bailey casually replies. It might seem like an abrupt change of conversational pace, but perhaps not. The non sequitur is left out and then she shakes her head. "I've never been drawn like a Fortian girl, for your information. At least," she amends, "That I know of."

"Flights don't count, do they?" M'noq says. At least, they shouldn't count for the things he's talking about. "I know you go on dates on occasion, and that must be because you like the person, not because you were 'under the influence'." Of alcohol or a proddy dragon. "Well, this might be your chance to try that. Plenty of artists around here, and some of them might be hot. Here you are, talking to me, and Faranth knows I don't have much that you need." It's intended as self-deprecating humor, whether it succeeds or not.

"Not for the average rider," Bailey replies, her smile quiet and small and — wry, for lack of better word. Wasn't it M'noq that just suggested private things stay private? There are some privacies that Bailey will never regain, so long as she and her lifemate remain whole and hale. Her snort for his last comment is unladylike and absolutely doesn't match her dress. "I've had enough written about me in the last few turns, I don't need any naked pictures running around." Pointedly: "Neither do you." She's seen the latest sagas of Southern's illicit writers.

M'noq can't argue against Bailey's point about her relationship with flights, and the whole idea of having naked pictures floating around doesn't sound all that appealing either. "Maybe you need to break your rule and have a long-term relationship with an artist… that would keep the pictures private, right?" But it's just an idea, brought up since they are at an art show. "But I suppose it's time for me to head back. Thank you for your company, Weyrwoman. I wish you luck in finding an artist to patron for, if that's what you're seeking tonight." His voice, faintly teasing. Perhaps it won't even occur to him until after he has stepped out the door to wonder what she meant when she said she had words written about her… and he did too.

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