Divale, Eala


Eala tries to enjoy a few drinks, Divale joins her and neither of them are entirely approving of the neighbouring table's behavior…


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


Last Call, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 05 Jul 2018 04:00




Last Call

From the bleak treachery of the wide ledge outside, the bar's interior is a veritable paradise. Nothing here matches: there's five shades of brown found just in the leather of the random scattered chairs, and all the tables are painted different mottled shades of earthen tones. Nothing symmetrical to be found here, no order, just a long bar along the far-edge of the weyr-converted, nestled into the nook that would normally be a private weyr's bedspace. The bottles that gleam behind that reclaimed counter of scarred and burned skybroom are rare and precious, with most of the joviality in the air coming from the tapped keg standing in the middle place of honor behind the bar. The decorations are sparse, entertainments few: dragonpoker and darts and fellow patrons provide the typical bar atmosphere, while a niche in the corner stands ready with stool and gitar-rack for the stolen Harper or musically-inclined rider. A weatherbeaten shingle hung precisely over the middle of the bar declares the house rules.

With the slow shift of afternoon into evening comes the usual crowd of riders looking for a few drinks after a long day. Most tables have already been claimed, leaving those who aren't so quick to arrive to either camp at the bar or try to poach any open seats as others rise. Eala has a table largely to herself, the other chairs suspiciously absent save for one. How convenient! The noise from the nearest table — now overcrowded with the additional chairs taken from the greenrider's table — is a source of irritation, but she still guards that second chair zealously. Her jacket is piled atop it, and anyone who dares to approach gets a dismissive, "I'm waiting for someone." Or perhaps she just wants somewhere to store her jacket.

There won’t be too long of a wait as yet another arrives on the ledge outside. Divale’s entrance is a quiet, shadowed thing as she hangs back to warily glance about the crowded space. That rowdier table is eyed the longest and had she not spotted Eala beyond that, she would have turned heel and ghosted right on out of there. Instead she strolls further in, ignoring (or pretending to) everything and everyone else as she moves along her path; first to order a drink and second… to intrude on the greenrider’s space. Was the chair reserved for her? Maybe. Regardless, Divale is there, once her drink is in hand, brow quirked in silent question as her other hand rests on the back of the chair in question. “How long have you been here?” Murmured as dryly as ever, with hardly a lick of formality to it and yet respectful.

The chair wasn't not reserved for her, at least, which is more than most can say. The greenrider nods to the empty drink in front of her as some measure of time, already on her second of the night. She's out of her usual gear as well, changed into something that looks like a flowing skirt beneath her casual top. Her blonde locks are pinned up in a messy bun — it almost looks as though Eala might be ready for a date, except this most certainly isn't the atmosphere for a romantic evening. "I'm surprised you braved the crowd." She shifts her jacket, hanging it over the back of her chair instead.

“It was close.” Divale admits with a slight shrug of her shoulders, not at all ashamed of her loner status. Eala’s probably picked up on a lot more than just that unusual quirk about her, anyhow! Once the jacket is shifted, she’ll take a seat and neither will she be ashamed in the once-over look she gives the other woman. “… I’m not intruding on a special occasion?” she muses next, quietly teasing as she settles herself and her drink between her hands. No skirt for her, but she’s dressed in her usual casual clothes and androgynous flare. Nutshell? Nothing new or different. “It’s good to see you relax, at least.” Which is as close to ‘you look good’ as she’s going to push for now.

"Not at all. We just got through turndays and our anniversary. No more occasions to be had." It's probably the closest the greenrider has come to admitting that she even has a turnday, let alone when it is. She's halfway through her second drink already, but not to fear — she's prepared with her third. As for the reason for her unusual attire? It doesn't seem to be forthcoming. The greenrider keeps a wary eye on their surroundings, particularly on that rowdy table nearby whose energy threatens to spill into their space. "I don't know if I'd call myself relaxed, but a few more drinks and I won't know the difference." She does accompany those words with a knowing smirk, though. "What are you doing tonight?"

Divale’s brows lift in mild surprise, apparently among those who had no idea that that day had come and gone. “Shame. I’d have done something, had I known your turnday was near…” Which is saying a lot, as she doesn’t often show she cares at all about anyone; pointedly, she is only mentioning Eala (sorry, not sorry Ko’an), but that’s to be expected as she seems to evade anything relationship-esque as much as she can. The other table only draws her attention away by the slightest turn of her eyes and a brief flickering expression of annoyance. Nursing some of the drink she went through the trouble of attaining, she’ll return to ignoring them in favour of turning her attention back to Eala. “That kind of night? Maybe I am fortunate, then, to come by when I did.” Teasing! Maybe. Her next answer is honest but dismissive in its crypticness. “What I do every night I am not actively on duty.” Which could be anything! Wander? Drink. —stalk prey— Look for “companionship”. Secretly help poison a merchant family in the Bazaar to free one of her “sisters”, right under Eala and the Guards (oh, those new recruits came just in time) noses. Topic change time! “… the tourney is due to start soon.”

"And that's why no one knows." As much as she appreciates Divale's acknowledgement of caring — and she does, deeply — Eala still isn't fond of any sort of celebration which turns the attention on to her. At least the brownrider is armed with an approximate date should she wish to attempt something next turn. Surely some records somewhere have the exact date, if she's truly ambitious. There's something about that next table over which seems to keep drawing the greenrider's focus, even though her gaze always drifts back to her companion in short order. "You did get lucky with your timing," she returns with a knowing smile offered over the rim of her glass. The vague answer is met with a nod of acknowledgment, as Eala fills in the blanks with her own guesses as to just what Divale might be doing. It's probably no better than the truth; it might even be worse. "I've heard that. Are you planning to compete?"

“Not even if it meant a night of free drinks? Or covering of the least favoured shift?” Divale’s tone is neutral but there’s a tiny hidden thread of amusement there. Eala should be expecting some form of attempt next Turn; whether it’s off the mark or not remains to be seen! Lifting her glass slightly about timing, she’ll silently toast to that and drain a healthy amount of the liquid within. From the color of it, it’s likely whiskey. Would worse fall under her ‘adventures’ with Ko’an? Half of which aren’t planned at all. It’s probably no secret — at least, not all. “Yes.” Simple, blunt truth but spoken hushed, as if she isn’t quite sure how to feel about admitting it. “Just a few events. One’s that don’t require much… preparation.” Since she doesn’t have time! “Will you or are you exempting yourself?” Rank and all, right? Noticing that Eala’s gaze keeps turning away, albeit belatedly, Divale’s jaw tenses as her expression briefly turns grim as the rowdiness picks up again. With tense sigh, she mutters just loud enough to be heard by her. “… must they be so disruptive?” This is why she doesn’t go out, folks!

"Not even." It's possible the greenrider doesn't even have a least favored shift, given that ridiculous work-ethic of hers. "It's a foolish thing to celebrate." She polishes off the last of that second glass, reaching for the third with her other hand before the glass even hits the table again. Worse would include those ventures and more, since the greenrider has no lack of imagination when it comes to the trouble her Wingsecond is capable of finding. Surely it says something about her, that these are the people with whom she surrounds herself. "As much as I enjoy winning, it's hard to imagine volunteering to spend extra time training in a one-time event on top of everything else." They both have their hands full. "I think so. Oria's not keen, but I've won before." In a ground event but details! Another glance goes to the rowdy types, whose conversation is punctuated by some more… questionable opinions. "I'm just aiming to get drunk enough that I can punch one of them without feeling guilty."

Divale doesn’t seem the least bit surprised by Eala’s opinion on celebrations. Not from the way she smirks in an almost smug manner, as she tips her drink again before draining the last of it. “And of that we can agree.” There is only one date the brownrider is obsessive over and Eala would know of it, as she requests a day or so off every summer in the same ‘window’ of time. Where does she go? She never says or, if she has, has made it as vague and elusive as she can get away with. “Some are excited over the challenge. It’s had a decent effect on morale… at least for the time being.” Another subtle lift of her shoulders in an indifferent shrug. “Oria’s not?” Now that seems to intrigue her and she would have loved to have kept her focus, but their neighbours are starting to get under her skin. Brows furrow, though she pointedly does not turn to glance their way. “Who said you needed any more reason than they’re being rudely disrespectful?” She’s not deaf and while their conversation certainly has questionable topics and opinions, it’s not enough to start a quarrel. Yet. “And here I thought,” she begins, sarcasm in full swing. “That all that conservative nonsense had begun to die down. There’s not been nearly as many reports of vandalism and unrest from the Bazaar and even the heat laid on Arroyo has eased back. Which I’m sure Zaria has appreciated.”

Eala briefly nods as she raises the glass to her lips again, acknowledging that boost in morale. hey could certainly use one, these days. Or is that just her? "I'm expecting Parhelion to do us proud. Or maybe just me, since you'll be among them." There is a faint disappointment about her, because she does love to compete, and she was rather looking forward to adding another badge to her jacket someday. But the one she gained as a weyrling will have to do. "She's not keen on missing out, I meant. Obviously she's keen on anything which offers her to opportunity to be better than everyone else." The green's ego is still alive and kicking, hints of it creeping into Eala's voice in spite of her attempts to remain purely sarcastic. She taps the knot on her jacket once, a subtle reminder of why she can't just punch people for being rudely disrespectful. At least not without a healthy sense of guilt. "I'm supposed to be more responsible and controlled than that." Whether or not she's either of those things is up for debate, however. She takes another drink, pressing fingers to her lips to keep from smirking too much with a mouthful of liquor. "Idiocy never truly dies."

“We intend to succeed where we can.” Divale doesn’t make it clear if she means Parhelion as a whole or if this is her own personal statement (and mostly Lukoith, at that). Failure is not an option, but the chances are stacked high against them winning all. “Ahh. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be any different.” And that she had misheard. If she catches that hint of Oria in Eala, she keeps that tidbit to herself, while her fingers idly toy with the rim of her long-since empty glass. Her tongue clicks in disappointment when the Wingleader’s knot is tapped in reference. Oh, Divale knows that frustration ALL too well! “We’re all human and have our faults… and limits to patience for stupidity and ignorance.” she goes on to add, a vague wry smirk curving her lips. “No, I suppose not.” she sighs again, only to grit her teeth as her expression turns grim again; no surprise where the source of her annoyance is coming from! One of the loudest of the bunch says something offensive enough that even one of his companions attempts to quiet him — but too late. Divale’s features have grown darker and there’s a dangerous shadowed look to her eyes. Speaking of patience and being chained and bound by rank and expectations… and tempted by the worst of temptations? “… I’ve changed my mind.” About lingering. She knows her faults and won’t be undone by them this night. Without further warning, she’s pushing to her feet and briefly does her glance to Eala appear disappointed. “I am going somewhere quieter.” A brisk farewell, but it’s an invitation too with the location purposefully omitted. Divale figures Eala’s quick enough to catch on where she’s going… because where else would she go that would offer quiet and peace and no threat of doing regrettable things?

"I personally believe you can win everywhere." Sorry, Divale. And Parhelion. Eala has ridiculously high expectations of ALL OF YOU. "The events seem to be largely designated by color, though, so she's mollified by the fact that she isn't missing out on beating a bronze." Particularly that beast who shares her ledge, but the green will happily take on any oversized shiny baby that comes her way. Beating another green is hardly as exciting. The blonde finishes her third glass, setting it down with an audible thud upon the table. "I'm sure other people would understand," she agrees, gaze sliding toward their friends at the next table, "but it's more of an issue with personal standards." Thus, alcohol. Shoulders tense as she catches wind of those words which go too far to be ignored. She's not about the start immediately throwing punches, but she certainly doesn't begrudge Divale the opportunity for escape to more pleasant locales. The company here is certainly lacking. "Good plan." The greenrider doesn't miss the invitation, but she lingers just long enough to saunter up to bar to order another drink. Her fingertips play around the rim of the glass as she flirts for a moment with the bartender, before instructing that the liquor be delivered to the most vocal of their former neighbors. And with that, a very smug greenrider departs for better companionship, leaving others to suffer a far less pleasant night.

And this is why Eala will always be Divale’s favourite!

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