Who

Zaria, Th'bek, S'ayde, A'lira-cameo

What

After learning of Last Call, Zaria tries to befriend some of the locals.

When

It is noon of the twenty-fifth day of the eighth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Last Call

OOC Date 06 Apr 2018 04:00

 

th-bek_default.jpgs-ayde_default.jpgzaria_default.jpga-lira_default.jpg

"This is either a pretty good drink, or leather oil."



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 guitar-rack for the stolen Harper or musically-inclined rider. A weatherbeaten shingle hung precisely over the middle of the bar declares the house rules.


Another day, another stack of hides to slowly make her way through. Zaria had lunched early in the Living Caverns and then had meant to retreat to her weyr for the afternoon with the next set of riders' files that she wanted to make sure she familiarized herself with. Although she had been able to at least introduce herself to her new wingmates in the sevenday since she was promoted, the bluerider likes being thorough and has been getting to know them all, one hide at a time. Of course, Azrith balked at the idea of her going to their weyr, alone, again. So remembering what one of her new wingmates had told her about a riders' bar that a lot of Arroyo wing frequented and it was thankfully not too far from their weyr. Figuring it probably wouldn't hurt to get to know the place, she instructed her dragon to take them there. So that is how Zaria came to be here now, sat at a table off to one side of the bar, a thick stack of files in front of her and several other small piles scattered on the adjoining tables. Her feet are up on the chair next to her, hide in hand as she reads through the contents, a half-full beer resting safely apart from the hidework.

Th'bek has been in the Last Call before Zaria's immersion, watered-down wine in hand while listening to L'dyd's vivid tales about riding sweeps. The man should write a memoir. After being flagged down by some teenagers having climbed a dead and unstable tree to specifically garner his attention, he falls into the Tale of the Stuck Caprine, a favorite with several Arroyos. Th'bek, having heard the rendition about five or six times, is at first inclined to ignore Zaria like E'stu does. L'dyd's too engrossed in storytelling to alter his trajectory. Rev interrupts the tale by saying that was the most work L'dyd did all day, there's laughing and agreement, and one of L'dyd's boots striking out under the table at the brownrider with semi-good intentions.

Zaria is getting a crick in her neck from her position and no matter how much adjusting she does, it just can't be worked out. So with a sigh, she tosses the file she was reading onto the top of the big pile and stretches her hands over her head as she leans back onto the back to legs of her chair. A moan of relief follows a particularly loud POP, and she takes the times to let her eyes wander the room where they fall on the storytelling greenrider. She catches the end of the story and chuckles at the resolution, maybe a little too loudly with a touch of awkwardness. Deciding it's tine for a break, Zaria picks up her glass and takes a small sip of beer as she tries not to stare but lets her eyes wander over the group, narrowing slightly on each of the riders, trying to remember each of their names in turn.

S'ayde has arrived.

Zaria does kind of stand out for her newness and now audible body stretches. As the narrative reaches its resolution and the other two riders segue into a new topic about grandchildren of all things, Th'bek plans to temporarily take his leave and refresh his drink. The bar, usually self-serving because it's literally a hole in the wall, is nevertheless pretty well-stocked. Th'bek tries to guess the type of wine E'stu served him by looking over opaque wineskins. "Wingleader, can I pour ye something?" He's already enacted a salute. The brownrider who wears his hair partially long has a strong Igen accent. Tone is neutral with a facet of good Samaritanism.

A'lira walks in from the No Parking Ledge.

It's been a long while since S'ayde has been seen in a bar, what with raising twins and helping his weyrmate through the baby blues, on top of his normal duties, the man just hasn't had the time. But now, with Moanna fully back in action, and the twins being nearly two turns old and watched by nannies mostly, there is such a time as free time again. So, with that, he's decided to make a stop in Last Call this evening, because a man deserves to have a drink and relax now and then. He sweeps in, after a mental reminder from his green not to get sauced, and strides to the bar with purpose. The new wingleader is spotted, and saluted properly before S'ayde seats himself.

Ah, now here's a test of Zaria's memory, which she prides herself on being rather good. "Th'bek, right?" she asks, narrowing her eyes a little bit as she hopes she's gotten it right as she returns the salute. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm still nursing this one." she explains, her own words flavored by her Istan accent. "I'm loving this place though. I want to know who's idea it was for a bar that only riders can get to. Very smart to have a place to unwind amoungst ourselves." Her tone is appreciative of all things smart and clever. Then her hazel eyes take in the arriving greenrider and she smiles as she returns his salute, "S'ayde, correct?" she calls, deciding to put her memory further to the test.

Having made good his escape from the mountain of paperwork that seens to be breeding more of itself every time he looks away from his desk, A'lira has managed to find Last Call with a deepening sense of relief; after all, here, he can relax and not have to hear the whining and moaning and bitching from various complaining parties. Nobody's gonna bother him with trivia up here, right? RIGHT? His dark eyes take in the group already there, plainly also looking to relax, and is assured that he won't be eyed askance for escaping. He'll stroll over to the bar and order something cool and tasty (whiskey. Always with the whiskey.) before pouring his long body into a chair, offering salutes where they're needed. Hi people. Hi not-sick-or-pregnant people!

"You got it," Th'bek affirms his identity and selects a wineskin at random. There aren't too many alcohol types he flat-out scorns. "I would say the idea was mine, but we'd both know I was lying." He smirks some some charisma but seems aloof, a first-response defense mechanism for a new female superior from another Weyr. "That's S'ayde all right," spreading his voice out to the greenrider, "them twins let you out of the weyr for a much-deserved drink?" When A'lira comes in, Th'bek slides his jaw slightly to the side, shrugs and locates the whiskey with practice. A clean glass on the other hand, well. His funeral. "This one aint bad," filling a small tumbler and sliding it to A'lira. "No ice today."

Zaria looks relieved that she is getting people's names correct, as she takes another sip of her beer as hazel eyes travel to A'lira, remembering him from the chance meeting at the lake's edge and will offer a nod of her head in his direction, returning his salute with a more casual one of her own since they are in a bar and are presumably all off duty. "Well whoever they were, here's to them." she says raising her glass to those responsible for the watering hole before taking another drink. Relaxing considerably, Zaria slips into her 'just one of the guys' persona, smiling brightly at the greenrider when twins are mentioned. "Twins? And not fostered? You are a brave man." she exclaims with a low whistle.

S'ayde nods at Zaria and smiles. "Aye, green Kataskiath's." Th'bek gets a chuckle and a nod. "Aye, that and Moanna near threatened to beat me if I didn't get out of her hair for awhile." His newly restored weyrmate has been on a rampage redecorating their Weyr. Turning back to his wingleader, he grins. "It's been an adventure for sure." That and his Zingari upbringing would tolerate nothing else. "You got any Red back there? " Another whiskey man.

Th'bek is going to ask about Moanna's location today as he tries rooting around for S'ayde's drink request. It's a best guess, damn these worn labels. "This is either a pretty good drink, or leather oil," he sniffs the contents then confirms his guess. "Yep, it's safe for your gut. Here," now that most people are serviced, Th'bek has the opportunity to go groom Tavuqth. "Time to get that bastard brown in fighting form. Enjoy!" Each superior is separately acknowledged before he grabs a wind-breaking canvas from a peg by the door and leaves for the ledge.

"Moanna? She's Arroyo as well isn't she? Pretty brunette with copper skin right? Rides green as well?" Zaria asks in rapid fire succession with a tilt of her head, as she makes a mental note of that fact before she looks up at Th'bek leaving and offers him a friendly smile and return the salute. "Clear skies." she calls after him before eyeing the bottle that was passed to S'ayde as she raises a ginger brow up her forehead, "So what is Red exactly?" she asks curiously as she waves at hand at one of the empty chairs at her table, moving her hidework over carefully.

Just as A'lira was getting settled with that lovely, lovely whiskey, there above his head is a firelizard, carrying a message and shrieking fit to wake the dead. After a rumbling curse or two, he manages to get the little brown to land long enough to detach the message, then rolls his eyes. "Well — just when I thought I could escape, nope. Round sixteen with the packed tail…" Weyrlings: the bane of a dragonhealer's existence! "Back to duty. Enjoy yourselves." And then he's gone, out into the world of work and dragonets.

A'lira walks to the ledge.

S'ayde takes the drink Th'bek offers and waves the man goodbye when he lives. "Aye, sheds Arroyo alright, green Maeveth's. Also my weyrmate and mother to my twins." S'ayde takes a pull off his drink and wrinkles his nose. Scotch? Bourbon? Whatever it is he's not a fan. He reaches over the bar and roots around for a bottle of whiskey. "Red is a whiskey produced by the Zingari and it's made with redfruit. "

"And the Zingari are…" Zaria trails off as she obviously searches her memory for where she's heard/seen that name before. Suddenly with a snap of her fingers she remembers, "They are one of the Trader caravans that settled here at Igen." she looks pleased with herself at remembering that as she takes another sip of her beer, nearing the bottom of the glass. "And whiskey from redfruit sounds interesting to say the least." Her eyes look over at the self-service bar and her lips press together briefly as her hazel eyes travel over the worn labels, "Someone should do an inventory and relabel those bottles." she adds in an offhand way before turning back to the greenrider, "So how old are your twins? Boys? Girls?"

S'ayde is about to explain when Zaria gets who the Zingari are and nods as he pours himself some whiskey. "Aye, they aren't just settled in Igen though, there's a few clans spread across the North. I was born amongst them." And he's not the only Zingari Arroyo sports either. "It's quite good, you should try it sometime." He says of the whiskey and downs his shot. As for reorganizing the bar, S'ayde just laughs. "Naw, it's part of the charm of the place." He grins and drops a friendly wink at Zaria before answering her questions on the twins. "One each, near two turns old now, just a couple of months off."

Zaria listens intently as the greenrider gives her more information about his clan and she bobs her head along with his words, clearly interested, "How interesting. Thanks for sharing. Are the traders ok then with us Searching among their number? I always got the impression that Traders like to keep themselves segregated from everyone else." She blinks a little bit them as she realizes that she's making broad generalizations about the greenrider's kin, and holds up a hand in apology quickly. "I meant no offense. I'm from Ista, our main trade comes by ship, not Caravan, so I'm merely going on what I've heard over the Turns."

Where once S'ayde might have taken offense to Zaria's questioning, and even would have been suspicious of it (and still is, to a point), S'ayde knows that part of a wingleader's job is to know their riders, and what he's got to tell is public knowledge anyway. "We didn't before the current leader, Willimina, took over. Very old world views amongst the people until her, but since she took over and dug in her heels, both the crafts and the riders are allowed to search for hopefuls amongst the clans."

Zaria looks as if she finds the information S'ayde imparts about his clan to be utterly fascinating as she leans forward a bit in her chair, "She sounds like a strong woman this Willimina. I can always respect a woman who can dig in their heels and enact change as needed." There a small sigh then, almost regretful that women aren't more accepted for their forward-thinking ideas in other places as well. "I keep meaning to see what the Caravan Grounds are like, I haven't really discovered the Bazaar either, although I hear it is a very colorful place." As she finally drains the beer she'd been nursing for awhile, she smiles at the greenrider. "It was great getting to know you some more S'ayde, but I think this place may be a little too distracting for my hidework at this time. Enjoy your evening." And once she has the hides bundled up in her arms, she'll head to the ledge to wait for Azrith to come pick her up.

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