En'rys, Sesa


Brother and sister meet up to celebrate the end of weyrlinghood.


It is the fourth day of Spring and 68 degrees. Despite being clear, dry and sunny over the weyr proper, a thunderstorm drenches the outer reaches of Igen's desert.


Last Call, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 08 Jun 2018 05:00


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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.

Spring has come to Igen Weyr, and with it, more tolerable outside weather, and while most are outside enjoying it, Sesa is checking out a haunt new to her. She's never been to Last call before and she's invited her brother to break in the experience. Stepping inside, she looks around for his familiar visage, wanting to locate him before ordering any drinks. She continues to move further in and removes her riding jacket, running a hand over the twin braids in her hair to make sure they remain tight to her scalp. she'll have to don her helmet again after this and it won't do to have her hair fluffing all about.

Spring has sprung and so have the weyrlings: out from under the collective thumb of their jail — er, weyrlingmasters. The newly minted Arroyo rider, En'rys, has hied himself up to the infamous Last Call at the behest of his sister, eager to be out and about and away from the brooding silence of his weyr. He's gotta get his drank on, maybe, and perhaps enjoy some time with his younger sister. Peeling off his helmet, he'll find a hook for it before smoothing his hands down his new flying jacket, self-made, enjoying the butter soft texture of the oil-black material before he looks around, searching out Sesa. And behold, she is there, with her cute little braids ripe for the tugging as any older brother has the right to do. He'll glide up to her and give one a good, gentle tug. "Hey, girl. Who you waiting for?"

Sesa spins on her heel, batting playfully at En'rys' hand, a smile on her face. "Your tall butt." Her tone is light and teasing and she moves to the bar now, jacket folded over an arm. "What's new brother?" She asks as they reach the bartop, she flags the tender and turns to face En'rys. "And what are you drinking?"

"Your short butt." En'rys shoots back with a grin, loosing her braid with a final twitch. "Well, I'm Arroyo now; imagine that — all us small fast people all together." Yeah, he's just going to ignore the scrutiny Zaria is up against right now, not particularly caring about some stuffy Traditionalist's idea of what other folk should do: he'd recommend they shove ::between:: but he's too young a rider to go giving anyone any lip right now. "I am drinking whiskey. Wonder if they got Zingari Red…" He leans on the bar and grins at her, his hair falling, as is its wont, into his eyes. "Be so glad when my hair gets longer again." Damn those weyrling rules! "How you doin'?"

Sesa scoffs playfully at the return about her height. "Congratulations. I haven't been tapped yet, starting to make me nervous actually." Sesa chuckles, she'd had so many eyes on her for sevens now and she's getting edgy about it. The barkeep arrives and Sesa puts in an order for something fruity and full of rum, and an order for whiskey, Zingari red if they have it. As for responding to her brother, Sesa chuckles at his lament about his hair. "You could always do what I do." She points at the twin braids in her hair. "I'm well enough I suppose." She grins. "Took you up on the advice to go see that Escort." There, see how he responds to that!

En'rys sniffs. "Copying my little sister?" He scoffs out of amusement, though he's clearly actually considering it; his hair's grown long enough for it to be possible. Idle fingers twirl the ends of his hair as he glances over at the bar, hoping they have the only whiskey he'll ever drink now. And then, she drops the bomb about going to visit that escort, and he shoots her a glance. "You didn't." Nope, she's serious. His grin is almost paternal in its pride in her. "You did! Did you enjoy yourself?" A brow arches slowly, daring her to admit it.

Sesa is about to give Daen a bunch of teasing crap about being too manly to braid his hair, because y'know, a sister has to tease her brother, but then he seems surprised that she took his advice about the escort. "I did." Oh look! Drinks! Sesa's rum, and ta-da, Zingari red for En'rys! She hides the blush that creeps up her features behind a sip of her drink and nods. "Aye, he was a good recommendation. Thank you." She clears her throat and takes another drink. "It was quite…..educational." She giggles after that.

"Well, good," En'rys smiles a little at her blush, trying not to tease the poor girl unmercifully. It would be hideously unfair to her; he instead continues smoothly on, as though there is nothing strange about this at all. "'M sure it was; he's very talented." There's a curious lilt to his smile, a certain private amusement glinting in his gaze. "Think you'll go again?"

Sesa narrows her eyes at Rys when he mentions Rakana's talent. She'd wondered before if he'd been one of the man's clients, and now she's wondering more. As to whether she'll go again, well, there's another bright blush before she nods. "I think so… I enjoyed myself, and it seems easier than trying to find someone to be intimate with." Sesa doesn't have the time for that sort of thing, nor does she think she wants it currently. "I am so glad to be out of those damn weyrling uniforms!" She announces suddenly, and really, she is, it's nice to be able to wear her own clothing again, though she'll have to replace a fair deal of it due to the bulk added on by muscle.

En'rys is all innocence in the face of Sesa's questioning stare. He'll choose to let it be a mystery to her, for now. Sister she may be, but En'rys is all too aware of her youth. He'll lean casually against the bar, sipping his drink and nodding his approval of her decision. "That's a good way to look at it, I think. Time enough for other… entanglements." He shoots a look down at his own clothing: a deep crimson tunic and black leather trousers to go along with the dusty brown of his boots. "Missed wearin' my own clothes, too. Not gonna lie, I hated yellow."

Sesa chuckles. "It's such an awful color to wear isn't it?" Fashionista this one, a bit. "It makes everyone look pale and sickly. Not exactly an image you want for the people to see, or at least one would think. Hey, look at that group of weyrlings, are they sick?" Her tone is gleefully sarcastic and she takes another sip of her drink.
"They got some kind of… plague, or summat?" En'rys asks in a thick backcountry accent, leering suspiciously at Sesa out of the corner of one eye and leaning close as though to inspect her closely for signs of Dem Spots, Doe. With a laugh, he leans back again. "I mean, really, I know they have to mark us with the Weyr colors, but… yeesh.."

Sesa laughs again, draining a third of her drink after. "Ah, well, at least we can joke about it instead of living it right?" She shakes her head and orders something to snack on whilst they drink. "Now we get wing uniforms. But at least that's only during drills, sweeps and threadfall." And well, she's considered a full fledged adult now, despite her two turns of teendom left.

"Mhm, there's that." En'rys ain't got time for no full-time uniforms, man. All that's for the birds — er, avians! "And I get t grow my hair back. It'll tuck down my jacket. Used to do it all the time in the Tannery." He's still a little miffed that he had to cut the great shining wealth of it, missing the feel of it on his back in the times he goes without a shirt, and the fascination pretty women had with running their hands through it. It seems to have made little difference with those pretty women now, but still. He's got a bone to pick, yo. He grins at Sesa in amusement at her remark about uniforms. "At least we get to get ones that aren't hand-me-downs, and can tailor them to fit us." He's just nooot going to even think about anything else, not tonight. Including the idea of his little sister not being so little anymore.

Sesa chuckles. "I miss mine, a lot, but I don't know that I'm going to ever grow it fully back. I think I like how easy this is to work with." She gestures her hand around her head when she says 'this' and grins. "The convenience is nice." What's brought to them as a snack is some bread, but it looks spiced and smells delicious. Sesa nabs a piece and bites into it, it's earthy, and fresh. "Mmm." Hey. It's the simple things right?

Woo, food! En'rys will snag some of that bread and take a bit. It is delicious. "Mine was no trouble. Kept it braided when I wasn't, you know — " He waggles an eyebrow at her, playfully suggestive over the rim of his glass before downing the remaining liquid. "What? It was a nice flirtation tool."

Sesa rolls her eyes at her brothers insinuations about his love life. "If you say so Daen, I love you, but I'm sure just like you probably don't want to think about me doing that, the same goes for you. I don't want the details." She chuckles and downs the rest of her drink. "What I do want, is another drink and some fun." Is there ever music in this joint?

En'rys snickers, having accomplished the mission of making mischief. "Of course not. There are things brother and sister shouldn't share. That's one of them." Music in the Last Call is like snow in the desert — nonexistent, unless one manages to entice a harper up here, or the dragonriders opt to bring their own instruments and music they make themselves. "I was just teasing you. It's too easy, you know." He wrinkles his nose at her playfully. "Huh. What kind of fun you looking at having, girl? I don't think Last Call is for much more than sitting and drinking."

Sesa rolls her eyes to catch glimpse of the room. "Perhaps we should relocate? The drinks here are good, and I like it, but I'm feeling like moving. Dancing maybe. There any festivities on the Caravan Grounds tonight?" She figures Daen would know, since he's technically still Zingari even if he's a rider now yes? Maybe? She doesn't know but she's asking anyway.

En'rys taps his fingers thoughtfully at her. "Good question… I haven't been there in awhile. Not since Reve, to be honest. Couldn't tell you what my reception would even be." He heaves a shrug. "Well, except for when I got my stuff from my yurt, and that was… strange."

Sesa cocks her head to the side. "Strange? How so?" She can imagine awkward, but Rys' choice in words has her interest piqued. She sighs and orders another drink, while they talk and just in case he doesn't feel like going down. She doesn't want to make it an uncomfortable night. This is brother/sister time!

"Mostly in the knowing I wouldn't be coming back to that yurt ever again. It was home, you know." En'rys wrinkles his nose at her, then shakes his head. "And, of course, the sideways looks from the traditionalists among them just set my hackles on edge. I'm not inclined to enjoy the pointed looks and stupid whispers any more than I have to. I'm likely to say things I shouldn't — they basically treated Reve like some kind of leper." He slides his fingers through his hair, then sighs slowly. "Half the reason she's one is because she couldn't stand it anymore. The stares and the whispers — the assumptions." He'll pause to take a decent swallow of his drink, and shakes his head. "It isn't.. something I really want to talk about tonight, Sesa. This is supposed to be for fun, right?"

Sesa can sympathize, on the home thing. "Aye, I can understand that Rys. I think I felt the same way when I went to move my things out of Mama and Papa's apartment. It was…surreal." SHe has a look of sympathy for her brother when he mentions getting the 'eye' from some of the Zingari, that must have been rough on him. "They are a…. stubborn people. I'm sorry brother." She nods when he speaks his last. "Of course. Why drag the mood down right?" Even though she wants to ask a million questions and see if En'rys is alright, she can tell he's hurting. But having dealt with her own issues on her own for so long, she can understand not wanting to talk. "So….how the shells do we get to the fun part, because it's downright dreary in here."

"Stubborn, hell." En'rys laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his amusement. "Damn Weyr'll probably grow legs and walk away before Willimina can get all her changes through, you know. But she's trying." For all his griping, there's a certain affection for the Zingari in there; after all, they did accept him when he'd left the Tanners — accepted him without reserve, except for that time he made friends with Aztrexia. Daen seems to have a knack for… interesting friends. Ah, youth: so careless sometimes. And, surprisingly, he's past the worst of the hurt now; something about having an older friend who has gone through his share of hell to lean on is a help. Some things are best left in the hands of another of the same gender and sensibilities, however odd they are. He does look around the place, noting that it is, indeed, dull in here. "Hm. Maybe we should go anyway. Face down the snobs and let 'em learn to live with the changing times. Prove I really am not going anywhere."

Sesa laughs wholeheartedly at Daen's first. She'd grown up around the ZIngari, she's seen it. "Poor Willa, I know how hard that woman tries." She looks around, and nods. "Aye, it's not exactly lively. I'm good to go." And she'll pay for the drinks with a generous tip too. Not the tender's fault they want something with a bit more…oomph. "I'm game to go if you are Daen, just lead the way." She laughs again and waves for the door.

Oh, En'rys knows she's tried; the woman just has too many bull-headed, hidebound traditionalists to retrain at once, though it seems she's making some headway! It takes time to change a culture. En'rys will gather himself to had out after Sesa, making up his mind. "Let's go out to the Caravan; it'll be good to see friends, and things like that." It suddenly seems silly to let a few old blowhards keep him from his adopted people — and ensure that the worst rumors spread by liars have traction. There's plenty a man can do to show that he has no intention of abandoning the life he'd chosen to lead. He'll get his jacket and things, and lead the way down to the Zingari camp.

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