Who

Divale, Zaria

What

Divale invites Zaria for drinks and some interesting conversation.

When

It is evening of the twenty-eighth day of the sixth month of the sixteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Oasis Inn, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 14 Mar 2019 04:00

 

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"Care to order yourself a drink, first? That is, before we get to the real purpose of us being here."


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Oasis Inn

Tucked into a small fold of foothills along the road leading from the Weyr to the Central Pass, this inn truly is just what its name implies - an oasis for travelers coming from either direction. Stabling and board are available - though the boarding comes at a price, since there isn't much of it. The most well known part of the Inn is the tavern - a rustic bar built of solid skybroom and furnished in dark, oiled wood, leather, metal, and glass. Though well used and sometimes abused, the furniture is also well cared for and maintained, and the food and drink draw many a rider in alongside the travelers. The decor is eclectic, consisting in hangings, rugs, carvings, and other things from every region of Pern, bestowed upon the owner in barter for lodging. The atmosphere isn't one of a dive; it's cozier than that, though there is just a touch of harmless shady to be found - particularly in the evenings.


Only the winds remain from an earlier storm, kicking up some sand and grit, but nothing compared to the ferocity hours before. Nightfall brings some comfort with the temperatures dropping to double-digits with the sunset. Which brings more than a few patrons even to the remote Oasis Inn; there's a hum of conversation about room, almost cozy without being too overbearing. Normally it's not the type of crowd she prefers, but Divale makes an exception this time. She wants the cloak of noise, though she's removed herself as far from the main tables as possible. Tucked in the back corner of the tavern, she sits lounges comfortably, dressed casually and clearly off duty from Parhelion business. Drink in hand, the rich amber liquid is lazily and idly swirled, though her focus seems far away and distant. So she waits, knowing full well that Lukoith has long since passed the message on to the intended recipient. It was left open ended when offered to Azrith: either Zaria shows up or she doesn't, Divale is prepared for either outcome.

The question isn't really if Zaria decides to show or not…it's just how much of a nervous wreck she will be when she gets there. Arroyo's wingleader is running just a teeny bit late, and that doesn't help her anxious demeanor any, but otherwise she seems to be holding together pretty well. She's cleaned up a bit, that's apparent. Evidenced by finger hair that falls just past her jawline is neatly brushed, skin freshly scrubbed, as well as a nice tunic, royal blue with silver embroidery at the square neckline and well-tailored trousers of dark grey linen breeze around willowy legs. When she spots Divale at the back of the room, her heart flutters momentarily before she steels herself and moves to join her. "Nice choice. Different," she states with a crooked smile before taking the seat across from the brownrider.

"I prefer that we're not overheard and if we are, by ears that are not immediately aligned to the Weyr or our respective Wings," Divale intones, neutral and dry toned the whole speech as her dark gaze lifts to meet Zaria. She might note the other's nervousness, but she keeps it to herself in preference of making a notable once-over look; merely playing at another game, though her wry smirk is almost suggestive, if not approving. "Care to order yourself a drink, first? That is, before we get to the real purpose of us being here." Looks like she's not in the mood to beat around the bush for too long! She remains reclined in her seat, her glass still held by her long fingers and so far ignored.

Blinking at the directness of Divale's first, Zaria momentarily stumbles on replying as she can't help noticing the way Divale's studying her, a rosie tint creeping over the bridge of her nose. But then a drink is mentioned and the bluerider thinks that might be a very good idea indeed. Thankfully a waitress is just passing by with tray of dirty dishes and she forestalls the woman with a raised hand. "Sorry. Can I get a pint of ale please?" The woman nods her head and heads off to the bar to relieve her burden and place that order. Turning back to the brownrider, Zaria offers a lop-sided smile as she runs her fingers through her hair. "If you'd just like to start…I'm sure my drink will be here any moment. I don't want to keep you, obviously," she adds her last with a chuckle as a bit of an after-thought.

Divale is silent but observant while Zaria flags down that waitress and places her order. Very little can be discerned, as always, by her lack of expression. She does lean forwards at last, moving eerily fluid (snake like, perhaps?) as her glass is set on the table and both her hands curl around it. In the low light, she gives a shadow of a smile and a faint scoff. "I have no other engagements this night. If I recall correctly, it's often you who end our little… chats. I'm not entirely in a mood for a game of chase, so we'll get to the heart of it now, hmm?" Lifting the glass, it's tilted as if to sign that invisible deal between them, while she murmurs her request over the rim. "You claim you see good in me?" she asks, gaze lowering as she takes a slow sip. It's left open for her to answer as much or as little as she desires to.

Taking a covert breath to steady herself when Divale leans in like she does, Zaria blinks owlishly while the brownrider has her say, the blush spreading onto her cheeks just a smidge. "Well…I don't…When…" she stammers, her hands geturing vaguely in front of her. Thankfully the waistress wasted no time, perhaps sensing the bluerider's nerves, and returns with her drink. With a thankful smile, Zaria picks up the glass and quickly quaffs about a third of her ale before putting it back onto the table in front of her, smacking her lips a little rudely, but she finally looks like she can speak. "I mean…I'd thought it was obvious. You're a great rider, probably a great Wingsecond as well or I'm sure Eala wouldn't keep you around. I mean…you've always been sorta nice to me. I know I'm bumbling and not really what a Wingleader 'should' be like." does the universal air quote gesture, "But, I think of you as my friend, and I don't have friends who have no good in them." she trails off with a bit of a cringe, her color darkening some more as she goes for another sip of her drink.

There's a quirked brow but no comment from Divale when Zaria downs half her drink in one shot, though she keeps her gaze lowered for the most part. She can be patient, leaving her to work up her courage to speak freely. Whether intended or not, she does chuckle low in her throat when the truth comes out. Yet when Divale meets her gaze again, her dark eyes yield nothing; as one would expect from someone so heavily shielded from her emotions. "Well, that's a rather… simple way of looking at it," she muses, smirking as she sets her glass down. "Eala may very well keep me just because of that; I am a good rider and good at my duties." she points out, eyes narrowing slightly, unconvinced. "You know very little of me, Zaria. You," she emphasizes. "Are a good person. There is no doubting that."

That chuckle has Zaria's smile tentatively widens as the bluerider relaxes just a fraction into her seat. She can only stand to meet Divale's gaze for a moment before she has to drop her hazel eyes, her blush persistant on her cheeks and creeping towards her ears. "It may be simple, but it's the truth. And no. I don't…" Because you're a frustratingly closed of person who is obviously afraid to let anyone near her. is what she dearly wants to say, but instead she just shrugs with a soft sigh. Her last though does bring the woman's eyes back up to hesitantly meet Divale's with a faint air of skepticism. "You mean naive and gullible surely…" she replies with a self-sepricating chuckle tacked on for good measure.

She should have said it! It would have certainly turned the tables on the brownrider and may be what she's seeking. How far can she push? Divale may sense something, as her gaze sharpens for a brief heartbeat before relenting and that wry, twisted smirk takes its place. "You said it, not me," she quips back, looking smug as she finishes the last of her drink. "Let me say this," she begins after a lengthy pause that lingers as she seems to wage an inner battle. Perhaps Lukoith is the one to encourage her to 'up the game'. That's all this is right? "I've heard this before, from others before you and they all drifted away in time, when they saw I was not to be 'fixed' to their liking. Or they asked of things I could not give. So," Her hands spread out, as if to welcome Zaria to lay down her challenge. "What can you offer, to convince me, that you are no different?" It's a test, of course. She's not looking for poetry or long winded confessions and certainly not empty promises. Just the truth, even if it's admitting potential failure or the promise of nothing.

Bravery isn't Zaria's thing ok? Another shrug for a lack of reply when the brownrider seems to agree with her self-assessment, her gaze dropping once more before taking up the drink for another long sip. She makes note when the brownrider finishes her drink, the woman's silence not exactly settling her nerves as she imperceptively holds her breath until the woman's next. Eyes widen slightly, her heartbeat picking up just barely when the brownrider goes on. She casts furtive glances up at her, finding the intensity of her gaze both alluring and little frightening, that she can only take it in small doses. But when she comes to the final test, the corner of Zaria's mouth curls as she finally steels herself to meet Divale's gaze and holds it no matter what. "Because I don't want to fix you. I just want to know more," and for once, the bluerider's words are steady with certainty.

Her gaze will be met and held in turn and while the silence between them weighs heavily as Divale mulls over the accepted challenge, eventually she smirks. It's a satisfied look, even if it gives little else to what may be going on in that mysterious mind of hers. "We'll see then, just how much you can handle before you break," she murmurs in a tone that is both bemused and a little… sad. As though she's already predicting how the end will come and not even allowing a shred of hope. Convincing herself that it is a game of mutual curiosity and nothing more. "Shall we have another drink, then?" she offers, yet the way she half-smirks, half-grins, implies that she'd intended for more than just drinks all along. She has her needs too and Zaria has never failed her yet in declining to share a bed.

There's probably a reason Zaria's never turned down Divale's offers to share a bed, the way her heartbeat picks up faintly, and the flutterbys in her stomach roll when she seems to have passed at least the first test, are both proof. It may be a game to the brownrider, but this bluerider has managed to catch herself some feels. Catching that faintly sad note, her heart aches to prove she's not like the others, truly. But she knows enough about Divale to know that deeds are going to go a lot further than words. And so with a light bob of her head, she accepts. "I know you won't believe it, but I am tougher than I look," she quips with a lift of her chin, "We'll see who breaks first." That bit of confidence will only grow as the night continues, here and in privacy when it is sought.

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