Who

A'lory, E'bert, Trek

What

An evening spent enjoying free time in the Cantina. Conversations run from light to downright philosophical.

When

It is evening of the first day of the first month of the third turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Dustbowl Cantina, Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Dustbowl Cantina

To enter the Dustbowl Cantina is to descend: the heart of the ancient tavern lies half underground, at the foot of ancient steps, insulated from summer heat and winter cold by the volcanic rock surrounding it. A windowless place well-lit by glows, it is homey, even cozy, with a certain bijou charm - but for the deep gouges worn in wooden table and solid stone, some clearly lingering evidence of boisterous brawling. The wall behind the well-polished bar, though, remains free from scars or graffiti, as does the door into the small kitchen, and the stairwell up into the owner's quarters: the barkeep and his staff reign, and they guard their territory well. After all, only a fool angers the source of the booze.

It is the sixty-first day of Winter and 26 degrees. It is a clear night.


It's evening in Igen, and folk have gathered in the Cantina: hoping for a bit of drink, a bit of company, perhaps even both. Among them strolls a familiar face, wearing the usual rumpled clothing that has become his trademark, looking for a nice glass of whiskey and a comfortable chair in which to sprawl. Finding both, A'lory settles in for good — or at least until he has to leave for duty's sake. Contentedly, he sips at his whiskey, smiling absently to himself as though he's met with complete satisfaction.

Trek is seated at the small table just next to A'lory's. By the look of things, she's been sitting there for some time now, because there is a partially-formed puzzle on a wooden board perched carefully on the table's surface. There are no drinks, but an empty class at her feet suggests that wasn't always the case. The pieces are on the small side, though not super-tiny. Going by the image that seems to be forming, the puzzle isn't originally Trek's, either. A super flowery landscape scene isn't really her deal. After a bit of staring, she finds a piece that connects with the completed frame, but as she goes to set the thin, wooden piece against the other, she catches the edge just right to send the former piece flying. Straight at the bronze rider's chest.

The tousled blonde locks of a figure that is not often seen within the cantina are still slightly damp from the baths. E'bert has had a long day, and he's just wanting to rest. A'lory is given a nod as he looks for a place to sit. Tea is ordered, and a flying puzzle piece is ducked which gets a grin tossed at Trek.

A'lory goes from contemplating his drink beautifically to getting assaulted with puzzle pieces — puzzle pieces with flowers all over them. With a startled yelp, he swats at the offending bit of wood, managing to catch hold of it before it hits the ground. "What's this?" He mumbles, eyeing it askance before looking about to find the culprit. Oh hey, it's a Trek! "This thing yours?" He holds the piece out between two fingers, raising bushy eyebrows wit an amused grin. "You don't strike me as the flowers kind of girl." E'bert is given a nod of greeting before he returns his gaze to Trek.

Trek gives A'lory and E'bert a sheepish grin as she takes back the pastel-washed piece. "Sorry about that," she tells the first rider, then raises her puzzle piece holding hand toward E'bert in greeting. She then attempts to place both the former and new pieces correctly, without putting out any eyes. "It's not," she agrees belatedly with a laugh, "but it's what was available. Lately my free days have felt a little too free, so… felt like trying something new." With the pieces safely flat again, she reaches under her table to contemplate her empty glass, glancing toward the bar briefly before turning back to the other riders. "What are you guys up to tonight?"

E'bert's eyebrow quirks up as he stifles a chuckle, and gives a shrug, "Nothing much here," he finally answers. No plans to get drunk, not that he could anyway, "Just taking the time to get out. Kar thinks I'm being too much the hermit right now," not that E'bert is, just that by the end of his day he's usually so tired he doesn't care to visit with people.

"Me? I'm just relaxing." A'lory tilts his head, inquisitive, at the little puzzle. He even leans forward with his elbows on the table to squint in the direction of Trek's pretty little picture, scratching idly at his chin. "What's it supposed to look like when it's done?" There's a bright curiosity in his eyes, an air of boyish mischief in his attitude. "Getting out's a good thin, man," He encourages E'bert. "You know, among humans."

Trek nods a couple times to E'bert as she takes in his answer, grinning regarding Karkath. "Smart dragon. I've found it really hard to transition from a fighting wing to Mirage. Probably part of my problem right there." She doesn't sound upset about it, though. Just stating a thought. She turns back to A'lory, then laughs softly. "No idea. By the look of things, though, some sappy painting of a meadow." There's another grin for his comment to E'bert, then Trek waves down a passing server and requests another pint of ale.

E'bert snorts as he has just taken a sip of his tea, "You sound like Kar, but sleep is also a good thing," E'bert also leans over to try and look at the puzzle. Clearly the younger rider has found a place to sit somewhere within the vicinity of both A'lory and Trek, "Oh well my biggest problem is I seem to not be able to put away the studying," the comment is aimed at Trek. Though curiously, E'bert is free of all study material that he's usually seen with in his spare time. This too can probably be chalked up to Karkath's meddling.

"All things in moderation, young vtol." Or… whatever. Meanwhile, A'lory's taking a healthy swig of his whiskey and leaning back in his chair and stretching long legs out before him, completely at his ease in the rickety little chair. "Mmph. I s'pose it's always a bit confusing to go through such a drastic change. You're young enough to weather it, though, Trek; I'm old enough I'd lose what few wits I have left if I tried it. Though it'd probably have a great deal of comical effect for the rest of you to watch me slowly oozing my brains outof my ears."

"There's such a thing as too much studying, you know," Trek maintains, back to her crooked grin. "It's like a… saturation point or something. You cram stuff in too much, too quickly, the brain can't soak it all up, and you end up missing stuff." She sounds pretty sure of it, anyway, then points at A'lory. "Just like that. Oozing." Um. "And it's not that it's… difficult exactly," she amends a beat later. "Moving to Mirage, I mean. It's just… a whole slew of different routines and duties and stuff. And I guess I got used to people listening to me when I was in Arroyo," she finishes with a soft chuff of laughter. "Now? Just a minion. Occasionally loaned out just when the routine starts to feel too routine."

"Yeah, no. I'll pass on the all part of that," E'bert says with a chuckle. Then a nod is given to Trek, "Yes ma'am," poor kid, early training as a weyrling is still clinging to him. Though that has nothing to do with his tea, "I do miss Arroyo, but I was getting sloppy during 'Falls. Best to transfer," it's a statement of fact that is devoid of regret. E'bert hasn't reached the point of 'loan worthy' apparently.

"Ooze." Such a fun word, ooze; A'lory seems to be contemplating it — in the bottom of his glass, which is quite sadly empty at the moment. BUT. To the matter at hand, he's going to rejoin the conversation with a thoughtful phrase or two. "Maybe it's a different sort of leadership; more… " He hand-waves, searching for the words to attach to the idea forming in his head. "… geared toward the individual and less toward the group. It's a long game the Healer plays, you know. You don't always get immediate results, and sometimes you have to trick a stubborn patient into helping himself. It requires a patience many don't have."

Trek snorts softly at E'bert as she shakes her head slightly. "I suppose that's one nice thing about Mirage. There's not… too too much we can mess up for everyone else. Well… you know, other than allowing Thread to bore, if there aren't enough flamethrower crews. And… stuff." Okay, maybe it's not as heartening as she'd hoped, by that downcast tone. She breaks off to thank the server for her drink, then leans back from her table so she can't drip any ale or condensation onto the puzzle. She regards A'lory for a long, and apparently serious moment. Then another. Then, "Would it be weird if I wrote that down, A'lory? Because that's excellent to keep in mind."

This thought from A'lory is filed away somewhere within E'bert's brain. He will no doubt remember that for a long time. His tea is finished, and a huge yawn is stifled, "Much as Kar would prefer I stay and socialize," the dragon's own words, "I'm afraid if I'm to be any good to anyone in my next rotation I need sleep," he stands, and drops the required payment on the table. The patience that A'lory mentions probably would not be something that E'bert would have without his brown. So many times he's found himself surrounded by calm when before he would have gone for his default of anger. A nod is given to Trek before E'bert stands, "Yes ma'am," and then, "I really do need to sleep," and with that he's slipping out into the night.

A'lory returns Trek's stare, all sleepy innocence. "Which part? Because, to be frank, I've no idea what I just said that's excellent." And then he's propping his chin on his fist, still watching Trek with that lazy, lazy stare. "Huh. That… that fascinates me that you'd want to write what I say down. Sure, go ahead. Just don't blame me if it gives you nightmares." And here, he grins wickedly at Trek, eyes sparkling playfully. As E'bert takes himself off to sleep, A'lory offers a wave, wishing the younger man well with all that sleep.

Trek laughs while waving to E'bert, then she quickly turns back to A'lory. "Then I can get away with claiming it as my own?" she teases before taking a long sip of her ale. She picks up a rather wash-out pink piece of the puzzle and compares it to the upper edge of the puzzle for a moment before setting it aside again. Wrong shape, clearly. "You say plenty of smart things, A'lory. You should listen to yourself more often. Clearly."

A'lory laughs. "Go right ahead," He waves expansively, riffling his hair absently and pushing away his empty glass with an easy shrug. "I mean, I'm not using it… " The rest of those puzzle pieces are eyed, thoughtful. "Yeeah… all that being smart crap is sometimes a pain in the ass, though. People start expecting it. Demanding it. And most especially, asking why I'm not a wingleader if I'm so smart." He laughs aloud at the very idea. "Can you imagine? I'd turn out a wing of thieves." Relish the thought — "On the other hand… I don't want to be responsible for the outcry following that little experiment. At any rate, I'd best get myself back up to my weyr. I'm being summoned."

Trek winces a little at the mention of wing experiments, though she doesn't add to the idea. Does she really need to? "I'll likely tuck in as soon as I'm done with this," she replies instead, hefting her glass. "It was most enlightening running into you tonight, A'lory. Even if I did try to send a puzzle piece to a whisky-drowned death." She grins and waves her free hand, then turns back to pondering her puzzle pieces while the evening hours progress.

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