Mayte, Amani, Va'os


Despite the yelling behind closed doors in prior days, Laeiva is sent off with minimal fuss, leaving Southern's Weyrwomen and Weyrleader to regroup for a bit at the Kitten.

Some language


It is evening of the seventh day of the tenth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


The Tipsy Kitten, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 20 Apr 2018 06:00


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"I'm almost frightened by the idea of 'creative retribution'… especially with you two at the helm of it!"


The Tipsy Kitten

Here there be drunkards: a marble bar and the gorgeous array of colored bottles behind it would be enough to draw them in, but more yet lures those to enjoy the recreation the Kitten has to offer. Windows allow light to naturally illuminate the first floor of the tavern in the daytime, while green-tinted glows shine after nightfall. A door behind the bar leads to the tiny kitchen, while a stairway leads above to the rooms available for rent. Among the hubbub and the ruckus, a calamity of tables scatter through the open space, plenty enough for dragonpoker tournaments on restday eve.

It's been a long day. The weather has been reasonably tolerable except for the spring storm that threatens overhead but it marks the entry of weyrleadery-types into the ambiance of the Kitten very well. It also means the Kitten isn't terribly busy at this time so when Mayte marches over to a bare table, she doesn't have to yell at anyone to vacate the chairs. It's far enough away from the bar that she can't even yell her order to the barman so Mayte puts up her hand: "A pitcher of your… not your worst." A moment and then Mayte adds: "Beer. Not margaritas. Seriously."

Though more of a whiskey fan herself, Amani will take some beer when there's a leadership meeting in the kitchen. Especially if that's what Mayte is ordering by the pitcher; a pitcher is not a solo affair, after all. She isn't far behind the Senior and calls out her own addition to the beer order. "And a bowl of that spinach-wherry dip with pita, please!" She's hungry. And thunderstorms make her want to sit inside and snack, business to attend to or not.

"What's wrong with an occasional margarita?" Va'os' wry commentary is hot on the heels of Mayte's order to the barman. He's either in a decent mood or things have smoothed over enough between them that the Weyrleader would risk some 'social' time in the Kitten. Spring storm is fine outside, but let's hope a storm of a different sort isn't brought INSIDE! Flopping ungracefully into the nearest chair, he'll stretch out his legs and slouch because… why bother with proper posture if there's hardly anyone around? Amani is given a lazy salute and one has to wonder if the bronzerider wasn't getting his pre-game drink on here or what.

As much as Amani's polite "please" earns her a bemused look, it's the question about margaritas that earns Va'os Mayte's long look: "Margaritas? Frozen sugar, parading as a drink!" Um, that storm you ordered, Va'os? It may have arrived: "There's barely enough alcohol to earn it the right to be served here!" That or someone's too afraid to make them right for Mayte. One hand slaps the table, right as the barmaid brings over a foamy pitcher and three glasses, distracting her and silencing her for a moment. Taking the pitcher, Mayte pours out three pints and tips her glass to Amani and Va'os. "Well. That's done." It might be because Mayte's half talking into her glass but her tone is flat and a little hollow.

Amani just shrugs at that look from Mayte. It's not as though the server needs even more reminding about who's ordering by not getting thanked for what he's about to do, right? She just snickers over the other goldrider's opinion about margaritas, saluting Va'os in kind before sitting down. Her glass received, she tips it to Mayte in turn and takes a sip, nodding and studying the foam upon the top for a moment. "I just hope they'll actually be able to help her," she notes after a moment, tilting the beer to her lips again.

Va'os makes a quick mental note not to pry Mayte about drinks — or rather delay it until they're all a little more drunk and he's feeling like risking death (by having his ear ranted off). He'll just hold his hands up a touch defensively when she does go on about the cons. "Hey," Woah, there! "I get it. I'm with you on that!" At least they see eye to eye on something! Then the beer arrives and he breathes a little easier, grabbing his glass with some relief to have something to distract. "Yup." Not hard to guess what's being toasted, so he merely toasts and drinks. Amani's comment earns her a quirked brow. "If all of Healer Hall can't help her, then I'd be questioning the skills of our Healers." Sorry not sorry, Rielle (and every posted Southern Healer)! He smirks, "Better she be in their care than anyone else."

Sipping makes Mayte's lip curl in disgust. She kindly does not follow up on it but looks down to as close of the bottom as one can peer in the Kitten's glasses. Eyes shift to Amani and then Va'os and Mayte nods briefly: "I just…" The cranky woman goes quiet for a second and then asks quietly, almost too quietly, "Did… did we cause this?" It's as if the Kitten is a safe space, with a cone of silence. "Was it something that we could have predicted, or readied for?" Not a Mindhealer. And then Mayte huffs: "And now we have Ardstelle. She's not… Well, we're still eating" A look to Amani and Mayte wonders, "What do you think?" And then Va'os: "The boys," aka, the fighting wingmembers, "said anything?"

Amani seems rather neutral about what she's sipping at. It's possible she's too preoccupied to really notice the taste. She looks to Va'os, her brow mildly furrowed. "All the mindhealers, you mean." She does know there's a difference, even though she's not educated about the particulars. Mayte's thoughts earn a slight frown of thought. "I think with all that was going on…it might've just brought out the worst part of something that was already there. How could we have known?" Speaking of eating, the food she ordered arrives. She immediately dips into it with some pita and pushes the bowl to a middle point between the three of them in invitation, looking to Va'os again in anticipation of his answer to Mayte's last.

Va'os must not be too fickle with his taste in beers, as he doesn't seem to react too negatively to whatever it was they were served. He does lower his glass though when Mayte goes silent, knowing all too well what that could lead too. Yet even as he focuses on her conversation, his gaze darts back to Amani and his smirk returns, along with a shrug. "Healers, yeah." He's being an ass, don't mind him! In his head, they're close enough to be one and the same. He does, however, agree with Amani's statement. "Exactly. This is not something anyone could ever predict or see coming! There's just no way to know." Which is sobering and unsettling to say, let alone think. Shaking his head, he'll politely wave off the offer of food, content for now just with his drink. "Mhm," He mumbles around the rim of his glass, before turning his attention back to Mayte. "Aside from the usual? Not much." … except? Shifting more comfortably, he idly throws out: "Some grumbling about repairs to clothing? That even her thing…?" He really is pushing his luck, here, isn't he?

Pursing her lips, Mayte looks to Amani and nods slowly, just a faint move of her neck. "How indeed…" Is Mayte about to mandate mandatory mindhealing for headwomen? Probably not. Taking some pita with the non-beer-purveying hand, Mayte dips it into the dip and nibbles on it. "She did have… a lot of personal blows." A long look to Amani, "Could be something to keep an eye on." Given that Headwoman territory generally falls with the goldriders of a Weyr. Though admittedly, Va'os' suggestion about Ardstelle's possible imperfection has Mayte turning to the man, eyes alight: "Oh? Like, they're coming back worse? She never did much time in a laundry room, that I know…"

"I don't think I'll be able to not to keep an eye now," Amani all but grumbles. Her interactions with Ardstelle have been civil thus far, at least. Va'os' ass-ness is just given a slightly squinty look, but Amani smirks before biting into some more dip. The matter of clothing earns a puzzled look. "I didn't think it was her thing. Isn't that on the laundresses? And if it comes down to it…we did all learn some basic clothing repair in weyrlinghood, right?" Translation: can't they fix it their own damn selves if need be?

Territory Va'os isn't about to tread into (or make low shots at) anytime soon! Which is why he mostly shrugs for the questions lobbed his way and keeps his mouth in check for the most part, while Mayte and Amani discuss. "Well, yeah. Most of us can take care of our own shit but there's one problem with that usually!" He'll take a moment to savour a little more of that beer, while casually folding one leg over the other as if perfectly relaxed in this not-quite meeting discussion. "Time. If it's important enough and things are hectic… y'kind of find someone to do those menial things. But," His hands lift in a helpless gesture. "Like I said, it's grumbling. Nothing really sticks out?" Yet. Yet!

Another long sip of beer and Mayte's grin is a little too content Amani-wards: "Yes, but as Headwoman, Ardstelle can't neglect that her delegation reflects on her. If the laundresses are making mistakes," says someone who understands hierarchy from the top, "it's for Ardstelle to deal with the situation." Delegation, like crap, rolls downhill. "I'll ask her to look into it," with a nod to Va'os. Then, a little more stuffily, "If we let an example start in our clothes, then it might spread to our fighting leathers." It sounds jovial but Mayte takes a long, sober sip, "Best to nip this one in early."

Amani does know to be wary when Mayte pulls that grin out, eying the other goldrider sidelong over her beer. She can concede Va'os' point about time and won't argue that things lower down the chain reflect on Ardstelle (it works the same in the wings, after all), but the matter of the fighting leathers earns a furling of dark brows. "Who's taking their leathers to the laundresses?" she wants to know. "It's the Tanners we ought to be taking those to." Right?

Va'os is wary of that grin too, even if it's not entirely directed at him. "Yeah, best to nip lots of things that way." Slight jab there, but mostly at his bad habit of not knowing when to keep his mouth shut! He'll cough a bit with his next sip of beer, managing not to outright choke on it but taking a moment to clear his throat. "Don't think that's what was meant…" he points out to Amani, with a lopsided half-smirk, half-grin. "Kind of just pointing out that if y'slack off in one thing, others start to get shoddy too." Right? A side glance to Mayte and then he's polishing off the last of his beer. Setting the empty glass aside, he soon pushes to his feet. "Ladies, it's been wonderful," That's not wholly sarcasm, coming from him! "But I've something I need to do before it gets much later."

Mayte listens to what Amani's saying and nods slowly but Va'os' comment gets a wave of 'yes' hand. That is, the hand that waves because the mouth is too busy with beer. "Yeah, that." but Va'os has to run and Mayte is giving him some side-eye. "Date?" she wonders fruitlessly but turns to Amani: "So Ardstelle knows the headwomaney duties around the kitchen, but maybe she needs a little help in the other areas?" A helper Headwoman or something? If only there was a word for it… "Can you suggest anyone?"

Amani smirks at Va'os again for that little jab, setting down her beer and focusing on the dip for now. "Well, hopefully anyone thinking about slacking off won't want to risk some…creative retribution from us," she notes, gesturing vaguely between herself and Mayte. She smiles at Va'os genuinely this time as he rises, lifting a brow at Mayte's but of wondering aloud. "An assistant Headwoman, you mean?" The younger woman looks pensive, then shakes her head. "Not at the moment, but that doesn't mean I won't have a better answer for you tomorrow." After she's had a chance to sleep off today.

"I'm almost frightened by the idea of 'creative retribution'… especially with you two at the helm of it!" Va'os throws that out in genuine honesty, but a bit of his usual humour to back it up. Grinning, he starts to step away, pausing as he casts a broad, crooked grin to Mayte. "Could be!" There's even a wink and much suggested there but who knows how serious it is? "I think I deserve that, eh?" A relaxing date, that is? "Could be Filigree messing with me too." Proddy gold firelizards! Not at all the same as dragons but enough that even he's likely mentally rolling his eyes (just get on with it)! "Dunno how you all stand it!" Muttered and likely meant more for Mayte or just all gold and greenriders in general. Seriously! "Or I'm just gonna take a head start on a few reports 'n shit." All of the above! Va'os doesn't elaborate and instead dips his head to both goldriders. "Clear skies, ladies!" He'll undoubtedly cross paths with them again soon enough. With that, he'll excuse himself for good and exit out of the Kitten; hopefully that storm has passed or he's about to get soaked!

The Southern Goldriders? Creative retribution? Mayte just looks innocent. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Weyrleader," she says politely but Va'os making his apologies kinda ruins the give-and-take. Looking a little put out, Mayte replies, "Clear skies," while sounding like she hopes he gets lightheartedly drenched. Back to Amani now that Va'os has cleared: "It'll be something to keep an eye on," she surmises, "while not mentioning it to Ardstelle." There's a warning in there: "She won't like the thought that we're watching her."

This time Amani grins at Va'os before giving him a nod back. "Clear skies, Weyrleader," she returns, and then her attention is all on Mayte. A hefty sigh precedes one last sip at her beer. "No one likes being watched," she all but grumbles. "But we are all the time, and if Ardstelle wants to stay Headwoman, she's got to know that the job comes with some scrutiny, like it or not. The price of a knot, right?"

Mayte's lips purse in agreement with Amani, until they slide into a small grin: "If you're gonna take the knot, you gotta show what's what." Grabbing the pitcher, Mayte lifts it towards Amani's glass questioningly. Meticulously, she drinks from her own glass and hurmphs: "I mean, it's not like a surprise, is it? That she can't just drown us in butter and sweetener and hope we won't notice that we're a little breezy in weird areas?" Sorry, Amani, Mayte's arm was getting tired so that glass is getting refilled regardless. "I mean, I don't like kids, but that doesn't mean I ignore if someone's complaining about the Creche, does it?" Another long gulp of beer, then Mayte looks around and mentions to Amani quietly in quieter tones, "But let me tell you about this one kid…" Mayte's dark head leans close to Amani's and the conversation devolves into sharing stories back and forth, calling for another pitcher, until at least one of them has to be respectfully escorted back to their weyr. No names, except on the edges of rumours and the lips of those who don't know any better.

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