H'rik, R'ku, Sesa


Sometimes alcohol is not the answer to problems; good thing it's R'ku and Sesa who find H'rik in a state.


It is night of the sixteenth day of the seventh month of the fifteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Shadowed Alley, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 19 Nov 2018 00:00


H'rik2.jpg r-ku_default.jpg sesa_default.jpg


Shadowed Alley

The moonlight casts fitful beams of light into the area, spreading hopeful fingers towards the alley's adobe walls, but fail to reach its depths. Instead soupy darkness coat the walls and uneven pavement of the fetid passageway, and the midden's usual stench is strong as it competes with the spices and musk from the animal enclosures. A fitful gleam from a nearby corner's torch lends a half-life to crude graffiti on the walls, an uneasy mishmosh of stick-people and malformed dragons. Further on, a maze of small walkways and tiny houses choke off any attempts at casual identification of location, and what scurries in the true darkness have even the tunnelsnakes fleeing.

The sun has long since set, the summer's heat cooled off into a warm but more bearable night. Many are enjoying the various pleasures that the Bazaar has to offer - and some more than others. H'rik has been somewhere, somewhere that sells alcohol to judge by the way he stumbles into the alley. There, among the crude graffiti, he unsteadily braces himself against the wall and adds to the general stench of the place as his stomach betrays him. A choked noise, half cough and half sob, escapes him, and then he's trying to pull up the corner of his shirt to wipe his mouth. With only one hand on the wall, he wobbles, balance perilous.

Sometimes you get to enjoy the Bazaar's nightlife, and sometimes you're dragged there for a completely silly reason by parents or family members that keep you there later than you expected. It's the latter for R'ku, who is wending his way back home from his family's spice shop, a rather dour expression on his face. Said expression is fighting with a general look of tiredness that seems to permeate him - his wavy hair is slightly mussed, his jawline stubbled and there are the hint of dark circles under his eyes. It's been a long day, to be sure. Even so, he can't help but keep alert as his long strides take him through the darkened streets - he grew up in the Bazaar. He knows what might lurk. Thus he pauses briefly as he passes the alleyway at the sound of a staggering someone, glancing to see what might be the noise. Then he stops short as he recognizes the Weyrleader, his weight rolling forward onto his toes briefly at the sudden stop and doubletake. "H'rik?" he's apparently too concerned, based on his voice, to really have even remembered to address the man by his title, "You okay?"

Sesa has been somewhere near the bazaar this day, though just exactly where isn't all that clear. But her path home winds her through the bazaar, and she'd stopped for a drink along the way. Now, slightly inebriated and giddy, she meanders through the streets, unsure if she wants to go up to her weyr just yet. And so, she begins an exploratory walk, though her feet know the bazaar better than the back of her hand, having grown up in the craft complex nearby. She's dazed and daydreaming as she wanders down the darker streets, and stumbles upon H'rik and R'ku's meeting on accident. Recognizing the two, she snaps a wavery salute off and tries to act like she hadn't just seen her Weyrleader voiding his stomach. "G'day sirs. Am I interrupting something?"

H'rik has managed to make himself look a bit less disgusting, though his shirt is suffering for it. He lets the fabric drop again, hand swinging for the wall to catch his balance and missing. Thank faranth his other hand still has contact, or else the Weyrleader would have been on the floor. "Huh?" It takes a good deal of effort to focus his eyes on the man talking to him. "R'ku? I- uh-" he can't quite form an answer to the Wingleader's question, sniffing and blinking. He's way beyond drunk, and the smell of alcohol on him will be obvious if one gets close enough. He makes a noise and blinks as he tries to adjust his focus to see who the owner of the other voice is, but Sesa's just beyond recognition at the moment.

R'ku glances uncertainly at Sesa as yet another bystander wanders in. He can'th elp but have a touch of proxy embarrassment for the man at being seen in such a state. Though that quickly turns to disgruntlement as H'rik's level of intoxication becomes more clear. Though not at the Weyrleader, but whatever bar kept serving him. He glances around critically, trying to figure out which establishment the Weyrleader may have staggered out of exactly. "H'rik, man, did someone try to ply you with one of their experimental concoctions or something?" R'ku asks, a touch of humor injected into his voice to try to lighten the situation just a bit. He starts forward, heedless of the smells and grossness of the alley, reaching out and ready to steady the Weyrleader if needed, "Where and what have you been drinking?" A look of apology is given to Sesa, "You don't look too steady, either - was there a party I missed?" Despite his tiredness, this situation has woken him up a bit.

Sesa steps forward in concern when the Weyrleader near falls. "Not at all sir, just a wee buzzed. I'm capable of helping if you need it." Looking around, Sesa too tries to suss out where the Weyrleader might have just come from. "I came from the caravan grounds, the Zingari camp… to be precise. I don't think he was there." She'd have joined the Weyrleader had he been. And the liquor smell doesn't wreak of whiskey to Sesa's nose. She too steps closer, heedless of the smell or grossness involved.

The world swirls and spins when H'rik moves now, and he elects to stay still, swaying slightly. "Where? What? Um." He frowns hard as he thinks. "I think it was the Cantina, first. Then…The Crescent? Then…then…" Nope, that's where his memory gets too hazy. Fortunately not the Zingari camp, because that would not make a good impression in front of the caravan family. "It was just a lot. Drinking for them." His voice catches in his throat and H'rik's eyes close. Is he going to vomit again? But no, it seems it's emotion overcoming him this time, if the tears emerging at the corners of his eyes are anything to go by. One streaks down a cheek, down the line of his jaw, and drops away. Sesa might have an idea of what could have set this off, maybe - Whirlwind lost a wingrider in a recent Threadfall, and not a heavy or difficult 'fall, either.

R'ku frowns as he hears the name of the Cantina - he used to serve drinks there, after all, so he's a bit biased. Though the frown deepens a bit as more and more establishments are named, "Well. Whoever the last one was should have cut you off for your own good. I'd be worried letting you try to mount Wendryth in this state." Worry is still clear in his deep voice, brow furrowed slightly in concern. The catch in H'riks throat has R'ku taking a half-step back in response - perhaps he's been around too many close to vomiting drunk people in his life to be wary of sudden spewing. But then he notices the real reason. The tear. He's starting to have an inkling of what the issue may be, having likely heard whisperings that the death was in Whirlwind. Though for fear of being wrong, he won't pry and merely offers up a bro-appropriate arm squeeze of solidarity. "Why don't we all sit down somewhere? Talking is usually better than drinking for this sort of thing." His voice has taken on more of a soft tone and he glances around, searching for a nearby stall or something that may have seating.

Sesa clears her throat, and when she speaks, her voice is steady even though her features are pulled into versions of sorrow and guilt, after all, she's Whirlwind herself. "I might know of a place… sir." She'll come closer, offering to help with H'rik, despite her small stature. "My dad used to help run a Harper shop around here… it's closed down now, but I still have a key…" She'll point down the alley to where the Handsome Harper lies empty, all but forgotten these days.

H'rik starts wiping his face again, this time with the back of his forearm, trying to get rid of the embarrassing tears. "Sorry," he slurs out as R'ku and Sesa start on the plan of moving him. He'll probably need some assistance, though fortunately he won't put up any resistance. He seems like a man who's all but given up, all the energy drained out of him by the mixture of grief and alcohol. "Wendryth's asleep," he manages to explain. Thank Faranth for it too, that the bronze hasn't awoken during all of this. "Sitting, yeah." Red-rimmed eyes opening, he finally manages to work out who the smaller person is. "Sesa. Sorry." More apologies, to the wingrider that shouldn't have to see her Wingleader in this state. "All gone to shit," he mumbles, more to himself than anything else as he lurches in the direction that Sesa is pointing. Sitting, a good idea.

"Better than taking him to my parent's spice shop," R'ku notes with a half-laugh, nodding in approval at Sesa's suggestion. He moves to H'rik's side and, by sheer force of strength, will keep him propped up and supported with Sesa's help. And it's Sesa who knows the way to the empty shop, so he'll let her do most of the steering while he does the lifting. "It hasn't gone to shit yet. That's the booze talking - trust me," he notes reassuringly as they walk along.

Sesa takes her part in supporting H'rik and then guides them painstakingly to the door of the shop. It's been closed so long that there's a film of dust clinging to the windows, making it nigh impossible to see through them. Digging around in her pockets she manages a small ring with a few keys on it. She unlocks the shop for and it opens with a creak, leading to a room empty of everything saving a shelf, a desk and two very dusty chairs. Once they're all in, she'll close the door, coughing when a cloud of dust billows in its wake. "Sorry it's not cleaner… " She sighs and isn't holding anything against H'rik, promise. Though she may have to help find out who served the Weyrleader last.

H'rik isn't quite holding it together, especially now the metaphorical floodgates have opened. His eyes are looking very wet as his adam's apple bobs with the effort of holding back more tears; once he's worked out that he's been guided through a door, and a chair has found its way behind his legs, he sits down heavily and crumples down. Head in his hands, elbows on his knees, he sits there for a long moment simply breathing. Soft noises like suppressed sobs come out in time with the movement of his back and chest. His head shakes left and right, hair messed up by his hands. "I should've done more," the man says, seeming to carry on with the sort-of conversation he was having with R'ku. "Should've - should've worked him harder. It's all too late now." His voice is thick with the pain of regret and guilt.

R'ku squints through the clouds of dust and coughs a bit, getting a bit of it out of his lungs. Though, it's at least not too bad once the dust settles again. He'll nod to Sesa in appreciation before turning back to H'rik - he'd been at his side for the entire time, after all, having pretty much guided him to the chair he's currently sitting in. He give's the Weyrleader's shoulder another squeeze of solidarity, "It's difficult, I know." He may have not had any deaths under his watch, yet, though he's likely had his fair share of close calls and serious injuries. "No one person can be expected to shield everyone from Thread. We guide them as Wingleaders, but they all make their own decisions. Thread falls where it may, too. There's nothing you or anyone could have done to prevent that." His words are calm and steady, though with a hint of roughness in his voice, too. "You're a good Weyrleader, H'rik - you didn't make a mistake."

Sesa can only stand by and be supportive for a moment, until R'ku tries to start comforting H'rik and then she steps in too. "Sir, there was nothing we could have done. And is it not the risk we take when we take to the skies sir? It was an honorable death no matter the circumstances surrounding." She steps closer, attempting to lay a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. "All we can do is keep drilling and hope. for the best next fall."

There is something reassuring in what the two are saying, though it's taking time to get through the fog that is currently shrouding H'rik's mental functions. His head is still in his hands, but he's slumping more now. The heaving breaths are less sobs and more deep inhalations to try and clear his head. "All of us doin' our best, right?" There're some fresh tears at R'ku's words, calm and kind, and with a gross sniffing noise H'rik uses one hand to wipe them away. "Keep doin' our best, yeah?" His red-rimmed eyes lift, blearily looking at first bronze, and then blue rider, lingering there on the face of one of those wingriders he just wants to keep safe.

R'ku squeezes H'rik's shoulder again in a show of comfort, his words steady and calm in echo of Sesa's own reassurances, "We can only do our best and keep fighting. But yeah - it's the job. It's the danger. We're top flight wings, too. Get the brunt of the leading edge." He heaves a breath, his own voice a bit rough from the whole situation at hand, "Sometimes a person can do everything right and still get injured or killed. No one's fault. We all do our best to fight for Pern." He gives the Weyrleader a slight pat on the shoulder, a companionable sort of gesture, "We all have to pick ourselves up and continue the fight so no one dies in vain and all that." He heaves another sigh and adds, "And booze is never the answer - makes you feel more like shit in the end. You should get something to eat and some water in you or you'll feel even worse in the morning." He jerks his head to the door, "Maybe we can grab something on the way back? If you're feeling a bit steadier."

Sesa nods. "Aye sir that's exactly it, we're all doing our best." R'ku seems to be handling the talking pretty well so she let's him handle it. When mention of leaving comes up, Sesa nods. "I'm sure we could find something along the way, but if the Weyrleader needs, he can have use of my weyr, which is directly above us. Edleveth's and I have ferried our fair share of intoxicants up to their homes." And Sesa's dead sober now.

R'ku's words, and Sesa's agreement, seem to have done the trick. Though still unsteady from the drink still affecting him, H'rik rises to his feet, clenching his fists a few times as if that will somehow sober him up. No such luck, but the offer of food and water, and perhaps a place nearby to sleep off the booze - that will probably actually help. "Thank you both," the man says, words still slurred but less so now he's at least got a load of emotion off his chest. "If y'could just…." He'll need assistance to get out, but will take up both on their respective offers of getting something to eat, and making use of Sesa's weyr. No doubt he'll have a hell of a headache tomorrow morning, but there could have been worse ends to the night.

Add a New Comment