Amani, R'zel, Z'bor


When assorted errands bring three riders to the chilly side of the Sea of Azov, they're all found warming up in the Klah Bark.


It is midmorning of the fourth day of the twelfth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


The Klah Bark, Southern Barrier Hold

OOC Date 09 Jan 2018 00:00




The Klah Bark

Welcome to the Klah Bark, hippest joint in the Hold. The place where everyone gathers to get that needed Klah fix. A curved bar dominates the space to the left of the doorway, laden with tiered trays of delectable pastries and square wooden canisters of herbs to add that extra spice to your brew. Behind the klah bar is a large hearth where all the magic happens. Baking a variety of snacks to tempt the pallet and brewing the signature Klah the place is known for. The recipe of which is a closely guarded secret. Smith crafted workshop stools line the curved bar for those who wish to gather and socialize briefly. While a smattering of hewn wooden tables fill in the rest of the room for those who would rather linger and enjoy.

It's been quite an interesting experience for Amani so far, the business of going out to those places beholden to Southern Weyr and getting acquainted with the leaders of said places. It's been some time since she's visited the Barrier Hold; she'd been wearing a very different knot the last time, and her purpose had been quite different. After meeting with the Warder and suddenly finding herself with a small sheaf of hides to bring back home, she'd decided the Klah Bark would be a good pit stop before tending to anything else. So here sits Southern's junior weyrwoman, taking great care in stirring sweetener into her blah and sipping, repeating the process until she has it just so. She's apparently not there yet, however.

R'zel is dressed in flying gear, including a scarf that covers his chin. Even now he's back on terra firma, he's looking rather chilled and shivering a bit. He hasn't even removed his helmet, though he's loosened the strap. When he enters the Klah Bark, he makes straight for the bar and secures a mug of something hot and steaming, with a spicy fragrance that's not entirely klah. Holding this between both gloved hands, he turns away from the bar to look for a seat, and after a few paces realises he's approaching Amani. "Morning, Weyrwoman. It doesn't get any warmer here, does it?" And then he hastily puts the mug down and turns aside, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket as he's rocked by a sneeze. "'Scuse me! I think I'm starting a cold."

Z'bor has been at the Barrier hold very much against his own will. His weyrmate, needing something, had brought the whole family up. Z'bor, looking for something to do to keep warm while H'ris takes their son around, steps into the Klah Bark for a cup of klah. Bundled to the nines, he very much has the look of a person from warmer climates. He'll step to the counter to order his klah and begin removing several layers of padding. Helmet, hat, scarf, riding jacket, under jacket, gloves, the whole shebang. He's told it'll be a minute on his klah and he turns to find a seat, sure he's just heard a familiar voice.

Amani, now deliberating between a few different spices despite that fact that she has two in the mix already, catches a wafting of that different scent as well as motion in her periphery and looks up to smile warmly at R'zel. "Morning, Wingsecond," she returns just before he clears his nose, dark brows quirking sympathetically. "Fortunately we've got plenty of warmth at home," she notes, "but maybe it's the going back and forth that brings colds on." Thermal whiplash and all. Then Z'bor's over-bundled form unburdens its wrappings, which she watches the end of past R'zel's shoulder. She can't really help her amusement. "May as well come join the familiar, Z'bor," she raises her voice a bit to invite. "I think there might even be an extra chair for your gear."

"I don't know how I got it, but I can do without it. I came down to help out a sweeprider who thought he'd found something suspicious, so I've not even been flying that long." Long enough to give R'zel a red nose, apparently. "Do you mind if I join you? Sorry to be sneezy company." He turns to the other wingsecond with a grin. "Hello, Z'bor. Is Serval out and about round here too?"

Z'bor catches sight of R'zel and Amani and waves, taking the invitation to heart. He makes his way over and gives a smart salute to Amani. "Hullo Weyrwoman." He greets. Turning to R'zel he chuckles a bit. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who hates the cold. Looks like you would have done well to stay home today, duties aside, that is." As to R'zel's question, Z'bor shakes his head. "No, just me and H'ris and the kid. H'ris wanted to bring Riski up and had some things to get. I'm just trying to stay warm." He'll sit down, dumping his gear into said extra chair.

"Not at all! I don't mind, so long as you're not sneezing on me," Amani says, though if R'zel is contagious it won't matter if he does or not. "You could always pay Rielle a visit and see if she might have something to shock it out of you somehow," the goldrider suggests. "Unless you'd rather go sit in the infirmary, of course." She chuckles as Z'bor settles his gear in the chair and then settles himself. "Well, here's the place to do it, apparently. We'd all rather sit here and thaw out with a good klah than fly home and get flash-baked, apparently." If such a thing is even possible in that humidity. "What is that?" she asks, getting nosy about R'zel's mug since it does smell so much different than hers.

"It's a syrup they add - it's made from spiceroot, apparently." If R'zel sounds a tad surprised at his own answer, perhaps it's because the tuber in question is usually an ingredient in savoury dishes. He removes his helmet and leaves it on a spare chair, pulls off his scarf and drapes it over the chair back, then unfastens his jacket before he finally sits down. He seems to have more warm layers underneath. Raising the mug to his lips, he sniffs, then sips. "That's… interesting."

Z'bor feels the odd man out when his regular ol' klah comes to the table and he takes it black. To each their own he guesses. He takes agood sip before chuckling at Amani's quip about the weather. "I'd much rather be home, trust me." He grins and sips some more klah.

Amani's expression is one of interest as R'zel names what's in his drink, a corner of her mouth turning upward at his evaluation. "Is that…a good interesting, or a bad interesting?" Really, Z'bor shouldn't feel too odd about his drink. Amani's didn't start out as anything special. It just turned into an experiment…which seems to be agreeing with her just fine so far. She sips at it, her brows lifting with humor at Z'bor. "How long does your weyrmate mean to keep you here?" she asks, assuming that's the reason he hasn't gone to escape the cold just yet.

"He said the flavour was warming and good for head colds," R'zel temporises, wafting the mug in front of his nose. 'He' is presumably the man behind the bar. "And it's certainly got quite a bite, and it smells all right, as far as I can tell." It's quite a powerful fragrance, in fact. "The taste, I'm not so sure about. Maybe I just can't taste it properly." Having a cold will do that. He grins at Z'bor, remembering a previous joint visit. "Not your favourite place?"

Z'bor shrugs. "I have no clue. He wants to take Riski sledding, which, I'm for, as long as I can fill up on klah first." And then hope he doesn't become an absolute bear abut the cold, because he doesn't like it anyway, and it makes old injuries ache. He listens to the conversation at hand. "I never could stand adding anything to my klah, it's got a lovely taste as is." As to R'zel's inquiry, well, "Definitely not. I'm Istan Born and grew up on ships and beaches. A child of Rukbat am I." He likes to be warm.

"Would more sweetener help?" Amani suggests, and gently knocks a knuckle against the wooden canister of the stuff sitting nearby. She wrinkles her nose a bit at Z'bor's plain klah, though it's with humor. "I can't handle it without something in it. But to each their own!" She nods to the greenrider's last. "It's not my favorite thing, either. I was born in Igen and lived there until I was Searched. But there's…something beautiful about the ice and snow that you just don't find in the desert." Whether that beauty is always worth enduring the cold for…well. The jury's still out on that. Her attention returns to R'zel then. "What was it you said brings you down here?" Did he say what brought him down here? Obviously she was distracted by the klah.

R'zel eyes the sweetener for a moment, then adds a scoop of the stuff to his klah. "Thanks. It is pretty spectacular. The waterfall… But I don't usually come here unless I have to. This time, one of our sweepriders had his dragon bespeak Verokanth to say he thought he'd spotted something nefarious going on, and could I /please/ come and take a look before he got any closer and maybe spooked them. And that was as much as I could get out of him, so I came, and there were half a dozen people creeping up on this stone… pile." He rolls his eyes. "And there was Guard Captain Kelver in the lead, out on exercise with half a dozen of his people."

Z'bor shivers and chuckles a bit shaking his head. "Pretty as it is, I'd still rather be camped on the beach with my board." Speaking of being distracted by klah, Z'bor cracks a wide grin before he's finishing off his mug and waving to the man at the counter for another. He wasn't kidding about filling up on the hot drink. A roll of the eyes matches R'zel's as he talks and Z'bor aims symathy at the man. "So all for naught then, eh? That's a shame. Perhaps you should go home and thaw out then."

"Well, at least it shows we need to do some work on passing reports," R'zel says in a rueful tone. "Because, you know, I wouldn't have come on my own if I'd known there were six of them, instead of what added up to, 'Just come now!'" More thoughtfully, "And maybe I was at fault not realising that what I was getting was gibberish and maybe not accurate."

Mention of the waterfall piques Amani's interest. She'd heard about it, but still hasn't gotten a chance to see it…and she rather thinks Zymuraith would appreciate it. News of what R'zel ended up coming out for has her shaking her head, however. "If I need to talk to Captain Kelver about tightening up communication between his people and us, let me know. It shouldn't be so hard to keep something like that straight," she says, and downs some more from her own mug. There's a quick grin for how quickly Z'bor finishes off his klah…and then a pause as she takes in a word from Zymuraith, and she pushes back from the table with a soft sigh. "Looks like I'm heading back a little sooner than I thought. Good to see you both, Wingseconds," she says as she rises, and drains the rest of her mug quickly enough to make herself flush. "Clear skies." She grabs her riding gear from a hook near the door and is soon out, off to answer whatever need has tacitly presented itself for her attention.

Z'bor shakes his head at the inefficiency of others and sighs. "Aye, there's always a hole in the armor somewhere that needs patching." Z'bor shakes his head. It's administrative stuff like messages that can screw everything up and that's something Z'bor agrees with R'zel on, proper communication is key. And then the Weyrwoman is excusing herself and Z'bor gets up to give her a proper bow and a goodbye. Sitting again he looks at R'zel and then at the man behind the counter, who is just bringing Z'bor's refill. Perfect. "So are you stuck up here all day then?"

"Clear skies!" While Amani's leaving, R'zel finds an urgent need to blow his nose again. He tells Z'bor, "No, I'll go back as soon as I've finished my drink. Being warm is starting to sound rather good - not sure why I stopped off, really, except I like this place." A nod towards the bar indicates that he means the Klah Bark. "And come to think of it, they could have let the wing on sweeps in the area know they had an exercise planned. Though my wingrider still needs to know that 'Please come - I think it's a barn' isn't much of an answer to 'Describe the situation', even via dragon." Especially when the barn is a pile of rocks that look vaguely wall-like, the presumed panicky beasts don't exist, and there are six presumed raiders on the scene!

Z'bor nods before starting into his second mug. "Good, glad to hear you'll be headed home with that cold." Z'bor smirks in the sorry guy, I'd rather not have your sick way. "Aye. That's a bit short and uninformed, even for wing communication. Would you like me to send a coupe of Servals to ride double up here with yours? Surely an extra couple of sets of eyes won't hurt, and you'll be able to take care of that cold." Besides, Z'bor is still trying to foster interwing socializing and work.

R'zel shakes his head and drinks more of his dubious klah. "Someone else picks up the sweep shortly; it'll be fine." He thinks for a moment. "Say, do you think things have calmed down at the Weyr enough to resurrect our exercise scheme? It didn't really see the time for contests after Bailey… went Between."

Z'bor nods at R'zel's question. "Aye, we could probably safely do it now without feeling like we're causing offense or stepping on toes. I think it'd be a good boost for morale too." Z'bor chugs down this cup of klah faster than the last. At this rate, he'll be in the privy more than he's sledding later…. and maybe that's half the point.

"And we could probably do with that," R'zel agrees. "This hasn't been the best of turns, really. So, we were going to have some heats…" Klah is drunk, plans briefly reviewed, and two wingseconds go their separate ways.

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