Xanadu Weyr — Wanderin' Wherry Tavern
It is often whispered, in the crowds that converge here, that a certain Weyrleader was asked what he wanted in the remodeling of the pub that was not so long ago given a refreshing. He muttered back over the rim of his ever-present mug, "I don't care what you do with the place, just so long as there is plenty of ale." With that in mind, cask after cask of ale lines the walls of the tavern, the remodeler's idea of a jest. As they age, the casks bring a real rustic atmosphere to the pub, along with the deeply wooden flavor that seems to be the theme throughout.
The lighting is dim, as it should be in all good pubs, and the tables and chairs are plentiful. A long mahogany bar, intricately carved with runner beasts, stands vigilant duty at the head of the bar, lined with stools for those patrons that seek the bartender's company. Behind it are drinks for those not inclined toward ale, as well as a door leading to the small kitchen where snacks are made and a back room that probably holds yet more ale.
Disclaimer: Language, some mild innuendo/suggestive themes!
What's there to do as another autumn night descends, all crisp and cold with the hint of winter in its bite? Hit up the tavern! Okay, maybe that's not the plan for everyone, but Ru'ien's not exactly a stranger to hitting up local taverns on his downtime. Doubly so, when proddiness is only beginning to sink her its talons under his skin. It drives him to a gradually increased restlessness, to keep moving, to keep busy but at this stage it's manageable and not immediately noticeable that he's "off". Even as he steps inside the tavern, the flushed look to his cheeks and hands could be brushed aside as a reaction to the cold outside and not that he's running hot. Dressed casually, his clothing is eclectic in style as it is color — nothing garish or gaudy but oddly tasteful despite being a hodge podge of miscellaneous; some of the cuts of cloth in those layers look closer to feminine, too. Ru'ien's grown out his hair as well, though much of it has been messily tied back behind his head — when loose, it's past his shoulders now. Blue eyes narrow predatory thoughtfully and, with a haughty smugness, he moves on to fetching a drink first but maybe the bar isn't his target. Maybe something of larger intrigue catches his attention and he's just going to invite himself on over. It's fine, right?
By contrast, V'ro's clothes are not particularly tasteful. He's obviously looking for some specific sorts of attention tonight. Except that he's sitting by himself with a drink, looking kind of bored, and might be rethinking whatever he'd had in mind for his evening entertainment. The way he's wistfully watching someone at the bar doesn't really help his approachability to random onlookers, either. But Ru'ien isn't random, even if they've never been particularly close. When V'ro notices the other greenrider, it doesn't seem to occur to him that he might be coming here until it's too late to do anything but sit up a little straighter and smile dumbly. Oh hai.
Not exactly random, no but close enough! Ru’ien is intrigued, definitely appreciative of those not-so tasteful clothes V’ro is sporting. Hello! Unexpected but not without some interest. “You people watch too?” he muses with a knowing little smirk. Did he catch that wistful look the other greenrider was casting at the bar? Or is it just a random comment? Reaching for one of the empty seats, the taller greenrider will gracefully settle himself — because surely V’ro doesn’t mind? He smiled! That’s an invitation right there. Leaning back, wholly too comfortable despite not really knowing each other, he will rest his hand flat against the table by his drink — but it’s not touched, his focus still lingering on V’ro. “Been awhile.” Not accusatory, just a statement of fact!
His shirt is a form fitting button down, but he didn't bother with half of the buttons (the top half, duh), and there are no sleeves. V'ro is tasteful enough to wear pants, but they're tight enough to not leave much to the imagination. But he's sitting down, so there's not really much to imagine anyway. "Starting to wonder if it's the only thing I'm good at," is accompanied by a laugh, so maybe it doesn't sound quite so self-pitying. No one likes that, V'ro! But since there's a people to watch right here, all that green-eyed focus settles on Ru'ien. "Is it better or worse if I admit I was avoiding you?" It sounds a little like a line, so it's hard to tell if he's being serious or not. Especially while V'ro is looking curiously over the other greenrider's fashion choices.
So V’ro has good fashion tastes! Very Ru’ien approved. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short? People watching is a skill,” he remarks, as if imparting some sage wisdom. No, self-pitying is bad and the taller greenrider wouldn’t have allowed it! Now that he has his attention, Ru’ien’s smirk broadens, smugly pleased just before looking overly affronted. He even presses a hand over his chest! His —lack of— heart, V’ro! So (not) wounded. “Then you’re only missing out!” he counters, as he wipes away all that false wounded look in the blink of an eye to settle for more of a wry smirk. He’ll catch the curious look over too, amusement causing him to narrow his eyes as his smirk widens to a grin. “Like what you see?”
V'ro leans his chin against his hand, held up by a bent elbow on the table. Ru'ien earns a brief smile with this idea that people-watching is a skill. "Clearly," he agrees as far as missing out, but at least he won't go as far as looking wistful now, and he certainly isn't falling for any of this wounded routine. Green eyes flicker back up to the other rider's face and V'ro has his own version of a wry smile now. "Liking the view has never been any issue with you, my stunning friend." Indeed, it's highly unlikely that they made it through weyrlinghood with Ru'ien noticing V'ro watching him at some point or another.
“Such flattery!” Ru’ien quips right on back, teasing tilt to his tone and the wry smirk to match it. There’s a flush to his skin, but when has he ever blushed? It doesn’t seem to pass either — he’s not already drunk, is he? The glass by his hand is untouched. “View is rather fetching on my side too.” How about that, V’ro? There’s a pointed, slow once-over of his gaze to the younger greenrider. Very unlikely they made it through weyrlinghood without him noticing and now he’s just paying it back. He’ll lean forwards himself, his gaze now more fixated on V’ro’s, playfully amused. “Life treating you good?” he asks, in a way that suggests he’s genuinely curious but expects no in-depth answer.
Look, V'ro is going to smile about the idea that someone else thinks he's worth looking at because that's just the kind of person that V'ro is. But that doesn't mean he's not studying Ru'ien a little more closely for a few moments there. Probably taking a second to poke at his lifemate, too. "Life has been a bit of a dick," he offers, so very honest, no doubt in part because he's been drinking. "Suppose it's a good thing I like them, at least." Dicks, he means. Probably being alive, too, really. "What's your proddy ass on the hunt for tonight, hm?" Yes, he's caught on. He does a brief scan of the pickings, settling on a big, beefy blond to point out as he arches a curious brow at his fellow greenrider.
Ru’ien doesn’t bat an eye at being closely studied — he’s used to it. It doesn’t keep him from smiling a little more devilishly, though there’s a touch of something to V’ro admitting life has been less than stellar. Understanding? Maybe. But he lets it slide, in favour of crass humor and a low, rich throaty laugh. What is he hunting? “Dick.” Shameless, that admission! Is it true? Eh, on some level! But it’s difficult to say how, even as his eyes narrow and his grin broadens. He doesn’t miss that curious look or the beefy blond that is the source of it. Ru’ien appraises and while he gives a playfully dismissive scoff, his eyes flicker strangely. Not into blondes, is he? There’s a long suffering sigh, “Tavern’s not usually good for pickings. Entertaining, sometimes but…” Too innocent. Too clean. His fingers tap idly against his glass, but there’s a building restlessness in him. “That sucks that life’s been shit on your end.” No explanation sought, just acknowledgement to that earlier statement and sobered of much of the previous humor.
"It's fine," says V'ro with an actual, physical, dismissive wave of his hand as his chin lifts up off of it. "Not important." No explanation, just reassurance that there's no desire to talk about it right now. And maybe why he doesn't ask as much in return. Right now is all that matters. "So what are you here for?" is the question as he picks up his drink to make short work of the rest, fiddling with the glass between his fingers instead of putting it back down when he's done.
“Fair enough.” Ru’ien isn’t the least bit ruffled that V’ro dismisses that thread of conversation and he will even lift his glass in semblance of a toast. No hard feelings! And then it’s in the past, as he tips the drink to his lips. The glass has barely lowered before he’s grinning wryly, tongue running slightly over his lower lip. “Always my first stop,” he explains, settling himself comfortably. “Drinks are good here. Where I usually end up is hit and miss but drinks aren’t the main thing they sling.” Such crypticness and so much to be implied in it. “Kihatsuth puts me through hell,” Ru’ien adds with a long suffering sigh. “When she’s proddy. I’ve become creative with my outlets to burn off excess energy.” Simple as that! Or is it? He chuckles low, tilting his head as brows lightly furrow — considering. “So,” he drags it out a bit, that grin tempering to another of those smirks of his. “What’s your idea of a fun night?”
It's V'ro's turn to have something like sympathy flicker through his expression. He can't understand what it's like to have a proddy Kihatsuth in his head, of course, but he's certainly well aware of what it's like to have a proddy Koth there. And, frankly, he's probably got the better end of the stick with her. But creative coping strategies? He's listening. "Oh, well…" With the question turned on him, V'ro takes a moment to consider his answer versus how well he knows (or doesn't, as the case may be) the other greenrider. This is not his first drink, granted, so he's probably more honest than he might otherwise be when he admits, "Suppose it involves baiting big idiots into fights more often than it should. You know how some of those holdbred men can be after they've been drinking long enough." Because of course he finds somewhere outside of the Weyr for those particular fun nights.
Some other day, they can compare notes! Or lament (maybe more in Ru’ien’s case) their fates. Greenriders stick together, right? No one knows better than another having to undergo the same thing however-many-times a Turn! It’s true they don’t know each other well and Ru’ien has his secrets but for the most part he is unashamed in sharing most of his… quirks. “That’s a thing!?” he exclaims, lowly so that their conversation doesn’t drift but still has the desired YOU DON’T SAY! effect. “Never pegged you for that type! Picking fights. Ugh, I think I know which kind of holderbred men you mean,” His nose wrinkles slightly. “Not that they’re all bad.” But largely shuffled off with a dismissive flick of his hand. His glass is reclaimed, though he seems a little more fascinated chasing a few drops of condensation along the sides with a fingernail. Hello, starting texture-fixation~ “My newly discovered vice isn’t nearly as… exciting,” he admits, coyly.
Yes, well, V'ro isn't much of a fighter, so Ru'ien is not particularly far off the mark there. He's not going to go rambling on about details, granted, because he might be largely shameless, but not about everything. And he doesn't seem sure that the other greenrider isn't just making fun of him. "Well, now you definitely have to tell me what it is," encourages V'ro. That's just how these things go, after all. Show you mine, show me yours and all that.
Ru’ien isn’t making fun of V’ro in this instance — if anything, he’s impressed (and maybe distantly concerned) that the greenrider picks fights. It’s none of his business why, either! So he’s happy enough to allow the conversation to turn back to him and he’ll enjoy a little more of his drink; from over the rim, he’ll smirk. A playful, wry expression that sticks even as he leans forwards, head tilted downwards slightly. “Tell you? I dunno, V’ro.” he replies, letting a beat slip by to teasingly imply he’s NOT going to share. Only to set a different tone, another offer. “Might be better if I show you!”
If V'ro is bordering on looking a little indignant there when Ru'ien holds out on him, he can't really be blamed. But then all is well, and the younger greenrider is leaning forward, elbows on the table, so very interested. "You can show me anything you like, handsome," is probably not meant to sound so suggestive, admittedly. Let's be real, V'ro is kind of a high strung guy. He's always looking for new and improved outlets for that energy.
It wasn’t? Because it certainly sounds like it to Ru’ien’s ears and that could be half the reason why he leans his head back a bit and laughs! It’s not a mocking laugh, but something deeper, genuinely amused. When he sobers and fixes V’ro with his gaze, his eyes are bright and narrowed playfully to match the sudden mischievous tilt of his smirk. “Shall we, then?” he suggests, dragging it out, while he goes to finish the last of his drink. Then he moves smoothly to his feet, weight shifted heavily to one hip closest to the table’s edge as he waits on the younger greenrider’s answer. “While the night is young.”
"Shards, please," is V'ro's thought on partaking in this adventure. He's rising to his feet and on his way for the door. At least Ru'ien will get a nice view of just how tight V'ro's pants are in the younger greenrider's eagerness to be doing something that isn't moping around in a Weyr tavern. It's really kind of a low bar to entertain him right now, admittedly.
Ru’ien laughs again for V’ro’s enthusiasm and he doesn’t need to be told twice, following in the wake of the younger greenrider. Shamelessly, he will enjoy a glimpse of what’s offered by tight pants — he can’t be blamed here! He can appreciate a fine piece of a— art. “Come on!” Picking up his own restless energy, Ru’ien flashes V’ro a broad and wicked grin. “Follow me~” Low bar? Pfft. Does V’ro know Ru’ien at all? Where they go and end up eventually should come of know surprise, some semi-secretive hidey hole for those whose tastes don’t align fully with “proper” society. It comes as close to the ‘nightclub’ scene as Pern can get and likely a brand of their own. No names here, no ranks, no knots — just a blend of music and dance, drinks and human vice a-plenty! And with the energy a proddy-Ru’ien is only just beginning to drown in? It’s going to be a long, late night.