I Meant to Shoot, Not Kill

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.

Thea enters the almost-empty tavern muttering to herself, kicking chairs out of her way as she finds a seat. She flumps into one near the wall, not even attempting to be social and when the barkeep heads her way, she bites out, "Something strong. Anything." Then she buries her face in her hands. Anyone close enough would hear a soft frustrated growl, long and low coming from her.

Sigam arrives on Thea's heels, a canine ducking low and hovering close to his ankles, obviously not a fan of the sudden din in the tavern. The Dragonhealer nods to a greeting or two that are tossed his way, a smile skittering briefly over his lips, but his eyes are looking for one person in particular - the slumped figure in the corner. "C'mon, Sab," the man mutters to the canine before striking off through the tables and chairs, righting the few of them that haven't been straightened yet. On the way back to get Thea's drink, the 'keep shoots Sabhrilline a pointed look before jabbing a finger at Sigam. The point is clear - she makes a mess, he cleans it up and then some. Sig nods, but it is a hasty and dismissive gesture, his attention having already been turned back to his growling friend. "Can I sit?"

F'yr isn't too far off from where Thea flopped down, nestled in her own little corner of anti-social-ville. Though it's nothing alcoholic she's got at her table, satisfied with just a plate of tuber fries and a mug of cold klah. She was grumpily tossing bits to the orange firelizard perched on a chair nearby, up until the goldrider arrives and that sound comes out. Or maybe it's the canine, but Chu gives a startled squeak and goes flying to the safety of the brownrider's shoulder, who turns curiously in the direction of the two.

Thea hears Sigam. She does, but she doesn't look up. "I should have -shot- him!" She fumes quietly and obviously she's talking to Sigam, for she ignores everyone else in the tavern. The bartender arrives and plunks a glass in front of Thea, she reaches for it with a trembling hand without even asking what it is. The stuff slops over the edge, she reaches another hand to help steady the class. It's not much help, but she manages to sip, grimacing at the taste. Finally she peeks up at Sigam, "Why'd you get in the way? I could have solved it myself." It's almost a plea.

Sigam takes that as an invitation and slowly slides into the chair opposite Thea. The nearby F'yr is given an apologetic look and a mouthing of the word 'sorry,' for something tells him they're about to ruin her quiet piece of the tavern. "I don't think you should've," the Dragonhealer replies, dark gaze finally turning to stare heavily at Thea. "You wouldn't've been happy with the result tomorrow." He watches her drink in relative silence, a slight scowl on his face, but he makes no move to help or clean up after her. "Solved what, exactly?" Finally, he bites, curiosity winning over rationality as he flicks his fingers at the passing barkeep, ordering a light drink for himself. He may need it.

Thea lowers the cup on the table, just staring at the vile stuff. She's still shaking but not as much, the stuff works its effects quickly. "I hate alcohol." It's another growl. The voice behind her has her stiffening and turning around with a brief peer over her shoulder at the unfamiliar woman. A flick of her eyes to her shoulder knot, then, "I'd want the pleasure of shooting him myself, but thanks. And good enough to do it myself." She rubs at her face for a moment before eyeing the man across the table, "Oh yes, I would too be happy come next morning." She frowns, "Would've solved…?" There's another growl and a vague gesture towards the weyr in general, "He'd never win another flight of Seryth's of course."

The hitman offer, serious as it may have been, elicits a chuckle that Sigam is quick to hide under the pretense of a cough. Sab glances up at the noise, ears perking, but her gaze is quick to return to F'yr… or, more specifically, F'yr's fries. Every bite is traced by the canine that, while too polite to beg, waits with tense, quivering muscles for the brownrider to drop one. It has to happen some time, doesn't it? Doesn't it?! Oblivious to his canine's thoughts, Sigam arches an eyebrow at Thea and once again attempts logic. "If you hate it, why are you drinking it? Won't it just…" He pauses searching for the right word even as his eyes flick over her face, "…complicate things?" The Dragonhealer snorts at her next statement, head shaking as he looks away, fidgeting with his bandages. It's been a while since he's applied numbweed, and it's starting to itch and ache. "Happy. Right." He glances back up, eyes dark and scanning. "Do you really have such a vendetta against him?"

F'yr twirls one of the fries in her fingers. Perhaps she notices the canine's look, or maybe she's unintentionally torturing the creature. The weyrwoman's change of moods gets a frown and then a brow arched, but she shakes her head slowly. "Easier for someone that ain't a goldrider to make someone else disappear, ma'am." Yes, she's still serious, eyeing the woman up and down and looking doubtful of her skills. "You can't choose who catches your dragon or who your dragon catches, ma'am," says Fy with a roll of her eyes. Weyrling mating lesson 101. "Who's she talking about anyway?" she asks Sigam instead, the more mentally stable one at the moment obviously.

Thea lifts the glass takes another drought, eyeing Sigam deliberately, defiantly over the rim. The glass is once again set down. "Yes." She answers both questions in one. She's calmer now so she doesn't reach for it again. F'yr's comment doesn't even cause her to turn around, "Aware of that already, brownrider." After a pause, she admits to Sigam, "I didn't say I would -kill- him. Just…shoot him." She wipes her mouth with a napkin and spends some time wiping up the spilled stuff on the table, "Happy." There's a moment where her face flickers deep pain, "The chance for that left with my-" The sentence is left unfinished as he asks about vendettas. "I cannot bear the thought of X'hil. Again." She doesn't say why, instead she growls, "He's good at running from things that scare him." Her lip curls, "His mother…ovines." She rolls her eyes. "He would have agreed to leave if you hadn't stepped in front of me." She actually pouts.

A guttural little whine sounds from the general direction of Sab, and her claws do click with anticipation as she shifts her feet, but the canine makes no move towards or away from F'yr. Masochistic dog. "Splendid," Sigam comments, affecting an unimpressed look. Her rather flippant remark for F'yr causes him to grimace as he leans forwards, voice low, "And after you shot him, just what were you planning to do? Hm?" Eyebrows raise as he leans back, lips pursing. His words get no louder. "Oh, so you're going to give up your happiness because of some- some-" A noise that is part disgust, part sadness comes out of the Dragonhealer's throat instead of words. "X'hil," is his reply towards F'yr, which is accompanied by a shrug, as if to say he doesn't quite understand it himself. Thea explains a second later, in a manner of speaking, but it's an answer he's not about to accept. "It doesn't have to be X'hil. He already expressed his willingness to leave the weyr, and you can surely find a…" His words halt again, and his jaw visibly bulges as he clenches his teeth. Glad for a change of subject, he shrugs. "Next time, I won't interfere. I just thought…" Hesitation. "Well. You said before that no one holds you responsible for things when you're proddy, but… I figured I might save you the trouble anyways." The words grow steadily quieter and more mumbled as he goes along and, feeling like a boy again, Sigam sort of ducks over his drink and quiets down for a minute.

"Wasn't sure if you did, goldrider," F'yr answers dryly back. She pops a few fries into her mouth, while the next few go to the firelizard waiting on her shoulder who snap it up happily. Her whirling eyes stare back at Sab now that the dog isn't scarily walking around or something like that. As Sigam leans forward, so does she, and her hanging fry actually manages to break off with half of it falling to the floor possibly through Sab's strong will. "X'hil. Got it. I'll be keeping that name in mind and all that," she says as she taps her head. "And I tried that before, doesn't work much leaving the Weyr. Ain't gonna happen, I bet."

Thea doesn't speak for a long time, when she does all she can say is, "I don't expect you to understand." She shrugs, then lifts her hands to rub both temples, his sense making more sense then hers, but she gives him her best at-the-moment logic she can, although it's an irritable answer, "I dunno, maybe make him hate me so much he'd leave whenever Seryth…" She shakes her head, then he is making that sound of disgust and her eyes flash, "Don't you be making that sound in reference to my Kav. He was -everything- to me!" The flare is brief and she quiets, "No you did the right thing, thanks. He can keep my crossbow, too." It's a tired and defeated sound to her voice, "I suppose… I really don't care…anymore." The brownrider is ignored completely. She flashes a look of pure apology to Sigam, rises and walks out of the Tavern.

A pink tongue sneaks out to lick her chops, but still Sab doesn't move. Maybe, just once, she looks at the firelizard on F'yr's shoulder, but that's likely only when a piece of tuber is given to the- WHAT WAS THAT?! Though she'll eventually grow into a graceful herding dog, for now, Sabhrilline is all stumbling puppy as she skitters across the wooden floor and snaps up the chunk of fry. Expectant eyes travel upwards, alighting on the other half of her prize. It will be hers! "Sab." Or maybe not, as the growled name brings the pup right back to Sigam's heels. "Sorry, has she been watching you this whole time? Don't beg, pup." Sigam ruffles her ears, and his face almost fades into something pleasant. "I guess… in some way I get that. But still, knock him out with fellis juice or something." A low laugh nearly makes it out of his chest, but it is cut off quickly. "I didn't mean it to be- that was aimed at me for. Shards, woman, you're giving /me/ a headache." The 'healer presses fingers to his temples, but his head is shaking. "Not so sure that I did." He doesn't say another word, and doesn't move as she leaves. He just sits like that for a long moment, hardly breathing before, finally, his body relaxes into something other than hostility. "Sorry about all of that. I wish she'd gone somewhere more private," he says to F'yr, giving her an apologetic grin. "Fun stuff."

F'yr's tiny body is fast! She's got reflexes like a cat! But it's only to pull her legs away from the rushing canine and squeal involuntarily, making her blush for a moment at the noise she emits. Her legs go back down, though, when the dog retreats, and she giggles a bit. "She's cute," offers Fy, trying her best to compose herself. Throat clearing, grumpy expression back in place, though she does toss the other half of the fry within reach of the puppy. She's a rebel, too. Her blue eyes watch Thea, curious and amused, before shaking his head as well sa she goes off. "Proddy riders, they're always crazy. Nothing you can do 'bout it," she says to Sigam with a sympathetic look. "Though now I got some gossip to put some marks on this X'hil catching her queen. Bet he will. Make some marks since I can't do anything else, now."

Despite his awful mood, Sigam chuckles at F'yr's reaction, eyes lighting up with the first spark of happiness he's shown the whole night. "Cute, but a nuisance," the Dragonhealer says through a smile, watching as a visibly torn puppy tries to obey her master and stay close to him, but eat the fry at the same time. The result has her stretching her neck across the floor, tongue barely lapping at the edge of the tuber wedge before Sig rolls his eyes heavenwards. "Oh, go ahead." Chomp! Frantic tail wag! Joy of all joys! "I wish everyone were so easy to please," the man comments as he takes a swig of his forgotten drink, one hand propping up his chin. "Not crazy," he says, tone dropping into the defensive range. "Just… out of control." His eyes flick back up to meet Fy's and he shrugs. "I wouldn't count my eggs before they hatch, but you may be onto something. I just hope the poor guy isn't actually scared off. She didn't mean anything by it." A sigh.

"I'd be too if I was being starved," says F'yr, though she obviously she means it as a joke. She's smirking at the show of the dog, and tosses another fry before she's told to go back and stay by her master. "Yeah, the world made up of loveable canines all without a care. That'd be a nice day." She chomps her own fries again as she watches Sigam, one blonde brow arching. "I'd still call that crazy. Out of control. Same thing. Ain't normal when they go all proddy in the head, especially with crazy goldriders. None of 'em I've ever met are right in the head. Trust me, I'm from Ista." She pats at a spot on her jacket, the clink of marks heard as they're hit together. "The guy ain't gonna have time to run. Like I said, I tried that. If the bronze wants to chase, he's gonna chase, and if I'm able to make a few extra marks out of it…" She shrugs.

"Ha! Starved, as if," Sigam returns with a laugh, head shaking briskly. "The beast eats more than I do on any given day, I'd be willing to bet." Sab looks up from her second whole fry (omg!) in an innocent fashion, as if to say, 'who, me? nahhhhh.' The look earns a sharp snort from the man. "A nice day, but boring, perhaps." He shrugs, tearing himself away from such unrealistic fantasies. "I still say there's a difference," the Dragonhealer argues, swirling his drink in its mug before drinking again. "Dragonless riders? Now those I might consider crazy, even if a few can make recoveries over time. Proddy, however…" He sighs. "It's not their faults, if they have a negative reaction to their dragon's state of mind. I knew a greenie that did nothing but obsessively clean when she was proddy - her whole weyr, and then any one else's whom she suspected of being remotely untidy, whether they asked for it or not. Not everyone can be so… helpful," he says, trying to choose a tactful word. "I'm Istan too. From the hold," he explains, eyeing F'yr in a new sort of light. "I never met any of the weyrwomen there, so I suppose I cannot judge." He gives a small bark of a laugh. "Well, I suppose if he wins, then all power to him. Thea wouldn't do anything stupid. She just likes to think she would."

F'yr nods her head slowly in agreement. "Yeah, definitely boring. No fun at all, and I know I can't live in a world that's no fun at the end." Her apologies to the dog, though, as she smiles briefly down at her. Her face then falls at the mention of dragonless riders, seeing as she herself has a dragon that couldn't even begin to fly at the moment. It's a sore spot for the brownrider, and she stares at the tabletop and picks at a splinter as she just bobs her head. "Well, still act crazy. Mom, too, is a greenrider. Crazy, normally, but out of her mind when she's proddy. Not that I stick 'round, 'course, but I hear she cut off a man's finger once that touched her 'fore her dragon was caught." Siigh. Crazy mothers. She giggles again and gives another shoulder-shrug. "Queens don't go to the Hold much I guess. Lucky you. They're all nuts there. The last Weyrwoman, she used to beat up on her Weyrleader. I guess the last one might have deserved it, though." And then there's a brief smirk, another giggle. "It's just a flight at the end. Not like I enjoyed 'em any more or less myself."

"Ah, I'd imagine it'd be fun, but only 'cause we'd forgotten what diversity was like." Sigam presents the converse of the idea, but seems to be in agreement with F'yr, head nodding slowly. He doesn't catch her upset expression at first - he's glanced down at Sab as the canine's tail thumps pleasantly - but when he does, he immediately looks chagrined. It doesn't take much for the Dragonhealer to realize what's on her mind. "Ah, sorry. Uhm. How is Zaruath? Haven't seen him much, so I assumed K'vin or someone else's taking care of him." The words come out choppy and awkward as Sigam ducks his head and runs a finger about the rim of his mug. "She really did that?" The man chuckles a bit, head shaking. "Poor guy. Wonder if it was really deserved." He doesn't specify which of the women he's talking about - her mom or the weyrwoman - but in the end, one can only suppose that it doesn't matter, for it applies to both. "Anyways, I didn't pay attention if they did visit, so I'll have to take your word for it. I was resolved to life as a Seacrafter and couldn't give a shard until I was told my dah wasn't really my dah. That's likely the only reason I'm at a weyr right now instead of out at sea." He smiles crookedly and shrugs. "Yeah. You're right. I guess I'll just be glad when it's over. Easier to deal with the aftermath than the events leading up."

F'yr shakes her head slowly after being quiet for a moment. "Nah, once they let us out it's pretty much been taking care of him and coming in for checkups. Just told me he's gotta heal, and his wing's gonna take a sharding long time to do so, too." She sighs, more heavier than the last times she's done so, and finally flops her head back down into her hand. "Like I said, crazy. I love my Zaru, and won't trade him for the world. Mom was glad I didn't impress a female too, of course." She purses her lips thoughtfully and eyes Sigam as if she wasn't really paying attention to the young man before. "Don't see why that's kept you from the sea, but that must not have been nice to hear I suppose. I left Telgar where I grew up after Dad died, but I guess that's a bit different." Another silent pause and then she cracks a smirk. "What, you ain't jealous of those flying? Or just liked the goldrider and hate seeing her this way? Only met her once 'fore, but I suppose she /was/ pretty different."

Sigam, too, is quiet, but his head is rocking up and down in an agreeing gesture. "I'm sure it's hard for him, not being able to fly, but being grounded really is the best thing for him. Time heals all wounds." The idiom is presented with a wry twist of his lips and a heavy dose of sarcasm that he doesn't seem up to explaining. "Yeah, it's definitely not a process I'd jump up and down, hand waving to experience, but… It is what it is. Not like we can change that, eh?" He smiles a bit and tosses a wink. "It wasn't the best news, but it opened up doors I hadn't considered before. My real father was a healer, something I hadn't considered, but it made sense in the end. Being at sea was almost… boring," he explains, eyes becoming a bit distant. "Like, there wasn't enough incoming information and stimuli to keep me interested, yanno? But healing, especially dragonhealing for me… There's always something new to learn." His eyebrows perk a bit with interest, head tilting a bit to one side. "You were born at Telgar? Interesting. I've heard mixed notes, some good things, some bad, but never got the chance to visit." Again, Sigam gives a bark of a laugh, head shaking. "Jealous? Shards, no. All the mental trauma, occasional injuries. I guess it's worth it eventually, but." His gaze shifts to one side. "Thea's my friend. Seeing her upset it… daunting. Besides, taking care of the medical aspects is simple, easy… logical." He smirks too, but for different reasons, surely.

F'yr takes a fry into her hands, tearing it to little shreds this one and letting it drop onto the table. "I think it's harder on me. He's only upset he can't fly his green for awhile if she goes proddy." There's a roll of her eyes to that. She smirks wryly listening to that common phrase, her shoulders lifting up helplessly together this time. "Well, I don't blame you for that at the end," she says, in regards to the sea that is after he explains. "Never had a thing for it myself. I mean, you're /stuck/ there. And fishing? It's all 'bout… sitting there. Water, nothing exciting, can't even stab at the fish." Ah, there it is. The brownrider might just be as knife-happy as her mother. "Telgar born and raised, really. It's /cold/," is all she says with a smirk. And then there's a nervous little giggle. "Nah, I meant jealous of the one that's likely to catch her queen in the mating flight and— well, nevermind, she's a friend you say." But her face is suddenly lifting towards the exit, and she shakes her head back to Sigam as she gets up from her seat, tossing a mark onto the table. "It was nice chatting- ah… uh, the name's F'yr," she finally introduces. "But you probably know that. Zaru's being a grouch and calling."

"Poor, poor Zaruath," Sigam murmurs, a smile on his face going along with her eyeroll. "At least he's not all down in the dumps about it." Trying to find the silver lining in a raincloud, that's our Sig. "Fishing," he drawls, not at all happily, "is quite possibly the most boring and deplorable thing I've ever had to endure. Picking needlethorns is more thrilling." At least they're in agreement over something! "I don't mind the cold," quoths the southerner, born and raised, but he seems adamant of the fact. "At least in minor doses. Don't think I could live in it for years, though." His nose wrinkles at the thought, an expression that only deepens with the brownrider's next words. "Of course I'm jealous," the Dragonhealer says after a pause, voice a bit lower than it was before. "But that's unfair - for everyone involved." As F'yr rises, so does he, a half-hearted smile curving the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, it was. I'm Sigam," he returns, nodding. "I knew, but a proper introduction is still nice. Give him my regards, and have a good night." He drops his own payment onto the table, making sure there's enough to cover Thea's drink, too, before he makes his winding way out of the tavern, Sabhrilline's claws clicking along behind him as she follows.

F'yr's only response to her dragon not being in the dump is a snort. She's obviously been grumpy and depressed enough for the both of them anyway. There's definitely an admiring look from the brownie as she listens, finally finding someone sharing her sentiments. "Exactly," she says. Her brow arches and she mentally stows that bit of gossip into her mind. She's got to do /something/ with her time, afterall. "I see," is what she says, and then waves her hand in return as she starts to turn, calling out a nicer "Good night" over her shoulder at him as she leaves first.

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