Never Have I Ever

This is a part of Sig's week-long turnday vacation on a deserted island off Eastern Weyr. It is PG-13 for language, you've been warned.

Eastern Weyr - Deserted Island

When most people say 'deserted island', they don't exactly mean 'Island that was inhabited at one point in time'. But this time, this Island is…deserted. The wreckage of a turns-old shipwreck litters the beach, and inland there are tents, hastily-abandoned things strewn about haphazardly. The island itself is roughly two miles long and one wide, with a freshwater spring running from a low ridge that splits the small spit of land in two. The creek isn't much, but it seems to sustain a small contingent of wildlife, the chirping of avians and other animals almost ever-present. The beach seems to have been left free of habitation — the smart thing to do, given the fact that the beach is rather windy and rocky, in some places. The only real 'beach' on the island is about a quarter of a mile long, and sports a several-dragonlength spit of sand that isn't covered in rocks. The greenery surrounds on three sides, lush and vibrant, and scented heavily of some sort of pretty flower or other. Overall, while eerie, it's not a bad place to spend a night or five — if you can ignore the empty tents inland in the jungle.

The sun has long set on this island, but that doesn't deter the trio of dragons that appear overhead. First to land is the smallest, who nearly blends into the growing twilight, eyes shining brightly. He lands in a small clearing just off of the beach, then ambles off to the sun-warmed rocks that make up the majority of the coastline, sprawling across several. R'iahn, having grabbed the pair of packs that were stuck to the straps and set them down, eyeing his companions with amusement. "Might want to not explore the rest until morning. The tents are a little weird. No worries though, nobody's lived here since the group of…map-makers or something, dunno really…got rescued." He grumbles absently, sifting through the packs — and having the decency to look a little bit alarmed. "I don't have the rum. Or bourbon. Where did I put it?" The man wonders aloud, dangerously close to a whine as he promptly stalks off into the jungle, muttering something about firewood.

The second, a nebula-licked green, lands only long enough to dump one of her riders, O'rly giving them a devious salute before pointing one finger dramatically at R'iahn. "You take care of your flits. I only signed up for child duty," she says, giving Sigam time enough to slide off and fetch his stuff off her back before Sanldoth pumps her wings in a flurry of sand. Woosh, woosh, blink, and the second she's high enough, the dragon is gone between. "I don't intend on going anywhere," the Dragonhealer says, still a little put out by Thea's sudden reticent behavior. The ride over helped bolster his spirits, but he still lets out a grateful sigh as he melts bonelessly onto the sand. "Lory gave it to me already. If you meant the gifts," Sigam says, lazily rolling his eyes up to where he's dropped his pack and the beat up old guitar he insisted on bringing. "I think she kept the Benden though." Chuckling low, Sig shakes his head. "What'd you do without her, yeah?"

Zaruath normally might blend in well with the darkened skies, except the fact that he's had to pop out of :between: so low off the ground that he really just drops right to the sand in a near-tumble. After a brief little run in with the Dragonhealer and refusing to join the crowded festivities back in Xanadu, F'yr finally has dared to take her first trip :between: with her lifemate in a very long time. Insert Dragonhealer scolding here. She just heard there was a trip involved, there was the image, and she jumped without thinking much. And probably without giving fair warning to the others that she was tagging along. At least the brown looks healthy, standing tall with his tired wings outstretched as F'yr hops down from his back, having been carrying her trusty camping bag that hasn't left her side much since her weyrbarn went down. "Now where the shards is /this/ place at?" she calls out, looking around with very obvious interest, even if there wasn't much to see until the sun was up.

"Don't let Alzanbri stay up past…" Riah is shouting after O'rly, but it's quite too late. Cue a longsuffering grumble from R'iahn, who runs a hand through growing black hair and eyes Sigam warily, now. "Figure we'll start with the bourbon. It's a good one. Good year." He growls absently as he trudges back into the clearing with an armfull of wood, quickly striding out to the sand with it — no sense in there being *too* much of a chance of burning the whole island down. While they're drunk. Which is the invariable end of the evening, of course! "Course she kept the Benden. I didn't spend a whole shardin' weeks' pay to let it go to waste when we forget our names." Determined, isn't he? The bluerider laughs, then, dropping the wood and promptly dragging a match out of his pocket, shaking his head. "Not much, my friend. Not much." The match is struck and eventually he manages to get the haphazard pile of sticks to catch on fire — quite a change from what he might usually do, but he's a busy man, damnit! "Not far off of Eastern. Day's sail from the mainland. Rescued a group of idiots from it once. Damn near got themselves killed. But I figured it was a pretty little place to spend a few nights." He chuckles, then glances at Zarauth, eyes narrowing faintly. "He didn't tear anything, did he?" Grumbled absently by the bluerider, who only pauses his almost-frantic camp-setting-up to grin sheepishly. "Oh. Did I mention? R'iahn. Jaesriuth's."

"Right," Sigam says with a grunt, rolling towards his pack lazily without really getting up. "Bourbon… bourbon… Here we go." The bottle is withdrawn at last and uncorked before Sigam takes a long draw. "Mmhm. You did well. I owe you." Rolling to his feet, the Dragonhealer trots to where R'iahn is setting up the fire, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, good point. She knows us too well." The bottle is spiked into the sand at the bluerider's feet, spine straightening when Zaruath comes in for a less-than-spectacular landing. "Hey, good, he made it. Wasn't entirely sure you were even going to come, what with his wing…" Sigam trots to the brown's side, giving him a concerned once over even as he extends one arm in an offer to take F'yr's bag. "Oh, so you have been here before. I was beginning to worry you'd just jumped to some random beach you'd seen once upon a time," Sigam rags on Riah with a smirk. "You forget, you're a Dragonhealer now too. Congrats on that, by the by," Sig adds before aiming a lopsided grin at Fy. "He decided if he can't have me, he might as well do his own healing. Pissant."

F'yr glances up briefly in the direction that the greenrider disappeared off to, looking back down towards the guys instead with a sheepish grin. "Nah, not even a sprained muscle. He can fly!" She might just sound a little defensive about that, turning her chin back over towards her dragon. If flying is what his hopping can be called. "Not come and miss out on—" Her blue eyes land on the booze and she just shakes her head, still grinning, and then shoulders her pack up on her back when a defiant chin lifted at Sigam. "You weren't lying 'bout the beach and the bottle." She doesn't really have to go far with the heavy pack, a very well practiced waddle as she aims for the fire. Oooh, fire. It's easy to see how it entrances the short teen, like a moth to light. "Um, what?" Blue eyes blink away from the flames towards the bluerider and dragonhealer and then back again, letting go of her bag then. "Can't have you? Ah, well, congrats as well," she says with a giggle. "And well met. F'yr and that grumpy thing back there is supposed to be my Zaruath." Said grumpy thing is in fact not quite as grumpy at the moment, happy to be in the dark and somewhere far far away.

R'iahn makes a vague noise that's probably classified as a grunt, too, lips twitching into a smirk. "You bet your ass it is. You don't owe me. It's your turnday, and I intend to drink some too." This is growled pleasantly, as he absently kicks out his bed-roll, then turns to amble down the beach to Jaesriuth, extracting the entirety of the dragon's straps and tossing them carefully onto the ground. They've endured worse! He takes off a smaller bag before he does, though, glancing inside with a nod. "Good. Didn't forget the food, 'least. Lory? Well, yeah. She's been your accomplice for how many turns now?" The man snorts. "I swear, between them and my fool dragon, I'm going to die young. I hear yours is out to get you, too." Remarked conversationally for F'yr. "What'd he manage to do to his wing?" There is a snort and nosewrinkle for Sigam. "Faranth, /thanks/, Sigam. Could've saved me the trouble, but nooo." There's no ire in his voice, though, as he grins at F'yr's entranced-by-the-fire-ness. "He's the only one Jaesriuth bothers with. And we spend more time in the dragonhealing school than anywhere else, anyways. Unluckiest lucky dragon I've ever met in my damn lufe." Mutter mutter mutter. "Well met, F'yr. Hope you don't mind sleeping outside. I didn't bring a tent. Unless you wanna sleep in one of /those/." A vague point inland, and a snort.
or life.

"Of all the things I bet, my ass isn't one of them. But whatever, you'd better pull your weight," Sigam drawls with a chuckle. "I've lost track of the turns, Riah. It's not worth the headache to keep up with you old-farts." Even though he's many feet away from the bluerider, Sig ducks, likely trying to hide behind F'yr. Haha. Haaa. "Well, you know, it was sort of slap-dash situation. I didn't even know where we were going," Sigam's saying even as he follows her gaze, mouth curling into a lazy smile. "Would I lie to you? I said I was gonna get wasted out of my mind on a beach, and I intend to do just that." The defiant act is met with a roll of the eyes, the man making a point of jogging past her back to his stuff, where he takes a purposeful tumble into the sand. Some of it kicks up over his pack, out of which an orange and green-licked bronze head pokes. "Hey, you, go back to sleep. It's comfy in there." The guitar is hauled up and over his lap along with the second bottle, figuring he'll bother with his bedroll later. Or not. Depends on how bad he actually gets. "Fy's a toughie. She can handle a little open air, yeah?" A wide smile's given to the brownrider in question.

"What you didn't say was that it was your turnday," says F'yr, more as a passing comment. She really should have picked up on it during the festival, though likely the crowd and noise was enough for her to have missed that. "Do you expect me to get you a present, too?" She looks over her shoulder at him ducking with a snicker. "'Course you could've been lying." Her bag sounds heavy, probably full with everything that she owns, but she doesn't pull anything out of it. In fact, she sits right down on top of it with a giggle up to R'iahn. "Out to get me? I guess that's a way of putting it. We crashed while fighting a fire over half a turn back and he crushed his wing completely. I think my Zaru's good competition for yours in being the unluckiest." She stretches her arms wide and laughs at the bluerider's words. "Me? Mind? Shells no! I spend more nights sleeping just like this than I've ever spent sleeping in a bed. Open air ain't the only thing that I can handle." She raises her brows at the two men. Roughing it out in the wild with boys? It's the booze that her eyes focus on, lips licked automatically be she's quick to dart her eyes away. Tempting.

R'iahn's eyes flick to Sigam, and he assumes a sardonic expression, laughing faintly. "Fine." He snorts, then rolls his eyes at the ducking and running, lifting an eyebrow. "You're hiding behind a /girl/, Sigam." Is drawled with a snort, as he absently throws himself on his bed-pad, stretching legs out in front of him and grunting vaguely. From within his discarded riding jacket, there's the faint sound of arguing — or rather one high pitched voice and then a soft *thud*, then silence. Riah ignores it cheerfully. "Are you gonna pass the bottle, or am I going to have to take it?" Growled absently for the turnday boy, thoroughly ungracious as he is. "Too quiet, that one is." Is remarked for F'yr with a smirk. "I only remember because he's after me." Just, you know. A few turns younger. Shhhh. But then he's eyeing the young woman with speculative respect, inclining his head. There's a brief flash of darkened eyes, and he clears his throat faintly, letting a little smirk uncurl. "Ah." At first that's it, before he shakes his head and offers something that's closer to a smile. "Yes. That's…never a good one." Tactfully, but he's peering towards where he last saw the dragon, smile not fading. "Glad he's looking up. Jaesriuth managed to break a few bones in his a few months ago, but it wasn't quite — that bad. Never around any fires though." And fires are new and excitingly dangerous! He should be glad he's never been too close to one. Cough. "Good." Next, with another smirk, and pointed glare at Sigam. "Pass the girl the bourbon, then, man!"

"Excuse me," Sigam intones, eyebrows raising, "but this happens to be a very scary girl. She could kick your pansy ass right back to Ierne." He snorts. "I shoved the bourbon into the sand next to you minutes ago, yeh blind old wher." This is accompanied by a lazy smile for F'yr as the guitar is pulled onto his lap proper, fingers idly making tones without anything making sense. "I don't tend to tell many people that it's my turnday for that exact reason. I don't want presents." A pause, and a subtle movement of the rum closer to himself. "Well, I don't want most presents. I just want the company and a warm fire, yeah?" A more organized set of chords is fiddled with. "Nah, when it comes to booze, I rarely lie," the Dragonhealer nearly purrs, looking up from his instrument at the mention of handling things. "Is that so. Intriguing." More purring, and then a nod towards Fy. "Bourbon or rum. Pick your poison. If you can handle all that, you can handle some good old alchy too." That said, he bites the cork right out of his rum, pitooey-ing the thing nowhere in particular before taking a swig. "You know, we mentioned it the other night, but… we really should play Never Have I Ever." Mischief dances in Sigam's eyes.

Uh oh. R'iahn was just about to get one of the worse glares of his life. A Fy-Glare(tm). That is, until the beast is sated after hearing Sigam's words and the brownrider decides to puff up a little, looking taller (if that's possible) and her face splitting into a grin. "Damn right I can, so you better watch it." But she gives the bluerider a teasing tongue-out and then a giggle. There's the sound of sand shuffling and wings being repositioned from nearby as Zaruath tries to look inconspicuous in moving closer to listen to the guitar playing. "Well, the present doesn't have to be anything fancy. I'll kill you a tunnelsnake for dinner tonight. I'm sure I got some good spices or something in my bad. How's that sound?" All big grins to Sigam at her marvelous gift idea. Don't break her heart. The purring gets raised brows and she just nods her head slowly in confirmation even as her eyes trail back down to the bottles. "Um… Dunno. I guess maybe I shouldn't…" Her eyes flicker from one man to the other, but her weakness is obviously there. She takes a moment to distract herself with the older dragonhealer, head bobbing. "They're nasty, wing problems. Sucks that they can't fly and all… And then the burns. But we're /both/ a tough pair." And then her eyes slide back to the rum bottle Sigam's drinking from and she suddenly perks. "A game!" Yes, pass the alcohol, Fy's in.

R'iahn's eyebrows lift all the way into his mussed-up hair, as he eyes first Sigam and then Fy, then shakes his head wearily. "I'm getting old." Mournfully muttered from his vantage point, before the bourbon is eyed. O hai. "Oh. Well, I was busy being useful." This is muttered fondly, with a snort and roll of his eyes for the younger man. "Unlike you." You know, never mind that he's the turnday-one. The guitar has his eyes narrowing, and a little snort offered, lips quirking into a rueful grin. "You took up guitar? Shells. Not like you don't already do too sharding much." And then he's looking up at F'yr with a little grin for her Fy-Glare(tm) — he is a man of many years, has endured a Weyrmate who rivaled himself (not to mention O'rly) for sarcastic, caustic humor and temper, has a son who takes after his dragon more than himself, and a dragon who regularly tries to kill him. Still, he has the grace to offer what might /maybe/ be a somewhat-abashed look, rolling his eyes and muttering something along the lines of 'All the damn same, all of 'em' with a grin. The girl's next words get a quickly-schooled look of alarm, and broad grin for Sigam. "Excellent. Sounds like a plan." And he won't let her be distracted! Nope! He's a good influence, after all; won't let her go get herself drowned or anything while she's drinking. Of course. "Shouldn't what? How are we going to play I've never if you don't drink?" There's a lazy, languid grin for her, as he takes a sip of the bourbon and wiggles it up at her. "Good luck stayin' that way, F'yr. Now. Sit down and drink. We can eat later." Grin! Right. Later. You know, when they wake up?

Sigam groans and rolls his eyes great big for R'iahn. "Get over yourself. You're not old 'til you pass up K'vin." Drink. "Then, you're old." Sig chuckles along with F'yr's giggle, finger waggling dramatically over at Riah as he takes another large mouthful of rum. "Yeah, see! That isn't something to mess with." The man takes up the playing again after a moment, head tilting back against his own bag while he pretends to ponder her offer. "Hmmh. Oh, okayyy. If you insist. But nothing else but that, Fy." One lazy eye peeks over at Riah. "The guitar calms me down. It's a fun skill. Zaru enjoys it too." Don't think he didn't notice the not-so-subtle wriggling back there! "Yes!" Triumph overcomes Sigam's brief pout at her unsure answer, body arching up so the guitar shifts down onto his knees even as he passes the bottle towards F'yr. "Alright, game goes that the speaker gives a phrase beginning with 'Never Have I Ever…' If you /have/ done it, you drink. If you haven't, you don't. The object is to get drunk as soon as possible." A sideways smirk for the bluerider. "And unlike O'rly's game, you may say 'Never Have I Ever' for something you /have/ done, but you have to drink. So!" He pauses for an instant, considering before glancing over at R'iahn deviously. "Never have I ever shoved someone off a cliff." Nevermind that it was cliff/diving/. It still counted.

F'yr is preening, or at least mentally preening with the smug look on her face. Even if it was faked, she still seems happy by R'iahn's reaction. "Old. I've seen old. Plenty of people out there that are /way/ old." The wriggling nearby stops at Sigam's comment, but Fy pipes up with a snicker. "Zaru definitely likes it." Everyone ignore the growl coming from the darkness and the glaring pair of draconic eyes. Fy leans her little body over, almost toppling off her bag as she snatches the bottle with her good hand. She gives it a big sniff, looking back and forth still at the two men. "I've drank before. Plenty!" She just doesn't seem to be implying that she drinks /now/. But thens he makes up her mind, taking a tentative gulp that makes her face screw up a moment. "But I wanna play." And then all eyes are on Sigam as he explains, big toothy grin on her face. She takes a moment to think it over, but doesn't raise the bottle to her lips at his 'never have I ever'. She scoots down to the sand, though, so that she's close and easier for the bottle to be passed back and forth. "Can I say one? Never have I ever… gotten kicked by a runner." Boring, probably, but it took a long enough pause.

R'iahn makes beady eyes at Sigam, rolling his and muttering darkly to himself for a moment. "Ain't /that/ far from him." He eventually mourns, feet kicking out in front of him, peering up at the endless expanse of stars speculatively. But no — no time for any mischief with that insane dragon of his. He's got a game to play. Bourbon to drink. Rum! Rum to drink! "Jae just likes to get himself in trouble." He laughs, watching Fy get the bourbon with a faint smirk. But she manages to, and then there's a respectful tip of her head. Sigam's explanation of the game that he hasn't played in turns gets a wistful grin, memory of past games coming through with a snort. The first one, though, has him scowling fiercely, jabbing a finger towards Sigam, mouth opening. But — no. No, he just can't find anything to say. So he grumbles and takes a bottle, taking a long drink. "Hrmph." Mutter. "Sure." Next, to F'yr, before his eyebrows go up and he snorts. "Oh, too many times. Avoided the nasty things since then, too." Going with a traders' caravan for the lose! After his drink, he passes the bottle back around, eyes narrowing as he stares off into space. Finally, eyes brighten, and he grins fiendishly. "Never have I ever gotten drunk and got a tattoo." Well, it's /one/ thing he never did do while drunk, at least. Ahem.

"You got another thirty years, my friend," Sigam says, finger waggling at R'iahn. So… shh." Eloquent, isn't he? More like uncaring and knowing any real logic he could offer would only be thwarted by the bluerider with some inane psychobabble of half-truth, half-excuse. "Yes, well, I'm glad Zaru likes my playing. It gives me a warm, happy feeling inside to be able to do something nice for him." Sig's part needling and part truthful, eyes bright as he peers towards the whirling gaze of the brown shadow. Fingers dance in a slow cadence over the strings again, experimentally. "Yes, R'iahn? Something you'd like to share with the class?," Sigam asks, far too amused by the pointed finger in his direction. When the man only drinks, Sig looks triumphant, taking the bottle from him. "Actually… I've never gotten kicked by a runner. Never rode one either. That's sad," Sigam notes in a voice comprised of surprise and disappointment. "Would like to try once, though, before I get too old to learn new tri…cks." The Dragonhealer's eyes have narrowed over at Riah. "Bastard." The bottle gets tilted to his lips quickly, defiantly, wincing a bit before growling out, "Never have I ever exploded someone's latrine." He's still glaring at R'iahn, but slowly, his eyes shift over to F'yr, smirk growing.

F'yr rolls her eyes, though it's likely something that's passing silently between her and her lifemate, if the growling in the shadows implies anything. "Keep saying that and he might prove he hates you, or something. But he's just being stupid," says Fy with a giggle at Sigam, glancing over her shoulder towards those whirling eyes and sticking her tongue out. They make such a loving pair! But the growling stops, probably in favor of listening to the music. F'yr is looking between the men, laughing at their inside jokes even if she doesn't know anything. And then her eyes lock onto Sigam as he drinks. "You have a /tattoo/?" Now that makes her brows go up and another giggle to escape. "I wanna see." So far she looks smug she hasn't taken a drink, even if the goal was to get drunk, but the she huffs, sits back, and takes a swig of the bottle. "Never have I ever worn a man-skirt— Shells, real skirts don't count, right?" She's almost poised to drink, but still doesn't even go for it. If she doesn't have to… Her eyes are on Sigam though.

R'iahn's eyebrows lift, and here he smirks, pridefully. "Well, I don't have to worry about that. Fool dragon'll get my killed before /then/, surely." The man laughs, and toasts to this. The whirring eyes in the dark are smirked towards. "Sigam, you're going to get yourself eaten." Noted pleasantly for his friend, with a wink for Zaru and F'yr. But then he's smirking broadly again at Sigam's exasperation, waggling his eyebrows at F'yr. "I bet you can make 'im show you. It's a nice tattoo. And he's a damn peacock, ain't he?" The old Terran word rolls easily, as he smirks at the other dragonhealer. The next broadens his smirk, and he takes a self-congratulating drink. "She deserved it." Is all he says, cheerfully, before lifting an eyebrow at F'yr. "I say it counts." His tone is teasing, before he levels Sigam with a single lifted eyebrow. "/Man/ /skirts/, Sigam? There something you aren't tellin' me, boy?"

"He probably will," Sigam agrees in false glumness, smiling wide. "I probably will get eaten by Zaru one of these days… But then what would he do without his personal serendades? He'd have to go clear to Harper Hall." Sigam returns the brownrider's giggle with a low laugh of his own, head shaking as he humors the brown with more music. "I am not a peacock! You're just jealous you didn't go in on it." He seems intent on continuing the song quietly under their conversation, but when F'yr's eyes lock onto his, Sigam can't help his twisted grin. "Yeah, I do - on my shoulderblade." He hesitates, shoots R'iahn another quick glare, and then sets the guitar aside. Off comes the shirt (sigh, Sig has a bad habit of losing clothes this way when getting inebriated…), which he shuffles off to one side before he turns his back towards the fire. There, lo and behold, is a simple black shape of a dragon. "Now." Around he turns, just in time to catch Fy's question. "Hnf. Just for that, you have to drink." The bottle is snatched back from R'iahn, tongue flicking out before he downs another mouthful of the bourbon. "I was drunk, and Rhasmir was involved. Need I say more?" The man pauses to consider something. "I'm going to win at this rate. And assume you forfeit your turn because you're asking so many nosy questions. Never have I ever cross-dressed."

"Hey, he can at least fly now so he won't have /that/ much need for you. Not that Harpers just come out to play all the time we visit," F'yr says, though the last is aimed for her lifemate as she shakes her head at him. "And the ones at the Weyr don't really like it when you stop growling, so no eating the one person that'd actually put up with you." Defending Sigam, apparently, but at least the brown has fallen completely silent. "A peacock?" she repeats, snickering at the term. But then the shirt is coming off, but her eyes all glued to the shoulderblade curiously as she leans forward and then she 'ooohs' and 'aaahs' appropriately to the pretty tattoo. "Figures it'd be a dragon, it's /always/ a dragon! I almost expected it to be something silly." She giggles again, a little more louder than before. Maybe ethe alcohol was already getting to her? She stops to take a swig, and then nearly takes a second before she stops. "Heey… That kinda is an unfair one for me. Never /intentionally/ been a boy." She doesn't drink, and instead looks between the two men. "Never have I ever… lived in a Hold."

R'iahn lifts an eyebrow between F'yr and Sigam, laughing quietly. "Well, Jae would probably be rather put out too. Lad's good at his job, for all that he's a brainless little Wher sometimes." The young woman gets a smirk, and he pointedly doesn't look at Sigam — nope, not gonna! Lalalalala…oh, right. Conversation. Leaning back against the rock he set his bed roll against, Riah smirks expansively, expression serene. "You are too. Look at your hair! Pfft. No man who doesn't think too much of himself keeps 'is hair like that." This is serene, as he watches the tattoo get inspected, snickering cheerfully. "Well, if I remember rightly, he wanted to get a —" And his mouth opens to say something, but snaps shut once more, eyes dancing with mischief. "I'll tell you later." You know. When he's not *almost* close enough to get strangled. Cough. "…intentionally? Lady, you got something /you/ need to be tellin' us?" Riah lifts an eyebrow, but then glares at Sigam. "And it was once and your fault." The bottle is grabbed back, and a pouting drink taken, then consideration given to the next. "I guess Ierne counts." Or maybe it's just an excuse to drink — it's starting to make him feel warm fuzzy, the rum and bourbon, and that's always a good thing! Ecspecially when followed quickly by drunken singing. Or something. "Never have I ever…" A long pause, and glance between the two Whippersnappers. "Ridden a dragon naked." Beam! What? He's not lying, not at all.

"I'm starting to wonder if Jae isn't my only ally in this," Sigam mutters in a mock-wounded fashion, hand pressing to his heart. "Though, if I remember, he threatened to blow my head to smithereens once." A glance is shot towards the midnight blue, then towards Fy. "Jaesriuth rat-a-tat's when he speaks. It's quite uncomfortable." The exchange between F'yr and her dragon is received with a crooked smile, eyes dancing with humor, and the comments about his tattoo are given a half-hearted shrug and snicker. "I never said I was original," he murmurs wryly, taking a distracted sip from the bottle before the bluerider snatches it. "Silly? Like what?" Curiosity arches his eyebrows even as he glances over towards R'iahn. "I will kill you." Enough said. "Riding leathers, you mean? I guess you have a point. He, however, doesn't." And Sigam is plenty smug when the other man has to drink, too. Leaning back, the Dragonhealer finally gives up and hauls a tin cup out of the depths of his pack, stealing and pouring a healthy dose of the bourbon into it. If he sloshes, it's just cause the bottle is slippery, not because he's feeling it too. Nope. "To Ista!," he offers towards F'yr, even if she meant the hold, before taking a sip. It's a good thing he swallows quickly, or he might have coughed the whole mouthful into the fire. "What? Ow, I don't even…" Sig shudders. "That would have to be cold. Never done, at any rate." Fingers tap on his cup contemplatively before he shoves the bottle back at Riah. "Alright, if we're gonna be like that… Never have I ever fantasized about anyone on the island right now." Sigam's eyes are suddenly and completely riveted by the fire, not giving anything away despite the smirk curling up both sides of his lips as he quietly sips his drink.

F'yr bobs her head at the bluerider. "Right, so no killing the useful dragonhealer." Aw, Sigam's well loved, see? Fy's eyes sparkle, or it might be the drink who knows, but either way she's staring at R'iahn veery intently, as if waiting for him to say something. "What? What'd he want to get? Aww… come on, you can't just say that!" She looks between the pair of them and their inside prods at each other. "Silly like a pink firelizard or a fluffy kitten," she says to Sigam about the tattoo. She does take a swig about the cross-dressing bit, her eyes looking back to the bluerider. "It ain't nothing, really! People just suddenly start calling you a boy if you get your whole head shaved, apparently." She rolls her eyes, then laughs loudly at Sigam's toaste, lifting her own bottle in the air. But nope, no drinking! It's only at R'iahn's words that she puts the bottle to her lips again, then thinks better of it and lowers it. "You two? Jus' sharding awful… Are you really friends?" She's giggling at the pair though, which is cut off quickly by Sigam's words. "Fanta… size." No, Fy isn't /that/ stupid. The bottle goes up, and another sip is taken even as she tries to look for something more inspiration, or maybe a distraction, around in the sand. "Never have I ever… shells… played an instrument?" At least she'll make someone drink and that was the point, even if it was boring.

R'iahn…giggles? Is that a giggle? Well, it sure sounds like one. But it can't be! At any rate, he /snickers/ in a /manly/ fashion at Sigam, lips curling into a bright smirk. "I remember. He swears he never did. Because he /likes/ you, for some reason." Here's another snicker, them a vague wave of his hand. "You don't have to listen to him all the time." Muttered mournfully. Then he's distracted by the fire for a bit, watching it with a little smile, content with life. "Hn?" He's a dead man? "Oh," Right, yes. He was going to tell F'yr what Sigam almost got tattooed on him. "Shhhh, F'yr. You're going to get me killed, girl. I'll /tell/ you /later/." Because he's a MAN and men aren't afraid of younger men, right? Just…you know…when they're sitting a few feet away. That's all. He doesn't want to embarrass Sig, is all. "To Ista!" Agreed heartily, then he's lifting an eyebrow at Sigam again, smirking. "Well, least you didn't manage /that/." Snort. Skirts, indeed. F'yr gets another curious look at this point, complete with a little snerk and lift of an eyebrow. "Why'n the name of Faranth did you shave all your hair off?" He laughs. "Other than because it doesn't serve any shardin' purpose…" But oh, oh — shells. A bottle is grabbed from Sig, and the dragonhealer glared at fiercely. Then, he quickly takes a sip and pouts like a five turn old, eyes flicking commiseratingly to F'yr. Nope. Not sayin' nothin', nothin' at all! What can you say, after all? 'Why yes, I have, Sigam! How bout them apples?' Oh, no. "Friends? I dunno," Chagrin is gotten over with quickly, apparently, as he smirks over at the younger man. "We'll see about that." Grumble. The bottle is lifted again to the young woman's next never, snorting faintly as he takes a drink. "Never have I ever. Ever…" Cue another staring contest with the fire. "Lit anything that belonged to somebody else on fire."

Cue eyelash flutter. "Aw, you /do/ care. Thanks guys," Sigam gushes, cup sat down so he can twine his fingers together under his chin. "Shh, Fy, don't ask. You'll learn more than you ever want to know about me." This is said rather pleadingly, brown eyes wide and puppy-ish. "I don't know how he knows, but apparently he does," the Dragonhealer says rather woefully, snorting over at Riah when the man continues to keep his silence. Thaaaat's right. "Pink? Kitten? Honey, you seriously undermine my inherent… masculinity." He had a struggle, but he got the word in the end. Go him! "Yes, 'friends' is a very /strong/ word," Sigam agrees with a laugh that borders on unmanly, breaking his gaze into the fire to eye his companions impishly. At the mention of instruments, Sig looks to his guitar as he drinks to Fy's never. No. Playing songs would be a bad idea. "You play an instrument, Riah? Your armpit doesn't count," the man chides with a smirk before the bluerider's statement has him beaming over at F'yr. "Here's to you, dollface!" A clink of bottle to cup is offered before Sig takes a gulp that speaks volumes to his oncoming inebriation. And aw, look, his cheeks are even flushed from drink. "And I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Now. Never have I ever flown in a storm. You two aren't nearly drunk enough." This said as the man leans back on his arms, eyes crinkled with a great big smile.

F'yr sticks her tongue out at Sigam, especially when he goes with the puppy-dog eyes. She was immune, really! "Just makes me wanna know all the more!" She sticks her lower lip out at R'iahn, pleading, but then bobs her head quickly. "Oh alright… later. But I won't forget!" Likely she would after that night of drinking, since she was already having trouble sitting up straight and constantly leaning to one side. "Well… /I/ think a pink f'lizard is silly. Maybe a gold one for Chu or mini-Chu but pink?" Gigglesnort. Her splinted wrist is kept in her lap, the other hand shoving the bottle she had into the sand so that it stayed and then she goes for her pocket knife. "Well, you see, it was all uneven cause some parts were cut clean off. So what do you do with uneven hair? You cut it all off!" And she pretends to demonstrate with her knife. Maybe just cause she wanted to hold something sharp and shiny. But it's quick to go back in its sheathe as she picks the bottle up again with a giggle, looking back and forth again. "I dunno, you two sure do look like friends to me either way." Fy winks at Sigam's toast, offering her bottle to clink against his cup before it's bottom's up again. Or just a sip since she's too busy snickering to manage much down. "Not drunk? I haven't had this much in… in over a turn!" Cue another sip. "Never have I ever— oh shells, jus' drink up to something!" And she points a finger at their knots. "Crafters. Never have I ever joined a craft." Look at her beam all proudly that she didn't have to take a drink.

R'iahn /snorts/. Puppy eyes, indeed. They have no effect on him! Honestly! "What masculinity, princess?" Asked with a cheerful smirk, then a glare for the impish look from Sigam. He has no excuses! It's all his fault he's a pretty boy. And while he might have gone on to tease the man about the friends thing, he instead lifts an eyebrow and smirks faintly, waggling a finger. "I play many instruments." He drawls cheerfully. "And not my armpit. Ew." Apparently he turns into a girl when he's tipsy? And tipsy might be a weak word for what is to come — the man lazily reaches out into his jacket, drawing out a flask with a little smirk for the pair of them. Oh yes, he did. "You don't seem like the forgetting sort." Is agreed pleasantly with F'yr, then he snorts at her and inclines his head in acceptance of her sagely wisdom. "I see." His growly voice has relaxed into a rumble of amusement, accompanied by a skyward roll of his eyes. "Should've got it done right in the first place." This gets a cheerful snigger, before the pair of them and their nevers have him wrinkling his nose wearily, and passing the rest of the bottle back to Sigam — he has his flask. Which probably has paint thinner in it, or something. "Aw, Sigam! That's not fair! You don't even have a shardin' dragon…" Mourn mourn mourn, but he takes a sip (just a sip? my..) of his flask all the same, smirking, and then toasting it to F'yr. "Fine." Snort, snicker. "Never 'ave I ever…lived at Xanadu!" Beam!

"Don't stick your tongue out at me, young lady," Sigam drawls lazily, one finger waggling. "Fine, he can tell you, but not when I'm around." He pauses as soon as the words are out of his mouth, looks as though he's about to revoke it, and then shrugs the shrug of one who forgot what they were whining about in the first place. "Shut up, Riah, I have more masculinity than you in my thumbnail. And… yeah, pink flit's silly, but I still wouldn't get it. Now! A mini-Chu tattoo, now tha' I'd do." A pause. "Oh. Well, tha's a good reason to cut i' all off, I guess." Though bits and pieces of evidence had been leaking in, it suddenly becomes apparent that all of these shots really have added up. Sigam leans forward in a gust-busting laugh at apparently nothing… or maybe he just can't get the words out. Yeah, that's more likely. "I've forgot'n how much of a prissy li'l girl you turn into when yer drunk," the Dragonhealer finally gets out in a giggle, tumbling sideways onto the sand where he beams up at F'yr. "Friends don't let friends cliffdive drunk! Or- or redo th' bands on half the weyr's flits so messages go haywire fer a day! Friends don't /do/ that!," Sigam half-laughs, half-whines before rolling onto his stomach to safely drink. "Well, then, we have to- to fix tha'!," the man exclaims with a bobble-headed nod. "Aww, shardit, fine," the bourbon is drug over to his person to drink first for the craft, then for the posting at Xanadu. "You… suck." Woo dizzy. "Never… never have I ever… been a candidate! Hahaha, /drink/, bitches!"

F'yr is just laughing at the two of them, back and forth how they go. She'll be the neutral party, that laughs at them all, and happily sits there getting more and more drunk out of her mind. "I ain't that much younger than ya I bet! And he'd have told me with or without your permission." Several quick head bob to that. "Everything gets stuck right up here," says Fy brightly with a few taps to her forehead with a finger as she beams at R'iahn. His flask is given a curious glance, but she's still clutching the bottle to herself so she's set on drinks for now. "That'll be your next tattoo when you're all drunk. A Chu to go with your dragon!" She shuts up when Sigam just starts laughing, staring at the man there. And then she can't help but start uncontrollable giggles, one arm wrapping around her middle. It only gets worse when she listens to Sigam's accusations. "That'd sound like a good friend to me, who knows how to have fun! I wanna go cliff diving 'gain!" Look at her, she's even trying to scramble to her feet as if she wanted to go do that /right now/. But then she's forced to tip up the bottle not once, but twice, at both of the 'nevers', wobbling uncertainly on her feet. "Yer gonna *hic* kill me." She giggles down at Sigam and then R'iahn, trying to size them up. "Never have I ever owned a dog." Yes, there goes the tongue back out at Sigam, right before she flops back down on her butt onto the sand. No wandering for her.

R'iahn pitches a pebble at Sigam, narrowing his eyes and waggling a finger. "Do not." He responds maturely, then glares at the dragonhealer until he bursts out laughing, at which point he gets a blank look. Well, until — "I hope you die." Is remarked absently, then he's smirking broadly. "Friends do too! That's what they're for!" Then he's beaming at F'yr, winking ans waggling his eyebrows cheerfully. "Right you are, missy. Smart girl, that one. Take care've her, Sig. Women. You've no idea." He waves his flask around absently, smiling brightly at the younger man. Oh, /that/ one'll go over well. Hopefully he doesn't remember in the morning! "Candidate…bastard." Grumbled affectionately, as he takes a sip off of his flask, rolling his eyes and snorting. Then F'yr is eyed warily as she stands at mention of cliff diving. "You'll be doin' no such shardin' thing! Y'ain't nowhere near sober 'nough for that and I ain't hoppin' in to save you, damnit, girl…" He mutters, before laughing at the next never, smirking broadly. Why yes, he did once own a canine! And this drink has him wobbling a little, blinking blearily. "I've." He states slowly, carefully. "I've never…" Pause. "Never…" And, there he goes. The man slumps slowly to the side — and somehow, even in his sleep, he manages not to let the alcohol spill. Skillz.

"Do too!" Quick, intervention, before they get into a catfight (read: girly-slap-fight)! "I'm immortal, Ri, don't'cha know. I cannae die," Sigam boasts. Famous last words? "Mmm, you prolly aren't much younger'n me, Fy," the Dragonhealer concedes with a nod, frowning up at F'yr. "How old are ya? I don't think I ever asked… And hnf, he would not!" Ah Sigam, ever stubborn. "Yeah, though a tattoo isn't high on m' list of things ta do again in life," the man says before giggling and stretching his hands towards the brownrider. "No, nooo, no cliffdiving yet. You heard the Riah, I haveta take care of ya." A pause. "Well, I don't hafta, yer a big girl, but you know what I mean." Oh look, a shiny word over there! "I am a bastard!," Sigam crows most cheerfully, fist punching high into the air with a cry of 'TRUTH!'. "An' I'm not gon' kill ya, th' booze's doin' well enough with tha task," he points out even as he drinks for Sabhrilline. The 'healer even looks as though he's about to add something else when Riah begins his next statement… and never finishes. "Well, shards," Sigam groans over to Fy as he rolls to his side, "I've done that before." He drinks to the bluerider's unintentional never before continuing the roll onto his back, staring blankly up at the sky before tittering. "Never have I ever wished on a shooting star. Ain't that sad?" Hee hee.

"I'm nineteen now! How 'bout ya? What's the number ya just turned?" F'yr answers Sigam, squinting her eyes over at him as if she could read his age on his face. But then there's the bluerider's compliments and she just can't help bit sit up all proudly, thinking she's all smart now and puffing up. Just keep prodding that ego! She beams at R'iahn, heading bobbing quickly until it finally stops at his one comment. "Hey, I can take care of myself!" She tells him defiantly, blue eyes rounding on Sigam next as he only supports her words. "But what if I wanna go cliffdiving?" she whines to the two of them. Blue eyes stare again at Sigam, only for her to giggle and his TRUTH. Not laughing /at/ the truth of course. "Hey! Hey, don't go to sleep!" she says suddenly, watching the other rider suddenly pass out on them like that. Her bottle remains untouched though as she pouts at him. And still it doesn't raise up at Sigam's next never. "That ain't sad cause I never have I ever, either." Beat. Then suddenly Fy raises her bottle with a cackle and a loud: "I win!" Not really how one's suppose to win the game, but Fy's convinced.

"Ah, shards, I only got three years on ya then," Sig says with a weird little chuckle, a pair of fingers from each hand raising into the air. "I'm this many!" Cough. Twenty-two, thereby meaning. "Wait 'til you're almos' sober," the Dragonhealer says with a nod, wriggling himself into a more comfortable position in the sand, arms tucked behind his head, "Then go divin'. Much more fun when you c'n live through it." Her giggle inspires a similar noise from the man, who rolls his eyes at R'iahn. "Aw, let 'im be, he's gone. He'll come 'round 'n a few hours just like 'e never konked out though - it's hilarious." Shoulders shake with another little laugh before Sig rubs his hands over his too-warm face. "Haven't ya? I don' feel s'bad then. We should… watch for one… or somethin'. I dunno." Puzzlement makes itself known on his features, brown eyes shifting from sky to F'yr. "Ya do?" A beat. "Well. Ya are the only one upright. I guess ya do. Fy wins!" Arms are flailed all over the place before they flop onto the ground, nose scrunched up in a smile. "Never have I ever been beaten at this game. Ah well, guess there's a firs' fer everythin'." Beaaam.

"/Only/? Shells, you're older than I thought!" Maybe F'yr's just teasing cause she's back to giggling, which doesn't dare stop at his fingers. "You're definitely that old." Her giggles slowly wind down, little hiccups trailing at the end of it. "'m sober now, and I can definitely jump off cliffs." Not that she is actually getting up to try that again. She hugs the bottle to herself, eyeing up R'iahn and that flask that he was using. Fy wiggles her bottle at the Dragonhealer, grinning all toothily at him. "I didn't drink, that's why I won… right? Oh, but this works too! I still win!" She sits up straight, proud, and putting her bottle back into its sand cradle. And then… *plop*, over she goes in a fit of giggles. That rum was definitely all in her system now. "'m just *snicker* that good." Blearily she glances up to the sky, not forgetting the stars up there. Likely making up some competition in her head about it.

"Heyyy, are ya insultin' my maturity?," Sigam asks with a stray laugh, eyes still trying to flicker with amusement under all of that alcohol haze. "Yeah, suuure," the Dragonhealer drawls towards F'yr, eyes flicking over her. "Yer sure inna hurry ta get goin', I see." Sarcasm? Nawww. Sig might be amused by the way the brownie is cuddling the bottle, but his eyes might also be going in an out of focus in a way that's absolutely fascinating too. Hard to tell, even for him. "You didn' drink?," the Dragonhealer asks incredulously as if he didn't remember the last several hours of game-play where he definitely got her on a few points. "Why not? Thas what alcho- alca- booze. Thas what booze is for." Sage-nod. "Timberrr!," he rumbles for the plopping Fy with a sloppy grin, head shaking in part for her words and in part because it makes him feel even more lightheaded. It's distracting. "Yes, yes ya are. Heh. Look. It's like watchin' clouds. On'y not. I see a feline. Mrow~." Is… Is Sigam affecting a purring noise? Why yes, he is! Hoboy.

F'yr tries to give a mysterious grin to the Dragonhealer, but it's looking more like a silly expression with all that alcohol in her system. "Me? Insulting ya? Shells no, I'd never do that!" Snickerchortle. "Are ya saying I can't cliffdive right now? Cause I sure as sharding well can!" There might be some effort to get up again which just ends up her failing miserably and ending up in the sands anyway. "Nope. Never have I ever wished a shooting something, or somesuch. Ya said, I never drank, ya lost." She pats her booze bottle next to her fondly. "Plenty more to drink!" Fy focuses most of her attention above her, looking to see just what it was that Sigam was looking before the sound he's making finally hits her and she turns her head in his drection with a laugh. "Ya make the strangest of noises! "But ya own a canine. Sssaab… Sabri… Sabby! Shouldn't ya be a canine, then?" And hey, animal noises she can do. She bares her front teeth and makes a silly sounding GRRR.

Sigam somehow manages to roll his eyes at her expression, dopey grin expanding across his face. "Yeah, I mus' be thinkin' of th'/other/ Fy." Nod-nod-nod. "Not sayin' yeh can't, sayin' ya shouldn'," Sig grunts as he attempts to migrate again, pawing at his bag until he gets it open. A sleepy Octane peeks up at him before Sig tugs the blanket away from the little bronze. "Oh… oh right. I said tha'?" The Dragonhealer's brows knit, but Fy could probably tell him he had bunny ears right now and he'd believe her. "Well, you ge' busy ta drinkin', I'mma get comfy." And so he tries, attempting to spread the heavy blanket usually tacked to his wall, but the end result is something like a lumpy nest of 'healer and fur, still purring 'til she points it out. "Huh? Oh, yer righ'! I do have a Sabby! Hm. Should I be barking then? Rrrruff." The bareing of teeth gives him a moment's pause before he chuckles, a slightly hysterical note to it. "Here kitty kitty? Hee. Y-yer so silly. I mean scary! Scary's wha' I meant. I c'n be scary too…" Except, you know, not when he's a yawning, drunken puddle snuggling deeper into his blanket.

F'yr's eyes widen and her mouth drops open in shock. "There's /another/ Fy!?" It takes a moment for the real surprise to pass before it actually hits her that the man could be kidding. She watches him carefully, noticing the unfamiliar firelizard. "Who's that one? Never seen him 'fore! Do you just collect firelizards now?" She giggles, happy to just be laying down in the sand for now and not even making an attempt to dig through her bag near her for now. But she does smooth out the big of sand under her by wiggling her body around, making some sort of wallow for herself. She looks quite happy with her nest of sand. "Now that sounds better." Fy giggles and giggles at his impressions, then puts on another 'scary' face. "Scary's right! 'm what keeps the tunnelsnakes 'way at night!" Which just sounds weird overall instead. Zaruath finally approaches closer to the ground, needing to be near his lifemate now that they were all settling down for the night.

"Naw," Sig says with a dismissive flap of his hand, "I was jestin'. Yer the one an' only." He seems very content with this idea, eyes moving slowly over to where the little bronze is peeking up over the edge of his pack. "Tha' one foun' me. Came 'n bit me. Not m'fault, but 'is names Octane." The Dragonhealer's lazy gaze makes its way back to the brownrider even as he beckons for the flit. "I make a good canine, wha' c'n I say," Sig sing-songs with a laugh of his own for her attempts at being the least bit scary. "Ah, so's it's you we have ta thank fer tha'. I'm grateful," he jokes before wriggling a bit and shoving some of the blanket her way should she want them. "Cover up, beaches is-" yawn "-cold a' nigh'." As he speaks, Octane waddles his way over to curl up nearer to the fire than Sigam, giving a teeny yawn of his own before dropping his head. Bleary brown eyes peer up at the approaching Zaruath, but at this point, the 'healer can't even muster a wave. He just sighs great big, drops his cheek to his arm, and lets his eyelids slide shut. "Hmm. Nigh', Fy. Was… fun." Chances are good that the deeper breathing means he's passed right on out. Let's hope he doesn't snore, hmm?

"Good. Only me." F'yr likes this very much as well, grinning all silly like. Imagine more of her around? They'd end up killing each other! "What a funny little guy," she mentions of the bronze having bitten Sigam, giggling as she watches the firelizard for a moment before her drunk-bleary eyes turn back onto Sigam. "Naah, all nice and warm!" But should she find that blanket within her reach in the middle of the night… Well, she does drag her pack over next to her at least, to have something warmer to cling onto. The blanket she might steal as a last resort while she slept later. "Ni'ni," she says right back, though her body's still shaking with some muffled giggling. Heheheh. Heheh. Heh. Dead.

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