Random Log: Tavern Talk

Xanadu Weyr - Wanderin' Wherry Tavern(#8821RJM)
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.

Myra is, for once, wearing a dress? Hmm. It's a long dress with long sleeves, though it does reveal a modest amount of cleavage. She's also sitting at the bar, hunched over a drink, and frowning. That's /also/ not like her, not like her at all. She doesn't look up even once, though she's muttering under her breath at or about Ailath, and, a candidate? Aren't they all at the survival camp, though? Perhaps that's the problem?

Z'kiel strides into the tavern, letting the door shut behind him. As he approaches the bar to get a drink, he finds himself beside Myra and able to overhere her mutterings. "All the Candidates are off at Camp, or in the Infirmary." He comments idly. "So you're safe."

Myra looks up as Z'kiel sits down beside her, and shakes her head. "No, that's the /problem/." she notes, with a bit of a whine in her tone. "Trian was searched again… Off at camp, again… Haven't seen him since our hatching, when I went to one barracks and he went to another." she grimaces, toying with her drink a little. "I don't know whether to be happy for him, or, or…" she shrugs, and knocks back the rest of her drink.

"Trian?" Z'kiel asks with a brief quirk of his eyebrow, questioning. His drink arrives and he takes a gulp of it, relaxing a little. "He a friend of yours, or….?"

Myra blushes, but that's probably a combination of things - the alcohol in her system, the beginnings of proddy hormones, or the fact that she was just asked about Trian… Well, she brought it up! "Ah, Trian, met him here turns ago, I was sixteen, he was eighteen. I was an apprentice chef, he was a candidate with no business being in the kitchen." she sighs, wistfully. That's romantic for her? Huh. "Course, we were just friends… Until I was promoted to journeyman, and he was between candidacies, and…" she blushes. Aww, Trian was her first love? That's kind of sweet, in a way. "And then we were searched." and she grimaces. That's when it all turned sour.

"Oh, /him/." Z'kiel mutters darkly, apparently having placed Trian in his mind. "Yeah, I remember Trian now." He takes a deep gulp of beer again. Perhaps he's staying quiet out of respect for the fact the guy was her first love, complete jerk or not.

Myra blushes and nods sheepishly. She /knows/ Trian is a poor match for her, but, she can't help herself. "He's, really, not bad. Once you get to know him. Still hopeless in the kitchen, but…" But what? Not in the bedroom? That still wouldn't explain those turns of /friendship/ prior to that. "But…" she shrugs helplessly and trails off, sitting in silence for a moment. "Anything new with you?" she finally asks, an obvious attempt to change the subject.

Z'kiel shakes his head. "Myra, he's…" He trails off then, either giving up or merely respecting her wishes to change the subject. "Not really. Still in Search and Rescue, still learning to interact with people properly, still fighting with R'in every so often." The last is properly related to the point before it.

Myra nods slowly as Z'kiel speaks, relieved of the change of subject. She does know that Trian is, well, she knows him well enough, but, the heart wants what it wants. It doesn't have to make sense. "Ahh. Search and Rescue, how's that working out?" she asks, seizing what she thinks is a neutral topic. She's also not that great with people, so, she's avoiding that part for the time being. "Though I can't imagine not teaching Weyrlings. I suspect I'd go back to the craft, if I couldn't be among the Weyrlingmasters or assistants."

"Well, it's…it's a very satisfying field of work when it goes right." Z'kiel replies, pausing to drink. He went into Galaxy Wing straight after Graduation, and has been there since, so it must be suiting him. "Problem is, when it doesn't go right it's…" There's a shake of his head. "I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't fly Search and Rescue. I'd feel so useless trapped behind a desk or similar." Better hope Kunaseth never wins a Leadership Flight, then.

Myra wrinkles her nose up at the reminder of desk work. She'll do it, without complaint, but it's still not her favourite part of the job. "Ah, I know what you mean. It's awful when weyrlings get injured, or worse…" she shudders, and waves down the bartender to order another drink, which she knocks back rather quickly. "But, we're helping new riders adjust to their new lives, nothing could be more rewarding." she does note, with a proud smile, albeit a small one. The downside is still on her mind.

"I guess we both have to live with that aspect of things." Z'kiel agrees, knocking back his own drink with similar speed. There's a long and not entirely comfortable silence then, before he finally half-shrugs. "So…"

Myra frowns at her glass. "So…" she echoes, with a similar shrug. Yep. Silence. Long, awkward, silence. Finally, Myra can't stand it any longer, and she just blurts out some random thing. "Did you know Ailath gets all /awkward/ when she's starting to glow? She's convinced the problem isn't her, it's all the male dragons who won't stop staring at her, and, hey, why isn't /that/ one paying attention?" she giggles a little awkwardly, perhaps realising just how close that is.

"No, I had no idea." Z'kiel chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "And it's that time again, huh?" He too, apparently, realizes how close it is. Though he doesn't seem as bothered, probably because he keeps Kunaseth grounded for most flights…either that, or the bronze just doesn't choose to chase that much.

Myra nods slowly, glancing to the bartender for a moment, then thinking better of it. "Yeah, she's been antsy lately, though that could just be because the weyrlings are off at the camp too, not much to do around here… But, it's been long enough since the last, I suppose. Or that I'm holding her competitive nature back. But most likely, it'll be another flight, soon enough." she nods, then pauses and seems to mentally drift off for a moment, 'returning' with a grimace. "And there it is. 'This sharding blue is looking at me. Faranth only knows why!'" she repeats, with a slight drawl when she's imitating Ailath, ending with a snort.

Z'kiel can't help but laugh, and shakes his head somewhat. "Yes, it's that time again." He agrees, finishing off his own drink. He too doesn't immediately order another, gazing instead at his empty glass thoughtfully. "Bet you'll be relieved when it's out of the way."

Myra chuckles a little, and nods. She's adjusted relatively well to the whole affair. It was probably helped by the fact that, even before she was searched, she didn't entirely hold to the holder ideal of waiting until marriage, even if she would still prefer to have one partner, of her own choice. Flights are an exception she can tolerate. "Ah, relieved, yes. Flights are a bit of an occupational hazard, you sign up for search, you live with the possibility." she notes, though she does blush, despite her apparent ease with the subject. "I'll just be glad when Ailath is calmed down, honestly. She's so jumpy before a flight. So … shy. Yes, she's shy."

"Shy? Well…that's kind of sweet. Different, too. Most greens go the other way, I've noticed." Z'kiel seems far more at ease with the subject than one might expect, but then he did grow up here at the Weyr. "I'm sure it'll be over soon enough."

Myra grins a little, and glances to the exit, "Sweet, yes. She's my rough and tumble, competing with the big boys, Ailath. Except now, when she turns into a twelve year old girl, apparently. It's kind of sweet, kind of annoying." she notes, with obvious affection in her tone and expression. "And, she's calling me away. Any other time, she'd be happy to go around half caked in mud, but she's being /looked at/, she has to look her best. Bathing and oiling, only daily if I'm lucky…" she snickers, and tosses the marks on the bar for the drinks, including Z'kiel's one - because she's generous like that - before leaving.

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