Shirts and Shoes

Western Weyr - Tiki Lounge
The room seems far bigger inside than outside, even when full of relaxing weyrfolk and travelers. Towards the front, in the western corner, is a small stage, providing the intoxicated or just plain brave a chance to display their talents. Several tables with chairs decorate the floor and a small area is open for dancing. The bar is rather long and well stocked, glasses of different shapes and sizes hanging suspended from a rack above the bar. Behind the bar is another open window that gives one a view of the forest behind the tavern. Turning around, one is greeted by a lovely view of the lagoon. A decent breeze helps to cool the room. Up above, rafters provide a perch for fire lizards and local avians. The thatch roof, made of straw, rarely lets in any rain.


It is still noon and whoever enters the Tiki Lounge now will have /just/ missed a guy named S'u. Naris is making her way back to her table, looking rather odd. No, her hair isn't bright purple or anything, but it just so happens that she isn't working. Maybe it's because she decided to take a day off. Or maybe, and more likely and actually most certainly the truth, she was thrown out of the Lower Cavenrs for the day due to 'overworking herself'. A statement that she /very much/ disagrees with. Eith way, Naris is dressed all casually in shorts and a blue short-sleeved top. Not to mention her hair is actually /down/ for the time being. Gasp! Something appears to be on the assistant headwoman's mind as she sits back down at her table with her light pink drink that she has not been touching. Probably something that has to do with stabbings.

It's not unusual for Rhysanna to spend time in the Tiki Lounge, though this is early in the day for her to be free enough to do so; like Naris, however, she's dressed down (which still means well-dressed, of course), lingering at an otherwise empty table with one foot dangling free of the light sandal it is, ostensibly, wearing. Her drink is nearly empty, and the glance she gives it is thoughtful… or is that mournful? Glancing up, she casts her gaze about the room: her smile is inviting.

Zi'on knows that guy! Or at least has seen him a couple of times. At flights. So he doesn't really know him, other than the fact that he's another bronzer and is from Ista. Just like him! Well, sort of. Zi'on was born at Ista but didn't impress there. As it is the bronzer is taking a break from work. He's allowed! Who is going to stop him? No one, that is who. He's still dressed in weyrleadery clothes, so that makes him fairly easy to pick out, even if he wasn't taller than most people. He whistles a bit as he makes his way to the bar to order his favorite fruity drink and ponder over where he wants to sit. For now though he just lingers, leaning against the bar.

Kyldar, the Archipelago greenie, comes in and looks around. She spots Naris, looking slightly bemused at the assistant headwoman's demeanor. "Greetings and salutations and all that," she greets, dipping a curtsey. "And to you too," she adds to Rysanna. Her attention drawn to Zi'on by the whistle, she turns to address the weyrleader as well. "Zi'on, hello. How goes it this fine day?" She herself is dressed in her usual casual attire as she orders a glass of white wine from the bar.

Naris has not noticed if Rhysanna has beeen in the lounge for a long while and at the moment is continuing to not notice. What she does notice is Zi'on strolling in, whistling, in good Weyrleader clothes. She can't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight of it although it doesn't particularly surprise her. But before she can say anything Kyldar arrives, a greenrider she recognizes from about the Weyr. Naris offers her a bob of her head in greeting before responding, "good day… and all that." Her lips twitch up in amusement slightly as she repeats the Archipelago rider's earlier words. With that she looks back over to the Weyrleader and remarks, "you know, you're going to ruin those clothes and end up recruiting some unsuspecting Weyrfolk to take care of them for you." There is a slight smile on her face and amusement in her voice as she speaks, making it apparent that she's not /completely/ scolding him.

Rhysanna has, indeed, been in the lounge for a while, though now seems to be the first time she's made any particular efforts to be noticed - and that is at least partially because of Kyldar's greeting. "And to you," she agrees, her accent marking her as Western through and through, though there's a lilt of high culture and class to it, only partially lost beneath the self-contented laziness of her tone. She reclaims her glass, now, and lets her gaze slide after the greenrider and towards the Weyrleader, who now seems to have become the center of attention. She, at least, does not seem intent upon mobbing him… for now.

Zi'on gives Kyldar a wave. "Hey there, Kyldar. I'm doing alright I suppose. How about yourself?" As Naris goes into a lecture about his clothes, Zi'on looks down at himself and raises an eyebrow. "Hello to you, too Naris. And thanks, -ma-. But I think I can manage to not ruin my clothes. And if I do, well then it gives those weyrpeople something to do. And I have other clothes, so I'm not too worried about it." Rhysanna is indeed noticed by the weyrleader, who steps around the mod to offer her a hand. "Hello. I don't think we've met. I'm Zi'on, Suldith's rider." The bronzer motions for the bartender to fill up whatever it is Rhysa is drinking when he comes around to set Zi'on's glass in front of him.

Kyldar receives her drink, but does not start into it just yet. "I don't see you out and about much," she says, perhaps a bit forwardly, to Naris. "You never struck me as the social type. Live and learn, right?" She falls silent for a moment as Zi'on asserts himself to Naris and introduces himself to Rysanna, and then adds for herself, "I'm Kyldar, green Sinasapelth's, of Archipelago wing. I'm just coming in from morning drills in fact. 'Twas a busy morning," she goes on, her own accent vaguely suggestive of the Fortian region. "But, y'know, certainly /I/ can't worry too much about clothes in my line of work. It's the least concern."

Naris glances at Rhysanna briefly when she responds to Kyldar, drawing the Assistant Headwoman's attention to her for the first place, but doesn't say anything to her just yet. With a small shrug she can't help but point out, "you might but that's no promise that someone won't bump into you." Clumbsy people exist, after all. And people that will get drunk at absolutely any time of day for any reason at all. She doesn't say anything regarding the weyrpeople being able to clean his clothes or him saying that he had other clothes because, well, he does have a point. To Kyldar she admits, "I'm not really. But /apparently/ someone in the lower caverns has an issue with that." Her lips purse slightly at her words and there is a slightly annoyed tone to her voice. But instead of saying more on the matter she stands up and approaches Rhysanna, all formality as she holds her hand out in a greeting and introduces herself, "Assistant Headwoman Naris." Her voice also has that Western accent as she has lived there her whole life, although it is a bit less pronounced than it may be on some.

The tables turned, and all attention abruptly focused upon her, at least briefly, and Rhysanna simply smiles. Accepting Zi'on's hand - her grip is firm but not hearty, her skin soft - she says, "I know who you are. I think it would be a rather poor showing if I didn't, don't you think? It is nice to be properly introduced, however. Rhysanna. Thank you." Her newly refilled drink, which is some kind of fruit-juice-and-something kind of mix, is lifted to emphasize the thanks. "It's nice to meet you, too, Kyldar." Naris' introduction draws an upward lift of finely sculpted brows; she shakes that hand, too, and says, "You must work with my Mother, then. Niarhys?" That name is probably better known than Rhysanna's own: Assistant Headwoman Niarhys is a rather more… forceful woman than her daughter, and very inclined to go on (and on and on) about her 'darling girl.'

Zi'on gives Rhysa's hand a firm shake before he peers at Naris. "So… I can't wear my good clothes… anywhere? I mean there's always the risk someone might bump into me, yes. Or I could just not go out. I mean, then I wouldn't have to worry about it. Life is about taking risks! Being wild once in a while! RAWR!" And with this last rawr, Zi'on tears open his tunic. A couple of the buttons go flying off in random directions in the mayhem. Then he pulls the shirt off and ties it around his head like a rag. And stands there topless, drinking his fruity drink. At least he's got some ab definition, and look, no hair! He grins to Rhysa then. "I dunno. Not everyone does. I mean, they know who Zi'on is if you say the name. But not who I am or what I look like." He ponders. "Ah, Niarhys is your mother?" Zi'on has at least heard the name, though he has trouble picking out one assistant headwoman from the next. Other than Naris, of course.

Kyldar nods to Narys and Rhysanna as they give return introductions. "Likewise." Then, her eyebrow twitchin up at Narys's remarks "Truly?" she puts in. "They were able to kick the assistant boss out for the day? How dare they, eh?" Finally to Zi: "Oh, go out and about if you like. Look as stylish as you wish. I was just saying, just don't worry about what /happens/ to your clothes. Well, unless it's a hole in an embarrassing place or such."

Naris nods at Rhysanna's question before confirming, "indeed, I do." There is a pause before she slowly adds, "she seems rather… enthusiastic about you." This is followed by a look crossing Naris' face, the look of someone that knows more about a complete stranger than she /ever/ wanted to know about a complete stranger. And with the way Niarhys can go on at times she really wouldn't be surprised if Rhysanna knows that look rather well. As Zi'on speaks she can't help but think that he's going somewhere with this and that something is going to happen. No, she /knows/ that something is going to happen, and it shows on her face in the form of paling followed by that look people tend to get when the inevitable is about to happen. Of course she hopes it /won't/ happen, but that doesn't always stop things from happening. And sometimes even with it being inevitable it aren't completely prepared. At that rawr she lets out a surprised squeak and jumps slightly, although it's more because of the sudden buttons flying everywhere rather than the impressive display of lungpower. Once the buttons are done flying and the Weyrleader is putting the shirt on his head like some sort of strange hat she remarks, "ten points for not destroying anything with the buttons of doom." And it's true, it looks like nothing delicate and made of glass has shattered. "Although I'm not entirely sure the shirt-hat is the best look for you. I suggest you try a shoe next time." No, she isn't scolding this time. It's not like it's going to do any good, she knows this by now. To Kylar she snorts before commenting, "I know for a fact that little things like nudity do not bother him."

Rhysanna's expression turns bewildered, even flabbergasted, as Zi'on tears open his tunic like that: her eyes nearly bug out of her head, and one hand lifts to cover her mouth, which has dropped partially open. "That," she murmurs, "Was a waste of a decent tunic. I suppose I don't really know who you are, except by reputation, so… perhaps you're right. Yes, Niarhys is my Mother." It deserves the capital letters. She hesitates, lifting her drink towards her lips in a way that seems designed to cover her expression, though her eyes keep sliding from Zi'on to the two women in an awkward kind of way. Finally, as the glass is set down again, she allows, "She… can be. I am sorry." And she really, really is: it's kind of embarrassing. Where 'kind of' really is 'very.'

Zi'on takes one of his shoes off and balances it on his head. "Shoe." He sips at his drink. And this is the weyrleader -sober-. He actually gets MORE serious when he drinks instead of less. Though he's just trying to get a rise out of Naris, really. He sets his drink down and crosses his arms over his chest to cover up his nipples. "It's cold." He looks at Rhysa then. "I know we've just met, and you think I'm crazy. But hug me maybe? Or let me borrow your shirt." He chuckles. "I'm sure Niarhys knows me better than I know her. She's been around for a while, right? Here at Western? At least fifteen turns?" He looks to Naris then. "Can you lift my drink up so I can take a sip? If I bend over the shoe will fall off."

Kyldar nods and grins at Nary's remarks. "Yeah, I know he has does have a slightly, erm, free-spririted streak in that area. On the other hand I myself am a hard person to offend." She pauses to quaff her drink, though not before examining the wine for stray buttons (and finding none), downing about two-thirds of it at once, and looks back and forth between Rhysanna and Narys. "Um, I haven't dealt extensively with Niarhys for all the turns that I've lived and served here at Western. Is there something that I should know?"

Naris can't help but give Rhysanna a brief look that speaks of the pity she has for the girl as she apologizes. "Don't worry about it," she responds, "at least she says /good/ things about you. I've dealt with much worse over the turns, believe me." Like the greaseman. The greaseman who is now the vaguely-clean man as she made sure someone got around to forcing him to take a bath. Right now there is probably a lower caverns worker that is /very/ irriated at having been cursed with that job. Then there's Zi'on… removing his shoe and placing it on his head. Naris can't hide the shock that appears on her face at this little action. He doesn't listen to her when she says /sane/ things, but he puts the shoe on his head? Her voice is exasperated as she says, "I didn't mean… I wasn't serious… /why/?" As Zi'on crosses his arms her attention is drawn to his chest, where he gaze may or may not have lingered for a moment. It matters not, no one has any prrof of anything. His request to have Rhysa hug him gets a small snort from Naris before she drily remarks, "don't, it's a trap." At Zi's request she shakes she head slightly but does indeed lift the drink. Oh, the things she'll do for people. As she does this she answers Kylar, "impressive woman, strong spirit, she talks quite a bit though."

Rhysanna may affect a certain amount of brave ruefulness for the situation with her mother, but Naris' pity has her expression tightening faintly all the same, and her chin lifting. Still, Zi'on is still here to lighten any moods that may have been impending; Rhysa has to bite her lip to hold back a laugh as she shakes her head firmly. "If I lend you my shirt, I'll be cold," she points out. "Besides, it's your own fault. I'm sorry. Yes, she's been here since she was a teenager herself, I believe. She… certainly has opinions." She crosses her arms snugly beneath her chest, appending to Naris' explanation of Niarhys: "Mother has lofty ideas about my future, and her role in it, I'm afraid, and she's not shy to tell people. About that… or anything else."

Yep. That's Zi'on for you. Doing weird things and being weird. And arguing about sane things and doing crazy things without a second thought. He takes a long sip from his drink, but then decides he's too chilly to be without a shirt, so he puts his shoe and his shirt back on. Of course he can't button his shirt up again, so he just lets it hang open rather than try to sort of button it. "Ah well. It was a good try." The bronzer picks up his drink then and drains it down. "Sorry to cut our meeting short ladies, but apparently something needs my attention." He lays some marks down on the bartop and tells the bartender the next round is on him, then slips out.

Kyldar nods to Naris. "Yeah, I do remember that much of her, which I suppose made her all the more well-suited for her job. I've known the place for longer, but been here as a resident for, erm, maybe not quite twenty turns— since the Search rider fetched me from Ista— so I kept much of my early time here to myself. Candidacy and Weyrlinghood and all that." She finishes her wine and flags the bartender for a refill. To Rhysanna she says, "Ah, well, yeah. Mothers can be that way. Just a /wee/ bit biased about their own children." She allows herself a smile. "I should know, being a mamma myself. My kidlets are all to me." Again there's the twitch of the eyebrow, this time in reaction to Zi'on. "Well, you're in a generous mood today. What's the occasion?"

Naris grins when Zi'on puts his clothes back on, amusement crossing her face at his un-buttonable tunic. As he leaves she gives a small wavve and calls, "see ya around." She then opens her mouth to respond to Rhysanna and Kyldar only for a blue firelizard to pop in from /betweem/, gracelessly dropping a letter on her head. With a small mutter she bends down and opens it, only to grin as she reads it. She may or not whisper, "I knew they needed me," before pocketing the note and saying, "there's a situation, I have to be going. Nice to meet you, Rhysanna." With that she's heading out the door, oddly happy for someone that had to tend to a situation of some sort.

Rhysanna's brows raise, again, as Zi'on re-clothes himself and takes off; her nod is perfunctory, though her expression is pleased. "You, too, Naris," she calls after the Assistant Headwoman as she leaves, and this time, her gaze lingers after her for some time before sliding back towards Kyldar. "I suppose so. With regards to mothers, I mean. I only know that mine is… I suppose it's reasonable, as long as you don't get too obsessive about it. How old are your children?"

Kyldar receives her refill and sips, a little more lightly this time. "Yeah, as long as you don't become obsessive. I love my children but I hope I'm not smothering them. Anyway, I have a girl and a boy, twins, nine turns old, hopefully not getting into /too/ much mischief up in the weyr."

Something in Rhysanna's expression suggests she does think her mother has crossed that line into obsessive… or perhaps she's just listening to Kyldar terribly seriously for a different reason. Abruptly, however, she smiles again: "Nine. That's a lovely age, I think. I liked being nine. And twins. I always wanted a sibling, but it's always been just me. Perhaps I will have a big family of my own, some day."

Kyldar sips again at her wine, leaning lightly on the bar. "Y'know," she yknows pensively, "one is not always sure of oneself. I myself never thought I'd make a good parent— so imagine my surprise when I discovered I had twins— but the children are turning out just fine." She pauses, and nods and smiles. "Yeah, nine. It was a good age for me as well. Now my children are that age and growing like weeds. So help me it makes /me/ feel sharding ancient sometimes."

"It seems," ventures Rhysanna, thoughtfully, "that a lot of people feel that way. About being parents, I mean. I suppose it's a scary thought, being responsible for someone else like that. Or two someone else's." Her smile, aimed at Kyldar as she glances up from her drink again, is bright. "I'm glad. Before you know it they'll be all grown and doing their own thing… whatever that is, right? You won't pressure them?" It's important.

Kyldar nods. "Yeah, I was sure I wasn't ready. Buuut, there were these two tiny helpless infants, and they just, y'know, needed looking after." Then: "Yeah. Kylaine, the girl, shows signs of wanting to follow my side of the family, as a harper, which would make her a third generation one. The boy Moylaine seems more into starcraft. Of course, being weyrborn they're probably in the sights, as 'twere, for rider candidacy, or will be when they're old enough. If that happens, they'll be sixth generation." Pause, sip. "Sorry, I hope I wasn't coming across as haughty. It /is/ a proud family tradition, though. But here I go again about /my/ kiddos. Parental bias again? Yeah, I plead guilty. Still, yeah, no pressure, as long as they end up doing what makes them happy."

A quick, firm shake of Rhysanna's head answers Kyldar's apology; her smile is beatific. "It sounds wonderful, really," she says. "To have that much family connection. Mother doesn't talk much about her family, so it's really just the two of us. She's sure I will make her proud, but I think she has some narrow parameters for that. Still." She gives a sharp nod. "I will try. And… crafter or rider, I'm sure your children will do you proud."

Kyldar stares into the wine meditatively. "Crafter, rider. Or whatever. My grandparents on my mother's side were traders. Hell, some family from her side are still traders, with their main hub at Southern Boll." She leans back, and finishes her second glass of wine, setting the glass down gently. "Aye, do try. 'Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die tomorrow.'"

"Traders. I know that would never be the life for me, but it still sounds romantic, don't you think?" Rhysanna is unapologetic about the pleasure she finds in that. "I'm sure the reality isn't, but that's not the point, not to me." She pushes her own empty glass away from her, sliding it gently across the table. "I should go. I'm on the roster for later this afternoon, and I'll have to clear my head before then. But I do intend to try. I do. Thank you. It was nice to meet you."

Kyldar nods, staring into the middle distance. "Y'know it does seem a rugged life, and no doubt it is. I'm craftbred, craft-raised and weyr-resident— meaning I'm accustomed to a modicum of luxury. But everyone has a niche to fill, so let us all fill the niches well, eh?" Then, "Okay, I'll see you whenever, then." She gives a thumb-up and a sitting bow. "Do your best."

The corners of Rhysanna's mouth turn up as she admits, "I know I couldn't do without my little luxuries. Still." Kyldar gets a bright, beaming smile and a firm nod - and then the girl departs in a lazy stride.


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