As if this is the worst of it.

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Lagoon

A sandy beach running along the edge of the lagoon, between the sparkling waters and the bowl. Given the weyr's tropical climate, riders and dragons can be seen playing in the water nearby or a dolphin can be seen cavorting nearly turn-round. At other times seacraft can be seen coming in under the arch to dock. The lagoon is large enough to fill a quarter of the length of the bowl.


Things in the last 24 hours have been… bad… to put it mildly. Most of the Weyr has been mobilized in some form or another, putting out fires, finding those who've lost their homes, searching for those who've gone missing, and generally trying to keep things at Half Moon Bay Weyr from getting even worse. The beach at the edge of the Weyr is a ragged mess that well-suits the situation: the sand is rough and littered with debris, some just driftwood and kelp, some clearly structural in nature - pieces of grass-ceilings, bamboo poles, and all the detritus one would expect from ruined beachside dwellings. There are several crews already dispatched to begin clean-up efforts, and then there's Jonteim. The remains of the Tiki Lounge are before him, and he stands with his hands on his hips, contemplating the mess. Where once was a happy, happenin' little bar, there's now an empty skeleton of wood with the charred cap of a grass roof, gutted. He's just kinda starting at this for now.

A green dragon laden with a shipment of medical supplies from Fort Hold appears from Between overhead, banks to pick out a (relatively) clear spot to land, then touches down on the beach. Her high-pitched trumpet of announcement declares something along the lines of, 'We are heeere! Come get your stuff!' There's likely something with actual words communicated to the watch dragon, but the young lady wearing a harper's knot tagging along as a passenger wouldn't know. She's apparently ridden before, likely not often by the awkward way she dismounts and staggers a step or two for balance in the sand, but she doesn't look too awfully flustered. Several of the bags - and a guitar case - are hers but those'll be off-loaded last and she expects that. Those medical supplies, after all, are more urgent. The shambles before her, well. Those are expected, news having traveled and all. So to be out of the way of the volunteers from the infirmary hustling out for said supplies, she wanders over Jonteim's way and drawls, "Pern had no mercy on the thirsty, did she?" Rueful.

Jonteim's briefly distracted by the arrival of the dragon, tearing his pale eyes away from what's left of the Lounge when all the fuss is made about the arrival of supplies - supplies that mean something to the people that hurry to help with the offloading, but seem to mean little at all to him. His eyes are all but unfocused while they follow the woman that detaches herself from this mess, only truly realizing her presence when she speaks, and he blinks away whatever (obviously morose) thoughts had him staring so blankly. "Just brought in a new dartboard, too," he agrees tragically, crouching next to some watery pieces of charcoal that could have been that dartboard. They also could have been a barstool, a piece of the floor, a piece of the roof… anything, but he sifts through them for a second anyway. What a mess.

Joelle prooobably could have sped things along by helping lug those medical supplies to their destination, but she's not letting her her luggage out of her sight. Primarily because of that guitar and she's got half an eye on the progress back there so that she can scamper back to ensure it's handled with care when they get to it. Besides, it's possible she'd get roped into some menial infirmary thing like fanning someone trying not to faint while being stitched up. Or worse, doling out bedpans and the like. She'd rather be here with the morose man eyeing the ruin of… "What was it called?" Obviously a bar, as all those broken bottles indicate. She closes one eye, cocks her head but, nope. It's not looking any better that way either. "What a shame," she says honestly sympathetic of that dartboard. Then more brightly, "I hope you had insurance?"

Saying it out loud, especially considering how much he seems to be grieving over its loss, gives Jonteim cause to look just a teensy, tiny bit embarrassed. After all, he's out here mourning the loss of a place called the, "Tiki Lounge." His eyes pass briefly over hers, checking to see if she gets the unspoken joke, and then he's prying a piece of charcoal out of the wet sand, tossing it aside, laughing a brittle sort of laugh: "Just on the dartboard. As for the rest…" He shrugs tragically and adds apropos of nothing, "Who're you?"

Wide blue eyes striving to look appropriately sympathetically tragic are there to be passed over, but the chortle that rises in her throat (hastily swallowed, mind) has nothing to do with the many tiki jokes circulating out there. That must've been SOME dart board! Says Joelle's droll, "At least you can get that replaced without too much trouble." Unless his insurance company sucks and there's a ton of red tape. She digs a booted toe into the sand, prizing out a bottle. Oh look - it's not broken! This she bends to retrieve and offers solemnly to Jonteim. "Joelle, journeyman harper, just posted from the hall." Into chaos, apparently. L-u-cky her? "And you are? Besides sans your tiki thanks to an act of nature?" Her brows inch up fractionally, mildly curious, since he asked her.

"Just as in, just?" Jonteim looks over her shoulder toward the dragon with the supplies, with the guitar, and his brows lift with a sympathy that skims into the territory of pity. "Trying real hard to reckon what kind of help a Harper'd be in a mess like this, and coming up short," he conveys frankly, reaching up with a hand - still crouched as he is - to retrieve the bottle that Joelle's unearthing, his fingers gritty with sand and stained by charcoal (so we can assume that he's not offering a handshake). "Jon. Bartender. What'll it be," is said as flat as he can manage, woe and more woe.

Uh huh, says the nodding. Just posted. "You and me both," says Joelle forthrightly of her being dropped into the midst of this mess. The face she pulls is one of overdone comical dismay, as if the Harper Hall has absolutely lost its mind. Though to be fair to them, the posting's probably been in the works for a few weeks. Paperwork can be maddeningly slow sometimes. "I don't really even have the credentials to distract people from their woes. I teach reading and writing. To children and illiterate adults." He's eyed critically, "I assume you can do both?" Yeaaah, they probably should have sent in a bunch of mindhealers to deal with the post traumatic stress. Instead, they get Joelle. Maybe what's in the bottle will help? She surely isn't going to be! "I'll have what you're having," she says without missing a beat.

Jonteim can do both? "Teach children and adults?" He squints like this question makes absolutely no sense to him. Probably because this question makes absolutely no sense to him. Again, he's in a state of extreme woe, and not parsing conversation with his usual witty dexterity. "Teach them to get drunk, sure," he fills in, taking the bottle by its base and turning it so he can see the label… which has come off and left it completely bare. At least that gets him to uncoil himself from his crouch, standing with a look from the mystery bottle to the new Harper, getting her little cleverness (maybe a second slow, but at least he got it) and rewarding it the smirk that it deserves. "Brave girl," he decides, moving to what's left of the stairs that used to lead onto the Lounge's patio, now just a rickety, half-burned skeleton upon whose lowest step he sits (delicately, in case it gives way) to work on opening the bottle.

Joelle's eyes dart side to side briefly. Well, no, she hadn't actually meant that, but now that he mentions it… she smiles. With her best animated 'motivate the masses' voice says, "Seeing you're out of work? Yes." But no, not really. She coughs, then corrects him gently, "Read and write, I meant." Not that she's on a mission to educate the world, mind, but, "I'm sure I'll have no way to pay for drinks until things stabilize here, so." A trade off might work out? She follows Jon to those steps, eyes them dubiously…and promptly lowers herself to sit crosslegged in the sand beside them. While he works on that bottle, her eyes wander over the ruin of what was the Tiki Lounge. "Will you be able to rebuild it?" she asks idly.

Jonteim's hands still on the bottle's neck, his fingers paused mid-action, and he looks down at Joelle from beneath knitted brows. "Basically, you're asking me if I'm an unemployed drunk who can't read." Hmm. He bends his head and reapplies himself to the bottle with a new vengeance, managing to get it open and give its contents a whiff, which makes him laugh another of those dry chuckles that seem to be his forte. "Not any time soon, sure as shells not if I manage to get to the bottom of this bottle. You a drinker, Harper?" And he takes a swig, one that makes his eyes water and makes him blow out a long breath - a whiskey-smellin' breath.

Joelle certainly was not! But she laughs and nods, eyes too-bright. She flutter-gestures to the ruins about them, then that bottle. "Well, aren't you?" Amused, obviously doesn't think anything of the sort. He gets the bottle open and she golf-claps for him, watches him take that first sip, notes the eyes watering. To answer his question, she simply holds out her hand for that bottle, manages not to choke on the fumes wafting her way as he exhales. "Eventually, then," she amends her question. It is afternoon on the beach. She, wearing a harper's knot, apparently newly-arrived, and Jonteim are sitting (he on the burned stairs leading to what's left of the Tiki Lounge and she on the sand beside them) chatting while a green dragon is offloading supplies from the Healer Hall.

"Probably," is Jonteim's answer to the first question (isn't he?), put in a hoarse voice, his pale eyes still bright and watery while they follow the bottle that he's handing down to where Joelle sits. Most of the Weyr is mobilized in some way or another, doing something to help in the wake of catastrophe, but here they sit: the bartender and the new Harper, getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon. As for the second question, the implication that there's an eventual rebuilding to undertake, he sighs and answers, "Maybe. You any good with a hammer and nails?" And he eyes Joelle dubiously, pretty sure he could take a guess about her carpentry skills.

Joelle takes that bottle, delicately raising it to her lips and allows a mouthful to pour in. Not a sip. Not a gulp. But more than is prudent. Is she a drinker? Hell no. This is painfully obvious as she pauses for a moment, one eye twitches juuuust a little bit and both of them water. She sort of rolls that whiskey around in her mouth - most likely tempted to spit it out. She swallows it instead, coughs and then rasps, "Not bad." Liar. That was awful! And yet, she hands it back with a 'hurry up' motion for him to take his turn like she cannot wait to have another go. When she gets her voice back, it's barely a whisper, mind, she'll answer his question. "Do you have anything that needs glue and clamps? Or screws?" Yes. She really said that. "Because that I can do."

Kyra hasn't had much of a chance to get out here as of yet, seeing as the beach wasn't exactly the top of her list of places to go when all hell broke loose. Now she comes, however, picking her way through the various bits of debris, wearing cargo shorts and a trim long-sleeve shirt along with some sturdy shoes so she doesn't get a nail through her foot. She recognizes Jonteim and offers him a wan, somewhat sympathetic smile before waving curiously towards Joelle, "Hi. What're you doing out here?" This seems to be more for Jon than Joelle, though she does add, quick as she can manage, "Oh, I'm Kyra. I don't think we've met." She offers a hand over to Joelle, lacking any particular judgment about them drinking in the afternoon.

Who /isn't/ drinking today? ..Well Keldan, for one. He's been slow as far as getting out and about goes for the day, movements slow and a bit labored as hemakes his way down to the water. His own clothes are loose, with a sleeveless tunic baring a bandaged arm and shoulder, and string-tied shorts coming down to his knees. At least he's put on /shoes/ to protect his feet from any debris he comes across. There's a wince though for the state of the nearby Lounge, bandaged fingers giving a rake through his hair as he wanders toward those somewhat charred steps. And the people, of course. "Geez…what a mess.." Right, the /people/. He glances over at his sister and the other two, nodding his head somewhat. "Hey." A little /less/ of a greeter than Kyra.

Jonteim waits for it… waits for it… ah, there. With the coughing and the watering eyes, which make him grin like this has just become the best day ever. "Lucky for us you found it, eh?" he questions of the bottle, taking only a quick swig before holding it back to Joelle, and so promptly! It's about the time that he's delivering the bottle back to the Harper that Kyra appears on the scene, and he - shifting so he's got an elbow on his knee, so that he's got his chin on his hand - mumbles into his fingers, "Can think of a few things that could use a few screws, yep." Less mumble, more audible, to the huntress: "Trying not to cry like a little girl," is what he's doing out here. "Shouldn't you be off breaking your legs or something?" He has no idea who Keldan is, but the guy gets a chin-tilt nod of the 'what's-up' variety.

Joelle's fanning her eyes (like that's gonna help!) but takes the bottle back without hesitation. Deep breath, Joelle, deep breath. You can do this! She sips this time. Oh hey! Everything's numb, lips, tongue, throat. She can taste nothing! The sip is accomplished, so is the swallow. Ah but somewhere around the windpipe things go awry. More coughing. "We haven't," Joelle, gasps still somewhat rough-voiced, to the newly-arrived Kyra. The bottle is passed back to the (now smiling) Jon and she offers her hand readily to shake the girl's offred one with an easy smile. "Just got off the boat, so-to-speak. I'm Joelle." She gives a little finger wiggle to the boy following in Kyra's wake, a curious eyeing at his beat up appearance, then her gaze slips back to Jon. She'll just pretend she didn't hear the breaking legs comment to beam at him (somewhat giddily), "Great! I'll help you screw things. And if you teach me how to hammer, I'll do that too!" Innocently, meant, of course!

Kyra has to take a moment to look at Joelle after that meeting, mostly because she is not unaware of what Jonteim must have meant about screwing. She stares for a few seconds at her, then looks at Jon, lids lowered, mildly accusing. Clearing her throat, she waves a hand in his direction dismissively, "My leg's healed up. You know there's a bar inside, right? Well. There was, anyway. In the rec room." Not exactly the level of the Lounge, to be sure, but they have alcohol. She looks back at Keldan and motions towards him after a second, "This is my brother, Keldan. Kel, this is Jonteim - he was a candidate for a little while at Xanadu, too." Joelle just introduced herself, so Kyra won't echo that, instead grinning a bit now as she says, "It's nice to meet you, even if it's kind of a bad time for you to come to the Weyr, you know?" With another glance towards Jonteim, she asks him, inquisitive and with brows raised, "Are you going to fix up the Lounge, then? Does that mean it'll belong to you…?"

"If it's going to belong to one of your friends, you'd better wheedle a few free drinks here and there." Keldan plops himself down on a bit of rubble. Non-smoking, stable looking rubble anyway. He tilts his head a bit though, nodding along with the introductions that are made for him. See? He doesn't /need/ to introduce himself when Kyra is around. She does it for him. Thus, a hand is waved at his sister with a nod of his head as she speaks. "Gotcha, gotcha. And you, Joelle. Got that too. Nice to meet you..apparently you're busy with the screwing though? And the hammering. Or..getting hammered?"

"Yeah?" There's a bar inside. "And there's a bottle right here, but it's still not the same, now is it." Jonteim has the bottle back from Joelle in time to deliver that line, holding it by the neck up toward Kyra. For all the snarkiness, it's obvious that he doesn't, like, hate her or anything; he's just having a bad day (while people cope with the loss of their homes and possibly loved one, #first-world-problems). "Dunno about rebuilding it. Still coping with the tragedy and whatever." Assuming that he's quit of that bottle of really harsh whiskey, he pantomimes a ba-dum-ching after Keldan's contribution, funny guy. "Welcome to Half Moon, by the way," he contributes to Joelle, like the bad puns and crappy booze and burnt rubble really sell the place.

Joelle meets Kyra's staring by tilting her head this way and that accompanied by various ridiculous facial expressions, because hey, if she's going to be inspected, might as well make it interesting, eh? She ends by winking at the girl, eyes a-twinkle, a smirky smile to go with. "Thanks Keldan, and well-met," she says after he's introduced. As for the screwing and hammering, cheerfully, "Not yet, but I will be!" Apparently she's helping Jon, if he allows her near his tools. As for the booze, she salutes him with it. "Thanks!" There's a purpose for her imbibing and it's not to get drunk (though that might actually be the end result, novice that she is). Even so, her next mouthful is taken with more caution so she doesn't cough, it still winds up in the same place - her bloodstream. Hoarsely to belatedly answer Keldan, "I'll be keeping the little ones-" Her eyes slide to Jon, "-and illiterate drunks, out from underfoot with lessons while order is restored."

Kyra rolls her eyes a bit at Jonteim only to wave her hands slightly, "Well, I didn't come to get in the way of your screwing and getting hammered. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I heard about what happened to the Lounge, so I sort of figured you might be out here showing off your best side." She smirks mildly only to ruffle her fingers through her hair and huff softly, other hand propped on her hip, "Whenever you're done feeling sorry for yourself, Jon, we could probably use your help cleaning up some of the stuff inside. There are bottles of alcohol from the bar and kitchens that are sort of all over and the normal bartender sort of got caught under one, so he's in the infirmary. It can wait, though. I'll see you later. It was nice to meet you again, Joelle. I hope you enjoy your time here." This last is said with an easygoing smile for the Harper before she turns towards her brother and gives him a look of curiosity and mild concern, "You gonna come back to the Weyr with me?" She imagines so, but it doesn't hurt to ask.

Keldan just shakes his head, smiling a little to himself. "That sounds..like fun. But I think I'll let the two of you have all of that to yourselves." There's a moment of flexing his hand a bit, frowning when the bandages pull tight around the movement, then simply stops. "So long as it's more broken bottles than broken skulls, it's sure less of a tragedy to me." When Kyra starts speaking again, and /at/ him, he tilts his head, peering at his sister with a faint nod. "Yeah. I think they wrapped this thing a bit too tight, so I need 'em to take a look at it again."

The little ones. Jon looks deliberately toward Kyra and Keldan. And illiterate drunks. He answers Joelle's gaze with a completely benign smile, yes ma'am. Then Kyra's on him about something, and he shrugs at the implied accusations. "Whenever I'm done feeling sorry for myself," which he does not dispute and even seems to wear with some pride, "I'll make sure to keep that in mind. Thanks for checking up on me, though?" He's not totally sure that's the right term, maybe, and he certainly seems to find that aspect of this encounter puzzling… but the two of them seem to be planning to beat a hasty retreat, so he doesn't go prying at the moment.

Joelle quirks a comically-bewildered look at Kyra's hand-waving little speech. Butbut! There is no nailing going on? No screwdrivers in sight? No wood waiting to be… Blame the booze on her lack of current comprehension - please! "Nice to meet you too Kyra!" she responds cheerfully, while wide blue eyes on the girl waver a wee bit. Her smile is somewhat uncertain. Don't upset the natives, Joelle. "I won't keep him…from…his…" Work? Cleanup? Burial detail? She has no idea, really. "You too Keldan," she says just as brightly - sincerely even. Something's wound too tight, yes. She won't dispute that. She watches Kyra go with brother in tow, then sorta rolls her eyes back to Jon and solemnly offers that bottle back without saying a word about girlfriend or mother. But she waaaaants to. "This is going to be THE. Most. Interesting. Posting. Ever." There's a shout from yonder greenrider. "Oops! My guitar." She pushes herself to her feet, wobbles a tad and then sniffs. She's got it Under Control. "Poke me when you're ready," she says casually heading for her luggage. Please don't follow her and snicker. Because managing it is going to be an unsteady process. It's the ground, yep. They told her it'd be rolling for some time.

"We'll swing around the infirmary, then. I keep thinking you're going to trip over something and wind up hurting yourself even worse trying to stop from falling," Kyra says with a little twist of her lips, offering Keldan a hand up via his elbow. She shrugs in Jonteim's direction, pointing out fairly frankly, "There was an earthquake and we're friends. Of course I'm going to check on you." Joelle will get a shrug as well when she mentions keeping Jonteim from anything, the girl clearly not that in deep regarding what either one of them does from hereon out. She just waits for Keldan so she can pick back through all the littering debris with him.

Keldan rolls his eyes slightly, laughing. "My /arm/ is hurt, Kyra. Not my head or my legs. I'm not going to fall. That's your job." There's a slight smirk though, and he does let his sister help him up at least, making a slight face for it. Eck..sore. "She's been checking on everyone she's ever spoken to. All day long. You'd think everyone would just send her a note. Make it a whole lot less walking around, anyway.." There's a slight nod toward the drinking pair once again though. Same as a greeting, just as a good-bye this time around as he turns to head back off across the debris-littered bowl.

Such a gentleman, Jonteim goes to all the trouble of holding up a hand to help Joelle to her unsteady feet - but then she's got it figured out on her own (kinda), so he drops his hand back to his knee, his eyes bright with unabashed mirth at the new Harper's teetery status. Seriously, if she fell on her face, he'd probably never get over the funnies. And speaking of the funnies, he bursts out with a totally uncharacteristic guffaw at Keldan's comment - That's your job. - so that he has to hastily cough to cover that sound, lifting a wave after the duo of departing siblings. Some people might find it even more depressing to be all alone amid the rubble of a bar, drinking bad whiskey, but he seems to be okay with it, sipping from the bottle now and again once he's abandoned.

Oh damn! There's all that debris. Joelle will probably trip over that a few times on her way off the beach too. When it happens closer to the Weyr proper, landing her in a heap of Harper and luggage she'll call out, "Earthquake!" and swear she felt the earth move!


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