Brotherly 'Love'

Western Weyr - Tiki Lounge Patio
As one walks onto the wood panelled flooring, they are greeted with the scent of burning oil, the likely source the various torches burning along the perimeter of the flooring. The flooring is littered with tables shaded with umbrellas, matching chairs tucked beneath when not in use. People of all sorts gather in clusters to talk or people watch. One can easily see into the tavern, its large windows usually open to the outside. Music flows in from inside, carried by the sea breeze, encouraging some people to dance, or even sing along.

BIG WARNING FOR LANGUAGE AND CONTENT! Do not read if you mind cuss words or violence!

Mahlia, did you just tell Ila'den that 'a dalliance here and there ain't so bad'? Maybe it's just because Ila'den is drunk, but he could be interpreting that sentence in the worst possible way. He leans closer to the greenrider, catches her chin in one hand, and for the very first time today actually /looks/ at her. "Are you inviting me to a dalliance, little bird?" The words are gruff, but husky, and the bronzerider doesn't waver until suddenly V'ric is there, and the slightly-more-than-tipsy bronzerider is turning his attention onto his best friend. "/V'ric/," he says, and the smile on his lips is suddenly /too/ wicked, holding a viciousness in them that has never once been directed towards the brownrider before. "The man of the /hour/." And then he's on his feet, tugging Mahlia's drink free from her hand, setting it onto the table, and hauling her up against his much-larger frame. He does a bit of a twirling dance with her around the table, and then spins her right into V'ric's chair. Why? He hopes that she FALLS INTO HIS LAP, that's why. Just do it. If it happens (and it better, or you are ruining all of the things), Ila'den will lean in over /both/ of them, caging Mahlia between himself and V'ric by placing his hands very soundly on the arm of the chair his best friend occupies. "What do you say, V'ric? Dalliance with a little bird caught in the middle? Can't say Iris would mind; don't even know if I still have a weyrmate." Might as well have FUN. Or just be a drunk douchebag, because Ila'den is quite good at both of those things.

V'ric really isn't much of a talker, as is evidenced by his greeting and…you know..the utter silence. But he's keeping a wary eye on Ila'den, watching his longtime friend with a slight tenseness he might not otherwise possess. He can tell when something is about it—-and there it is. At least his lap isn't /bony/, and at the very least he does offer up something of an attempt to /catch/ the greenrider being twirled into his lap. He doesn't seem put off though, rather he tilts his head just a bit, looking around Mahlia at Ila'den when the bronzerider leans over them both. "You told her." That 'her' might be referring to Iris, if Ila'den doesn't know if he still has a weyrmate. Though there's a gruff noise from the brownrider as one leg shifts out to promptly deliver a kick to his friend's shin, a very unsubtle /back off/ as he gently pushes to get the poor Mahlia upright again. "She'd be in the way." Though there is at least another look given to the greenrider, a quiet once-over offered before he reaches for his drink again. "..No offense. Sit down, Ila…"

V'ric really isn't much of a talker, as is evidenced by his greeting and…you know..the utter silence. But he's keeping a wary eye on Ila'den, watching his longtime friend with a slight tenseness he might not otherwise possess. He can tell when something is about it—-and there it is. At least his lap isn't /bony/, and at the very least he does offer up something of an attempt to /catch/ the greenrider being twirled into his lap. He doesn't seem put off though, rather he tilts his head just a bit, looking around Mahlia at Ila'den when the bronzerider leans over them both. "You told her." That 'her' might be referring to Iris, if Ila'den doesn't know if he still has a weyrmate. Though there's a gruff noise from the brownrider as one leg shifts out to promptly deliver a kick to his friend's shin, a very unsubtle /back off/ as he gently pushes to get the poor Mahlia upright again. "She'd be in the way." Though there is at least another look given to the greenrider, a quiet once-over offered before he reaches for his drink again. "..No offense. Sit down, Ila…"

Sorel really should have had the sudden urge to drink himself silly another day and another time, but sadly, as fate would have it, he shows up when people he's all too familiar with are already here. Gray eyes settle on the drunken form of his half-brother and there's a moment when Sorel seriously ponders turning on heel and marching right back out. But then his pride gets the better of him and he snorts at that thought, throwing it away. As if he should suffer because his brother is an asshole. So instead the Journeyman makes his way across the patio snags a worker long enough to order something to drink before he slips into a chair a bit away from the ruckus that's going on over there. Really, he's not trying to be seen, he's just trying to get something to drink. Maybe he'll be lucky and no one that matters will notice his appearance.

Mahlia had really tried to put some thought in to how she phrased her words, and at first she thinks she pi$$ed Ila'den off. The paleness of his gray eyes is ominous, giving her caged heart a few skipped beats. Her lips pucker to a fish-inspired pout as hand cups her lower jaw, she blinks and blinks again. The thought had never crossed her mind… well maybe once, in the very beginning some 9ish turns ago, but now, after all they've seen each other go through? Cue the spiky haired rider who, Ila seems to know very well, and before she knows it, the situation has taken a very strange twist. "Ila'.. I.. well.." She has a pretty significant level of trust placed in Ila'den, but there's a turning point, where a flicker of concern is spotted in her eyes. She will, being jungle-trained nimble, attempt to catch herself from falling in to the strangers lap. Ila looks ready to advance, and he does so she twirls right in to V'ric's lap agreeing. What I meant was.. if there's a consensual agreement or something." A headshake and she's crinkling her nose towards 'new-friend', Mahl quips "Thanks.. n'you have no idea.." She is /still/ a greenie afterall. Cue another uniquely grey eyed gent, half-borther or not, s'fairly plain to see. Hands will at some point hold a defensive gesture towards Ila'den's lascivious pressing. "" she gets it when he spills the beans and V'ric confirms. Whether he wants it or not, as a female, advice is shared "Just give her time.. and don't mess it up further with me or anyone else while you're at it ya.. She'll come around.. and umm.." is said very 'un-intuitively' of the young gent at the bar with those haunting grey eyes "Do guys know him?"

Did V'ric really just… /kick/ him? Did shin assualt really just happen? The bronzerider growls, but does instinctively draw away. And then Mahlia goes and says /that/. Ila'den throws his head back and /laughs/, and then croons out, "Too late, little bird." And he's advancing on V'ric, who just told him to sit, but then… Mahlia points out the one person who would have probably rather gouged his own eyes out than be noticed by Western's weyrsecond. It's probably for the best that little Sorel shows up right then, because all of that anger zeros right in on the younger man. It /vanishes/, though, and turns into… very dark amusement. Ila'den laughs yet again, harder, possibly because this is the most humorous outcome he can imagine in his head (and what /perfect/ timing, from all parties involved). He doesn't stop his advancing on V'ric, simply leans over the brownrider's sitting form before pressing a kiss against his mouth. "Going to have to learn how to share," he reprimands with scathing sarcasm, and then he's righting himself, and hooking a thumb towards Sorel. "That, Mahlia, is Sorel. He is… family." And the bronzerider is on the loose! YOU sit down, V'ric! Ila will do no such thing! He's across the bar - patio? - in seconds flat, and bringing an arm around Sorel's shoulders. He steers his little brother towards the action, and gives him what might be a winning and companionable smile if not for the words that follow it, "I heard you have a taste for siblings, little brother. Would you like to have a dalliance with me? Or!" and there's a pause, as the younger man is ushered towards a seat, "You might get some mutual consent from V'ric here, and then you two can bury your hatchet of jealousy and realize why Kiltara wanted him in the first place." … Yes, Ila'den is on a rampage, and it brings him right back to Mahlia's side. "What do you say, little bird? Reckon that's messing it up further?" It's okay, Mahlia. You can punch him. Or Vel. Or Sorel. Fair game.

V'ric just sits there for a moment. Wait a second, is he getting kissed? There's a bit of a blink for that…or maybe for Ila'den's words, because the brownrider's brows furrow quite abruptly at them. "/Learn/?" Oh, that wasn't a very nice thing to say at all. After all, V'ric has done nothing /but/ share. Or get nothing at all, anyway. Alas, poor Sorel…well..Vel just sighs a bit, glancing at Mahlia again. "I…apologize for him." Since Ila'den doesn't do that sort of thing on his own. Usually. A hand rubs at the bridge of his nose though, completely at a loss…at least for the time being. Poor Sorel, you're on your own!

It definitely is plain to see that Sorel is indeed of relation to Ila'den, as much as the young Seacrafter would deny it, he looks quite strikingly similar to his elder half-sibling. Just younger, and perhaps a bit more… refined. And then he has to be pointed out, and Sorel very much hates Mahlia at that moment. Couldn't she just have let him slink and drink and be all of his lonesome? Apparently not because Ila is closing in on him, wrapping an arm around him and trying to lead him into the fray. Said arm is quickly shrugged off with a near growl, a sound that only get more annoyed at the first words Ila'den then says directly to Sorel. "Go fuck yourself." The words are forced between gritted teeth before he shoves the bronzerider away from him but nonetheless takes a seat, if just to try to avoid wanting to slam a fist into Ila's idiotic face. Because really, that's where all of this is currently leading. "Keep me out of your love affairs. Unless you want to widen the the hole that's opened between you and Kit even more, then by all means, keep prancing around sticking your dick in anything that moves." And no worries Vel, Sorel is more than capible of taking care of himself for the moment. But just wait until Ila'den steps over a line and well, there will be fists flyin, and he's obviously already toeing that line as it stands.

Mahlia is really glad she's wriggled her way off of V'ric's lap, somewhere between shin kicking and Ila'den smooching.. another man? Now she's really confused. Ila has been cheating on Iris with V'ric?? There's plenty she doesn't know about the bronzer, especially these days, and by the way he's acting she's beginning to wonder if she hardly knows him at all. Heartbreak can do cruel things to the mind, combine that with guilt and you have a recipe for ~*coocoowithcocoapuffs*~ in one's brain. Then it hits her, as Ila'den explains, she's definitely in the middle of some sticky family affair and the bronzer who known her since before she was a Weyrling, has definitely lost it. She gives an apologetic look to Sorel, instantly fretting what's going to happen next as the young gent is 'led' over. This quickly turns to one of surprise as he spits fire with expletives towards the bronzerider. A glance towards V'ric, who's apologizing for Ila'den, and brows are a furrowing. Someone has got to say something, and for some reason she decides it's going to be her. A firm hand is placed on Ila's shoulder, pulling him back from the spiky haired one "Serious Ila'den.. get a hold of yourself.." There's reprimand in her tone "Y'all are family? And we're friends! Y'can't just go around treating one another like this. People make mistakes.. but it is not a case of the more the merrier. What happened to your decency?" This is said with conviction and rather generally to the wild bunch on the patio.

Eeek! V'ric, you don't want Sorel to be on his own after what he /just said to Ila'den/. Oh, the minute his near-doppleganger opens his mouth, Ila'den's mood, once again, shifts completely. There's a sneer, a growl, and then the bronzerider is lunging forward only to be stopped by Mahlia's hand on his shoulder. There's absolute tenseness in every muscle under Mahlia's touch, and it was probably the least-genius idea she's had since this entire fiasco began. /Honestly/, the only one with any clout here would probably be V'ric, and that's because he's damn near as big as Ila'den is. Instead, the bronzerider laughs again, and then turns to face Mahlia completely. He brings his hands down on Mahlia's hips, and walks the greenrider backwards. "My /decency/, Mahlia?" and he leans just a bit, catching the woman at her knees, pulling her flush against his body, and depositing her little bottom on the table so that he can lean in against her with absolutely no wiggle room. Or, the intimate kind of wiggle room. Poor Mahlia, a casualty of Ila-rage. "Never fuckin' had it, sweetheart." And without moving, he's lifting his gaze to look at V'ric, with something akin to loathing. Isn't that the look he usually directs at Sorel? "Do not apologize for me, old friend." And then he's lifting one hand from the table to hook a thumb in Sorel's direction. Now's your chance, Mahlia! Fleeee! "Maybe you should handle him before I handle him myself." Really, the bronzerider is itching for a fight. Sorel's a viable punching back for multiple reasons.

"Kilarden." There's a /tone/ to the way V'ric speaks Ila'den's given name, even if he doesn't get up from his seat. Not just yet, anyway. Soft though it might be, there's enough warning in it to hopefully get the bronzerider's attention. But he does put his glass down on the table, slowly rising from his chair to lean toward his friend. "Stop it. Now." He watches Ila'den at least, like the man might lunge in any direction. And he just might! This Ila is a wild and unpredictable thing. "You're not handling anyone..not tonight."

Sorel nearly chokes at Mahlia's words, "Since when has Ila ever had decency?" And then the bronzerider goes and repeat pretty much what Sorel already knew was true. "He's very good at pulling blankets over the eyes of those who are in his life, I can't say I really understand how it is so many people find him.. charming, when all he does is flash that fake smile in their direction and offer words pleasing to the ears. Don't be fooled, Ila's a bastard and all that he does is pretty much just for himself." And speaking of holes, Sorel is very much digging himself into one right now, and it appears as if the teen is very much aware of this fact and yet he just keeps on going with an almost cruel twist to his lips. "Oh, my dear brother, why don't you show me just how you intend to handle me. You seem to think I'm some little vtol you can just swat away, but I assure you, handling me, won't be as simple as you seem to think it." There is fire in the young man's gaze as it tracks Ila'den as he moves. To say that Sorel is in a bad mood is an understatement, but hey, being in a huge fight over the possible outcome of his unborn child when Ila could have easily solved that with a few short words, is a good reason to poke the bear, right?

Mahlia tries to be well-calculated, really she does! This does not go over well as she's scooped up and thrust against the table with a sweep of her legs and the rage that is fueling Ila'den. Her eyes are stern, she doesn't flinch, and doesn't say another word. There's the harshness of drunkenness tainted betrayal, and she feels for Ila, the lack of words punctuated by deep breaths as she stares him in the eye. She really has gotten herself in to a pickle, and although she's seen it, Sorel gets nothing but a squinty look over Ila's shoulder. His attention is also drawn that direction, and the greenrider does indeed squirm out from his body pressed so firmly against her. Fortunately V'ric is stepping in, further distraction for the bronzer is good. "Look.." she says pushing back from the trio "This is obviously way beyond me and you guys need to talk it out or something." She gulps, knowing no matter what she says, it will probably come out wrong. "Don't lose sight of what's important, or who you are.. we do the best we can with what we got and perfection is unattainable." Drink is abandoned, and there's a straight shot for the door. "Now I really should remove myself from this situation.. plus Zahleizjah has my medicinals and we must get back to Eastern at once." She wants to say something cordial like 'see ya around.. catch ya later' but now that would just be ridiculously misplaced for how the plot turned out this fine Western evening. With that, she's headed for the door, walking backwards, slowwwllly…verryyy slowlllyy.. don't set the beast off. And *poof!* she's gone!

Pefection is unattainable? Blasphemy! You clearly haven't studied Ila'den long enough in the mirror (I keed, I keed). Maybe in the right state of mind, Ila'den would truly appreciate Mahlia's efforts to squander Ila'den's fury, but he's too busy locking eyes with his little brother who just doesn't seem to know when to stop. V'ric is there, sure, and he's even using quite the impressive tone with Ila'den's name to let the bronzerider know that he's out of line, but Sorel's mouth just keeps /running/. Mahlia escapes, and the bronzerider is making a lunge for Sorel, right around V'ric if he has to. "Let's test that theory," the bronzerider spits out, and he's shouldering past the V'ric barricade to grab Sorel by the collar of his shirt. Does he actually… /hurt/ him? Surprisingly, no, but he does seem very much like he's intending on doing just that. It'll only be if Sorel gives him enough time to actually settle in that he might realize Ila'den is only going to give him a good shaking, and possibly make him spill his drink. "I should have killed you from the start. You are /nothing/. You are worthless, and you do not deserve that little girl." Ila'den' drawing his fist back now? Yep! But he's not throwing his weight forward…

Every once in a while, when the moon is full and the planets align just right, there is a change in V'ric. Or maybe it's just when Ila'den manages to rile him to the breaking point. Combine it with Sorel and the brownrider's jaw clenches when the Weyrsecond lunges past him. And then? "Stop it, /both/ of you!" A roar, really. V'ric's voice being raised is a terribly rare event, but it happens upon occasion. He moves right along to muscle his way between the brothers. Possible hitting? It'll have to get through the wall that is Vel. There's a glare leveled on Ila'den though for a moment. "Stop trying to get him to hit you. And /you/!" His head whips back again, eyes narrowing on Sorel. "You do nothing /but/ provoke him. The /both/ of you feed off it like wherries on a carcass! /Enough!/"

Sorel is not thinking as well as he should be, because if he was, he'd be thinking about Kiltara as well, not just the fury that is coarsing through his veins. And fury there definitely is. He didn't really notice Mahlia's escape, because really, 110% of his attention has been focused with needle like precision upon his half-sibling. But the moment that Ila is shouldering past V'ric and has hands wrapped on his person, well that's the moment that Sorel snaps. Ila should really remember by this point that there's /always/ a dagger in Sorel's posession, and the moment he's grabbed for that potential shaking is the moment that the seacrafter stabs a dagger into his brother's side. Ayup. That just happened. "How many times have I said not to fucking touch me." He hisses, still clutching to the dagger that's now imbeded in the bronzer's flesh. Oh, and look, there's Vel trying to get in between them and stop something that sadly has already happened. The brownrider manages to push Sorel's hold on his weapon loose and the Journeyman is prancing back several steps, chest heaving as slitted gaze barely leaves Ila's face. "One day he'll learn to keep his mouth shut, and then maybe I'll keep mine shut as well, but until that day, it's something you just have to deal with, V'ric. Being you're a part of our happy little family." Notice there isn't really much remorse for you know, stabbing his older sibling. "Payback's a bitch isn't it, brother?"

The reason why Ila'den stays hidden away under so many layers and long sleeves is because he has more than his fare-share of scars littering his body. He might not be on quite the same level as V'ric in the 'battle wound' department, but he's not far off, either. So to say that Ila'den isn't /use/ to this pain would only be a partial lie. Ila'den hasn't had to deal with a lifestyle that required adjustment to this sort of physical pain in /turns/. It steals the breath right out of him, and the bronzerider immediately lets go of Sorel out of pure shock. This, of course, only enables V'ric to get between them all the faster, though those grey eyes blink after his best friend as if he's not quite comprehending any word that's being said. He blinks down to his side, brows furrowing, and then jerks the dagger in his side right back out. BRILLIANT. GENIUS, ILA'DEN. Of /course/ he just goes and removes the one thing that's probably stemming an impressive flow of blood. Speaking of which, the bleeding begins immediately, and Ila'den does a bit of a sway on his feet as all of the color suddenly drains from his face. It takes a moment, but then slowly, slowly, there's building laughter. Hysterics? Maybe, but Ila'den stumbles once again, and presses his own hand into his side to apply pressure to his own wound. "No," he gasps out after a moment. "The only payback that's going to be a bitch is when Kiltara finds out about this." … Seriously? He had enough presence of mind to get in that last dig? At least he's not fainting! But it's very evident that he is in /pain/, and he's groping his way towards the stairs leading off of the patio - or trying to, anyway. Still laughing, by the way. Psycho.

Payback is a bitch, in every sense of the word. And as V'ric realizes that there's a knife..and it's /in/ Ila'den, the brownrider just stops, staring for a moment. Words? They're white noise to the brownrider, far too intent on the bleeding that promptly stems when Ila'den…like an idiot…pulls the blade right out. Of course, his first matter of business is to whirl on Sorel. For whatever Kiltara might do to him later, she isn't here /now/. But V'ric's fist is, and comes down in the hit that Ila'den never took to the man's face. He might've even gone further if Ila'den wasn't trying to hobble off the patio, and the brownrider goes there instead to help hold his friend up while at least making an attempt to staunch the blood flow. "Idiots.. both…damn it.. /infirmary/."

By the look that Sorel wears, he was already fully prepared for whatever consequences that will follow this from Kit. Perhaps she'd understand and perhaps she wouldn't but Ila would was never going to stop getting his jabs in until Sorel shut his big stupid mouth. So he's okay with that, and he is even okay with getting a V'ric punch to the face. He takes it like a man and doesn't flinch before hand even when he sees it coming and is knocked back from the force. He lifts his head up and rocks his jaw back and forth, smirking at the brownrider. At least he's not laughing like a maniac, right? "Look on the bright side V'ric, I didn't hit anything important. And maybe next time he'll remember not the fucking touch me." Yes, the boy has a thing about people touching him. Apparently Ila forgot. But once the riders are heading off, hopefully to the infirmary, Sorel is leaving, when he didn't even get his own damn drink, to head back to his hut and inform Ila's other sibling of what he just did.

YES! DO IT AGAIN, VEL! Hit him a thousand times… or something. Ooor, just come to Ila'den's rescue, that works too. When the brownrider is at his side, Ila'den grabs hold over V'ric and gets some of that fantastically flowing blood all over him. "You're not allowed to laugh if I pass out," Ila'den informs him, followed by more laughter, and blood-slicked hands slipping back into place over his side. He presses as hard as he can, earning the world an expletive as Vel helps him make his way to the infirmary. Did he see the punch? No, or he would have given Vel a highfive. He's much too busy, however, trying not to bleed out on his way to the infirmary (which would be quite the feat, all things considered, since his vitals were at least /spared/). "Faranth, I haven't felt this bad in turns," in fact, the last injury that he really remembers when when his bow snapped and the recoil caught him under the eye. Long, long time ago, that. As for Sorel, well… have fun with the youngest of the brood. She's probably not going to be happy with any of the three.

"It's because you're old." A solemn reply indeed to Ila'den's complaint. Blood? V'ric never minded any of that mess. He simply helps to keep the pressure while guiding Ila'den to the dreaded infirmary. Laugh? There's no chance of laughter right now from the brownrider. There's a very set-in look of annoyance at /life/ at the moment. What with weyrmates and siblings and alcohol and yelling and /knives/… It's a wonder the Weyr hasn't burned down around them all.

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