Ista Weyr - Sable Sands Patio
This is the patio for the Sable Sands Nightclub and Bar, what would on a regular weyr be the dragon's ledge. The ledge's surface here, however, has been filled and leveled, leaving a smooth floor upon which are set a number of small, round wooden tables and high-back chairs, all painted a glossy black. The tables are arranged to take advantage of the view, looking out over the broad plateau to the ocean beyond, a perfect frame for sunsets on a clear evening.
Night is cool and pleasantly humid, a breeze kicking up over the Weyr to cool off another day in…paradise? Eh, maybe not, but close enough. In her own little corner of paradise is one Jaziera, hair a-mess, skin sallow, a stack of paperwork and…a mug of tea? in front of her. It's hardly bar fare, but that would be the giant platter of fried tubers in front of her that's smothered in something that just can't be healthy. Rather than eyeing her paperwork, yon Goldie is staring into space tiredly, watching Timor and Belior track faithfully down the sky towards the sea. Time? Who even knows what time it is really, but there aren't many people about - which may just suggest that our Jazi is making a late-night foray from the safety of her weyr for…paperwork and fattening snacks. Yay? At least none of the other patrons are bothering her, all way too far into their own drinks or one another to pay much attention.
It seems the cool night air has lured out more then one goldie in paradise, though arguably Cen is having a much less quiet night than Jaziera. First, there is the rumbling. Because Nziekilth doesn't do anything by half-measures, so her growl is probably heard by half the weyr, despite the massive dragon being somewhere out of sight, or just up at an odd angle to be seen from the Sands. And then there is yelling, the kind that is vaguely gibberish, only half-spoken aloud because the other end of the argument is in one's head. Oh yeah, and then there's the running. The sound of footsteps can be heard long before Cenlia actually appears, boots pounding on the stone of the patio as she bolts headlong from across the bowl and into the Sable Sands, messy bun half-undone and wisps of hair flying free as the girl narrowly avoids what few patrons there are at this time of night, startling some drunk out of his chair even. "Outta m' way! Comin' through!" is the only warning most of them get as the beige-clad weyrwoman /zooomz/ by, loose pants and shirt in the usual thin material, practical but unstylish, more fitting a drudge than a goldrider. Not that she's giving anyone a decent chance to spot her knot as she runs right by her fellow goldie, does a sudden 180, and quite abruptly dives behind Jaziera's chair. "Ain't interested in makin' any brats! Shove off!" is yelled over her shoulder, more or less at the ceiling. Some of the more experienced servers just /look/ at each other for a second, and then try to continue on, ignoring Cenlia as best they can. Possibly, this isn't the first time, or the strangest thing, the weyrwoman has done while running into the Sands. A few of the tourists are staring, though, now that Cen's scrambling to duck down out of sight as one giant faceted eyeball attached to Zeek's blocky head lowers itself near the entrance, the gold landing with a massive thud.
Apparently, Cenlia's oddities aren't all that surprising to Jaziera either — something on one of the nice sheets of paper is nodded at, and decisively signed, before she even looks up at the commotion. Dragonriders running from their dragons screaming? Well, okay, maybe that's not too commonplace…but seriously, not every rider is 'mated to /that/ dragon. So, nonchalantly, the other goldie takes a sip of her tea and watches her younger counterpart stop abruptly near her. Apparently that, at least, is amusing; Jazi grins at the Weyrwoman, eyebrows lifting up at the shout before she's *eyeing* those Tourists. The old hairy eyeball seems to work, and then she's twisting a little to eye Cen with sleepy-eyed amusement, nodding absently. "Your dragon is pretty good at getting what she wants." Sagely, the positively-ancient goldrider speaks, eyebrows drifting up again. "Faranth, she picks the strangest times to go on a tear." Cue a dramatic sigh and narrow-eyed look for poor Zeek. Head. Shake.
"Ain't here," Cenlia announces decisively, as if her merely stating that could make it so. Certainly she's doing a good job of hunching down as if it'd even make a difference. At least Jazi's hairy eyeball is keeping the visitors from adding to the problem. Stubbornly, Cenlia repeats herself, and Nziekilth just eyes them back, but unless the gold wants to try digging out the stone patio, she's not getting in to get at her rider. Which might be why Cen's hiding in there. The other goldie's eyebrow-lifting and grin do earn a somewhat sheepish look from Cenlia, and a vague attempt at an explanation, if said a bit lamely, "Shardin' lump's got it into her head I need a kid 'cause I dun't like them littles-" cutting herself off to snap a, "Am /not/ afraid of the sharding things!" in denial to the air, presumably aimed at Zeek. Though after so many turns of dealng with Cenlia - and Zeek - the staff at the Sands at least cen pretend not to be amused. "/Too/ good at it," the weyrwoman has to agree with Jazi, though, with something of a groan, making a face before daring to very carefully peer past a table leg toward the bowl.
Jaziera nods agreeably to the assertions of not-hereness, a brief smirk flitting before she coughs delicately into her napkin. (And by coughs delicately, of course, I mean she hawks up something and makes a face before tossing it in a bin next to the table) Another gulp of her tea, and she stares vaguely towards the massive gold, shaking her head and snorting. "Stubborn beast." She commiserates, then listens with eyebrows driiiifting up once more to the explanation. Okay; not entirely unexpected. Plucking a delicious fry from its' nest of spicy meat-legume goodness, the goldie nods a little, and when she's done munching happily she speaks up again. "Nothing to be afraid of!" She agreed heartily. "I mean, they stink and scream and make you want to tear your hair out if ya don't foist them off on the nannies, but…" Snickering to herself, Jazi eyes Zeek again, following Cen's gaze. "How long has she wanted /that/?" The question's posed innocently, but the other goldie is eyeing her hiding compatriot with a healthy amount of wary amusement. What?
Cenlia is vaguely distracted by Jaziera coughing over there, but agreeing in grumbly fashion, "Worse'n an ovine in the /infirmary/." It's relevant to stubbornness, apparently. Some more grumblemuttering. The goldrider hunches even more as her fellow describes the wonderfulness of having littles, possibly suppressing a shudder and making quite a lovely scrunchy-face behind that chair. "Am. not. here." is stated firmly, yet again, by Cenlia, glaring past the table, but refusing to budge. Thankfully, Nziekilth's patience doesn't seem too willing to wait her rider out, or maybe the gold just isn't interested in seeing who starts to starve first in this standoff - quite possibly the dragon would lose, there's /booze/ in the Sable Sands, after all. With one tremendous snort, which blows off some poor tourist's tacky straw sunhat, the gold shifts back, lifting her head away from the entrance and stomping off across the bowl toward the feeding pens. Cen lets out a somewhat audiable whoosh of air, and plops her butt down on the stone floor with another groan, "Sharding /dragon/. Uugggh, 'bout half a sevenday, an' I swear, that shardin' B'ky's got somethin' to do with it." Or maybe Cen just likes to hate on the poor man.
"…Worse, indeed." Is Jaziera's unfortunately-understanding agreement, a face-scrunchy and headshaky agreement might it be. "Not as stubborn as a /man/, though." Pointy nose goes airward, and here's Jazi's snorthuff. She even takes a moment to contemplate that one, and has to blink a little dazedly when Cen is restating her non-hereness. A slow turn pairs, then, with a glare for Nziekilth. It's not like it's going to offend the giant gold; she'd probably be more likely to see a courting behavior in the huffy look, possibly. "Not like /she'd/ watch it if you spawned." Pleasantly enough, the phlemgy rider responds eventually, watching the beast stomp off towards the place-of-food with more amusement than glare-ment. "Aw, be nice to B'ky." Jazi smiles a little, then shakes her head slowly, eyes rolling skyward. "Wouldn't be surprised, though. She only want you to spawn a damn little because she thinks you're scared of 'em?" A brief pause, and then she's laughing, shaking her head. Right. So not even going there. Instead, she sliiides those fries to the edge of the table and then deposits them with an 'oof' on a chair, scooting it out in unspoken invitation. It's not booze, but it's got cheese and meat and tubers. Almost as good, right?
"Nah, men're easy," Cenlia stops looking quite so grumpy to crack a slight grin, "Just gotta give 'em the right incentive an' stuff." A pause, and then, "Most times, knee to the nethers works, shovel waved at 'em works /real/ good." Cen definitely is not, ahem, what one might consider 'diplomatic' when dealing with, well, most people. Cough. The weyrwoman does look somewhat relieved that her lifemate has stomped off, though admittedly, a staring snort-contest between Zeek and Jaziera might have been pretty interesting. They could sell tickets, make it a uniquely Istan attraction. "She'd prolly eat it," Cenlia mutters, to the idea of her dragon watching any spawn of hers, though the girl does pause, and then wrinkle her nose, "Or treat it like one of her hatchlings and /breathe/ on it all day." Apparently, Zeek does this. Those poor weyrlingmasters. "B'ky's a turd," Cen grumps, though the grumps fade with the offer of tuber fries, and she wastes no time in snatching one to munch, while calling a, "Rum." To a passing server. Without getting up off the floor. It's a testament to the man's training that he doesn't even blink at the request, fetching the asked-for booze in short order. "Yeah, 's prolly why she's obsessed with them chickens too," the goldrider's expression is positively pained for a moment, adding hastily, "An' I ain't afraid of no poultry neither! Just dun't /like/ 'em." Riight.
There is a beat - just one! - between Cenlia's idea of mancontrol, and then Jaziera is laughing madly. Cackling, actually, knee-slapping and all before she lurches forward to grab that tea before the coughing sets in. "Hah," She eventually coughs out, giggling weakly. "That'll do it." Agreement comes with another snicker, even, as she leans back in her seat and smirks at a passing tourist. Who is probably drunk, since he beams beatifically at her. "A shovel, really, Cen? I've had to go with the knee before, but…never a shovel. Now," Here, a feral and wide grin is /quickly/ turned innocent, followed by a little cough. "A hunting knife does the job really well." Spawn-eating dragons are contemplated for a moment as the rider glaaances toward the bowl, where Keonath is now looming in the darkness. There is another moment of silence, as she wrinkles up her nose delicately, and shakes her head. "Poor kid would grow up with a complex." Okay, so this actually brings a grin, and a little snicker as she wags her head a little. "Would be kind of funny, though, if you think about it." As to B'ky's turd-ness, there is an unconvinced flappy-hand, but the comparison of children to chickens is kind of distracting. Cue a blink. "…right. Uh."
The other goldrider's cracking up has Cen chuckling as well, any ill mood brought on by Nziekilth's sudden obsession with children fading in the face of the idea of shovel-wielding at overly-stubborn mens. That is, till Jaziera starts coughing, and Cen's eyebrows go up, "Shards, y'alright there?" A flicker of concern for her fellow goldie is evident, but then there is straight-faced affirmation, "A shovel." Yep. "Figure knife'd work well 'nough," the weyrwoman nods, "But me, prefer somethin' big an' solid. 'Sides, threatenin' to cut off bits with a blunt blade.." she trails off. But woe to any poor man on the wrong side of /her/ shovel. "Yeah, but is only funny if I dun hafta walk 'round nine months feelin' like I swallowed a melon. Ugh. /Already/ went an' adopted P'rel - Zeek can go breathe all over /him/. Prolly get a punch to the snout fer it." Though whether the temperamental bronzerider would /actually/ try that (and live), might be moving into the absurd. As for children and chickens, Cenlia's just going to leave it at that, perhaps the less said on Cen and poultry, the better, really.
Jaziera kind of cough-giggles, taking a gulp of her tea and pointedly lifting the mug at one of the servers. "Just fine. Caught something off've one of the brats. Diseases go around the caverns like fire." A vague laugh, and she's contemplating the virtues of knife vs. shovel, genuinely thoughtful. Slowly, then, a nod and another smirk blossoms. "Alright, I gotcha. Point taken. Unless you've got a machete. I used to carry one of those when I was younger." Here, the woman positively beams. "Still got 'er hanging on my wall." Cue a happy sigh, then. Well, happy until her face scrunches up again and she's nodding woefully. "And if you're like me, sick the whole damn time, too. No booze, you get fat 'cause you eat everything in front of your face…upside, you can yell as loud as you want and people blame it on your belly." Jazi grins. A beat, then, and she shakes her head, snorting loudly. "Kid's got more balls than he has sense, then, punching /your/ dragon." And that's the truth!
"'Nother problem with the brats, worse'n anything fer gettin' sick," she'll swear to this wholeheartedly. Whether or not she really believes little ones are walking plaguebearers, may be debatable. But maybe anything to dissuade her obsessive dragon. Eyebrows dart up though, at mention of a machete, Cenlia agreeing there, with a widening grin of her own, "Shards, could use one of them things m'self. 'Specially clearin' a path on some of them islands. Been too long since I was out there," the girl muttergrumbling something about paperwork, and then taking a good long swig of the rum she'd ordered, with a bob her head in thanks both to the server, and to Jazi as she snatches another fried tuber. "Still oughtta carry one 'round," is suggested idly, "Give folks somethin' to think 'bout." Or fear. "No booze," that's groaned in lament, "Ain't /ever/ doin' that again. Candidacy an' weyrlinghood was as decent a dry spell as I ever'll need." Her grin becomes a little crooked though, Cenlia chuckling, "Still yell loud as I want," idly flicking her very fancy knot, though she does wave off the comment on P'rel, "Yeah. Definitely got balls, but 'least he ain't stupid, ain't done it yet, but figure Zeek's breath'd make anybody a little crazy after awhile." Cough.
Jaziera nods ruefully, taking a hefty gulp of her new drink and closing her eyes in bliss. It might not be booze, but hey, she doesn't have tissues shoved up her nostrils and she's not moaning like a zombie, now is she? "They are." She concedes all the same, before grinning more heartily on the subject of the machete. "I keep mine sharp enough to split a hair." Proudly, the goldrider offers, nodding contentedly. "They're really convenient, yeah. Good for cutting just about anything. Islands?" If she had ears, they'd prick up, this goldie - her head falls to the side and she glances misty-eyed offshore. "We oughta pull a runner and go hide out on one. I can keep us alive for turns." Wishful thinking and they both know it, but Jazi still grins impishly. Wouldn't that be just like Ista's Leadership? Awesomeness, personified. "Aw, it's not so bad. You can sleep all you want, and sit on your ass all day after a few months of it." The rider giggles quietly, nodding in agreement to the knot-flicking, a smirk flickering. Plucking a fry off of the plate, she munches contentedly on the snack, wrinkling her nose up delicately. "Ugh. I can't even imagine. I just bet it's worse than Keonath's, Zeek's. Gross."
Cen's eyebrows rise again, this time possibly in appreciation for how sharp the other goldie keeps that machete. "Yeah-" the weyrwoman begins to nod about the islands, but falters almost immediately with a bit of a face, "Shards. Dun't need a runner. But definitely oughtta do that-" what, the hiding out on an island for turns? Now wouldn't /that/ be a story - Ista's weyrwomen up and disappearing into the night, stealthing away to an island and refusing to come back. Judging from the way Cen's eyes light up, the idea has more than some appeal to the goldrider. Oh dear. "Know all the plants out there, been ages since I went camping proper - shards, why not? Ain't like it'd be dangerous, know all the poisonous tunnelsnakes too, an' healing herbs." Awesomeness indeed. There's more of a nosewrinkle though, which cuts short her half-dreamy musings, "Can do all that now, an' without the gettin' sick in the mornin' or lookin' like a melon." And at least the knot Cenlia is wearing actually /is/ her own today, and not S'gam's, though Zeek is still calling herself the weyrleader. As for grossness, Cen just shudders, nabbing another tuber fry and washing it down with rum, as if to drive away the recollection of dragon-breath.
Jaziera flaps a hand absently over her tea, rolling it in a fashion that suggests that she thinks Cen ought to know what the motion means. "No, no, you know…metaphorical runner. Like, we should go grab some sammiches and take our asses off on sabbatical. Earned it, right?" Eyes every bit as alight as Cen's, Jazi leaaaans back in her chair again, arms behind her head, staring into the distant with a Cheshire smirk. Oh, it /would/ be a grand story, possibly even more impressive than the ones this goldie's already got under her belt. "I even know just the place to go. Found the biggest patch of mango trees you'll ever see. Lived on mango and fish." All but drooling, it takes a minute to drag this one out of her furor for whatever memory she's got going on. When she is, she blinks a little owlishly, wrinkling her nose up and laughing. "There is that!" She agrees brightly, leaning forward now to rest her elbows on the table and take another long drink of her tea. When another few fries have gone down the hatch, she smirks sidelong at the younger Weyrwoman, eyebrows waggling. "Just think of the look on S'gam's face if he found out you were /knocked up/, too, though." …gold-riding pastime, tormenting the Weyrleader? Psh.
"Shards, we really oughtta do it," Cenlia suddenly decides, shifting over and hauling herself up by one arm to sit half-properly on a chair and setting the tuber fries between her and Jazi as she tucks a foot under her, the opposite one settled on a rung of the chair legs. Leaning forward, the weyrwoman griins, "Them boys- Sig, V'lad, P'rel an' the rest, can take care of whatever fer awhile. And Angharad's got a shardin' brat in the oven, so she ain't goin' nowhere," yep, they can just dump all the work on the bronzers and Ista's poor newest goldie. Ahem. Eyes widen in appreciation at the mention of mangos, and there's a half thoughtful glance out toward the bowl, "Yeah? Think Keonath'd be willin' to fly us out there? Or mebbe we could bribe somebody, so our dragons dun't come fetch us when the paperwork's comin' in," Cenlia making a face there. Oh, she's totally going to be hiding out from her lifemate. "You bring yer machete, I''ll bring m' shovel, an' we'll have a right proper time," nodding to herself as she turns her gaxe back to her fellow goldrider. There is a sneerk, as Cen likely tries to picture Sig's face at /that/ sort of news, and an utterly mischievous look crosses her face, "Shards, next flight, gonna tell 'im that." A pause, grin growing positively /toothy/, "Gonna tell 'im it's /his/." That poor man; S'gam may not /survive/ his weyrwomen's humor.
Jaziera watched mildly as Cen gets up off of the ground, lips twitching up into a half-smirk. "Of course we ought to." She agrees confidently, once more staring out over the ocean. The moons have moved towards setting, by now; it's a cool, clear night that is a little humid and breezy. The sparse occupants of the Sands have just finished being given a surprise stare-down by Nziekilth, not that you'd know it by the relaxed look Jazi's got going on or Cen's dent in her rum. "Sig could run the whole place by himself. Prissy neurotic." Pleasantly enough, Jazi snickers, eyes flicking back to her paperwork before returning to Cen. "Keonath'd fly us there /and/ forget where we were if I told her. She's used to me." The woman smirks broadly again, eyes alight as she gestures grandly seawards. "We'll go set up down there, yeah. With our machete and our shovel, and…rum. I've been laying off on mine, got some stockpiled." She beams. Best. Plan. Ever. …okay, maybe second best, if her liiifted eyebrows and evil grin have anything to say. Plucking the plate of fries back up onto their table, Jazi beams, all teeth and sharp eyes as she all but cackles. "You'll give the poor boy an apoplexy." Is that…approval? Why yes. Yes it is.
Cenlia laughs, giving Jazi a lopsided grin, "Wouldn't call 'im that to his face, or Zeek'd prolly stomp me, but yeah, shards. Ain't like Sig really /needs/ us around /all/ the time." Or maybe that's wishful thinking on her part. At the news that they really could get away without anyone knowing, Cen's eyes light up a little more, "How soon ya think you'll be up fer hiking 'round the islands?" There's a flick of a glance at the tea, Cenlia at least considerate enough to not insist they leave this moment, even if there's a restless sort of twitch as she also leans back, relaxing, and taking another swig of her rum. There's definite approval as she nods agreement about the machete and the shovel, and the rum. "Stockpiled? Sounds like a /plan/," is stated with enthusiasm, nevermind that it's barely an idea yet. Than again, how does one plan running away from being a weyrwoman? "Eh, he'll survive," Cenlia waves off any concern about S'gam at the 'news' she plans to spring on him next time, hand motioning vaguely in the air, though her grin gets no less toothy, "By the time Zeek goes up next, will prolly forget, anyhow. Mebbe oughtta write it down or somethin'.." going by the senior's cycles, she'd be half a turn yet, at least.
K'drozen makes his way slowly into the sands, looking about as he goes. On spotting Cenlia and Jaziera, he smiles and gives the pair a nod, suppressing his natural inclination to 'ma'am' them this time, he simply says, "Evenin."
Jaziera's eyebrows do the lifty thing again. "She's protective of him?" This earns a weee tiny little smirk from Jazi, as she shrugs. "Pretty sure we had a philosophical discussion on his neurosis over drinks one night. Of course, it was after he'd had to examine Keonath's old breaks, but…" A beat, and she beams. "Nope! Weyr practically runs itself." Uhuh. Well, hey, /she's/ not Senior, and she's pretty happy about it. Without even a moment's thought, the goldie snorts, chin jutting proudly. "It ain't been /that/ long since I was out in the cold on my own — I can be ready in ten minutes." She grins, then, taking one last swig of her tea and thunking the mug down firmly. Truth! Before she can say too much more, though, their plotting is interrupted by K'drozen; but Jazi's as tactful as they come. Sometimes. Occasionally. Her face smooths out as she beams beatifically at the brownrider, looking for all the world like they were discussing the weather. "Good evening, K'drozen. I hope it finds you well?"
Cenlia makes a face at Jazi's question, and does the vague hand-wavy thing again, "Nah, but is weird. Calls /him/ the weyrwoman," smirk, "but if'n /I/ say his name wrong, she gets up in m' face like it's supposed t' matter." Cenlia just rolls her eyes, and then shrugs, apparently having given up trying to puzzle out her dragon. A brow arches, though, "Ten minutes? How 'bout ten minutes after dinner," because Cen's totally stealing another of her tuber fries there. Munch munch. The weyrwoman and her aversion to being 'ma'm'd' might be slightly (in)famous by now, though lucky for the approaching K'drozen, the brownrider doesn't do it, though the goldie is at least without her shovel for the moment. At being greeted, there's a slight straightening, and a slightly shift-eyed look, just in case some overly-inquisitive patrons might be eavesdropping. But nobody's that daring tonight. At least, not after the entrance Cen made earlier. "Heya," relaxing again, she bobs her head at Kal and offers the guy a crooked grin, "Zeek still out there?" It's a halfway serious question, as the weyrwoman may or may not be willing to risk contacting her lifemate just this second. Luckily, the ornery senior gold has wandered off to the beach to go stretch in the still-warm black sands. And probably frighten the tourists.
K'drozen smiles and says, "No I didn't see her out there. Rhyrith could probably find her pretty quick if you wanted." He tilts his head slightly and blinks, "But I think I might be having a visitor here in a few moments.."
Jaye is still peeling off flight jacket as she moves towards the patio of the sable sands, she has already ditched her helmet back on Maehwazeyeth's straps. "Fort's duties t'Ista an' 'er lovely queens." Snapping off a salute as she spots not one but two goldieriders, and a very handsome brownrider who gets a specially happy smile.
Honestly, if Jaziera's eyebrows lift up /one/ /more/ /time/ like that, almost into her hair, they're probably gonna get stuck. Seriously. It definitely doesn't look professional, either, and she kind of has to choke back a giggle so as not to look completely insane. A hand is waved to the plate of fries; plucking one more up and leaving the rest, Jazi stands, grinning. "I've got…things to arran- er. Do. You know. Like this paperwork." With a cheerful and oh-so-innocent nod for K'drozen, she sketches a salute to the brownrider and Weyrwoman — and, oh wait, there's that visitor? A more proper salute is offered to Jaye, and Jaziera smiles broadly. "Welcome, ah — Jaye," Convenient, having a dragon. "Sit, sit! Enjoy yourself. I must be off, though. Cenlia, I'll be in my weyr. K'drozen, enjoy your evening with your visitor." And okay, she /does/ wink, but other than that she's perfectly polite and normal as she ambles on out of the bar. She's got things ta do. Dun dun dun. I mean, sure, she forgot her paperwork, but…it can't be /that/ important, right? There's a machete to sharpen in her immediate future.
Cenlia does more hand-wavey, this time in negative, shaking her head and telling K'drozen hastily, "Nah, am tryin' to /avoid/ her. Sharding /dragon/." But she doesn't go into details, instead tossing back more of that rum and letting out a decent burp, though she at least looks a little sheepishly at a passing server. "Will go find m' shovel," is said to Jaziera with a big grin, mischief just /bubbling/ under the surface there behind her eyes, which flick toward the bowl briefly before the weyrwoman is plucking another tuber fry from the plate. There's a huge grin for Jaziera, and a bit of a face at the reminder of the ever-lurking paperwork. "Luck!" she offers her fellow goldrider in farewell, though Cenlia herself is going to dig into those fries. Mmm. Nevermind that Jazi forgets the paperwork, Cen'll probably nab it on her way out or something, the weyrwoman instead settling back to grin at the now-arriving Jay, though there's no formal greeting from Cen, just another head-bob and a terribly cheerful, "Hey, Ista's duties an' all that." Yeah, not big on propriety is the Istan weyrwoman.
K'drozen smiles and turns to Jaye as he sees her arrive, "Hey Jaye," motioning her over, before looking back to Cenlia and saying softly, "Actually I was looking for you, I wanted to thank you for some advice you gave a friend of mine.." He grins, "Though seems she showed up before I could."
Jaye waves after the departing Jaziera, and the grins at the weyrwoman. "Whye'er wouldya wanna 'void yer dr'gon?" Hey, having a dragon is still kinda new to her. But Fortian weyrling's attention is caught by K'drozen's greeting. "Talkin' 'bout me 'gain huh?" She giggles softly and makes her way towards the pair of riders, poking Kal lightly, "Buy a gal a drink?" Browwaggle.
The weyrwoman does, in fact, scoop up the left-behind paperwork, waving the pair of riders over with an offer, "Tuber fries?" because she's totally not going to eat all of those. As for why she's avoiding Zeek, Cenlia sinks down juust slightly behind her rum bottle with a groaned, "Dun't ask." Nope, she's so not going to explain that. Cen does browraise at K'drozen, head canting curiously to the side, "Eh? I gave good advice?" This clearly surprises her, probably because most of Cen's type of advice usually tends to involve a shovel and/or some form of alcohol. A brow is quirked even more curiously at Jaye, "What'd I say? Didja get somebody sloshed, good an' proper?" A pause. "Didja get sloshed and end up inna tree together?" indicating Kal. That's totally the first thing that came to mind, apparently, Cen herself raising her rum bottle cheerfully with a lopsided grin as she asks the question.
K'drozen chuckles and says, "Well she did get a bit tipsy and ya sent her up to me." He smiles and says, "But for a bit of more good advice. As I am sure you know the answer to this one, which of the house specilities should I buy this lovely young 'ling?"
Jaye listens to the two Istans, and just giggles as a undertone of crimson reaches over her cheeks. That advice, oh yeah! "'Twas t'tally worth it tho." As for the drink, glad for the change of topic, she grins at Kal. "Why rum, acourse, an' I'm gonna need some t'take back 'ome with me." She digs in one pocket of the flight jacket for a moment, coming out with an invitation. "We're s'pposed t'give this ta our fam'lies, but since I ain't got one, I wanna give it t'you. 'Tis th'invitation ta our grad'ation." Hooray for full fledged riderness!
"Did I?" Cenlia chuckles, grinning at both riders, but there's then a glance over her shoulder toward the bar with an absent, "Prolly the Dark Island Sunrise is a good one if ya like fancy, is sweet an' kinda fruity, in terms've rum. Lotta syrup innit, though. But packs a punch. Straight rum's what I usually go for," indicating her bottle there, "Weyr Special, brewed right here in Ista. If ya wanna be adventurous, though, Sweet Rum & Citrus is a good one." Asking drink recommendations of Cenlia is like asking a harper to list off their favorite teaching songs. It opens the floodgates. Luckily, before she can really get going, there's a vaguely distant look and a bit of a grimace, "Ugh, shardin' dragons. I better scoot b'fore Zeek marches back over here to try an' get on m' case again." Shifting upright, the weyrwoman tosses back the rest of her rum, and nods to a server, "Them two's rum's on me, yeah?" It's an early graduation gift! Or something. "Will see ya, an' if anybody asks," she glances between Jaye and Kal, "I weren't ever here!" And with that, Cenlia totally tries to sneak off, nevermind everyone in the Sands probably saw her. She can pretend she's being stealthy. And with luck, she'll hopefully manage to scoot across the bowl before Zeek notices she's left.
K'drozen chuckles and nods as he watches Cenlia begin to sneak a way, looking back to Jaye he says, "I know Rum is your drink dear, but Cenlia there knows all the best ways to drink it. Now to just get a few drinks without my big sis finding out and comin over ta hit me with her lute."
Jaye hmms, "Dark Island Sunrise, hmm? Might hafta try that one cause I like rum an' I like sweet. Which's prob'ly why I keep comin' t'visit Kal 'ere." Teehee! At the mention of sharding dragons, she chuckles a little. "M'lips're sealed." Is offered with a wink. And, ooh, free drinks, such a nice Weyrwoman! "Well, then I'll try one of 'em Dark Isl'nd thingies. I'll hide y'from yer Sis." Another giggle. "'ave a good day!" She calls after the sneaking weyrwoman, oops?
