Escaping the Rain

Gemstone Tavern
The dim lighting by the flicker of candles lining the walls is enough to offer a view of a room decorated in such a way as to be tastefully appealing. Each piece of furniture and decoration is chosen to accent another piece, and so on and so forth, matching and tying the whole room together in a theme that's separate, and yet at the same time unified. Tables line one wall, dimly lit by candles hanging in sconces all along. The bar along the far right wall is made of richly toned mahogany, tooled by a master and polished to shine with the soft glow of wood at its finest.

Candles strategically placed add to the atmosphere, accenting, punctuating. Towards the back is an open fireplace, constantly burning with a bright light, warming the tavern on cold nights and serving as a gathering place for patrons' story-tellings. Across the room, lush pillows and soft-covered floors promote relaxation at ease. Just before the pillows is a long stage, so full of its own vigor and memory - nicks here, marks there, scuffs from footwear and other things - that it's possible to imagine the shows put on for the patrons without necessarily seeing the performances.


So much for another foray out to the woods. Brennan hadn't gotten far when the rain decided to pick up again - fat, cold, heavy drops that threatened to soak even his treated cloak through in fairly short order. Bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, he retreated to the nearest shelter to see about waiting it out…and found himself here. This tavern is much more to his tastes than the fancy affair inside the Weyr, and now he's gotten rather comfortable in a deep chair with a mug full of brandy-spike klah near the big fireplace. The crackling of logs mingling with the thrumming of rain on the roof, the scent of heated sap mixing with the sweet sharpness of klah and alcohol…yes. This is something the hunter hasn't had for a while. And it's relatively quiet here. Color him content.

There are those that prepare for the weather ahead, and those that are caught completely unawares. Ravyal is of the unfortunate end of that range, hurrying through the doors quite /soaked/. Thoroughly drenched, and clutching a bundle that he's managed to keep relatively dry, the teenager sloshes squishy footsteps across the floor, leaving a puddling trail towards the counter and a woman behind it. But it's the bundle that he's handing over, looking quite sheepish under the obvious scolding from the older woman. Then he's being shooed toward the fire with a mug of klah in his hands, still dripping as he comes to a stop where the air is certainly much..much warmer.

When pressures within get too much, it is best to find another place to be. Thus has ghost-like Hazelon slipped from the weyr and using the shelter of the storm come to rest inside. He sits in a far corner just people watching silently, perhaps finding motives and reasons for all those who are here.

The waterlogged lad's entrance draws Brennan's attention, mainly because of the scolding. He watches from the corner of his eye as the boy gets klah shoved at him and a shooing toward the fire, and by the time he actually looks up at Ravyal directly, he can see the black-haired teen sitting in the corner as well. Another quiet one, apparently! "Gents," he greets with a slight inclination of his head, and then he's looking back at Ravyal, smirking faintly. "Misplace y're cloak somewhere?"

Ravyal remains standing right where he is. Sitting would have him dripping on /furniture/ rather than just the floor. He holds onto the klah mug though, taking a few sips of the warm liquid while letting the nearby fire at least begin the process of drying him out. He does lift his head though, eyes widening just a little at the question. There's a bit of coloration to his face for it, looking quickly at Brennan then away again. "I thought I'd have time.." Unfortunately, the teen's abilities at weather prediction aren't exactly top notch.

Hazelon quiet? Well. Yes. The gent comment is assumed to not apply to himself, so his eyes slide away from the hunter, down to the table before him. No drink there, though he does have a small snack he must have purchased to justify his seat. Under the table he fiddles with something, though the view of what is totally obscured. Eyes flick upwards occasionally just to watch.

Idrissa doesn't often go wandering after making deliveries but here she is, wandering into the Tavern, no less. There is a pause while the greenrider glances around curiously, tucking her gloves into her pocket after unbuckling her flight jacket. The Xanadu native makes her way onwards moving towards the bar in order to grab a drink.

Amused, Brennan gives a grunt for the boy's reply, sitting forward a little to reach down to his pack. "Nature doesn' much care what we think," he remarks dryly, giving a light tug and coming up with a towel. Considering the lad, he holds it out to be taken, giving a jerk of his chin at it rather than using words to offer it. The boy is dripping and looking bedraggled; he'll take pity. With another sip at his drink, he glances around again, eyes momentarily pausing on the black-haired boy fidgeting with something out of sight before flicking over to the bar. A rider walks up - a greenrider, by her knot, but not from Fort. Should she notice him, he'll give a nod, but otherwise, he turns his attention back to the fire, and Ravyal.

Ravyal looks just a little surprised for a moment, leaning a bit to take a peek at the pack that carries..wonders. The wonders of /towels/ anyway. He quickly finds a place at least to set his mug so he can take the cloth though, nodding his head. "Thanks.." He doesn't manage it very loudly, though it's possible that it's gotten muffled a bit by him taking the towel to his own head and hair. It might leave him a tangled, ruffled mess, but it's better than being soggy. He sniffs as he starts on his other extremities then, taking a quick, somewhat embarrassed look around the tavern. Including the foreign rider and the strangely fiddling young man.

Hazelon's gaze meets Brennan's just once before bark eyes hit the table. Any glances now towards the male pair are sidelong only. Rather, it is the woman who catches his gaze instead. It more than possible that he has seen a rider from another weyr before, but perhaps not so close. Okay, so grid staring. A little.

Idrissa catches the few nods; a soft smile and nod is sent back while she pauses to order a drink before glancing around for a place to sit. Let's see…there maybe, or perhaps over there. She lifts a hand to scratch at the back of her neck a few times before picking up her warm cider drink and is soon off to find a seat which happens to be nearby where the others just so happen to be. "Afternoon." Is heard with a friendly tone before she settles upon a seat at a table, meaning to relax a bit before she heads homewards, it seems.

One might be tempted to think Brennan's pack is somehow bigger on the inside, with all the wonders he can probably pull out of it. Alas, it isn't so; he's just a very efficient packer, having to live out of it all the time. Such is the nature of his chose career. "Whatcha doin' runnin' around in this weather anyhow?" the hunter questions as the lad continues drying off. The greenrider's voice draws a steely blue gaze to his right. "Afternoon, greenrider," Brennan returns with a little hoist of his mug, and then it's back to the fire.

Is Ravyal still embarrassed? Completely. The color doesn't seem to want to just die from his face. No, it stays right there, turning him a bit pinkish. He does pause in his drying to pick up his mug though, sending warm liquid down into his belly. "The woman behind the bar..um..she ordered some things that needed bringing." Apprentices get sent on /errands/. Such is life. He looks up again at the greeting though, nodding his head hesitantly to Idrissa when the greenrider wanders that way. "H…hello, ma'am."

One good nod deserves another, so Hazelon finds himself nodding back to the strange rider. A soft "Ma'am," crosses his lips before they dift back down to his hands. They fiddle a bit, before stilling. Close as the greenrider is, she might catch the faintest sounds of metal on wood. The hunter's accent catches his ear and he glances upwards again. No clue is given upon his face as to the emotion behind the glance.

Idrissa lets her hands settle around her mug, which is nice and warm and just what she needs a the moment seeing how she did get a bit wet on her flight into the Weyr a short time ago. She glances over to the two near the fire and offers them a smile and nod once more before she sends the one on his own a curious glance. Bits of the conversation are picked up, seeing how she is close enough for it, but she keeps to herself merely listening at the moment.

"Not meanin' t' pick on ya," Brennan says, chuckling when he spots the boy's blush. Eyes fall on his knot. "Weaver, eh? Got a name?" Of course the apprentice has a name; Brennan knows that. He just doesn't feel like wording it any other way at the moment. There's a faint sound picked up by the hunter's keen ears - metal? Wood? Both? He glances over toward the corner again, eyebrow arching slightly when he finds himself under a bit of scrutiny. If the guy has questions…well. He knows what to do. Otherwise, Brennan simply takes note and turns back to await the Weaver's answer.

Ravyal does finally move toward a chair, deeming himself dry enough to at least not have it be..too uncomfortable. He folds the towel back up again though, leaving it to also dry out a bit. "O..oh I know that.." Maybe he does. Fingers go back to their curled position around his mug though, holding on through each sip he takes of the warm drink. The weaver seems a little surprised by the question of names though, nodding as he puts the mug down again. At least he's not hiding behind it. Much. "It's Ravyal…sorry. Um..thank you again for the towel. You're very…erm…handy?" With the infinity-pack of goodies, anyway. The teenager does at least seem to be relaxing somewhat, that flushed color finally beginning to drain away again. He follows Brennan's gaze though a moment, his own attention flickering back onto Hazelon with a hesitant smile in that direction.

No questions, nothing to say. When the apprentice introduces himself he glances at him, just in time to meet his eyes. There is a faint flick of recognition- they have met before. As if suddenly realizing that his scraping is audible it stops abruptly. Nope. Doing nothing here. He quickly gathers up whatever is in his hands Hazelon shoves it in a small bag. The trio each get small nods, the greenrider an extra "Ma'am," before he's slipping outside and into the rain. Excuse the strange teen, he'll just disappear now.

Idrissa sends a slight glance over towards Hazelon as the others do. Perhaps she picked up on the fact of that noise as well and was just as curious. She takes a sip from her mug before a brown firelizard appears from *between* and perches upon her head with a slight warble escaping him. He seems like a happy little fella and tilts his head to send a curious look to his person. Rissa erks out softly and swats a bit at the lizard, which finally clambers down to sit upon the table while his tail curls about at his side. The sound of one leaving and she smiles a bit before nodding after Hazelon.

Brennan also nods as Hazelon leaves, but that arched brow doesn't diminish until the teen is gone. All right, then… The hunter give a grunted bit of a chuckle at the now much drier boy and stretches out long legs before him, crossing his ankles. "Y're welcome," he returns. "Good t' meet ya, Ravyal. Brennan. Hunter," he says with a tilt of his mug to the Weaver before taking a drink. The there's some warbling, and the arrival of a firelizard near the greenrider draws his attention. Well, on the greenrider. On her head, to be precise. It's amusing enough to bring out another smirk from the hunter, and he watches as the flit finally lights on the table. "Friend o' yours?" he questions, sipping again.

Ravyal looks a bit..surprised when Hazelon up and leaves. He stares after him for a moment though, before shaking his head. After all, he can't claim to really know the man at all. He turns his attention back onto Brennan then however, ducking his head with a small smile. "Nice to meet you..um..I think I've seen you about?" It's possible! Very possible. Though the weaver tends to keep to himself quite a bit. There's a quick look over at the firelizard however, lips curving into a bit of a grin as he laughs.

Idrissa is quiet for a moment while she peers at the lizard, whom is going about dipping his head into her mug of cider in order to help himself. "Hey, don't drink that," is murmured before she hears the question and peers up slightly so she is looking over to Brennan and Ravyal. She smiles a bit and she clears her throat a touch. "Oh yes. This is Hidalgo. Rather friendly little bugger that enjoys getting into anything he can at times."

"Mayhap ya have," Brennan concedes to Ravyal with a slight shrug. "I wander a lot. Coulda seen me leavin' while you were comin', or some such thing." Then the hunter is back to watching the firelizard trying to drink out of the rider's mug, and his brow ticks upward again. "Didn' figure them to like alcohol," he says, fingers rasping at the stubble on his cheek. "How'd ya come by 'im?" It isn't that Brennan hasn't seen firelizards before; it's just that most of them have been wild, or on the shoulders of those with rank wherever he stops.

"Maybe he's just curious.." Ravyal can't help the smile on his face. At least the little firelizard's antics are cute, after all. Though the weaver does give a reluctant look toward the exit. Maybe the weather has let up just a bit. "They're going to be angry with me if I don't hurry back…" And at least he'll have dry clothes he can change into back inside the Weyr proper. He leaves his empty mug then and gets up, offering a slight smile for the hunter. "I..it was nice meeting you, but I really should..run." He nods as well to the greenrider, gaze lingering on the firelizard there before he trots off, hopefully not in for another thorough soaking.

Idrissa chuckles softly and smiles. "It's just cider - the non-alcohol type at that - so to him it is just a sweet treat, really." Hidalgo warbles out once more as he half paws at the mug - still wanting some, it would seem. At the question to how she got it, there is a slight pause and she is a touch quiet before answering. "A friend gave me the egg before he hatched and then he wanted to stay with me, I suppose you could say." This said with a bit of an amused tone. "That and he liked the treats I had that night, I suppose." She looks to Ravyal and nods to him as he is on his way out. There is a pause though while she glances back to Brennan and she clears her throat a touch. "I'm Idrissa, rider to green Tahryth. We're from Xanadu." Might as well be nice and get the introductions out of the way, right?

"Ah," Brennan replies over the matter of the firelizard and the cider. It's a tavern; he just assumed it was alcoholic. "Run fast!" is the advice he calls to Ravyal as the lad takes off, and then Brennan reaches out for the towel he let Ravyal borrow, draping it over the arm of his chair to let it dry a little further. "Been wonderin' if one of them might be handy to have around on the hunt," is said with a chin jerk at the firelizard, and then he's giving a nod. "Brennan, hunter. Well met. What brings ya here from Xanadu?"

Idrissa would perhaps have an alcoholic drink if she wasn't needing to fly home, though for right now it is just the cider. "I think it might depend on the firelizard. Some are more eager to do things and help out. Though they are rather good at being an extra set of eyes, that is for certain." This said while smiling and she gives the brown's head a scratch. A soft croon escapes the lizard as he enjoys the attention. "Nice to meet you Brennan. I was delivering a few things to some that live here at the Weyr. With the weather a bit nasty I felt the need to hang around for a bit to see if it might lighten up any."

There's a grunt from Brennan of the commiserating variety as he drains his mug. "Makes two of us," he states, gaze finding the nearest unshuttered window to evaluate the weather. The rain has lightening, perhaps…but doesn't show signs of stopping soon. Daylight is also becoming more scarce, and the hunter huffs a sigh. "Might be lookin' into a room here 'stead of headin' back to the Weyr, myself," he says. "In fact, I think I'll go have a word." Pulling himself out of the depths of the chair with a slight groan, he nods at Idrissa. "Good meetin' you an' your flit there, greenrider. Safe flyin' to ya." With that, he saunters off to the bar to talk with the proprietor, hoping to haggle a good price for a warm room for the night.


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