Fort Weyr - 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 footware and other things - that it's possible to imagine the shows put on for the patrons without necessarily seeing the performances.

Cesran comes into the tavern after a long day and he moves over to the bar to sit down. He stretches out and smiles at the server, "Can I have an ale please?"

"You're a fan, aren't you?" Inyri's grinning at Cesran as she tears herself away from a conversation with a notably flirty patron who looked like he was only seconds from getting handsy. The distraction? Is oh so noticably welcome. "Of ale, I mean," she explains, as she puts the drink together. "As opposed to sitting here, which of course anyone should be."

Cesran smiles, "It's nice after a long day to have something cool to drink and to unwind. Doing checks for the heating systems to make sure they are all exceed the standards."

Inyri looks appreciative as she places the pint in front of him, eyes alight just a little bit. She never hides her smile, and so it's energetically present rather than fake-plastered as she says, "Well, thanks a million. It's getting to the colden days, as my little sister would call it, isn't it." She's casting looks about the tavern to make sure nobody else needs anything — the folks eating look fine, nobody's trying to get her attention, and Mr. Flirty is the only one trying to get her attention. She doesn't give it to him. "I assume they /are/, or you'd be telling me to file a report or invest in coats?"

Cesran smiles, "With me on the job hey are all working fine. Just a pain to get into them a lot of crawling through small tight spaces. I wish I had a firelizard to scout out the spaces for tunnelsnakes. They can get nasty."

"My brother has one of those! A firelizard. They're the most curious little things; you really don't get a lot of them where I'm from, so I've got limited exposure and thus limited clue," Inyri confesses, going back to her habitual hair-twirling pattern, leaning one elbow against the bar and continuing to ignore her creepster so long as he isn't actually ordering anything. "But it seems like that'd be really useful. So good luck. I'll let you know if I hear about anyone selling eggs or anything, yeah?"

Cesran nods a little bit, "Yah even up here they aren't that common but I'd still like to have one. Knife fighting with a tunnel snake in close quarters is not fun." He smiles, "Thanks for letting me know anything." He takes a drink, "So you work here at the tavern?"

"Sure do," says Inyri with a wave of her arm indicating her place behind the bar, and — no one else's. "Often enough by myself, actually, which is fine by me. I mean, not entirely — I'm not cooking. There's kitchen staff. But I'm barmaid and waitress wrapped up into one little package." Little was a fair assessment at least somewhat: she wasn't tall and wasn't too substantial in the weight department.

Cesran nods a little bit, "Well you certainly do a good job of it here. So what do you like to do for fun?" He asks as he tries to chat up Inyri.

Which Inyri can tell, but she either finds it endearing or just prefers it to the other fellow who keeps trying to do the same and is failing miserably. In Cesran's favor, he's not ten years older than Inyri and doesn't smell so strongly of booze that it's even making a lifelong tavern resident sick. "This is prettry much it," she admits, with a tiny laugh. "I've been a tavern girl my whole life, and there's always something to do! I tend to spend a lot of time here when I'm not working. Though I admit I've gone to the other bar to play pool. And I've started to like watching the wings drill, now that I've gotten used to the whole — dragons! everywhere! thing. There's more to do in this place than I've gotten to know, just yet! I used to be a big fan of boating, but I don't think there's a boat I can use just hanging around."

Cesran listens attentively, "Really there is pool at the other bar. I'd like to go play that, maybe we could go and play a game sometime." He chuckles, "I was born here so I'm used to dragons being everywhere. You could ask around someone might have a boat you could use on the lake."

Inyri smiles, and then holds up one finger as a 'wait a sec' before disappearing to attend to a table of diners. She's collecting plates and leaving them a scribbled note of how much is now on their tab, as well as shooting winning smiles as one hands her a tip; after disappearing into the kitchen to get the dishes washed, she returns to her spot chatting with Cesran. "Yeah, I'm nowhere near as good at it as I maybe should be, but I'm not the worst player in the world. I could go for it."

Cesran smiles as he waits for Inyri to come back, "Great, when would you like to go?" He asks as he reaches in to pay for his ale and he gives Inyri a tip too.

Tips! Inyri likes tips; she's practically beaming, now. Does it seem, maybe, a little, like she accepts bribes to do things like play pool with people when she says, "Maybe some morning? Maybe even tomorrow! I work just about every evening, but I think the pool table's available whenever. I mean, I hope. Maybe there's a little money jar. Or maybe it's offered out of good will from the Weyr. Or maybe I'm wrong and it's not always open — worth trying, though, isn't it? Did you want anything else, by the way?"

Cesran smiles, "Maybe some more of those tubers they were good. You don't get any evenings off? I'm usually busy in the morning and afternoon unless it's my rest day." He hmms, "Do you ever like to do any reading or swimming when it's warm out?"

"Fried tubers, coming right up. And — yeah, once a week I can if I actually want to," Inyri admits with a tiny, more secretive smile as she leans both elbows, now, against the bar. "I just usually come here anyway. I can get a night off in advance, though, if you had one in mind. I mean, I like doing things with people, I'm the social vtol who never lands according to my mother " that comes with an eyeroll, " so I don't mind. When works?" She fails to wait for the answer, though, immediately turning to put his order in to the kitchen before coming back. Giving him time to think of an answer, clearly.

Cesran hmms, "Well in a couple of days I'll have my next rest day. We could go then if you want. Maybe even have some dinner before together." He asks hopeful.

Inyri probably should hesitate longer than she does, because instead she just tilts her head slightly to the side and grins, saying, "Sure. I could go for dinner where I actually get to sit down. I'm assuming I'd actually get to sit down? And you totally asked me a question earlier about swimming and I blanked on answering it, sorry! I do like swimming. I just keep forgetting you can actually do that locally here — I'm used to having to travel. My reading skills are not the most fantastic, I'll confess."

Cesran grins brightly, "Great we'll go in a couple of days." He nods, "Great. I love adventure stories. What do you like to do during the winter when it gets colder out?"

"I /know/ some adventure stories, but I just heard 'em. Big storytelling place, where I grew up." Inyri may not really be homesick, and she may not really have any intent to ever go back, but she does still appear to be quite contented to talk about where she came from. "Generally they're all /supposed/ to be true, at least. And I bake things, to stay warm. And drink tea and sit by the fire. You know. Typical boring stuff. Wrangling kids who like snowball fights, sometimes. I don't, for the record. Like getting hit by snowballs," she clarifies.

Cesran smiles, 'Maybe we can trade adventure stories, you can tell me the ones you know and I could read to you sometime from the books I have." He shrugs, "I don't care if they are true or not as long as they make sense." He grins, "I'll have to remember that I like snowball fights. I'll have to remember that."

Inyri grins, playfully drumming her hands on the bar a little bit. "Okay. Yeah, sure, that might be interesting. So long as there's some kind of drink or soup, typical oral history traditional — thing. Generally they make sense when not told by drunks!" How often that is, she doesn't give away.

Cesran laughs a little bit and nods, "Definitely some drinks, but not a lot of drinking. I've found the more someone drinks the bigger the story gets."

"And the more absurd. Which is the fun part!" If you ask Inyri, anyway. "One sec —" Off she goes to the kitchen again, and returns with his food, which she has already stolen the top fry off of. She's making no attempt to hide it, though, grinning a little. "They made too much," she lies, playfully. "Happens so often it's almost like I get a dinner break! Which — I probably could if I asked for one, go figure."

Cesran laughs and smiles, "Yah it can be fun." He smiles as gets his food, "Thanks. You should get a dinner break they shouldn't work you so hard."

Inyri shakes her head somewhat emphatically, though there's a laugh to it. There's a laugh to a lot of what she does, admittedly. "Oh, it's not them. It's me. I prefer to just graze on the job, and people who eat at the bar usually offer me tastes, so it's not a big thing. I actually really like working? I'm kind of an always-going sort of person."

Cesran smiles, "Well that's good it's good to love what you do. I love to work and tinker with tech stuff. It's just great. I bet you feel about the same way working here." He nods, "Good no one should be over worked."

"Lotsa people are, though. Kinda sounds like you are, really, based on what I was hearing you say a few days ago! And that the assistant weyrlingmaster — Miki, yeah? Said you needed to chill out more. Which is, of course, why I'm going to play pool with you." Inyri is decisive about this, complete with a little nod. "Though I should probably stop chatting, for now, because I'm seeing a wave of busy incoming." Or, more accurately, a large group of rowdy guards in the doorway.

Cesran nods a little bit as he starts to eat his tubers. He looks over at the rowdy guards, "Be careful. I try not to be uptight and I do like to have fun, just when I'm on the job I tend to be super focused."

"Never worry your pretty little head about me," is Inyri's parting phrase as she goes to help the soon-to-be-drunks, waggling her fingers again. "I can always handle myself in a crowd!"

'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.