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.


The Weyrwoman's gone missing! Or, so it seems and so have been the claims of some of those who have been looking for her. It's been a long while since Dtirae has ventured out to the tavern as it's more than a little hassle to make it out this far with a broken leg and crutches. Or, perhaps it was laziness. The woman is at her own table, and from the looks of it: She's been there awhile nursing all sorts of drinks, and the bartender is almost reluctant to fill her drink orders. But, regardless, another drink is brought and the empty glass is taken away. She is entirely alone, without any compainionship despite the tavern being relatively filled at this time of day. It is just in time for dinner, to be precise.

The Weyrwoman better not have gone missing! Again. Maybe it was that sneaking suspicion that dragged Th'ero out of his offices and off of his usual schedule of the day (not that much remains of it) and out to the taverns. Slipping in through the doors, he's quick to close them behind him to stem off the cold wintry air blowing in and brushes the snow from his jacket and kicks it from his boots before striding forwards. It was plum luck of the draw, but it won't take him long to spy Dtirae sitting alone at her table, despite the crowded tavern. Something the Weyrleader does not mind in the least and without so much as a warning, he pulls out a chair across from her and settles himself down into it, silent save for the rustle and creak of his riding leathers. So much for lack of companionship?

Fear not, Dtirae's days of running away (without warning) have come to an end. It is also fortunate that she's not taken to hiding in the various hiding places around the Weyr, even, otherwise they'd really have a hard time finding her. There's no response when Th'ero joins the table, her gaze is off elsewhere as she sips at her drink. Staring entirely away from where the Weyrleader settles. Even the rustle of his leathers do nothing to phase her from her stupor. At least, not until she attempts to draw herself back into reality… Only to see the Weyrleader. Sitting there. With no warning. "Shit! Shells! When'd yer butt sit down?" Pause, cough. "Evenin' Weyrleadeeer. What brings you down?"

Th'ero is still a suspicious man and so still wary that one day the Weyrwoman will have up and vanished even though it's been Turns since that one time. Once was enough! At least he quietly searched for her, rather then assume and stir up trouble? The Weyrleader will wait where he is seated, watching her curiously for a moment until he looks away and down to his hands as he begins to peel off his gloves and stow them. He's midway through shrugging out of his jacket when (at last!) he's noticed. Her swearing earns her a smirk but no apology as he turns to fold his jacket over the back of his chair. "I just did." he drawls, which is the truth and he promptly settles back, gaze now firmly fixed on the goldrider. "Evening, Weyrwoman. What brings me down here? A spur of the moment assumption. Also figured it'd be the likely place to find you, since you weren't in your office and Velokraeth informed me that Zuvaleyuth said you were not within your weyr." Process of elimination! Levelling her with a look, he then adds in a softer voice. "What brings you here?"

Woe, for the Weyrwoman can never play a game of hide-and-seek without the Weyrleader quietly fretting or being suspicious. At least, not without her warning him that she'll be playing a game. Dtirae's giving him a look as he smirks, returning the gesture with a smile. "I see." Her drink is lifted again and sipped at delicately. "Assumptions ain't ever good, y'know." Another smile that slowly shifts into a grin that lasts for a brief moment before her drink is, again, lifted. His process of elimination is met with a hum of understanding, but no vocal response. Another drink, but this time it lasts longer as she downs most of it. The look that's leveled at her is, for the most part, ignored as she's turning her gaze to observe the other patrons of the tavern. "Misery. Woe. Silly feelin's that're dumb because I can't figure 'em out. D'ani. Whole list o' things, Th'ero…"

Oh, let her play her games! It just may backfire or perhaps it won't. Th'ero has changed over the Turns and this evening is prime example. One, he snuck up on her and quietly settled, rather than storm in and demand why she's behaving as she is. Second, he is relatively calm but given the Weyrleader's knack for hiding his emotions that could mean very little. "I'm well aware of that, but I was willing to take a risk." he says with that same smirk well in place. Signalling the bartender, he will order his usual vicious looking ale and take a long, hearty sip of it once it's served. He will watch her carefully, noting the grin and her general mood, none of which has him too alarmed — yet. Her response has him quirking a brow, however and while he looks concerned, he is also a touch baffled. Misery and woe? "Are you and D'ani at odds?" he asks dryly, once again assuming that that is what her cryptic response implied. "A whole list of things?" Do tell! Or… not.

At least he's learned not to panic, or come badgering her on her behavior immediately. Then again: She's not gone and tormented him on purpose in some time. "Well, it was a calculated risk. Yer bound ta be right, if the numbers're in yer favor n'all." The rest of her drink is downed but Dtirae does not signal for another. Instead, elbows are settled onto the table and her hands come to support her chin as she stares at the Weyrleader. She's not searching him for anything so much as she is just staring at him, maybe even past him. She's drawn back after a moment and snorts softly. "Maybe. More like 'm at odds with him and he ain't even aware of it… Maybe he is. Been avoidin' him since after the flight and the eggs are already on the Sands, now. Shells…" Rambling, how fun. "I… Shit. D'ani said he was feelin' odd 'bout the flight 'cause he had feelings for Inri at one point and I ain't sure how to respond. I get a weird feelin' and I feel all… Sick thinkin' 'bout it and it ain't pleasant and it ain't going away. Been avoidin' Inri too… And I'm just upset. What's wrong with me? I ain't ever had this feelin' b'fore and I hate it. Being near D'ani makes it worse an' bein' away makes it worser." Yes. Worser.

So they're both learning! That or fate and life are simply keeping them too busy to keep at each other. "Exactly. Even if I proved to be wrong, it's not like I would have wasted all my time by coming here." Th'ero points out, leaning back in his chair and looking almost casual and comfortable, though it's likely to be all a ruse. Something visual for those other patrons to see from their 'sneaky' glances, a false mask for them to remark upon. At her staring, he simply stares right back, the Weyrleader looking hardly fazed as he looks down and raises his mug again to his lips. Listening, he will take his time in swallowing the ale and then gathering his thoughts, which takes some time as it begins to dawn on him just what kind of conversation he walked right into with Dtirae. Really? Again, with the emotions and relationships! Didn't they hash out the effects of flights the last time the two happened to cross paths in the taverns? Now this? Th'ero can only look at her, brows knitted into a frown of thought and mouth drawn back into a neutral line. Where to even begin? "Nothing's wrong with you Dtirae. It's called jealousy. Nasty, isn't it?" he points out bluntly, only to exhale and shake his head, eyes dropping again to break that near to impolite stare down. Lifting his free hand, he runs his fingers through his hair and then shrugs helplessly. "Honestly, a flight is a flight. I'd no idea D'ani and Inri ever even were close, beyond the usual friendships. Avoiding them won't fix anything and may damn well complicate things worse." Worser? "So that's what has you here, drinking and brooding?" That's his job, thank you very much!

"Certainly, more'n one outcome for comin' out this far." Dtirae grins and goes about ignoring those who are a bit more nosy. They'll likely not hear anything too interesting as neither pair seems inclined to raise their voices to the point where others could overhear easily. And poor Th'ero, but really, he asked her what was wrong. And she views him close enough to share her inner turmoil. A win and lose for the man, but, he really should remember he asked. "Jealousy? I don't get jealous." Because weyrbrats are immune to that emotion, right? Apparently not. Because her face falls as she places a name to that sick feeling and her gaze drops. "Jealousy sucks." For the lack of better terms. "I ain't mad about the flight, or jealous about the flight. It's just that… Inri's… Inri and I'm me an' shit." Face goes into her palms and she mutters softly. It takes a moment of her muttering before she's lifting her gaze to peer at Th'ero again. "Yes. 's'why 'm here, bein'… Broody. I ain't ever been… Jealous b'fore and now I ain't even sure why. I don't like it."

Th'ero snorts softly for Dtirae's remark on more than one outcome, mouth briefly quirking into a half-smirk. He too has ignored the other patrons for the most part and he will not raise his voice here, not even if the Weyrwoman succeeds in pushing every last of his buttons and igniting his temper. For once their is little gossip about, save for the looming festival and the eggs hardening on the sands and the usual news filtering in about the Holds or who-did-what with whom. The Weyrleader intends to keep it that way, at least until the next Turn begins. Faranth only knows what will all fall on their heads then! He will come to realized that, yes, he did ask her! He asked and did not expect to receive such an open response but cannot find a way to back out now that isn't so blazingly obvious that he's just going to be a jerk about it because he cannot handle such personal talk. No, he'll suffer through it for now! "Everyone gets jealous. No one is perfect!" Not her and certainly not him and he scoffs at the mere notion before his expression softens again to that not-so neutral state. "Yes, it does suck. So best to shed it now, rather then nurse it. You'll only hurt yourself and those you care about." he says with a grimace, draining the last of his mug and setting aside. A hand lifts and he signals for a second round while Dtirae mutters to herself. Meeting her gaze, he holds it but his expression is unreadable until he blinks and his shoulders drop a bit with a light sigh. "Dtirae… if I may be so bold? You're jealous of Inri and D'ani's past. That's all and it's — normal." Is it? He speaks like he's a man who's had experience enough with the emotion.

At least she isn't purposely pushing buttons! Dtirae is well past that stage, and certainly more mature with far more respect for the man. The idle chatter from the tavern falls on deaf ears, as she is not sober nor emotionally composed enough to focus on multiple things at the moment. "Shells, ain't tryin' ta be perfect. Not even close ta that definition." She knows it, he knows it. He just better not agree wholeheartedly or he may have more than just a jealous brooding Weyrwoman on his hands. "How do you shed it? Do you… Punch somethin' or what?" Pause, and then there's a brief look of horror that crosses her face before she schools it in. "I'd never punch you again." She promises, before she heaves a very heavy sigh. She's full of those today, it seems. "That's all? And… it's normal? But… Why? I ain't ever been jealous over anyone else's past b'fore. Why D'ani?"

It would be a very short meeting and talk if Dtirae had pushed his buttons but thankfully neither of them seem inclined to revert to their old habits. Well, not all of them, anyways. Th'ero is still a bit on the aloof side, but that will take time to wheedle down. He makes another sharp sound of amusement, a huff of sarcastic nature. He does know it. He knows some things, at least! "Like I said, none of us are perfect. We've all our flaws. Jealousy is just one of those emotions that can sneak up and grip hard when you least expect it." he remarks, as if it now it were nothing at all. Like a passing malaise or something of that nature. Not quite agreeing? The second drink arrives and he silently signals his thanks to the bartender with a nod of his head. Then she's asking his method of coping and Th'ero's mouth quirks into the first hint of an actual smile since he sat down and began to talk to her, though it's briefly lived and promptly followed by him clearing his throat and looking down into his drink. His answer comes eventually, though it's half muttered and his gaze will dart to the other patrons, aware of them as he's not quite inebriated by the alcohol he's consumed so far. "I drink or used to, anyhow. Much like you are now. I'd go sulk in my weyr or wherever I could find and brood and drink which… solved absolutely nothing. And yes, I would go punch something. Or hack at something…" He ceases his rambling then and his eyes dart up to Dtirae in surprise and then narrowing as he smirks. Only this time he IS amused. "Didn't think you would or I'd not be sitting here so nonchalant." He's unaware that this promise of hers may have already been one of many for the day but he accepts it. Taking a slower sip of his ale, Th'ero shrugs his shoulders again and levels her with another long look. "I don't know why, Dtirae. Aside from maybe you actually care for him?" As if aware of what he may just have implied, the bronzerider looks away again.

Dtirae can deal with aloof, so she won't press and press him for responses. Instead, she lets him open up while sharing more than he may be comfortable with. An extension of trust. "Figured I wasn't ever goin' ta get this way if I never did b'fore." But, things change when you get older. She'll quiet when the Weyrleader's second drink arrives, and waiting for a response rather than charging forward with her own commentary. She could go on talking to herself, but that defeats the purpose of asking questions. "But… They didn't help any." Or, so she assumes. "Just got ta get over it, huh?" Maybe she'll resign to the fact that she can't punch or drink the jealousy away. "I actually do care 'bout 'im an' 'm guessin' it's far different from the other carin' I did before. Didn't care 'bout A'lin takin' off, goin' his own way and I kicked P'on out withou carin'… And, shit. Shit." More swears follow and her face is again covered.

An extension of trust. Th'ero hasn't forgotten that one discussion they had, sometime ago and though he is still not exactly pouring out his very heart and soul to Dtirae he is not shutting her out entirely either. Tentative at best, but he could actually care enough for the Weyrwoman's well being and maybe something in the way she speaks or her behavior has him concerned enough to push himself out of his comfort zone and talk. Not that it may be much help in the end but he makes an attempt all the same. He gives her a narrowed, sidelong look at her comment of figuring she'd never feel jealous, as if to say 'really?' but he does not nag her further about it. "No, they didn't help entirely save to relieve some of the tension. An outlet, if you will but very poor and truthfully only temporary. Only way to rid jealousy is to get over it by either talking to those involved or figuring out why you are in the first place. It's often irrational." he says in that same lowered voice. He found out the hard way that punching, drinking or any violent outburst honestly solves little. Shame it took him half his life! Nodding his head as if Dtirae just confirmed his assumptions regarding her and the Weyrsecond, he blinks and pauses mid sip of her drink when she begins to curse. "What?" he asks, leaning forwards as she covers her face and he is left only to stare at her, baffled and confused.

His 'really' look is met with her own that clearly reads 'really' back at him, almost smug but not entirely because she has succumbed to the emotion. "Well, 'm thinkin' all the tension is gone. Been dealin' with this for… Some time. And… It is irrational." Jealous for silly little reasons, that's all. And she has faced that fact, really. She is just too stubborn to try and talk it out with D'ani, but, there's more at work than just the jealousy on that front. With her hands covering her face, the cursing continues and then finally comes to an end after a moment. "Nothin'. Just… Ain't used ta all this… Stuff." The Weyrleader is given a wry smile, mostly directed to herself and her emotions. "Thanks. Figure I should… Y'know. Talk ta him. Or somethin'. Do… I apologize and just pretend I ain't ever got jealous? What do I say?" Help her, Th'ero! You're the only one she knows with a stable relationship! Poor man.

They all have succumbed to that emotion, even Th'ero and he is not ashamed to admit it… but not here. Not so openly, at least. But he's wrestled with it enough to know the signs, the symptoms but can offer no cure. Dtirae is her own person and what works for him may not at all work for the Weyrwoman and he keeps that part private and to himself for now. For now! "Sometime? How long?" he asks, sounding… surprised, of all things! That she has gone this long wrestling with it and is only now asking for advice or input has clearly impressed him. Not that it should be a surprise, considering how he reacts to jealousy. It's not pretty. While she covers her face and continues to curse, Th'ero just awkwardly sips at his drink and allows her to work it out at her own pace before he'll speak up again. "Stuff? You mean an actual relationship with someone you care about?" he asks, blunt and harsh but the Weyrleader may be done with roundabout crytpic games. Out with it! That wry smile is met only with a blank look and perhaps a ghost of a smile and when she finally asks for his advice straight up, he grimaces. He should have known this would come about! "Talk to D'ani. You owe him that much at least and he deserves to know. Apologize if you feel you must. Most know what jealousy can do… And I am not sure what you can say! It's — tricky." To say the least! Poor man, indeed. He's beginning to look a wee bit uncomfortable now and signals for a third ale before he's even finished the second.

Dtirae coughs at his question, "since the flight? And.. Uh… Been kinda avoidin' him since?" They talk, maybe, but she certainly doesn't linger too long! The excuse of duties certainly comes in handy, especially being the Weyrwoman. She'll have to count herself lucky that she's never seen a jealous Th'ero, if his reactions are so bad. Surprisingly, the normally aggressive woman didn't become as aggressive as she normally does when facing emotional turmoil. His awkwardness for her hidden face swearing is, of course, unseen and is completely ignored when she finally looks at him again. "Yeah. That. I actually care and I… Have feelin' 'n'junk." Unfortunately, she isn't as eloquent with her sharing when it comes to deeper emotions. Or, maybe it is fortunate for Th'ero, it is hard to say. "Yeah. I… Guess I need ta talk to him. 'Bout this… Feeling. Now that there's a name for it." Pause, "you ever felt jealous over Kimm?"

Th'ero mouth twists into another grimace, but also a lopsided smirk as though he suspected nothing else by Dtirae's answer. Flights. It's always something to do with the flights. "That's probably not the best thing to do. Avoiding him and all. You'll run out of excuses and then what?" he says with a slight shake of his head, finishing his second round of ale and taking the third mug in hand. At this rate, he's well on his way to stumbling out of here if he isn't cautious. Perhaps her lack of aggressiveness is what has the Weyrleader a little on edge and watching her, at times, with a faint wariness to his eyes. She should be lucky not to witness a jealous Th'ero, though she could probably get the details from Kimmila, if she ever chose to pry the bluerider for it. Almost does he chuckle when she uses such "descriptive" wording for her situation, but he bites his tongue and keeps his mood sobered, even if his mind is rapidly becoming anything but sober. Eloquence won't matter in a few moments! "Just try to remember that it's the past. That he could be feeling just as… odd about it all by what you've told me." Pause and he goes to take another sip and luckily for him he doesn't quite get to it before she drops that question. Still, he ducks his head and that alone shows his guilt plain as day. He has, he has! "Many times." he admits quietly. "Mostly flights." Awkward? You bet it is!

"I figure… But it was hard ta sort it out, and then it was hard ta avoid him, but it got worse and easiest thing was ta… Just stay away, find reasons ta be busy. Sayin' that somethin' came up." A sigh, and then a glance towards that ale. Dtirae certainly looks tempted, but she's had more than enough to drink already without getting wasted. And, hungover Dtirae is not a fun Dtirae. She doesn't notice the wariness, if only because she's focusing on her problems and not examining the man at every moment to gauge if she's overstepped. "It is in the past, but… Inri's pretty'n… Y'know… Inri." A sigh and the woman considers him with a slight frown. "Flights… Well… Shells. 'm goin' ta just get over it. Flights happen." And with that, she's signalling another drink but there's a gesture at Th'ero. She'll even flash him a grin. "'m goin' ta go talk ta my bronzerider. Enjoy yer drink." Wink. Her coat is gathered from her seat and wrestled on as she saunters (stumbles, really, just a little) right out of the tavern.

Is anyone ever any fun when hungover? "And it will only get worse if you continue on with what you're doing now," Th'ero points out, even going as far as to use his one finger from the hand that is wrapped around his mug to get the meaning across. Time to stop hiding and talk it out! A lesson that was many, many Turns in learning for the Weyrleader and even to this day he still fumbles and falls back to his old habits. He will nurse the third ale, not seeking to completely obliterate his mind with drunkenness. But his current buzzed state has taken that awkwardness away, or at least his worries over it and perhaps the conversation will continue on with little hinderance — or it'll just become worse. One never knows with Th'ero! "And you're not?" he drawls, only to flinch. Ugh, that came out all wrong. Exhaling and closing his eyes for a moment as he rubs at one temple, he then looks up at her again and does look a touch sheepish for that. "So what if Inri is pretty…or such." Does he have an opinion? Doesn't seems so. This should be when he makes some wise ass remark about how if D'ani is spending time with her over Inri, then clearly the Weyrwoman has something the Weyrsecond likes but he can only fumble along in hesitant silence. So much for drink curing that issue! "Flights happen." he agrees, nodding and pleased to be able to move things along only to frown heavily at her when she stands. Wait, that's it? "Dtirae, remember—" But she's mentioning leaving to talk to 'her' bronzerider and Th'ero can't help but chuckle dryly at that statement. "Good. Enjoy your night," Pause. "Weyrwoman." The wink is not returned, but the Weyrleader does quirk a faint and crooked smile and he will toast the last of his third drink to her retreating form. Downing the last in a few gulps, he then stands and promptly uses the edge of the table to balance himself while he dons his jacket with slow and very calculated movements before he is slowly venturing out of the tavern and into the night, muttering under his breath. Why is it always him?