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 Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 8:47 pm
This was utter wherryshit.
Really, whoever had come up with the idea of letting stupid people serve the meals ought to be the next one sent out into the desert on sweep. He, for one, knew how utterly mind-numbing flying sweep over dragonlengths of sand could be, and with that knowledge came the feeling that those who were already numb between the ears would be best suited to the task.
Sadly, he wouldn't be seeing the current Weyrleader or that crotchety female who called herself a Weyrwoman flying into sand dunes anytime soon. They had nobly stepped down, the prideful bastards. Probably before either of them fell down! And nor would he see any of the bronzeriders he had grown up hating taking a swim in a sandpit either, though he could honestly say that there were a few bronzeriders he would rather remained airborn where they belonged. His own Wingleader, for one. That man was worth his dragon's weight in fine Benden wine! Raising his mug, he silently toasted the man, though said bronzerider was nowhere in sight.
Tipping back his head as he downed the last bit of his own stock of hard Benden spirits, A'tarl slammed his mug down on the sturdy wooden dining table with a resounding crack. Releasing a burp to accompany it, the big brownrider briefly toyed with the notion of personally ascertaining the merits of the recent Istan transfers, but decided that it was unlikely he'd be able to corner one. Plus, he had the sacred duty of harassing the pair of nitwit girls who had tried to serve him stale bread with his ale. Stupidity had it's place in society, but it was certainly not anywhere in HIS vicinity!
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Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 9:09 pm
She didn't mind preparing food in the kitchens... but cleaning was something that never failed to get under her skin. With gritted teeth and the elegant purple of her headband currently being used to keep her wavy locks from her face, the girl grimaced as she did her best to scrub the filthy dishes and mugs left behind from sloppy dragonriders and candidates alike. Candidate Master's daughter or not, Iathe would do her fair share of work and more; as though they needed another worthless Queen like the last insufferable Weyrwoman had been!
Her head snapped up at the sound of someone crying, her gaze suddenly feral as one of the serving girls tried to comfort the other, and she allowed her eyes to roam about in search. Someone making them cry, hm? And ahh, there he was... Certainly a sight for sore eyes, and her lips curled slowly, almost dreamily into a smile. Besotted, she was not. Planning, she was. Straightening herself up and absently shaking her hands free, Iathe soon propped them on her hips as she turned to face the other girls.
"If you take the dishes for me, then I'll handle him." She said quite frankly, and that was how she found herself practically waltzing out of the kitchen with some bread. Stale wouldn't do? How about moldy, then? And if she was lucky, he wouldn't notice it was all on the bottom and maybe sink his rotting teeth into it first. Sharding wherry, men seemed to be all the same these days! Just another small step into modifying the Weyr, she supposed.
With a secret smile on her lips, Iathe would idly drop the platter in front of him with a clatter, shifting on long limbs before she spoke in a deceptively sweet tone. "Hopefully this bread's better for you... dragonrider." Her eyes exaggeratedly had stolen over his attire, as though having to search for his marks like some dimglow. Her blood was already starting to burn with glee, but she could be patient for now.
There was, after all, nothing more satisfying then stomping on the ego of a wherry who really deserved it.
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Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 9:48 pm
Had this been another time, A'tarl might have caught wind of Iathe's ulterior motive, but between the mini celebration going on in his head between his wits and his humor, the only thing he really noticed about the girl who had returned with a new platter of food was that she was not one of the Dumb Twins. Shardit. He had been looking forward to that...
Ah well, this one had an interesting way of looking a man over. A'tarl could appreciate such a look when he was into his cups, since out of them he would have curtly told her to piss off. Ahhh, bliss.
Peering at the bread, however, his face morphed into a belligerent scowl when he found something lacking. Leaning forward, his nose was a few inches above the slices before he stopped, sniffing. It was an absurd picture, as anyone else in their right mind would have picked up the bread to analyze it, rather then lean their face over the plate like a canine.
"Girl, there is no butter."
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Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 9:54 pm
Her innocent expression had vanished as soon as his eyes had fallen on the bread, clearly waiting for an explosive reaction. Had he found out, so soon? Why, he was less drunk then she'd imagined! But a private smile stole across her lips again as he made his demands, and her other hand would slip from behind her back.
No sooner had he spoken would a small tray of butter be set before him, her smile bright and rather cheerful once more. "I didn't forget." Iathe replied, folding her arms behind her back now.
More beast than man, this one! It would only make this more satisfying, and she tilted her head a little as she watched him. "I'll stay here should it prove unsatisfying again."
Wasn't she just thoughtful?
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Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 10:07 pm
Perhaps the butter's rapid appearance hadn't sunk in yet, but A'tarl stared at Iathe long past the tray's arrival on the table. A slight semblance of his usual expression ghosted somewhere behind the drunken fog, as if he were a drowsy mongoose who thought he might have just seen a cobra while heading to water. But it was gone as rapidly as it had appeared, vanquished by a sudden rumbling in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.
Looking away from the girl, he didn't even bother with his belt knife, using a thumb instead to smear butter on his bread. Applied liberally, it might have covered the mold long enough for Iathe's vengeance to show itself in dreadful stomach aches later...
If he had applied it on the right side...
As it was, the moment tongue met green fuzz... well... that whole side of the Dining Hall heard his bellow of indignation.
"THAT DOES IT! THAT DOOOESSS IT! SHARDIT! I WON'T STAND FOR THIS!" He'd jumped to his feet somewhere between spitting out the offending bread, managing (even in his haste) to aim for Iathe. "BY AQUILOTH'S BLAZING SHELL! GIRL YOU WILL SERVE ME PROPER FOOD!"
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Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 10:19 pm
Easy now, couldn't be too eager... Oh, but how her eyes glittered with anticipation. She held her breath as he seemed to hesitate, but then his drunken stupor took hold again, and the girl was allowed a moment of smugness as he crudely buttered his bread and raised it to his mouth. She could have laughed or grinned or said any number of cheeky things even as she shielded her face and lashed out to swat the disgustingly soggy bits away. Instead, Iathe only pulled herself up to her full height, thrusting her chin and managing an expression that wasn't quite a sneer.
"And by Aquiloth's blazing shell, you will treat the staff here with respect or I'll throw you out myself!" She snapped, all good humor and deliberate coyness thrown aside so her true colors could show. "A disgrace to dragonriders, screaming at a bunch of women! What's the matter? You lack the leadership to scream at a wing, so you settle for the so-called weaker sex?"
Her entire demeanor changed then as she swept into a gracious curtsy, her eyes wide and bronzed cheeks flushed as though with pleasure. "It is an honor then, dragonrider! Such a privilege it was to sample your spittle!" Her father might have her head for this, but Iathe no longer cared. Dismissively spinning away from the man, she marched away with curled fists and a stiff back; the cruel look of satisfaction in her eyes made it all worth it, however. Let them put her on latrine duty! Her father would never kick her from the Weyr.
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Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 10:32 pm
"Don't you go calling my dragon's name girl.. AND WHERE IN BLAZES ARE YOU GOING!" He stumbled over the bench he had previously occupied, but managed to avoid falling flat on his face by sheer luck (and perhaps a lot of angry.) Kicking the offending furniture to the side, and upsetting quite a few nearby diners, the big brownrider rose to his full height as he stormed after Iathe, his face red and his temples pulsing with indignation.
Making a grab for her arm, he spun her back around to face him, his other arm half raised as if he might smack her right across the face. Something kept him from doing such a thing, though what it was would elude him for quite some time. He did, however, release her arm as soon as she was turned around, using the same hand to point one large accusing finger in her face instead.
"YOU! WHO are YOU to even think you might throw ME out? Frankly, I'd like to see a woman like you TRY! There are MEN who can't even move my FINGER!" As if to illustrate this point, he pressed his finger closer, almost touching her nose.
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Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 10:41 pm
She hadn't expected him to touch her, and had she been a feline, she would have bristled all over even as she was yanked to look at him again. His upraised arm was immediately perceived as a threat, and Iathe bared her teeth as though daring him to try. Lucky for him, he released her, but she found herself going nearly cross-eyed trying to focus on his filthy finger.
"Someone with more glows than you, surely." She snapped back, knowing it'd be best to calm her raging temper. He was much larger than she, and though dragonriders were supposed to be honorable men, she wouldn't dare put it past him to strike her the next time. That was, of course, until his drunken challenge reached her, his grimy finger practically touching her face...
...And then she sank her teeth into it, biting as hard as she could before the girl would whirl and flee. Out, out, out! But she wouldn't dare leave, oh no, but instead slipped quickly back into the kitchens. More weapons here, certainly, and perhaps he'd find his feet too clumsy to follow after her properly.
Perhaps it was because he was such an arrogant wherry that she was being as nasty as a tunnelsnake; surely a man like him wouldn't ever admit he'd been insulted by a woman!
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Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 10:56 pm
At this point there was an audience, though the only one close enough to make out faces was someone fresh off the dragon from Ista. While he was not usually the type to involve himself in brawls, Florian had only too look at the combatants to see that this scale was a little skewed. Girl vs Big Man? Girl apparently winning? Really, Igen Weyr was strange indeed. As a Healer, it was not necessarily his job to break up fights, but as a man... he supposed it was definitely his duty to make sure another man (particularly a drunk man) did not do something stupid to a woman right in front of him.
As for A'tarl, he'd howled the instant Iathe's teeth had sunk into his finger, and he continued to bellow like a bull as he tried to chase after her. He'd lost sight of her infuriating figure the instant she'd ducked back towards the kitchens, and in trying to relocate his prey, he'd tripped over another empty bench. Arms flailing, the big brownrider hit the floor with a loud thud amid splintered wood, having collapsed another wooden bench beneath his weight.
Nimbly dodging other pieces of furniture and flabbergasted spectators, Florian approached the downed rider with his typical professional aloofness. Rolling the big man clear from the wood once he realized the man was out cold, Florian checked him over for anything serious, snorting in disgust as the malignant odor of alcohol rose from the rider's breath. He had little doubt about why things had arrived to the point they had for this big oaf. Ah well, another case for the anti-liquor log book. This one would be one for the Infirmary for a day or two at least. There was blood on the man's hand, and a little on his shirt, but not enough for Florian to be worried about right away. The morning after headache would likely make the various splinters feel like warm sunshine anyway.
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