You sense that Fort weyrling dragons sense Kourieth shares, << Mine and Caledoth's go to drink and celebrate surviving. Anyone else want to get drunk, he wants to know. >> -- if you're interested.
You wing downwards to the main courtyard of the Hold.
<*> Osasune settles on the ground, smoothing her skirts and surreptitiously trying to pull her bodice up a little.
You cling to Nallath's riding straps as you scramble down his forelimb, landing safely upon the ground. A soft huff in the back of your mind reminds you, once again, of Nallath's absolute love for you.
Ilesyn's hardly dressed up -- besides the ribbon(!) in her hair -- and swings down from Nallath unharried, calmly setting her legs apart as she regains her balance.
Gretta's attire is without much fanfare: she's in her work clothes, still, and after noticing Osasune, a self-conscious hand hastily tries to smooth out her tunic's wrinkles.
C'daer apologizes, sort of, "Forgot to have Kourieth mention attire, but it hardly matters. In we go." He thumps Kourieth, and starts to hold out his arm to Osa - but drops it, mumbles something, and takes long strides towards the door.
Osasune reaches out as C'daer offers his arm, then drops her arm to her side, glancing over at the others. "Glad you could both make it," she murmurs. "I, um, borrowed this dress from Rianna. It's a, um, bit much, I suppose." Rianna being a greenrider.
"Looks good," remarks Ilesyn, lazily. "If you really wanted to go for that kind of look." She smiles - not demurely, but falsely so, perhaps - and turns to follow C'daer.
Osasune blushes further, moving to follow. "What look? I don't look like a harlot, do I? I mean, I asked Rianna, and she laughed so much she fell over."
Gretta waves away apologies, explanations, trailing after. "You look wonderful, Osa," she comments, sincerely, as she makes one final attempt to look more -- attractive, which is something she's never bothered with before. She runs her fingers through her hair.
Reaching the door, Daer holds it open for the weyrlings. "If Avila hears about this," is his next mutter, perhaps audible to whoever's passing the door then. "Uh, Ilesyn?" Louder. "Is that a.. that's a pretty.. ribbon."
Ilesyn says nothing, and turns her head away as she moves through the door. No-- that's a shrug of her shoulders. "Not quite a harlot," she calls back, cheerfully. "Just almost."
Osasune flushes further, head bobbing in Gretta's direction as she reaches the door and ducks through.
Osasune walks off northwestwards to the great hall, through the great doors of the Hold.
You amble northwestwards to the great hall, through the great doors of the Hold.
C'daer pulls the door closed, and bites his lip. "I think it's that way," he says, and points to the door second to the right, blushing slightly as they start through the hall.
Osasune twists her hands together as she trails after C'daer.
Gretta is a silent follower, though she wears a pleased expression.
Ilesyn reaches up one hand to push at the ribbon, uncomfortably, then follows along.
Osasune steps in, peering about with wide eyes and holding her skirts carefully. "Oh," she breathes. "This is very... fancy."
"There're only four of us," C'daer says, peering about and smoothing a hand over his hair. "How about the table in the corner? It looks relatively out of the way, and since we're sort of a mottled group."
Ilesyn's hands quickly drop from her ribbon, and hang by her sides. "Mmph," she murmurs; if that was intended to be a word, it doesn't come across as such. "Okay."
"You fit right in, Osasune," Gretta's commenting, coming in after the rest, and nodding at the back of C'daer's head: she will follow wherever she's led.
Osasune's head bobs. "Certainly. Whatever you say, Weyrlingmaster." She tries to surreptitiouly wipe clammy hands on her skirts.
C'daer stops by the corner table and, a bit awkward, gestures for the 'ladies' to proceed him into it. "Drinks are on me tonight," he adds.
Osasune blushes - she's nearly red now - and scuttles over to a seat to sit down rather prissily. "Thank you. I mean, we don't - er, I don't have much - many - er."
Ilesyn scoots into a seat after Osa, rather gracelessly in comparison to her prissiness. "You're probably lucky I'm only allowed moderate drinking then, C'daer," she remarks.
"Oh? I didn't know you could do moderate. That's good," Osa says.
Gretta is last, again, in taking a seat: and she does so with some sort of grace, but much less prissiness. Folding her hands primly in her lap, she looks expectantly towards the rest of the group.
T'nar strides in, muttering something about having to get clean after a sudden roll in the mud. He half-smiles at all of you as he enters. "Baedanth told me about Kourieth's invitation."
C'daer is just sitting down at a corner table; he spots T'nar and waves at him to come over. "I think so," he says wryly to Ilesyn, and asks, "what will everybody have? Pull up a chair, T'nar, good to have you with us."
T'nar gets a chair, and seats himself, looking around at the others. "Thanks for asking us, Weyrlingmaster. What's going on? I didn't have time to get decked out like I wanted to..."
"Hello, T'nar," Osa squeaks, fussing with the skirts on her borrowed gown. "Umn. What should I have? I had some spiced wine, once, and that was alright."
"We're drinking," explains Ilesyn in very slow tones, like one would with a child. "What do you think is going on, T'nar?" Not scornful -- but not entirely nice, either. "I'll just have a beer. Spirits make me feel nauseous."
Gretta only gives a brief, absent smile to T'nar, concentrating as she is on selecting a drink. To Osasune, mostly, she confides, "I've not -- sampled -- wines much, or anything else, really." Glancing at C'daer, she questions everyone at large, "What do you recommend?"
Daer waits until a waiter looks their way, and waves him over. Flushing slightly, he says, "Spiced wine, a beer. Cider for me. Gretta, T'nar? Eh, you look all right. Weyrling uniforms are generally a safe bet." As his own clothing is simply a cleaned-up version of his standard attire,
Daer waits until a waiter looks their way, and waves him over. Flushing slightly, he says, "Spiced wine, a beer. Cider for me. Gretta, T'nar? Eh, you look all right. Weyrling uniforms are generally a safe bet." As his own clothing is simply a cleaned-up version of his standard attire, that works. "Oh. Well, hmm. You might like the sweet klah with whisky? One of those, please."
T'nar blinks, and simply accepts the explanation. "Right. I'll have that beer, then. Thnaks, sir."
Osasune nods to Gretta. "That was the first time I drank. The Weyrsecond had a skin and we were out by the pagoda thing in the gardens. I only had a few sips, though."
Ilesyn's ribbon is given another poke - as if she regrets it, but her nose goes in the air. "Spiced wine is always a good bet, I guess."
"It was sort of... tickly-warm," Osa says.
"I'd like a wine, then, too," Gretta decides quickly, adding, "though one that's different from Osasune's...? But nothing... /too/ extraordinary or fancy, please."
C'daer changes that to, "Two spiced wines, two beers, one cider, that's all." As the waiter leaves, he adds, "It's on me, T'nar, this time. After you graduate you can all take me out and get me drunk."
T'nar appears a tad surprised, but smoothly covers the initial reaction with a sly smile. "Absolutely. What brought this little binge on, if I may ask?"
Ilesyn stretches out her legs beneath the table, and queries, "How long until we graduate? Can't be that long now."
"Surviving Threadfall," Osasune replies, tugging at the edge of her bodice again as some sturdy-looking man eyes her.
"He's a looker," Daer teases Osasune, and reaches for his cider as the drinks come. "I'm getting everyone cleared to graduate, and they're arranging them into wings. As soon as that's ready, then *poof*. You graduate," he says, and lifts his mug. "Toast?"
Osasune flushes, shaking her head a little. "I'm not... um, right. A toast. Sure."
Giddily, happily, with all this talk of graduation and wing placement, Gretta lifts her wine -- spiced or not -- to join in the toast.
T'nar nods, raising his mug, waiting for someone more lingual to say the proper words.
Ilesyn mphs, staring at her beer somewhat morosely. She lifts it up, and notes, calmly, "To a lifetime of threadfighting and survival."
C'daer sparks a startled grin to Ilesyn, and seconds, "A fine toast. Here's mine, to fine weyrlings," and he heaves his upward, then drinks.
T'nar sighs softly, but clicks his mug against Ilesyn's. "And to many, many long Turns of being paired with the best dragons on Pern." Click againnt C'daer's mug.
Ilesyn doesn't seem entirely enthused about her own toast, but with a wan smile, chinks glasses, and then downs a large gulp of hers, wiping her mouth.
"To, um, our bonds with dragons and what we've learned about ourselves through them," Osa offers, lifting her glass and clinking it.
"And, to the adventures ahead," adds Gretta, whether she believes this or not; but she wears a girlish grin, as she tilts her wine glass against her lips to drink.
A quiet laugh, and Daer adds, "Good toasts all," and sets his mug back down - apparently honestly planning to be a moderate drinker tonight. "Do you all feel ready to graduate?"
T'nar seems to gulp down his beer with more relish than usual - almost as if in a hurry. A soft groan from him. "Shards; Bae is reminding me I sort-of-promised him a bath in the /warm/ waters South - and the hunting, too."
Osasune has a sip of her wine, tilting her head to the left. "I guess the Weyrlingmaster will have to drink your beer, then, T'nar."
C'daer replies, "That's what Kourieth said - you have fun. Relax a bit - slug that beer down, and grab something to eat on your way out before you between."
"I don't think I need bother that question," remarks Ilesyn, nodding after T'nar somewhat absently as she takes another quaff - messily - of her beer.
T'nar laughs, draining the rest of his draught. "Not likely! Sorry for leaving so quicky and all, but I hate being continually pestered by my own dragon." The young man rises, and gives a slight bow to all of you. "I'll see all of you later. And thanks again!" As he paces rapidly out, you might hear T'nar uttering a few oaths under his breath.
Osasune peers at T'nar's back for a moment, then shrugs a little and has a sip of wine. "I think I feel ready to graduate."
Gretta calls an absent farewell after the brownrider, lifting again her glass to examine its contents, this time, not sip. "I hope I'm ready. Halysath is, for sure."
"You're still leaving Magma," Daer says to Ilesyn. "That counts as graduating. How's the wine? The cider's excellent, but then, it always is here," and he runs his finger over the rim of his mug.
"The wine's fine. I think I liked S'vilen's better," Osa adds in hushed tones.
"Sure it does," agrees Ilesyn, taking another swig. "But the actual concept of graduating is the one that's the reason for my graduating to where I am. Obviously, I'm /not/ ready to graduate, if I'm not graduating in the same way other weyrlings are."
C'daer asides to Osasune, "Try a sweet klah whiskey next," and then leans forward to argue with Ilesyn with relish. "The young weyrlings graduate too, and go to other assignments that aren't full fighting wing placements. Cyn will be a junior assistant to me, for instance."
[Monitor] Briny has connected.
If Gretta was about to say anything, she stops, surprised, and merely looks between C'daer and Ilesyn.
Osasune nods to C'daer, then leans over to murmur to Gretta, "Ilesyn will be riding with the Queen's wing for a bit."
[Monitor] L'gan has connected.
Ilesyn hesitates, before she allows herself a slow nod. "I suppose." To Gretta, she adds, "Queens wing, until I decide I'm willing to be more or less suicidal."
"Oh," Gret returns, lowly, though there's the faint hint of surprise in that one word, as well as her eyes. Which, when Ilesyn addresses her, she lowers to look into her wine. "You're there because you don't want to fight Thread?"
"So, as long as I get rid of you," Daer reiterates cheerfully, "it's graduating." He settles back in his chair, sipping slowly at his cider, and looking between the three women, interested in this conversation.
"Get rid of us? I feel so loved," Osasune says with a sniff of mock-hauteur.
Ilesyn's expression turns wry, "More or less, Gretta, yes," she agrees. C'daer's comment draws a more mirthful expression. "Oh, I /know/ you want to get rid of us. We're bad weyrlings. Well - I am."
Gretta pulls her lips into a thoughtful frown, looking at C'daer. "Can she really do that? I've never heard of a dragonrider refusing to, well, fulfill their purpose." Her eyes slant back to Ilesyn. "What does your dragon say?"
C'daer tilts his head slightly towards Ilesyn, "J'van wasn't impressed during his wings lecture, so he put her there. If it were up to me - but it's not. Gretta, are you drinking at all, or just watching it?"
Fort senses Perymith bellows in sudden fury, << We have to go! NOW! >> Though his demand is aimed at S'vilen, it's broad enough to be heard by any dragon in the Weyr.
Osasune has another gulp of wine, then pauses, eyes going glassy for a moment. "Poor Weyrsecond," she murmurs.
"If it were up to you, you'd put me in a normal wing, and let me endanger not only myself, but others, because of my attitude?" queries Ilesyn, shaking her head. "I think his reasoning is sound. He's giving me more time to work things out, become a --'good little rider'."
Dump complete, resuming game.
Gretta shakes her head a moment, at Osasune's comment, taking up her wine again. "I'm drinking it, C'daer. Perhaps I simply like to slowly enjoy it?" And as if to prove her point, she takes a slow -- small -- sip, then licks her lips.
C'daer thunks his elbow on the table and angles an eyebrow upward. "I'd put you in the wing and you'd work through your issues -sharding- quickly. You and Nallath are technically good; instinct would take over, and Nallath would not let you make stupid mistakes."
Osasune sighs a bit, and has a much larger sip of wine.
Ilesyn says nothing intelligent - it's more of a "mph" kind of statement, followed by a shrug of her shoulders. "Another beer?" she requests. "I suppose I'm lucky, then, that it isn't up to you. Although, at least then I wouldn't be all but grounded in the weyr, without sex."
Speaking of sex, Gretta finds this the appropriate time to comment, again to Osasune, "Jalis spoke to me about mating flights, since I had missed the lesson she gave to everyone else. Do you know what she suggested I do before Halysath's first flight?" And here, she pauses to take a larger sip from her wine cup. "She thought it'd be good if I'd approach a boy and, and, well -- you know."
"Oh. You missed the lesson with the rest of us," Osa mutters, having another big sip of wine and waving the glass a little. "She made everyone who'd never been with someone raise their hand. In front of /everyone/. And told us to do that."
With a harrumph, Daer swigs another drink of cider. "He restricted you from that? Smart man.. are you two ready for another drink - well, yes, Gretta, she suggests that to everyone. She'll even arrange it if you ask her." He signals the waiter, requests a beer and cider, and finishes up his first.
"He seemed to think it would-- speed my introspection," remarks Ilesyn, with a glint of amusement in her eye. "Probably quite right." In a louder voice, as she turns back to Osa and Gretta, she remarks, "And Osa was a good girl, and did just that."
"Oh, goodness, I couldn't have her do that," Gretta remarks, almost prissily, setting down her wine glass. "But I'm glad at least I didn't have to sit there in front of everyone, like -- well." And she offers a small smile to Osasune. "But you weren't the only one, were you?"
Nallath> Swathed in navy wool, her distinctive hair capped with a brightly striped hat, Sanriel walks up the ramp into the courtyard. She recognizes several of the brightly-hued bodies taking up all the space, and waves automatically. Hmm, dragonriders out. What's going on? And with that, her steps lead her at a quicker pace towards the doors.
C'daer almost chortles at Gretta's reaction. "It does help, though, so I'm told. And you'll get sick of running errands and doing chores in double-time, I expect, Ilesyn - given the natural aversion you seem to have to them."
Osasune shakes her head. "No, I wasn't the only - yes, Ilesyn, I did, and that's all we're going to say about it."
[Fort Weyr] Andariel dohs and manages to typo her own dragons name. This is a good nght. :)
Ilesyn huffs, affecting dignity. "You're always so mean to me, C'daer," she-- mock-whines. "Can't I do anything right, in your eyes?" Osa's response draws mirth, lips twitching. "As you wish."
Gretta doesn't quite know what to say, here; she's wide-eyed, though. "Well, regardless. I just don't understand how someone could /ask/. Imagine the awkwardness." She shakes her head, almost dissapprovingly.
Nallath> Sanriel walks off northwestwards to the great hall, through the great doors of the Hold.
Nallath> Sanriel has left.
Sanriel has arrived.
[Fort Weyr] Sanriel: Gah! Found you. *sighs*
Osasune finishes her wine. "Oh, it's very awkward," she says, in mournful tones. "Sweet klah whiskey, you said, C'daer?"
"Well, generally," Daer says, but interrupts himself as the waiter arrives to ask, "Anyone ready for another?" They're settled comfortably at a corner table. "Ah, there's one." He draws his fresh cider in front of him and waits on Gretta's answer.
"Sweet klah whiskey," Osa tells the waiter firmly.
"Oh, this one glass is plenty," Gretta answers quickly, wrapping her fingers around said glass as if to guard it; but she's more, very much more interested in a little comment from Osasune: "You've /done/ it? You've asked someone?"
Ilesyn's eyes roll darkly, as she hovers over her beer, taking indelicate mouthfuls every so often.
Osasune flushes. "I, um I was talking about how embarassed I was about needing to, and I sort of, well, I sort of had an offer. So... I took it."
C'daer nods to the waiter, who scuttles off again, and continues his discourse. "Generally, you either get thoroughly drunk and find someone, or you develop a crush on someone and use the old Jalis-told-me-to routine."
Sanriel pokes her head into the room, scanning before she moves on... Oops, there they are. Not quite where she expected to find the group, but fine nonetheless. Pulling off her hat, she moves through the room to their general area. "Fancy seeing /you/ here!"
Gretta spares Ilesyn only a quick, neutral glance; her eyes settle back on Osasune, as she gives an envious, "Oh, you got an offer," and then looks at C'daer. And, her word for tonight: "Oh."
Osasune nods dumbly, then looks up at the sound of the familiar voice, looking grateful. "Master Sanriel!"
"See, there's Sanriel! She'd do i-" Daer breaks off, peers down at his cider, and says brightly, "My this is a particularly strong batch."
"I'd do what?" Sanriel demands immediately, then invites herself into an empty seat. "Hello, Osa, Ilesyn, Gretta... Daer. Wat /are/ you talking about?"
Ilesyn's gaze lifts; she winces. "Sanriel," she greets, quietly. "You'd offer to sleep with Gretta, apparently," she notes, archly, peering around the edge of her mug owlishly. "Nice to know that, isn't it?"
Osasune sighs as the sweet klah whiskey stuff arrives and takes it quickly for a gulp. "It never ends."
Gret, frowning, finishes her sip, and notes grumpily, "Jalis suggested a /man/, Ilesyn. To cover all bases, I presume. And I think C'daer meant that Sanriel wouldn't be embarrassed to /ask/ someone."
C'daer's upper body jerks a little as he kicks Ilesyn under the table, and quickly says, "Right! That's what I meant. Exactly that. Uh huh." And he shuts up, by drinking some more, and then trying to change the subject, "How is it, Osasune?"
Sanrielis taken aback, but recovers admirably. "I would? What in all of Pern makes you think that, C'daer?" A shake of her head dismisses the cover-up, and she waves for a waiter, mumbling her order to him. "Are you trying to, ah... Get it over with - so to speak - before your first flights? Is that what we're talking about?"
"Pretty awkward. I mean, it's... oh. Uh. The drink is fine," Osasune says.
"Ow! C'daer, there's no need for that," sulks Ilesyn, leaning down to rub at her poor, pained shin. "Oh, come on, Gretta. We all know /that/ already. I think it's both. Getting experience with a woman is a good thing, too. Because you could end up with Osa, or me, and wouldn't you just love that?"
Osasune glances at Gretta, blinks, and flushes.
Gretta only twitches her lips at Ilesyn's remarks, gripping at her wine glass. "Well. If that's how it goes," she says at last, then drains the last of the spiced wine. "Halysath's choice."
"You behave," Daer tells Ilesyn firmly, like he's talking to a child, and simply nods to Sanriel before telling Osasune, lamely, "That's nice. Uhm. Oh. Drinks are on me, Sanriel, even though you weyrn't invited."
"You're perfectly welcome, though!" Osa says.
Ilesyn sticks out her tongue - if she's being talked to like a petulant child, she'll act like it, too. "More like, whoever manages to outmaneouver her, Gretta," remarks the brownrider. "I don't think Elaesyth had much choice in the matter."
"How generous of you." Sanriel says to C'daer with some irritation, then amends her order. "I'll have the better year... And make it a double." Turning back to the group, she adds "Just make sure you do it... Whatever it is. I have heard /so/ much from ex-weyrling...s... who didn't and regretted it."
Gretta watches Ilesyn for a moment longer, then amends, "Well, whoever gets her, then." At Sanriel's comment, Gretta pushes away her empty wine glass and blinks at them all, sighing.
"It's true. I've heard from people who didn't and were upset," Osa murmurs.
C'daer snorts softly at Sanriel, and adds, "I'll stop by when we're done here to pick up Cedriel for this sevenday.. Gretta, want another? You're entitled to two at least, especially if you're going to go and accost somebody random.. Have you, Osasune?" He lifts his cider mug again. "Who?"
"K'dir," offers Ilesyn, succinctly, as she finishes off her second beer.
C'daer turns red, very promptly.
"Exactly." Sanriel agrees, and gives C'daer a Significant Look.
Osasune's face drains of colour. "It wasn't your place to say, Ilesyn. And you /knew/ that, C'daer."
Gretta only frowns more, pushing away her glass. "No more," she says firmly.
"I forgot," Daer offers lamely, darting a thankful glance at Osasune. "And I didn't know that - then."
Osasune glances sidelong at Sanriel.
Ilesyn's brows raise. "Why not, Osa? I think it's a very pertinent example." C'daer's response results in a grimace; "How convenient. Just like you, Weyrlingmaster."
"It wasn't your place to /say/, regardless," Osasune growls at Ilesyn. "I'm allowed to keep my relations discreet!"
Sanriel winks back at Osasune and leans forward, ready to add her little barbs to Ilesyn's. "It is, rather, isn't it?" Whatever that means,
Osasune looks to Gretta, saying in too-quiet, even tones, "If you do - don't mention it to any old blabbermouth," she advises, draining her mug quickly and looking toward the exit.
C'daer looks back and forth between Osasune and Ilesyn, "But I just asked about who hadn't before their flight," he says helplessly. "Not the.. the other thing.. Oh, I don't think you have any room to talk, Miss Ilesyn Catch A Malerider After A Flight."
"It had nothing to do with you, Osasune. I was talking about K'dir and C'daer, and it isn't as if I'm spreading it to the world." Ilesyn is rather sharper in voice than she might have intended it to be, though her expression is dark. "It's more or less the same, isn't it, C'daer? He hadn't, before his flight, and it ended up quite badly, I should say." Shrugging, she concludes her comments with a cheerful, "And what has that got to do with anything?"
Gretta only widens her eyes at all the exchanges, puffing out a breath. When there's any sort of pause in the insults, the banter, she comments, "I thought when people drink they get /happy/."
Osasune blinks for a second. "Oh. You were talking ab..." she trails off, then ducks her head. "I dunno, Gretta."
Sanriel's drink arrives, and she pauses to tip the bartender and take a long, appreciative sip.
Daer grouches, "Never -mind-," and slurps his drink again, explaining to Gretta, "It depends on the company, mostly. So. Sanriel, where's Cedri?"
"I dropped him in a hole." Sanriel replies glibly. "Actually, I loaned him to Faern, who's trying to impress Sloane with his fatherly instincts."
Ilesyn smirks, lifting her head so that she can watch Daer, with much amusement. She adds, while still watching C'daer, "Honestly, Osa. You seem to think that everything is about you!"
"I don't. I made a mistake," Osasune mutters. "Shove it."
C'daer glares at Sanriel, "I assume he'll be done with him by the time I'm done here and come over to get him? I have his cradle ready and everything, and," his voice changes completely, going all proud and delighted, "does he have any more teeth yet?"
Gretta snorts, suddenly, at all this. "This is getting silly, really. This isn't happy." And the weyrling makes a slow process of standing, but she stands, and leans against the chair. "Thank you for the wine, C'daer."
"Considering I didn't expect you until tomorrow, no. I'd say he won't be done until he's good and finished. He's putting Cedri to /bed/ afterwards." Sanriel says acidly, and takes another long drink. "Your sevendays keep getting longer and longer. Don't you have anythign better to do?" Not accusative at all, are we. "Was nice to see you, Gretta!" She offers in an enthusiastic counterpoint that can only be, well.. Counterfeit.
Osasune looks up at Gretta, blinking. "You're going, Gretta? Umn. Maybe I'll go, too."
"Welcome, Gretta," Daer says and smiles up at her, before widening his eyes at Sanriel. "You were expecting me tomorrow?" He beams. Widely. "Really? I thought you didn't want me to have him at all, I'll be there first thing in the morning."
"Uh, thanks," Gretta says, to Sanriel; and to Osasune, she nods several times. "Yeah, I'm ready. Not much of a drinker."
Sanriel gets the feeling she lost that one. "Yeah... Well... I don't." Is her rather lame comeback.
Ilesyn's gaze shifts between her two fellow weyrlings, and C'daer and Sanriel, and - yet again - she rolls her eyes; her beer is looking like better company more and more.
C'daer gives a blissful sigh, and wiggles his fingers up at Osasune and Gretta. "Between safely. Get your image from one of the dragons at the Weyr, just in case you're fuzzy."
Osasune nods to C'daer, standing up and smoothing her skirts again. "Will do. Thank you for the drinks, Weyrlingmaster." She nods to Gretta and starts for the exit.
Sanriel feels rather like a plague - and perhaps she is, having scared everyone away.
Gretta wordlessly exits, looking forlorn, and shoving back the hair from her face.
C'daer eyes first Ilesyn, then Sanriel; possibly the two women he least wants to be drinking with. "So," he says flatly.
"Sanriel," notes Ilesyn, glancing up. "We're alone with C'daer. Who knows what kind of mischief we could get up to, if we got him drunk enough."
Sanriel chokes on her wine, then considers the bronzerider from beneath her eyelashes. "You know, you're right." Slipping into the role, yeah sure. "What's he drinking?"
"Cider," Daer answers through gritted teeth, and proceeds to finish off this, his second glass. Then he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.
Ilesyn repeats, as if she's pretending C'daer can't hear her, "Cider. We need to get him on to something harder, I think."
"Right," Sanriel agrees "Death by alcohol. What's your poison, Daer?"
C'daer answers, mournfully, "Women like you. If you buy it, I'll drink it, though."
Ilesyn jiggles her money-pouch. "Not much," she muses, "but probably enough, if we spring for cheap alcohol." Beam.
"I'm flattered." Sanriel tells Daer, then to Ilesyn in a much lower voice. "If you can get him /that/ drunk, I'll cover it all and give you a mark for your troubles. This could be /very/ amusing."
Sanriel is looking at you!
Summoning the server, Daer pays for the drinks so far, with only a very slight wince. Then he parks his elbows on the table, glances from woman to woman, and flatly dares, "Bring it on."
"Done," remarks Ilesyn, brightly. "You're right, Sanriel. Very right." The server is considered for a moment, then she requests, "Your cheapest, in as large a size as you offer."
"Make it the next step up, and three shotglasses." Sanriel amends, winking at the waiter, who hurries to comply. She drains the glass in front of her, and tells Ilesyn "Haven't done /this/ in awhile, heh?"
"You two do this often?" C'daer enquires, with a sardonically raised eyebrow. "How.. gauche. I wouldn't have expected it of you, Sanriel." Obviously, that means he does expect it of Ilesyn. Who's surprised?
"Not me," insists Ilesyn, before giving Sanriel quite an approving smile. "Fine idea, there. Actually - let's have another six shot glasses, and some water, as well. We'll play a game."
"Wouldn't /you/ like to know," Sanriel taunts C'daer, then gives Ilesyn a surprisingly approving look. "A game? Do tell!"
C'daer harrumphs yet again and regards the brownrider suspisciously. "Yes, do share your blindingly brilliant suggestion."
Smiling wickedly, Ilesyn fills four of the nine glasses with alcohol, the other five with water. "Each of us will have a turn to mix the glasses around," she explains, "While the others close their eyes. After that, we each take three glasses and put them in front of us, and then drink, quickly. Without making a face, if at all possible."
"Sounds dangerous - I'll go first." Sanriel volunteers. She's apparently unnecessarily eager to get smashed. "How do you determine a winner? Whoever drinks them all without making a face?"
"Ohhhh." That's Daer's rueful approval. "/Clever/. No, the winner's whoever can still stand at the end, right?"
"Incredibly," agrees Ilesyn, to Sanriel. "Pretty much. Usually, though, there doesn't end up being a winner, by those rules."
Sanriel shrugs and sets the pitcher and bottle to the side, making more room for glass-shifting. "That works." She agrees, "Every other game I know involves, well... Instruments." She actually blushes at that admission.
C'daer leers over at Sanriel. "Really? What d'you do with them?" Then, he watches her preparations, snorts, and says, "Hurry up already," and ostentatiously puts a hand across his eyes.
Ilesyn turns her head away, though her expression is interested. "Instruments. I-- don't think I want to know."
"You don't." Sanriel agrees quickly, and uses the excuse of the game to cover her eyes. "Tell us when!"
Nallath> "I don't know how much warning you get - a couple of days, isn't it, if you're able to notice at all?" Osasune inquires.
Nallath> "Yeah," comes Gretta's reply, blandly. "But at least it won't be right away -- the rest of the greens haven't started rising, yet, have they?"
Nallath> Osasune shakes her head. "No, but once they're fully grown, they will. And, um, we're graduating soon... so..."
C'daer wonders, eyes still covered, "I thought you were doing it.. I will, then." He unhands himself, peers thoughtfully at the glasses, and quietly drains one with a slight wince at the taste. Then, ostentatiously clinking the glasses, he moves them around with only a muffled chuckle - leaving one empty, three loaded, and five innocent. "Ilesyn, your turn."
Ilesyn hesitates, then picks up a glass, glancing at it once, before downing it. No face. "Water," she announces. Three loaded, four innocent.
Nallath> Gretta shrugs away worries, concerns, settling on something different, something better, to look forward to. "Which I'm thankful for, really. I rather like having my own weyr, even as small as it is."
"I thought you weren't supposed to tell." Sanriel protests, then eyes the glasses dubiously. She chooses one, winces, and downs it. The score is now tied.
Nallath> "So do we. It's almost... well... cute. Someone put some autumn flowers in it, and it's just very tidy and it's my own space. I've never had my own space before," Osa says, cheering up as well.
Another downed, and Daer mumbles, "Water," and peers over at Ilesyn. "Three left, innit? Did you arrange them on.. no, I'd have had a.. hm." He stares at the remaining glasses.
Ilesyn merely smiles, latching onto a glass, downing it. No face. Not that that says anything - for it was, in fact, a glass filled with alcohol.
Sanriel chooses a glass and knocks it back, coughing a little when it turns out not to be what she expected. "Gaah, that wasn't water." She announces.
Nallath> Gretta reaches out to lean, for a moment, against Halysath, who blinks awake and shifts, antsy all of the sudden: let's go, let's go. "Me, either -- it's nice. Private. Unlike the barracks." But she's drowsy, and fuzzy -- the wine, perhaps -- and ready to go. "Thanks for, uh, being nice, Osa," she blurts, suddenly, and turns to mount up. "Good night."
Daer's next is alcohol too, and after banging the glass down he reaches out to pat Sanri's shoulder - that or the air next to her shoulder. "Yeah.. the rest water? Who needs those."
Nallath> Gretta climbs onto Halysath's neck.
Nallath> Osasune smiles at Gretta. "You're always nice. Why wouldn't I be? Good night."
Nallath> From Halysath's neck, Gretta settles in, buckles in, and sighs. "Well, thanks... and, uh. Yeah." Then it's up, up -- into the night.
Nallath> Halysath wings upwards to the open sky above the Hold.
"Put the glasses with water /there/," says Ilesyn, indicating with one hand, "And we'll fill up these again, I suppose?"
"Leave those, and fill the rest..." Sanriel suggests uncorking the bottle and refilling the glasses in front of her first. "Makes it... Easier. Urp."
C'daer waits, impatiently, for Sanriel to fill them up. "Come on.. doesn't take that long, does't? Women. Pfft."
Ilesyn's lips twitch with mirth, as she begins to swap the glasses about, randomly placing this one there, that one here, and so on. "Care t'go first, Sanriel?"
"Mm," Sanriel agrees and lathecs onto the closest glass, downing it quickly. A tear trickles down her cheek at that one, but she's not telling.
C'daer twitches one eyebrow, and reaches for two glasses at once, expression daring them to stop him. Quickly one, then the other, brings tears to his eyes, and he takes a long raggy breath afterward.
Sanriel can't help but laugh at that. "You're getting greedy, Daer!"
Ilesyn does nothing. In fact, she merely laughs - loudly, tipsily, at C'daer's reaction. Following his lead, she does the same thing-- with glee that she shows in a choking laugh, both are set down triumphantly. Water. "Goes quicker this way," she points out.
"Allright, then." And Sanriel grabs two of the remaining, knocking them back and choking a little.
Osasune makes her way back in, peering about and heading back toward the table of Fortians.
The Fortians are getting thoroughly, thoroughly smashed.
"Mmmp.. I think," Daer slurs, eyeing Sanriel, "I'm pouring the next round." He clumsily lines up all nine shot glasses and swipes for the bottle, though pouring deftly enough, and drawing two of the shots back to himself.
Ilesyn looks somewhat woozy, though she lifts her head, eyes not quite focusing, and smiles at Osa. Lopsidedly. Clumsily, she picks two shot glasses, at random, and places them in front of her as well. "Why don't we all drink at the same time?" she mumbles.
Osasune smiles at Ilesyn, heading back. "Wow. You guys look plastered."
"We-got two extra..." Sanriel smiles slo-eyed at Osasune, then confiscates two for herself. "Count it, 'lesyn. Or whatever."
C'daer stares hard at the glass still sitting unclaimed. "One. Thass one. Osaaaaaa! Look wha' we got for you." He points at the table next to the vodka. "Have at it." And he tosses back his shots, then burps.
Without much aim, Ilesyn ends up getting much of her first shot up her nose, and chokes unprettily. The second is managed better-- it tips into her mouth, and only some of it slides down her chin.
"You have a table? For me? Wow, just what I always wanted," Osasune says, settling down in her seat again and smoothing her skirts.
Sanriel waits until Osasune is seated to drink hers - and then a little longer. "Where'd the other glass go?" She wonders vaguely. "There were... nine."
Peering over at Sanriel, Daer announces, "Two plus two plus two plus two minus one is nine. See? Two for you an' two for me and two for the brownriding slut and two for Osa except she onlyhas one because we only have nine. Is there any left?"
Osasune reaches for the leftover glass, taking it and sniffing it. "What is this stuff?"
"Not a slut!" insists Ilesyn, peering at the glasses. "That's only seven, if it's two for each, an' one for Osa."
Ilesyn adds, stumbling over the words, "If I w're a slut, I'd b'sleeping with you, now, or talkin' about it."
"You are all really drunk," Osa giggles.
Sanriel shakes her head, trying to figure out C'daer's math. Failing at this level of drunkenness, she puts in. "Can't sleep with you in the bar, so there."
C'daer giggles drunkenly. "'Wine, it makes your liver to sing, but faugh, this extract of tubers, it will kill you!' 'If only you knew,' thought the young man!" He gropes for the bottle, sloshes it, and pours the rest out evenly between the three of them. "Osa? You gon' drink that?"
Osasune nods. "Oh, why not?" Osa shrugs a shoulder, glances about, and then tips back the shot. "That's nothing, that's --- augh!"
"Right," agrees Ilesyn, sagely. "Bar. No sleeping. Drinking." C'daer is giggled at, and then Osa. "Only sorta," she insists. More of the vodka ends up going down her shirt, and she giggles.
Sanriel is looking at you!
Sanriel eyes Ilesyn drunkenly. "Quit wasting the alcohol. If you're gonna do that, use the water." And the pitcher is offered shakily.
Carefully, Daer lowers his face to the table and slurps from the top of the shot glass until it's low enough that he trusts himself to pick it up to down the rest. "Mrfff. Tass all," he says sadly. "Can't between like this. Mia gon' t' kill me."
Ilesyn looks - sort of - contrite. "Sorry," she says, enunciating carefully. "Too late! Next time," she notes, "We should play Suck'n'blow!" Tee hee. She giggles. Again. "Sleep on th'floor. Mia shoulda come with."
"Suck and /what/?" Osa asks, eyes widening.
"Blow," Sanriel repeats comfortably "Y'can sleep on my couch if ya want. Won't hafta go far'fr Cedri in the morning."
C'daer nods wisely. "Blow. Whatever that is." He tilts the glass upward, sighs, and puts it down. "Time t' go, I think, before my Ma or Da or somebody who reknigizes me know up. You have couch?"
"Drag'npoker cards. Y'pass 'em around a circle, kissing them," explains Ilesyn, not particularly well. "Sleep," she agrees. "'m sleepy."
"My room." Sanriel confirms "Couch, bed, desk. No flying. Play suck 'n blow later." She reaches for the bottle and looks disappointed when it is confirmed empty.
"Why would you want to kiss cards?" Osasune asks. She pauses for a moment, peering at Sanriel, and then C'daer. "Uh huh."
After a minute, Daer wonders, "Who's sleepin' on t' desk? Osa coming? You're prob'ly all right to b'tween, j'st eat somethin'."
"I don't think I'm supposed to come," Osasune says, batting her eyelashes.
"Kiss 'chother, too," explains Ilesyn, wobbling towards her feet. "Y'c'n come too, Osa. Floor's good. Maybe."
Sanriel nods agreement, fishing in her pocket as she moves towards the bar to pay the fine. Tight pockets - makes it more of a challenge. "YOu know where it is," she calls to C'daer and waves the group away, then turns back to the very amused bartender.
C'daer repeats stupidly, "I know where it is. I do? I do. I do... huh. Where we goin' again?" And he blinks across the table at Ilesyn. "Hey," sounding very surprised, "you're kind of cute." And to Osasune, "You got cleavage. Where'd 't come from?"
Osasune's eyes go huge. "What? I always had it!" she protests. "Well, not before I was thirteen, but - still - I - I - it's the dress and don't look at my cleavage!"
Ilesyn peers at C'daer. "'m I? Oh. S'good. I think. Good cleavage," she adds. She blinks several times, fluttering her eyelashes - a painful sight. Then, she reaches into her pouch to help pay, having noticed what Sanriel is doing, and ends up spilling small coinage over the floor. It's a very 'oops!' moment, though she only smiles endearingly, and wobbles onwards.
Osasune blinks at Ilesyn, then looks down at her chest. "Really?" she asks, a giddy note hitting her tone.
"Mm, I said I'd pay if you managed t'... Well, whatever it was." Sanriel divines Ilesyn's intention and protests it on her way back to the table. "'sides, 's done already anyhoo. What, are you spilling liquor, too, Osa?" Sanriel eyes Osa's chest.
"Up. Up." Daer mantras, grabbing the edge of the table and staggering somewhat upright. "Ooooooo boy. Oh wow. Thass diff'rent, the lights're all squiggly." He blinks. "No they're not. Oh. Hi Sanriel. Where we goin'?"
Ilesyn ohs, peering at the marks on the floor wearily. "Marks," she says, pointing at them. "Oh well. Goin' to bed," she adds, not quite managing to turn around and face Daer, and the rest. "On th' floor," she quickly adds, apparently taken with this. "/Really/," is her conclusion, Osa smiled at somewhat vacantly.
"I haven't spilled anything," Osasune protests, sniffing. "And I can between home. If I have something to eat. Which I can."
"Home," Sanriel tells Daer, and offers a hand to lead him in the right direction. "You forgot where'tis, I guess. Not coming with, Osa?" She turns back to give the Weyrling a surprised look. "You can..."
"Um. I wouldn't be in the, um, way?" Osasune inquires.
C'daer sticks his hand out and finds Sanriel's. "Right," he says, and sticks his other arm out somewhere near Ilesyn. "Bye-bye Osasune. Except if you come. Not in way. You can sleep on t' desk."
Ilesyn ventures over towards C'daer's extended arm, grasping blindly at it. That'll work. "Mph," she notes, towards Osa. "Fun," she adds.
"Oooh, the /desk/," Osa says, standing up. "Alright, alright. I'll probably go for the floor, though. A desk just doesn't sound comfortable."
[Monitor] Sariya has disconnected.
"My desk is full." Sanriel notes, as the train is (apparently) ready to go.
Sanriel pages to Osasune, C'daer and Ilesyn: Shall we cheat and @tel, or do you want to wander through Fort and the Hall?
C'daer wonders, "Which way's the door?" but seems content to let somebody else lead the way,
Sanriel opens the door and peers into her quarters, leaning back into the hallway to tell the others "Shh... Cedri's sleeping." before she opens the door and steps in. The place is in typical Sanriel-style disarray, but is a decidedly nicer area than Journeyman Sanriel qualified for.
Daer stumbles in, bumping against the door frame, and squints around. "Where's Cedri? I don't see 'im. I wanna see 'im. Oh a desk."
Ilesyn wobbles in after Sanriel and C'daer, grasping hold of the wall once she's inside. "Spin, spin, spinny!"
Osasune trudges in, remarkably more sober. "Oooh! Isn't this nice!"
Perking up, "Spin the bottle?" Daer asks, grasping hold of the doorframe.
Sanriel is conveniently still holding the bottle from eariler, and holds it up helpfully.
"Does that have booze in it?" Osa says hopefully. "I think I'm too sober still to deal with this."
Ilesyn promptly collapses into a somewhat seated position on the floor. "Bottle," she agrees, beaming. "Spin th' bottle, an-- shoulda drunk earli'r, Osa! Silly."
C'daer flomps down after Ilesyn, removes one of his limbs from atop one of hers, and pushes himself into a sort of slumped-up heap. "'m ready."
"No more in here," Sanriel admits "but there's another bottle in the desk... Right-hand drawer." And with that, she plops down into the third position, next to Daer and across from Ilesyn.
Osasune moves over to the desk, opening the drawer and removing the bottle. She trots back over and takes the fourth spot, across from C'daer and next to the other two women. She uncorks the bottle awkwardly and has a swig.
Ilesyn peers at C'daer's limb, until he moves it, then wiggles slightly. "So. Who goes first? Daer's lucky; lossa women."
"Convenient," Sanriel puts in. "I fr'got how to play. You just.. Spin and mooch, right?"
Pointing loosely, "San's got t' bottle," Daer points out. "S'right, San, spin an' smooch, smooch an' spin an' et cetera,"
Osasune has a bigger swig off her bottle, looking vaguely worried.
Sanriel nods and sets the bottle down, giving it an experimental spin. It stops with the narrow end pointing somewhere near Ilesyn's knee. "Who's going first, then?"
"Me!" announces Ilesyn, lunging for the bottle, to give it a good spin. The spin is not-- well, not the best of spins; it doesn't go even a full circle, and stops in front of Osa. "Osssaa! Gotta get up 'n kiss you."
"Me?" Osa squeaks. "Ummmmn. Okay." She leans forward a little, clutching the second bottle.
C'daer stares, mostly in awe, with a drunken giggle here and there.
Sanriel laughs and claps her hands once or twice. This should be interesting.
Ilesyn wobbles onto her knees, pushing the bottle out of the way as she leans towards Osasune, and makes to place a big smooth on the girl's lips-- though wobbling, it's quite likely she might end up getting the chin instead.
Osasune gingerly puckers her lips, one eye squinching shut as Ilesyn half-misses. "Ah. There we go."
C'daer applauds. "That was good," he says happily. "Spin 't, Osa, or we going round the circle?"
"Osa do t now," Sanriel votes maliciously.
Ilesyn looks vaguely disappointed at her somewhat abortive kiss, promising, "Can try again!" But doesn't; she leans backwards, flopping into her spot again. "Osa," she agrees.
"Okay," Osasune says, having another big swig of her wine before giving the bottle a good spin. She's not nearly as drunk, so the bottle swirls in place and glitters all shiny before the neck comes to a halt before C'daer. "Oop. Uh..." Osa flushes, leaning over and bracing her hands on the floor to approach C'daer's lips.
C'daer squints at the approaching Osasune, then closes his eyes and leans forward, meeting her somewhere in the middle with a chaste, rubbery-drunk-lips kiss that's actually close to target.
Sanriel laughs at the expression on Osa's face and intones "Your turn now, Daer."
Osasune smootches C'daer for a few moments, then retracts and bites her bottom lip, settling back on her heels. "Uh huh. Your turn."
Ilesyn beams, gleefully. "Funny!"
With a snort at Ilesyn, Daer fumbles the bottle into a spin that ends up pointing between Sanriel and Osasune. "Looky that," he says, and eyes Sanriel, swaying towards her a little.
Sanriel holds still and squints one eye shut, hoping Daer doesn't completely miss his mark and bonk her nose.
Osasune has a very long pull on her bottle, averting her eyes.
C'daer stares at Sanriel for another, longer pause, then leans forward to smooch her and put a bit of tongue in it as well, his hands flat on the floor for balance.
Ilesyn giggles. "Daer and Sanri, sittin' in a tree!" The rest of the children's rhyme is lost to her laughter.
"Where is M-I-A-K-E?" Osa sing-songs after.
Sanriel wasn't expecting - well, any of that. So she sits there a little stunned. And then shoots Osasune a look that, well... If looks could kill, she'd be dead. Twice.
Osasune blinks twice. "It fit," she mumbles.
Ilesyn pauses, and then bursts into even more laughter, waving her finger at Osa. "Hee!"
C'daer sits back, and coughs, and mumbles, "Your turn, Sanriel."
Sanriel gives the bottle a spin with rather more vengeance than strictly necessary, still eyeing Osasune. It spins wildly, though almost on balance, and slows to land facing Ilesyn. "Well?" Sanriel wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
Ilesyn's still not managed to banish her case of the giggles, and thus, she's still giggling as she leans across towards Sanriel, fluttering her eyelashes as she puckers her lips.
Osasune has an even longer swig of wine, hiccuping once she's done, cheeks flushed.
Sanriel chuckles and leans in as well, though the kiss she offers is rather less puckered and more genuine than strictly necessary. "The improbability of that happening will now cause the world to explode." She intones once she pulls away.
"-I'll- say," Daer says with relish, watching with elbows carefully propped on his knees. "Whoooo boy!"
Osasune murmurs, "Never thought I'd see it."
Ilesyn manages to stop giggling long enough for the kiss to take place-- if Sanriel's is more genuine, so hers becomes, and then pulls back, plainly comfortable, and agrees - with another giggle. "The world is ending," she sing-songs. "Daer likes girls kissing," she adds, as clearly as she can. "My spin." The bottle wobbles, spins, and hardly moves -- C'daer.
C'daer sort of agrees, "I like kissing." And he does an exaggerated pucker-up for Ilesyn. "Come'n get it." He wobbles a bit himself, and braces a hand on the floor.
"Daer's th' slut then, maybe," muses Ilesyn, not quite collapsing forward, though it's a close enough call. To match the kisses so far, she goes for an exaggerated one-- tongue and all, if he'll let her, and then, discovering an inability to retain balance on her knees, falls backwards. "Whee."
Osasune's nose wrinkles. "Isn't slut kind of a strong word?" She has more wine, peering owlishly over at Ilesyn. "You fell."
Sanriel laughs at the whole situation, then glances at Osa and says sarcastically. "Thank you, Master Obvious."
Left with his tongue sticking out after Ilesyn goes backward, Daer first tucks it back in, then says, "Kissing isn't that. Honest. I hope. Bottle." He finds and spins it, watching it carefully. "Not again.. oh again," he sighs as it stops, and peers at Sanriel.
"Okay, Master Sanriel," Osa chirps.
Ilesyn peers owlishly about the room, and decides, finally, "Kisslut, then. Funny. Ooh, Daer'n'Sanri, again!"
Sanriel stops glaring at Osa long enough to bat her eyes at C'daer and pose exaggeratedly. "C'mere and lay it on me, you."
C'daer does so promptly, asking, "Lay -what- on you?" slurred, first. Then it's the liplock, from his point of view a repeat of the last time.
Sanriel returns the kiss enthusiastically. Who's the slut /now/.
Osasune sighs vaguely, peering about the room with a bored expression.
Ilesyn noticing, Osa's bored expression, notes, "Someone oughta kiss Osa."
C'daer eyes Osasune carefully after breaking off from Sanriel and wiping his mouth. "Less -all- kiss Osasune."
Sanriel blinks for a moment after the kiss ends, then agrees. "One... Two.... Three!" She counts off.
Osasune looks back at the three of them, blinking. "Whahuh?" Someone's startled. Very startled.
Ilesyn giggles insanely. "Ooh, ooh!" No, drunk-Ilesyn is nothing like normal Ilesyn.
Daer convinces his limbs to move, and sort of oozes towards Osasune, aiming for her right ear/cheek(chin/neck/whatever happens to be in the way.
At the end of her own countdown, Sanriel lunges at Osa, giving her rather more of a headbonk than a kiss, but the thought is there.
Osasune tumbles backwards, wine sloshing out of her bottle. "Ack ack ack!" she squeals as she's oozed at and bepounced.
Ilesyn gets a shoulder. Not quite what she was aiming for, but it works.
C'daer giggles madly, and tries that again. "Osa kiss! This 's fun. Need t' do it more offen," and won't he regret -that- in the morning.
Osasune giggles, but doesn't seem to be swatting them off. In fact, she's aiming kissing wherever she can land them.
Sanriel notices the splashign of her perfectly good wine, and attempts to take the bottle out of Osasune's hand before she spills any more.
"That made my head go dizzy again," says Ilesyn, frowning. "Ow. But fun!"
"Floor's hard," Daer mentions, after getting a mouthful of hair. He aims a smooch at Ilesyn's back, which is closest to him, and barely avoids smacking his foot into Sanriel's.
Osasune tries to keep hold of the bottle. "Aww..."
Ilesyn starts to giggle again. "That feels funny!" Her paroxysms cause her to slip over, and she lies on her back, still giggling.
Sanrielavoids Daer's foot just barely, and gives up the Battle of the Bottle. As long as it's not spilling, it's okay. I guess. She looks down at Ilesyn, and asks "Are you okay?"
C'daer chortles delightly. "Kiss Ilesyn's back!" he crows, and fumbles around to try to do just that, his hands probably accidentally ending up on somebody somewhere.
"She looks happy," Osasune marvels, having another swig of wine in triumph. "She's /never/ happy."
"Yes," says Ilesyn, definitely, happily. "I'm okay!" She wiggles, adding, "No, no, don't kiss my back! That's why I'm lying on it. So you can't."
"Kiss her front." Sanriel declares, and leans down to do just that. Well, more along the lines of her face, but it still applies.
Daer eyes down at Ilesyn, and having a few remainders of sense left in his picked little brain, goes for her tummy.
Osasune leans over, more careful about the wine bottle, and licks Ilesyn's ear.
Ilesyn still giggles -- on, and on, and on. "Hey! That tickles!" The ear, the face, the tummy. Poor girl.
"You know, there's more vodka..." Sanriel says mischeviously, and points at Ilesyn's shirt. "She spilled half the bottle down her front!"
"Are you suggestin' we suck on her shirt?" Osasune asks blearily.
C'daer gawks at Sanriel. "Oooooh. But. Ooooh. But. Oooooooooooh.. but.. hm." He stares at Ilesyn's chest.
Ilesyn stares upwards, blinking. "Oooh. Can't reach it. Gotta--Hm."
Sanriel just sits there, looking pleased with herself for thinking of it.
Osasune's forehead wrinkles. "I don't think I'm the kind of person who sucks other people's shirts," she says slowly.
"Have some more wine," Daer suggests to Osasune, and wobbles a bit, trying to lean on Sanriel for support. "Can't reach wha', Ile?"
"Shirt," says Ilesyn, attempting to pull on her own shirt so that she can reach it with her mouth. "No good."
Osasune dutifully has another pull on the bottle.
"Pass that around," Sanriel protests, attempting to hold Daer up and reach for the bottle at the same time.
Osasune makes a face, but passes Sanriel the bottle.
[Fade Out]
Posted by Louise at April 19, 2003 09:56 PM