January 24, 2004
A bad mood makes R'hyn surly, though Emani manages to put up with him better than most, surprisingly.

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Emani comes up the flight of stairs from the inner caverns.

Emani looks sleepy and rumpled, combing out her hair with quick fingers as she pads into the cavern.

R'hyn's nose is wrinkling, as he peers through the selection upon the serving table, finally reaching out to pick up a piece of fish with the provided tongs. Dolefully, he adds a few small tubers to the plate, and then some greens, though fewer of these. Plate filled, the young man turns back to the caverns, weaving through the tables in an attempt to find one with a spare seat or two.

Emani yawns widely, covering it with the back of one hand, then stratches languidly as she saunters over to the mealtable. She glances around the cavern, then turns back to hunt through wineskins til she finds a suitable one, and fill a plate with bread and cheeses. When she turns to attempt to find a seat in the nearly full cavern, not even a brilliant smile is enough to budge many from thier seats. As such, she has to walk a little ways, and when she finally manages to cadge a seat - somewhat near R'hyn - she seems to be in a slightly darker mood.

The table is pretty crowded - which doesn't seem to be helping R'hyn's mood, either; though he looks more dissatisfied than grumpy. He pushes a tuber about on his face, elbows jutting out so that the people on either side of him get nudged whenever he moves. One of them gets up in disgust, leaving a clearer path between Emani and R'hyn.

Ah... A kindred soul. And not bad to look at, either - It's Emani's lucky day. Cracking open the seal, she pours herself a glass of wine, then leans over one of the cleared seats, hissing, "Hey. I've got wine if you'll let me sit beside you. This guy near me is a stablehand, yeah?" Her blue eyes are wide, hopeful. "Help me out here."

R'hyn's expression remains blank, unable to comprehend what, exactly, Emani seems to mean for a long moment. "Oh," he says, finally, surprised. "Oh, well, it's a free chair and all. Of course. You can keep the wine, though."

Emani shifts over, looking grateful. She pulls her plate and glass with her, putting the skin in front of her on the table. Pcking up a bit of cheese and bread, she observes, "Lot of people not drinking these days. That a general thing, or just not today?" She tosses her hair back, out of her eyes, and offers another of those bright smiles. "You can tell me the shut up if you want."

"I don't like the taste," explains R'hyn, picking up his fork again, working diligently at cutting his fish into little chunks -- and mashing them around the plate. "The effect isn't bad, but I don't think its quite worth the means." He blinks a couple of times, vaguely, watching his companion. "No, no, it's fine."

"Ah, well. There's other thinks to drink. I mean, unless you mean the taste of anything that'll give that effect?" Emani is less precise - and actually eating, as a contrast. She sips her wine, then gestures to the rider's plate with glass in hand. "Doesn't taste like much but 'more' after awhile. For me, I mean." At his last, she smiles again, offering, "Emani. Don't think we've met yet."

R'hyn allows a bit smile to settle onto his lips. "Well," he allows, "I quite like some of the cocktails that get made on special occasions - how unmanly of me, I know." Glancing down at his plate, he laughs - a single chuckle - "That's the general experience, I think. R'hyn. Nice to meet you, Emani."

"So, why're you not bothering to eat?" Emani asks, curiously. She rests her elbows on the table, glass held lightly in both hands. Her head tilts to one side as she regards him. "You look a little - darker today. And nothing unmanly about that - thing is they don't make 'em here - but they do at that place down the road a ways. I think." She sets down the glass. "Hey - there's juice. Mix wine with juice - and you can barely -tell- it's the same thing." A pause, then, as an afterthought; "Oh, nice to meet you too."

"Guess I'm not really hungry," decides R'hyn, after a long pause in which, apparently, he is deciding what is wrong with his food. "Also, I think there are bones in this fish, and there's nothing I hate more than that. I think I'm just in one of those moods where nothing satisfies." Certainly, his tone is the perfect example of 'blah'. "I could... but it seems silly, really. What's the point?"

"Damn, man. If I were in the mood -you- seem to be, I would. But then, I'm a pretty happy drunk. I'm pretty good with anything then. If you're a get-angry, slap-people-around-throwing-chairs drunk, then maybe not such a good idea." Emani seems to take all this quite seriously - at least, as seriously as she seems to take anything. "And I'd say something suggestive usually, but I'm guessing you're not in the mood? If you are, -please- correct me." She grins, taking another drink from her glass.

The light grows wan as the summer day gives way to evening. The air is heavy and thick with humidity - windless 'neath a sky peppered with idle clouds. Being summertime, it's humid and uncomfortable. (77F, 25C)

R'hyn's lips part slightly, into a smile. "I'm a depressive drunk, usually. A bit useless, really." Finally, a forkful of his meal goes into his mouth, and he chews, setting the fork down again once he's swallowed. "'Pretty good with anything'?" He wants to know. "What do you mean by that?" He ignores entirely all suggestion of suggestiveness, his cheeks colouring - just slightly.

Emani glances at him sidelong, as she breaks up her bread into pieces, eating some more cheese. "Oh, well. That's no fun, then. What -does- put you in a good mood, then?" She leans back in her chair for a moment, crossing her arms behind her head. "What do I mean? What does it sound like?" Flashing a wicked, though lovely grin, she continues, "That blush really doesn't answer me, but maybe I'll try again later."

"Usually, I just /am/ in a good mood, and I don't need to be," R'hyn remarks, picking up his fork again. "You could try and make me laugh, I suppose." His blush darkens, and he turns his head away, distinctly uncomfortable looking.

Emani wrinkles her nose as he turns away, but her tone doesn't indicate it. "Well - sorry you're not, then. And make you laugh." She ponders this, leaning forward again, tucking curls behind her ears. "Sometimes people laugh at what I say, but I'm never really trying to make them laugh. So I don't know if I'm very good at it."

R'hyn turns back again - and that does make him laugh, though it's little more than a short huff of air. "Oh, I'm sure they do, Emani. I'm sure they do. You're just a funny thing, I think." Well - it made him smile. "What do you do around here? As little as possible."

"I do more if they'd let me be a novice," Emani says airily, concerning herself with her food for the moment. "But yeah, most of the time. I don't like laundry. It makes me all blotchy." She glances over at him curiously, asking, "Is that a good funny or bad funny?"

It takes R'hyn a moment, then he smiles. "Ah, Dragonhealing? That's just as messy as laundry, surely - I mean, the redwort stains your skin, and ichor can be pretty nasty." He pokes at his fish again with his fork, coming up with a bone - triumphantly, it must be said. "Hmmph. De-boned, indeed. -- Oh, I guess it's a good funny. I mean, it's not hurting you, is it?"

Emani pushes her plate away, and slouches in her chair, watching him poke at the fish. "Yeah. And I don't mind the messy so much there. I like the work - from what I've read and helped out with. Anyway, it's just my hands there, not my face." Faranth forbid, the face! "You just wanted to find a bone to prove yourself right," she accuses. There's a moment, then she shrugs, "Guess not. I'm not the type to be all serious about things, anyway."

R'hyn, smiling again, nods. "I suppose that makes sense. And you could always wear gloves, if you needed to. Little thin ones. That's what the Headwoman used to do, when she was a practicing Dragonhealer." He sets the bone carefully aside on his plate, insisting, "Not at all. I could taste them, and crunch them. Ughh. No, I don't see you as the serious type, I suppose. You're how old? Twenty, maybe?"

Emani seems intrigued by the idea of these gloves, straightening a little. "Really. Where'd she get 'em? D'you know? That'd be, like, pretty excellent. Then no stains at all." She holds out a hand in front of her, observing it, unmarred. "You're fussy, aren't you? Do they taste bad?" Then, to the last, "Sure."

R'hyn shrugs his shoulders lazily - he looks slightly less gloomy, now, notably. "I'm not sure; I just saw her wearing them. You could ask. She's not /that/ unapproachable." Kind of. "Only with fish bones. They're little crunchy hard things in soft fish. That's disgusting." He nods, calmly, "I remember being twenty." It was SO long ago.

"Maybe I'll ask," Emani muses, taking her glass up again, downing the remains and pouring out another glass. "And oh yeah - that sounds -awful-. Don't understand how you live with it," she says, dryly. "Gross." She sips at her wine, then looks at him, brows arched with amusement. "How old're you? Can't have more than - what - twenty-five, twenty-seven turns?"

"Your sarcasm withers me," remarks R'hyn, equally dryly, as he continues to pick through his food. "At least Ismaye isn't here right now-- she'd consider this a waste of food. But, really. Getting the bones out isn't /that/ hard." He hesitates, then, lying very badly, agrees, "Twenty-five." The blush gives it right away.

"Well, it is kind of a waste of food," Emani points out, but not in a way that indicates she cares or anything of the like. "And you'd think it is that hard, the way you're on about it." She leans over, close to him, to peer at the plate. "Looks like you managed alright, though." Looking at the plate, she doesn't notice the blush. If she notices the lying, she certainly doesn't indicate it.

"I know it is," R'hyn agrees. "But I won't eat anything else, so it's not as though they're really losing out, I think." He flushes again, glancing down at his plate. "I made a mess, though. /They/ shouldn't." No, really.

Emani sits back, but not as far back as she was before, shrugging. "You can have whatever I've got leftover if that's not your thing anymore," she says, waving her hand at the slices of bread and cheese still on her plate. "Was gonna wrap it in a napkin and take it with me to the beach later, but I can always get more."

R'hyn wrinkles his nose, shaking his head quickly. "No, no, no. I'll be fine. As I said, I'm not really hungry, anyway. I ate at Nerat this morning."

"This morning! Well, that's enough." Emani seems amused, asking, "You only eat once a day? And how's Nerat, then?" She finishes all but a couple fingerwidths of her glass, setting it down.

"Oh, shut up. Now you'll try and mother me, won't you? No - or not, I think." R'hyn's grumpy again, his expression darkening. He turns his head away, shaking it unhappily. "Nerat was the same as ever. What else would it be?"

Emani looks at him as if he's gone mad, then notes, mildly, "I really hope I'm not anyone's mother, ever, 'cause I'd be pretty bad at it." She pushes back her chair, snagging the glass and the wineskin with deft movements. "-I've- never been there, -bronzerider-. But that's just me. Anyway, if you want to be in a bad mood, fine with me. I'm going to have a good time." Standing, she saunters off, expressions shifting from irritated to pleasant like -that-, so she can wink at a passing brownrider on her way out.

Emani disappears through the narrow tunnel to the bowl.

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