Date of Birth 09.09.706, 38
Height 5'7
Eyes Brown
Build Slim
Hair Black, long, wavy
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As per usual, as soon as the door opened to the tavern, Quilriana looked up from her task and sent a smile to the newest patron. It never mattered if she knew the person or not or if she liked them or not. Everyone was welcomed equally under their roof, even the ones that were clearly new to the area and hesitating in the doorway to either scan for a quiet location or a familiar face.
She could tell the man was a dragonrider almost instantly. For one thing, he wasn’t a face she had seen around the tavern before but he also carried himself differently as he walked across the floor to a vacant seat – in a quiet area off to the side, she noted with a slight smirk of amusement. There was a poise and confidence to him that most of the men that worked the fields or the smiths. He almost commanded attention and respect with it. That, or he simply didn’t know how to let loose and was under as much pressure as a shaken corked bottle. Thinking on it, Quilriana realised she had also described a Lordling with either scenario. Another glance was sent to the mystery man and she decided he was definitely a dragonrider and not a Lordling.
The empty glasses Quilriana had grabbed from another table were set down at the bar and a damp rag was picked up. She had her suspicions about what he was but she wouldn’t know for certain until contact was made and that was her job after all, at least, when she wasn’t helping in the kitchen. “Good evening, sir,” she greeted cheerfully with a bright smile before wiping down the table to make sure there wasn’t a sticky mess waiting for an arm to lean in. “Welcome to the Whetstone. Can I get you something to start with?”
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Date of Birth 13.09.697, 46
Height 6'
Eyes Grey-blue
Build Fit, athletic
Hair Black
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The trip between had cooled him off, both physically and mentally, to the point that when Xyreith landed lightly in the centre of the city gather grounds, the bronzerider wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. The goal, truly, had been lost somewhere in the transition between Weyr and Hold. What did he hope to find, in the hidebound community where marriage and virginity were of the utmost importance? R’nya’s nose scrunched up and he slid silently off his dragon; he was not interested in going up to Telgar Weyr, any more than he was sniffing out someone in Katila.
As Xyreith stood up and stretched, R’nya subtly looked around, reaching up to take his dragon’s leathers off when the bronze lowered himself to make the task easier. Handing Xyreith the leather straps to take care off, R’nya watched as his life mate carefully held them in one clawed grip as he took off to angle in to the Watch Tower, greeting the dragon there with his usual disdain. R’nya snorted softly, and turned to follow a couple of loud fellows that were clearly both drunk and bar hopping.
He honestly had not expected them to lead him anywhere decent, but they at least lead him to an interesting part of town. Detouring from trailing the two singing men, R’nya approached what looked like a busy, but much quieter tavern. He stepped aside as two men left, in much better condition than those that were still ambling down the road, and took a moment to quiz them on the business. They weren’t much help, far more interested in asking where his dragon was and frowning when he told them Xyreith was up on the watch heights. Letting them move on their way, the Wingleader approached the door almost cautiously and stepped through quietly, glancing with hidden annoyance at the little bell that jingled.
It was not what he expected, or really remembered. Of course, what he remembered was going into bars far more like that which the singing drunks had come out of, alongside his fellow bronzeriders during the week following graduation. Being perpetually drunk during that time had been a wonderful way to live, at least until Etralla had had enough, and made hangovers more painful than they were by themselves. This establishment was clearly of better quality than those of so many turns ago. R’nya decided to stay, and stepped quietly to one side and into an unoccupied corner.
“Evening,” R’nya replied quietly as a woman stopped and stared down at him, her smile far too bright for so late in the evening and ‘good’ was not quite on his list of desirable descriptive, though the flight itself earlier had certainly been rather lovely… Pushing such thoughts from the front of his mind, and ignoring Xyreith’s snigger, R’nya arched an eyebrow at the girl’s question, in a rather well known expression from the bronzerider. “Something to eat, and something to drink would be lovely, if I may. I shall leave the choices to your far more knowledgeable self; Anything is better than Katilan attempts.”
I’m not sure that’s a compliment, Sir. Xyreith’s amused voice filled R’nya’s mind and the bronzerider lowered his gaze from the serving girl to the table in order to respond; the Riders had quickly found that their vague expressions of communicating with their dragons tended to cause more issues than not with the holderfolk. Not sure I intended it to be, Xy, R’nya replied drolly, causing his dragon to snort in amusement.
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Date of Birth 09.09.706, 38
Height 5'7
Eyes Brown
Build Slim
Hair Black, long, wavy
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Quilriana regarded him curiously, head tilting just slightly to the right. He was a bit odd she decided. Clearly a dragonrider given the fact he was used to drinking things made in Katila but he had manners. Well, perhaps not manners so much as a proper way of speaking that she wasn’t really used to. Despite her usual cautious friendliness that was just enough to seem interested – and she usually was! Some of their patrons were wonderful – but not get too close on any level, Quilriana wanted to know more about the man and the fabled Katila. Her father was rather open-minded but he didn’t take up the invitation to attend the Hatching in the South. Perhaps when Telgar had one, he had said and she had been fine with it at the time.
“Quality on some of our stock is debatable but I’ve never had Katilan to know where it ranks, though we do serve Tillek so who knows. Perhaps you’ll tell me about it sometime?” Another smile, this time a bit more on the shy side was offered up as Quilriana fiddled with the rag. “I’ll be back in a moment,” she hastily added before giving the dragonrider a chance to respond and darted off toward the bar and kitchen.
Several minutes later and she was returning with a tray loaded with a bowl, glass, and a plate with two wedges of bread that was set down before the man. “A thick hearty stew that my father made earlier. It’s one of his specialities. Don’t eat my brother’s attempts. He’s a bit lazy when it comes to the simmering and rushes it sometimes.” She was being rather chatty she realised but couldn’t help it. It was his first time at the Whetstone, or she assumed but he didn’t seem to fit in as well as the regulars so it seemed a safe bet, so a little extra explanation was order. “And Benden red to complement the flavours of the stew. I thought you might be more interested in the food experience instead of simply to fill your belly and wash the food down with.” Besides, it was Benden wine. It was a rare man indeed that didn’t care for their well-crafted wine.
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Date of Birth 13.09.697, 46
Height 6'
Eyes Grey-blue
Build Fit, athletic
Hair Black
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R’nya watched as the girl beat a hasty retreat, giving his head a very subtle shake before turning his attention upon the other late night dwellers within the establishment. The girl was truly ignorant of how bad Katilan alcohol was, if she was comparing it to Tillek brews; probably Katilan wine tasted little better than dragon piss, but R’nya wasn’t sure anyone would ever be game to put such a thing to the test. Certainly he wasn’t, though he supposed if one got some of the green or blueriders drunk enough, they could possibly be bullied into something as obscure. Or candidates, those kids were always getting up to Faranth only knew what.
… Really, Sir? You’re contemplating who would drink dragon piss instead of how pretty the girl would be without her clothes on? The bronze dragon was filled with airs of smug delight as he finished his question just in time for the dark haired server to approach R’nya once more. His rider was only not as red as fruit due to several long years of being subjected to Xyreith’s rather well timed comments. “Thank you, my dear.” R’nya responded quietly when she took a breath, rather amused by her rambling chattiness, even if it were not apparent.
“Oh!” Pale eyes brightened significantly as the wine was introduced, and R’nya picked up the glass with an almost reverent touch to tilt it towards the light, watching the liquid swirl around in the fine glass. “Thank you,” he added again, glancing up to meet the girls’ eyes, his own warmed just enough to show his pleasure without being particular emotive at all. Dropping his attention back to the meal that had been presented, R’nya picked his spoon up lightly and poked at the stew curiously, extracting small amounts to try, for as the girl had rightly assumed R’nya was far less interested in filling a belly that wasn’t really in need of filling, than he was distracting his mind.
The meal did manage both, however, with R’nya pausing vaguely at intervals, his head tilting as he chatted with Xyreith (punctured with regular eye rolls) or quietly observed those around him – and, much more subtly, the young woman that had gone back to her tasks. Most people, however, had called it a night by the time R’nya finished his meal, a task that had taken far longer than strictly necessary, and he piled his used items carefully into an easily manageable stack and placed them to one side. Content, and far more tired than he was inclined to let on (especially for a man prone to very early bedtimes), R’nya shifted his seat to lean back against the wall.
The bronzerider settled comfortably to watch his dark haired server with a more obvious gaze, though his head was lazed back against the wall and his entire attitude was far more lazily curious than lecherous. Are we staying at Telgar tonight, Sir? Xyreith wasn’t particularly keen to sleep on the watch heights, if he could go and find a weyr to snuggle into, and the distance between Telgar and Katila was too great for him to feel comfortable going home alone, though he’d have preferred to be spending the night curled around Aradissicath. Yes; I’ve no desire to lose us between, Xyreith. R’nya dismissed the bronze to find a room for himself; Xyreith was far too big to land in the streets, and R’nya was far too tired to climb up onto the roof. R’nya was quite confident the tavern would have rooms, though whether or not any were spare was questionable – if nothing else, the young lady could point him in the right direction.
He’d just wait for her to wander over.
Lol, my sleepiness + R'nya's sleepiness = rambly post of sleepiness XD
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Date of Birth 09.09.706, 38
Height 5'7
Eyes Brown
Build Slim
Hair Black, long, wavy
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While she had kept an eye on the new customer, it had been a distant one. He was left alone to eat in silence and, hopefully, enjoy the meal. They had managed to earn a reputation over the turns for having a somewhat classy joint. They still had their rowdy drunken patrons like any tavern but they weren’t the dominating force in the crowd and while they still served the sludge known as ale and wine to some regions, they also stocked the higher end. It didn’t hurt that everyone in her family had been trained hard by their elders since they were little in the kitchen so their meals were of better quality than at least one other tavern in the area.
The time had been spent alternating between chatting with people and cleaning up until she noticed the last bite of food taken. The collection of mugs from the recently vacated tables were left in the kitchen and Quilriana went back over to the dragonrider, a smile in place once more. “How was it? Would you like another serving? There’s still a bit left,” it was offered more out of habit than anything else. His posture showed he was full and tired but she hated the idea of leaving someone wanting! “I might be able to scrounge up a slice of pie as well.”
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