Participants:
| Date: | Aug 26, 2011 |
|---|---|
| IC Date: | Month 8, Day 7, Turn 3. |
| Location: | EW: Bar and D’lan’s weyr |
| Synopsis: | Kaskan and D’lan find common ground over wine and business. |
| Rating: | PG |
| Logger: | Kaskan |
CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS:
D'lan
At six foot tall, D'lan has the broad shouldered, narrow-hipped build one would expect from a dragonrider that keeps himself in good shape. Dark brown hair, kept short offsets piercing blue eyes that always seem to silently mock. A strong jaw with a cleft chin that supports a mouth always quick to flash a killer smile, adds to the air of roguish charm this man carries with him.
Attire while crafted, is worn with the ease of one used to fine things and brimming with confidence. Supple brown leather pants are paired with a white open necked shirt and topped by a black leather flight jacket and boots. Simple, stylish, and well fitted though more often than not, devoid of any shoulder knot to designate either rank, or affiliation of Weyr. —32 turns.
Kaskan
Thick wisps of ebony fall in half-hazard lengths to shadow rugged features, over-long layers typically in disarray as they feather pale blue eyes, flare about his ears and tickle the nape of his neck. Full lips precede a square-ish jaw, which often bears a dusky shadow of its own. Scars from too many fights mar what would be a handsome visage, most notably one that splices across his left brow stopping just short of his eye. A slight hitch ends his left ear in an oddly curved shape, though it's usually hidden beneath his hair. Darkly intense, his bearing is defensive and watchful, wiry muscles having filled out to create a solid, sturdy frame. Not overly tall, he is a grounded, immovable rock - just as thickly guarded on the inside as he is thickly muscled on the outside - a deceptive impression that suits him well for the panther quick grace that's displayed when he's on the move. – 20 turns
ROOM DESCRIPTION:
Eastern Weyr: Jaya's Bar
A dark, cozy room has been carved out of the wall on this section of the hallway. It looks as if it was meant to be an archive of sorts, but when the back wall caved in, it made most of it too low for efficient shelving space. Instead, the remaining shelves have all been pushed back against one wall and a large wooden counter - so new it still smells of tree - blocks it off from the rest of the room. A few small tables take up the rest of the place; simple chairs sit around them. It's bare bones and boring, now, but there's potential. It just needs the right touch.
LOG:
"Blast it!" shouts a disgusted voice. It is followed by the slap of cards on a table and a round of rough chuckles. "Red Star's followin' you t'night, friend," a bearded man taunts. Kaskan draws in a deep breath, holds it a second, and lets it out in a rush. "Apparently so," snaps Kaskan.
Having just sauntered in with all the cock and swagger of a bronzerider, the brownrider at the bar turns his head in the direction of the card tables. Spotting a recently familiar face, a grin carves onto rugged features and D'lan, purloining the bottle just used to pour his drink, ambles on over to stop just behind Kaskan's shoulder.
"You know, if you were wanting to get my attention there's cheaper ways of doing so," grin.
Kaskan takes one look at the faces of the other players and realizes that the voice coming from behind him is directed /at/ him as well. "If I wanted your attention it'd be because you have marks to spare," Kaskan quips, turning a glance over his shoulder. Blue eyes immediately scale upwards and he grunts at the recognizable face, but then they alight on the bottle in the man's hand and the corner of his lips twitch. With his last mark lost to the previous round he takes the excuse to quit. "Course, if you're looking to share some of that I might just be willing to spare some attention." The other players groan and mutter complaints, sure that the Bollian has more marks to loose.
Little but a low laugh greets Kaskan's comment with D'lan tilting his head toward an unoccupied table. Sprawling into a chair, long legs cast out before him, the bottle gets set in the middle of the table within easy reach of both men. "Oh, I'm all about sharing," he quips allowing a slow look to travel up the length of Kaskan's frame and once again a grin appears, "You looked like you could do with some rescuing back there."
Kaskan raises both palms to the other players, shrugging as if he has no choice as he rises and steps over to D'lan's table. The complaints follow for a few moments, then die off as the men's attention sets to another round of cards. Yanking out a chair by its back, Kaskan folds himself into it and leans forward to set his crossed arms along the edge. Dipping his head he lifts one hand to ruffle through his hair. "Was it that obvious?" he groans, a little irritated. "Don't know why I keep thinking I might be good at that stupid game."
With his glass already filled, D'lan lifts a hand and orders up another for Kaskan amusement playing across his features, "You don't give up easily. I like that." A swallow of rum and the younger man is put under idle inspection, "You don't like losing do you?"
Kaskan would just have soon upended the bottle but he's gained a few manners since leaving his rougher lifestyle behind so calmly waits for his glass to arrive after giving D'lan a grateful nod of his head. Sharp slate darts to the bronzer's blue at his question, the tone of his reply compressing volumes into one simple word. "No."
Ever the gracious host D'lan fills Kaskan's glass when it arrives and nudges it over his way. "Interesting. There's a saying that goes, it's not always about winning or losing but about how the game is played. If you ask me, it all depends on what type of game is being played, wouldn't you agree?" Ever so sly the cast to the look that touches to the younger man and drifts off again.
Kaskan lifts the glass to his mouth and looses a grunt that says it all before taking a long swallow. "It's the losers who say that," he inserts, the ghost of a twitch haunting his lips again. Oblivious to by-play, he takes another drink, even longer, and breathes out heavily as the glass is lowered. To the bronzer's personal opinion, he adds, "Apparently true, as dragonpoker is not the game for me."
"I never lose," D'lan quips back through a touch of smirking arrogance though he doesn't seem to be referring to playing cards. After taking a drink, he contemplates the contents of his glass before lifting a look back onto Kaskan again, "What do you know about booze?" Odd question.
"Enough to know how much'll sit in my stomach without coming back up," Kaskan chimes back, sour humor feathering a few crinkles around his eyes. Personal experience there. Tilting his head he gives the rider a curious look through wayward bangs. "Why do you ask?
Kaskan's reply has the brownrider letting loose a laugh, approval sitting high in his expression. "Honest too." Broad shoulders roll in a shrug of nonchalance, "Might be looking for someone to handle a few sales for me." Which might have one questioning why he simply doesn't approach the owner of the bar they're sitting in.
Surprise widens Kaskan's eyes for a moment, the answer not what he expected. A rush of air is exhaled on a short chuckle, with which he admits, "I'm no trader, sorry. You'd be much better off asking Jaya to help you with that. She'll get you the best price /and/ a cothold of your own thrown into the deal."
"No," D'lan's reply is quick to come, his resolve firm on the matter. "I know exactly what the product is worth and where it'll sell. What I need is someone I can trust to make the delivery." A pause and Kaskan is put under an intent look, "Are you a man that can be trusted?"
"A delivery?" Kaskan muses, one hand rising to rub slightly stubbled jaw. Since his main job while in the south is to guard his Bollian ward, he's left to his own devices while Jhorn is in classes. Most of the time he finds plenty to do with helping hands always in need, but a delivery has more interesting potential. At the rider's question he sits up straighter, voice emphatic "Of course."
D'lan offers little more than a bored expression while Kaskan mulls over the bait he's just laid down and then one side of his mouth creases a line when a smirk forms. "Good. How about you come up to my place so that we can discuss the details somewhere that affords us a little more…privacy, hmm?" Sneaky, sneaky, brownrider!
Kaskan tilts a look at the rider at the word 'privacy', but not for the reason of which he should be wary. Leaning forward again he fixes a stern look on the other man, lowering his tone so his words don't carry. "I'm a Bollian guard first and foremost, D'lan." Pause. "Are you a man that can be trusted?"
"So?" D'lan lifts a brow, his demeanour remaining easygoing in the face of Kaskan's firm reminder. "I'm not asking you to give up your day job just to grant me a few hours of your time at night." And for once that's not meant in the way it might sound to anyone that knows the brownrider. Again, its laughter that greets the younger man's last, "Randi wouldn't have come knocking at my door if I couldn't be trusted." Briefly alluding to the rumours of those renegade riders that had been filtering in.
Kaskan continues to eye the other man for a moment longer, then seems to accept his explanation with a nod of his head. Giving his chin a jerk to toss wayward layers out of his view he sits back, lean shoulders relaxing. "Alright then, let's talk."
"Not here," D'lan reiterates as he unfolds his large frame and stands. "Bring the bottle, no use in wasting good marks by leaving it behind." And with that he turns and strides out toward the bowl where Wyncrath is a sprawling mass of limbs and tail, simply expecting Kaskan to follow.
Kaskan is sure not to forget that bottle, pausing only to empty his glass with one swift drink. "Here you there," he murmurs in agreement, following after the rider.
[ D'lan and Wyncrath's Weyr ]
Spacious is a word one might associate with the brownrider's weyr, leaving one to ponder just who he'd charmed to get it. The wide ledge with space enough for at least two large dragons to sun themselves, leads through a short tunnel, passed Wyncrath's couch and on into what looks to be a sitting area that contains an overstuffed couch, two matching armchairs, a low occasional table set in the middle and off to one side, a wine rack holding an impressive collection of alcohol collected from all over Pern.
Behind a curtained off area lies D'lan's sleeping area which is dominated by an enormous double bed along with a heavy and ornately decorated wooden chest at its foot and a chest of drawers with pitcher and washbasin set atop them. The weyr in its entirety is tastefully decorated in a combination of leather, dark wood and royal blue, speaking to the man's penchant for the finer things in life.
Wyncrath is a dragon simply too lazy outside of Threadfall to do very much other than the bare essentials of what is required of him. Thus it is that he lands with a heavy THWUMP on his ledge and promptly….sprawls, leaving his rider and passenger to disembark as they will. D'lan is boots to rock and then turns casting a weather eye on Kaskan to determine whether or not he might need help dismounting.
Kaskan hasn't flown enough to be comfortable astride a dragon, let alone the larger variety, but he'll be damned if he's going to show it in front of the brownrider. Unclenching his fingers he swings one leg stiffly over to join the other and slides down the dragon's withers to the ledge. Jaw set, he forces down the sigh of relief that threatens and assumes a casual, no-big-deal, stance, looking to D'lan only when he's sure his expression is under control.
D'lan has seen that fight for composure many a time from those unused to travelling a dragonback and has by now perfected keeping his amusement hidden. Except for a dry, "You're going to have to get used to that if you decide to take up my offer," as he heads into the weyr. There is no flight jacket, gloves or helmet to be hung up as he hadn't been wearing any. Instead, plonking into the overstuffed couch and kicking off his boots he tilts a look up to Kaskan, "Make yourself at home." And there the glimmer of heat slips briefly into blue eyes before being banished behind a benign expression.
Kaskan can't quite hide the flicker of startled concern that darts across his rugged features at the thought of having to ride dragonback for the proposed delivery - deliveries. The plural isn't lost on him either. Curious despite himself he trails the rider into the weyr, head turning slowly about as he takes in the spacious area and elegant decor. "Not bad," he muses aloud, pausing as D'lan sits on the couch. Taking a cue from the rider he drops into an armchair, leaning forward to deposit the bottle on the table. Blue eyes catch on the wine rack and a slow grin rises. "Not bad at all."
D'lan doesn't bother hiding the pleasure that Kaskan's compliment draws into place. "Haven't had any complaints yet," smirk. His gaze follows the younger man's to the collection lovingly displayed on the wine rack and a chuckle rumbles out, "That's not what you'll be moving for me." There's a few other things he'd like the guard to move for him but for now he's keeping such thoughts under wraps. Or at least, he's trying to. "First off, most of the deals will already be in place, negotiated through a third party. All you need to do is make the actual delivery. A different face for each part of the process and mine kept out of it," the brownrider explains as calmly as if he were suggesting they go sailing the next day.
Shadows crease Kaskan's brow at that, the explanation not sitting well. Elbows perched on his spread knees he tilts a sidelong look to the brownrider. "Why must you keep your face out of it?"
"Because it's a touch tricky selling something back to the person you stole it from," D'lan replies with a roguish grin falling into place, "I can't take the risk that age might not have dulled certain memories."
Alarm is instantly plain in the narrowing of Kaskan's eyes, dark brows furrowing beneath shadowed creases. Having just recovered from his last brush with the effects of theft he's not about to jump into another. "Just how much risk is there? I'm rather fond of all my parts."
Restraint takes a nosedive as D'lan lifts a brow and drops an openly heated look to the location of said parts that Kaskan would be fond of. Blue eyes slide slooowly upward and latch to slate as a corner of his mouth folds about a lazy smirk, "I make it habit to ensure my interests are well protected."
Kaskan can be as thick as a tree, but even a good sturdy axe will sink through it's bark with enough strength behind it. That heated look hits Kaskan with belated understanding and the guard immediately sits back, carefully casual pose hiding a looming wariness. Business is business, though. And despite potential misgivings he can't help liking the rider. With his mind on his own burnt bridges from the past he makes entirely the wrong assumption of D'lan's comment and asks, "What guarantee would I have?" Lips draw a tight line as he admits, "I'm not too popular in certain circles myself. Could cause you issues."
Kaskan's reaction sparks yet further amusement though D'lan does nothing to either alleviate his concerns or given them ground but instead remains where he is like some big lounging feline watching its prey with idle curiosity. "Me," he states fitting an intent look onto the young guard, "You can count on me. I'll fly you in and out again." There he pauses, a grin starting to stretch across tanned features, "Lets just say I acquired my stock enough turns ago that most won't even remember who I am but that I'd rather not take chances and believe in keeping things clean, shall we? You have nothing to fear from me, Kaskan. I won't allow any harm to come to you." That last however, that carries an odd inflection to the brownrider's baritone.
Kaskan is quiet a few moments, subtle hues shifting in his pale blue regard. That he wouldn't be expected to deliver the stock alone helps tremendously. His confidence in his own fighting skills are well placed but also a bit bruised after the beating he took from the thugs bent on killing him. His arm stretched along the chair's arm, he rolls one hand in gesture, tone lightening slightly as he muses in reply, "I suppose a flaming dragon at one's back isn't too bad of a protection either." Cracked grin fading he adds, "Alright, D'lan. I'll make a drop with you. Not promising anything beyond that, though."
Amusement is replaced with approval when Kaskan's agreement comes, with an undertow of heated interest still at play. Does the brownrider really need the young guard's help or is this simply all a ploy to get to know him better, a way to get him to relax his guards so that he may slip passed them? Who knows. D'lan leans forward a slightly wolfish grin in place, "There's good marks in it," as evidenced by his quarters, "You won't be sorry."
Kaskan ignores the twinge of pain that still haunts his arm where it was broken, a sense of restlessness settling into his demeanor at the thought of finally taking a risk again. Under strict healer's orders he's been taking it easy far too long, though he can't begrudge the crafter's wisdom as his injuries healed sound. A truer grin blossoms as he eyes that knowing grin on D'lan's face and, having already noted the impressive display of wine, he gives a little tilt of his head in return. "One can never have enough good marks," he quips, then, "Sounds like a good reason to toast, eh?"
"I knew there was a reason I liked you," aside from the fact that Kaskan is obvious eye candy that is. Pushing to his feet a pair of glasses is taken down from a shelf next to the wine rack and one of the bottles selected, opened and its ruddy contents splashed into crystal. Yes, this is a man that makes no apology for having expensive tastes. Moving over to the younger man, D'lan holds a glass out to him, his own lifting in toast, "To the pleasure of….business," grin.
Dark brows rise as Kaskan watches the brownrider move to the wine rack. He'd thought they'd polish off the bottle brought from the bar but hey, if the man has better fare to share then by all means Kaskan will oblige him! Taking the glass with an unapologetic smile he lifts it to the toast, echoing in shortened form, "To business."
