Yokohama - Bridge of Operations
From the lift, the main viewscreen dominates the wall seen directly across the way from it. Set above is an enormous observation window, which affords an amazing view of space and the planet below. There are many control consoles and chairs on the deck set before them, as well as a large open area just in front of the viewscreen. Centrally located in this expansive area is the Commanding Officer's chair. Three sets of steps ascend to the platform, which is set several meters above the deck. Other important stations line the upper platform, which extends both the port and starboard, each side ending a few meters short of the viewscreen.
It's midnight here aboard the Yokohama but it's three of clock somewhere and that is why the bridge has been repurposed. Anything that could be temporarily moved without interrupting the historical integrity of the ship has been tucked away for safe keeping and the room has been redecorated to a more formal affair. Long banners representing each of the active weyrs are hanging along the walls, and the lights have been dimmed to a comfortable glow. Some enterprising vintners have set up a bar in the corner and long spreads of food and snacks adorn the surrounding tables. Upbeat music plays, courtesy of a band of Harpers to liven up the place on a makeshift stage before the large viewing screens. In the corner of this lively event, you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. That's what makes it Suriya's favorite corner, bobbing her head to the beat while she pops a snack in her mouth. So much easier now that her hands are free of gloves, her wherry hood hanging behind her back.
A'she didn't bother with a costume - but he did put on a mask. It's actually quite a good mask, covered in thick fur the same russet as his hair, blending in nicely with his beard and leaving only an impression of eyes behind a pair of large, dark sunglasses. The rest of his outfit is his usual fare - but at least he made some attempt. If you squint hard enough, he looks like he's just a walking pile of hair, maybe. If you squint //really/ hard, he's It. Wandering in the direction of Suriya, he offers the goldrider one of his unmarked bottles of beer from his private stock. "Nice party." A man of many words.
Of course, I'aija's here. Why wouldn't he be? Where there's an opportunity to bring food and wear a costume, the man will be there. Wait, did no one know that he likes his costumes? Consider it a shock to his typist as well, because surprise, he's gone all-out for this space-case soiree: a stuffed spiderclaw toy protrudes from his opened riding jacket, slathered in what might be blood. He has more of the dark, reddish stuff around his mouth and nose, as if he'd been beaten up or something, but the fact that he's sometimes licking it suggests it can't be that bad. Yes, he brought meat. It's being served somewhere. Not with his tongs, though; those are affixed to the spiderclaw, left to dangle and swing wildly if he turns too fast. And if he turns really fast, he'll smack himself with it (ask him how he knows!)
Those milky jade eyes open wide like a predator spotting it's prey and if she had a tail, it'd be flicking like mad. Does Suriya do the kek-kek-kek that cats do? It's a mystery! She takes the bottle and hugs it to her face with a large grin. "I do love parties." Even more so when they turn into total chaos, and it only takes one person. She's here for it! So would Seyunestudath, but this party needs to last longer than fifteen minutes so she's back at the weyr chasing all the tail. Why? Because she's a desireable full bodied woman! She has SO MUCH LOVE TO GIVE. I'aija's costume earns a tilt of her head, and she takes in the BEAUTIFUL BLOODY SIGHT TO BEHOLD. "A'she, I need to get me one of those. Imaging how much more entertaining our conclaves would be?" It's worth a round in time out, right? RIGHT?
There are many, many reasons that some people should never be allowed around power. And yet, here is Monaco, with a piratical Weyrwoman (and senior queen), a pair of bombastic juniors (complete with bombastic… juniors), a madcap Weyrleader, and a temperamental (and rumored to be homicidal) Weyrsecond who happily aids and abets his family and compeers. Really, no one was thinking when they threw the knots out in the crowd one wild drunken orgy ride ago. "I'm sure I'aija will be happy to tell you where he got it," the bronzerider replies as he takes a draw from his own bottle and raises a hand to catch his brother-in-law's eye. "Or lend it to you."
Not everyone here is crazy. But Kys could qualify. At least his gown is lovely - all blues and purples, hugging curves that are most definitely not his before flaring into full skirts. He's not masked, but he does have a blond wig on that adds to the illusion that he is not, in fact, Ky'zai of Xanadu Weyr. At least his father and sister aren't here - yet - to add to his embarrassment. He has a lacy fan in his hand and is fluttering it in front of his face, and his grey-blue eyes are darting about in search of someone he sincerely hopes will actually be here - since the date was set and all.
Suriya puts the lid of the bottle within her teeth and she pops it off all lady like before taking a swig. Her eyes light up with glee before she swallows it down, licking her lips. "Hey, this is good stuff. I definitely need to borrow it, so when we get to the end of the meeting and they ask if anyone has any more questions. This way I can scare up the ones that ALWAYS ASKS THE QUESTIONS. Those jerks. I do hope they get scared, or at least forget what they were going to ask. I wonder how far it squirts?" She looks over at A'she as she takes another drink, hoping the man might know! Why? Cause he's A'she and he knows all the important things! She does reach up to chance a touch of that furry face. The fancy dress gets her attention and she spares a glance. "She's fancy."
"Eyyy!" I'aija catches A'she's wave and returns it - by taking the tong-hand-claw-whatever of the spiderclaw and waggling it at him. Beer? He doesn't have any, but the night is young and he has a feeling he'll be needing it later. Where's Elsvruth? Not at the Weyr, that's what. His rider is flying solo out here, mingling with the masses and, with chaos on the horizon, that's probably for the best. Or not. Regardless, that's not his bronze's problem. No, now he's A'she and Suriya's problem. #sorrynotsorry "Great party so far!"
And what of that date? Ligeia is here, of course, though it might be hard to spot her at first. She's not much for fancy outfits or fun attire - she's painfully pragmatic, blame it on the bloodline - so she's well and truly a fish out of water here. Or, rather, an avian in space? Because her dress is a fine thing, full of red and pink and gold plumes of all sorts. It's extravagant and glittery and it looks like she's on fire in the right light; even her hair's done up with glittery nonsense, while an avian mask in gold covers the upper half of her face. It gets in the way of her drinking, naturally; behold as the not-so-fledgeling goldrider attempts to sip from a tumbler and keeps getting the edge stuck on the pointed tip of her faux beak. She doesn't yet see Kys - but she's turning in his direction all the same, with an obvious gleam of concentration in her eyes as she tries to navigate this problem of hers.
Suriya likes problems! More the merrier, and for Monaco? She is def THE PROBLEM. <3 The fancy dress is indeed fancier than the first and the flame like appearance gets her attention, SHE LOVES BURNING THINGS! Obs not that dress, but it still brings her the same GLEE. When she gets back to Pern, burning things must happen, too. "A'she, what do we have to burn?" Priorities! She takes another sip, savoring the flavor before adding a spicy meatroll in her other hands. Gotta play the long game when it comes to cantina drinks! Once content, she wipes her hands clean and pulls the Wherry head back over her face. She takes the bottle back up, though. She made sure to include a mouth hole for convenience.
"Might be a weyrling or two left over from the last bunch," A'she muses, fishing a bottle from his person - or maybe from Suriya's - and passing it towards I'aija should the other bronzerider wander near. "I've some old barrel staves too - they'll go up nicely, being soaked through with turns worth of alcohol. Wanting a bonfire, are you?" How well he knows the goldrider - as well he should after all these turns. As she pulls up her hood, he settles back against a console and prepares to be a hairy sort of wall-flower.
Skirts swirling about his ankles, Kys turns in a slow circle, his expression fading towards anxious before he catches sight of the flaming gown. Suspicions are sneaking, for the mask hides any hint of who is wearing the dress, but he has made acquaintance of a dragon who might well have served as inspiration. Carefully, he eels through the growing crowd, fending off more than one advance with a long stare and a haughty sniff - and once a slap on a wrist with his fan - before fetching up behind Ligeia. "Hi." So suave.
"Oh, nice," I'aija declares when Suriya shows off her wherry head. "You look fit to be spit-" and whatever that thought is promptly ends up derailed by a well-timed interjection by his lifemate. Once a meat maestro, always a meat maestro, apparently; the man's got wherry roasts on the brain and it can't be helped. He snaps out of it a moment later and just in time to catch the offer of a bottle from A'she. He pulls one of his arms into his jacket and, suddenly, the spiderclaw comes to life, wriggling and flailing the tongs as he reaches for the drink with the be-tonged beast. "Thanks, A'she. And- huh. Well, fire in here might be a bad idea," he pauses, chewing on his barbecue-sauced lower lip, "but I think we can make it work." Wait. No. Bad.
The beak clacks and clatters against the glass with growing frustration and Ligeia finally resorts to growling at the whole affair in a very un-avian-like way. "For- why. Why don't they make these more drink-friendly?" The muttering is for herself, of course; she isn't at fault here. Clearly. Thus, she's oblivious to the blond vision in blue and purple swirling up behind her - until that 'hi' pops out of seemingly nowhere and prompts a much more avian-like squawk out of her. Fortunately, her drink remains securely in hand, but it's a real touch-and-go moment there for a second. "For Faranth's-" but any frustration is quick to melt away when she turns and recognition really sinks in. Forget the drink, she's going in for a fierce hug with a very awkward tilt of her head to avoid scratching poor Kys with her beak of doom. Words? The writer has none - for once.
"S-p-i-t-r-o-a-s-t-e-d~" There, she said it. Sing songed all cheerful like! Seyunestudath is offering a more graphic and detailed rendition but it doesn't need to be said. The visual IS BAD ENOUGH. Seyu, would you get laid already? "Fire out here would be amazing but the beach will work. That way if we get drunk, the sand can clean up all the puke." Cause, really? There's no if about it. Having drinks by the fire is a necessity! "I wonder how many people I can bury in the sand. I can bury a lot of people!" Her hands begin to rub together and the sparkle in her wherry mouth-eyes are full of delight. C'mon, Ligeia, don't be a rookie. Add a straw to the beak!
Clamping his mouth shut against whatever comment has his eyes lighting up with dark laughter, A'she merely shakes his head. "If you're so good at burying people," he finally drawls, "I should hire you to take care of my garden." And the rumors persist for yet another turn of the seasons. "No fire in here; even if we could get one started, we'd risk all sorts of disaster. And I really don't want Wendyn yelling at me for taking any risks with you." You being I'aija - Wendyn probably wouldn't be quite so upset over Suriya. No offense. Weyrmates rank different or some such nonsense.
Caught in her arms, Kys's own flail outwards for a moment before he wraps them firmly around the goldrider, his lips curving in a pleased smile. "Sake," he finishes for her, ever the gentleman lady. Then he's hugging her tight and not bothering to say anything more until he's managed to get all of the hugs he's been storing up out of his system. Forgive him, it's going to take a while. Eventually, though, his grip will slacken, if not release, leaving her to slip free if that's what she wants to do.
"Huh?" I'aija doesn't have to feign confusion; he's legitimately forgotten whatever thread of thought he was previously on. Now it's beer o'clock time, yo. "The beach would probably be better," even if the logistics of setting a bonfire up in space was achingly appealing; it's not so much the fire as the planning involved that seems to be his jam. "But, if we do move this to the beach, then I know a few great spots to put things, too. I have a few fire pits set up that just need a little fuel." Is he talking about fire? Potential cannibalism? Actually roasting wherries? From the periodic glaze of his eyes, it's probably a conversation held in tandem with whatever Elsvruth is relaying to him. If he sounds disconnected, blame it on the bronze for pulling those plugs. "You? Nah. She wouldn't yell at you for doing what your Weyrleader asked." Cue a dazzling grin that's quickly replaced with a bottle of beer so he can take a pull. If Wendyn hasn't figured out what she signed up for by now, then she's never going to.
"Oooh, I love gardening after dark! Especially when none of the moons are out. Just you, me, and a shovel. It would be so romantic!" Suriya is always down for a late night hole dig. Sure, they'll be plants but those plants are gonna need some high quality fertilizer. No sense in doing something if you're not gonna do it right. If Wendyn doesn't know what she signed up for, then Suriya isn't doing her job right. Her desk is too empty with barely a sheet of report on top. A massive happy cheerful funtime FUELED bon fire is just the thing! She tilts that wherry head over to I'aija and she grins. "We'll need to bring some food to roast in the flames." In, not over, because it's gonna be BIG. She stifles a snort, but keeps that comment to herself. Sure, Seyu. Clothing optional.
A huff of laughter follows, ruffling at blond hair. Ligeia's got a grip on her, too; chalk it up to weyrling training and maybe a little extra pressure from a certain, spicy lifemate. It's a tight, tight hug and it only loosens when her arms get tired and Kys eases up. There's a bit of awkward fumbling, but she eventually gets her mask off and is able to hand her drink off to someone that hopefully doesn't mind being conscripted for the task, because she needs at least one free hand. Slip free? No sir, she's not done with you yet, Ky'zai. Hugs round two: commence, but this time with her face buried in his neck. "I missed you," might be three small words and barely breathed, but they bear a gravity all their own.
"Romantic, sure." A'she has never been accused of that before - certainly not by present company. His amusement doesn't show beneath his beard or his hair-mask, but it rings in the deep rumble of laughter that erupts from his chest. "If you're wanting a bonfire, we'll get it done." Somehow. And maybe even safely. Maybe not. What's Monaco without a little risk? His eyes drift over to the hugging women and he makes a thoughtful sound in his throat. He would. "Not tonight though - or not right now. This party's barely gotten started, let's finish 'er out before we start burning out the resort."
"And I you," Ky'zai admits into her hair as he buries his face against it. "I'd hoped you'd be able to make it." Just because her letters promised didn't mean the Weyrlingmasters would let it happen. He hugs tight and long, but eventually manages to squirm free, draping his arm along her waist and holding her close to his side as he gazes down, all eyes and attention on her. "That's a lovely dress," he remarks; hey, clearly he knows all about lovely dresses. "How is Ver - uhm. Bear with me here. Ver.. zhu… queth? Right?"
There's another of those grins for Suriya, as I'aija reaches with his free hand - the beer is currently caught in the unnatural clench of spiderclaw appendanges - to bobble her wherry head. "I can get some things together." He doesn't catch sight of the hugging ladies over there, but his thoughts are already clicking wildly away. "Just tell me when and I'll pull some strings to make some things happen." Just what? A mystery, but the strings are probably apron strings and everything else is just going to be gravy. He doesn't spy the hugging ladies, but that might be because he's suddenly distracted by the snacky offerings that suddenly demand his full attention. "I should probably take some of these to Wendyn and Iawyn." Where are they? A mystery for now. But he knows. Hopefully.
At least she can stash the beaky mask in her small bag - which might be the only thing the bag is meant to hold. Ligeia hooks her arm around Kys's waist in kind, hugging close and grinning up at him. "I said I promised - and I keep my promises." Or she does her damned best to. "Things are, um- well, good, I guess, now that we're where we're supposed to be. Verzhuqueth," is a gentle guiding through that twister of a name, if with a wink, "couldn't be happier, though she still wants to go go go all the time." A squeeze follows and she adds, "Blue and purple really are your colors, you know. But the blond-" she grins, see-sawing her free hand, "-I'd rather the curls. How are you and Tchechayzaeth?"
Head bobbing? Why not? All the cool kids are doing i-gdi seyu. Suriya doesn't mind, every shift of the hood lets in a tiny draft of cool air and it's not blocking her mouth from eating some tasty snacks! "Looking forward to it! I better get my comfy lounging chair now that the lizards are done nesting in it." Because Suri needed it, why else would Ostara do a hostile takeover? Brat. "I'll look at my calendar and see what days will work, then I'll let you both know. We all have to be there for it to be fun. Maybe we can get the kitchens to do some surf and turf. I like my meat bloody." Her lifemate wholeheartedly agrees! Hopefully there's enough for her at that kick back with the homies. The dragon T-name gets her attention for a brief moment and for the next hour, see Monaco's Junior Weyrwoman make many horribly failed attempts at trying to say or spell it. This is a new drinking game now!
Tchechayzaeth. Verhzuqueth. Qhatiratrixth. Yeah. Let's play alphabet soup up in here. A'she shakes his head. "Cook mine until it stops mooing at least," he mutters. "I prefer it off the hoof." But not burnt; he's not a savage! "I'll get another batch up brewing and have some kegs ready by the time you are," he tells Suriya. "Bottles are all fine and good for a party like this," because, you know, not barefoot in the sand, "but a beach bonfire requires nothing but kegs and jugs." Of which he'll be happy to supply the former. He'll leave the latter to Suriya and the ladies. Oh. Not those jugs?
Bless her, she tried. "Tchechayzaeth is well," Kys replies in turn. Faranth forbid should Chay ever catch Verzhuqueth; their hatchlings might well have names nigh unpronouncable by man and unspellable by any player in existance. "I'd rather the curls too, but it was this or some great honkin' mask made of feathers, and well…" His eyes track down to the bag where her's disappeared to. "I felt the wig was more manageable." And he's not taking it off. It's bad enough his shoulders are almost too broad for the dress, but that headful of short, dark curls would surely give away the game.
As for the rider of the positively pedestrian-named Elsvruth? He's taking the notes he needs - in his head, evidently! - before tipping both Suriya and A'she a salute with his bottle. "I'll make sure to sling the best meat you'll ever have. Just you wait. Oh! Are those spiderclaw cakes?" Cue a wriggling of the spiderclaw in his chest and, with that, he's subsumed into the swirl of the crowd en route to get snacks and maybe (hopefully) get them to their final destination intact.
Rest assured that between her own embarrassment at flubbing that name and Verzhuqueth's embarrassment, it will be a lesson well-learned. "That's good that he's good and you're good." Cue a wince at just how lame that sounds - and she's supposed to be good with words! "You definitely made the better choice, though," Ligeia's quick to amend to Kys, "that mask was a nightmare. Never. Again." She idly reaches up to toy a bit with the wig, but not enough to pull it loose. Just to get a feel for the hair before she's settled again. Suddenly, she's all grins: "How many grabby hands did you have to fight off already?" Hers don't count; he hasn't fought her off (yet?)
Whether or not A'she meant those jugs, they're coming. Why? It's summer, it's almost mandatory. Swimsuit time! Suri's gotta very cute black little number she fully intends on bringing to the party! Just not this one. There's no fire here. It's for fire occasions only. "I think there's cheese into those spiderclaw cakes. They smelled good." Has she had any yet? NOPE. The smell did get her attention and if she gets up to get another round of drinks, she'll get them on the next pass, pecking anyone who gets in her way. Wherries have sharp beaks so it would be a travesty to not have her feathered costume as anatomically accurate as possible! Don't worry A'she, she isn't going to lay any eggs in here.
A'she will certainly look forward to any jugs that Suriya wishes to share with him. He offers her a lazy smile, visible only by the shifting of his beard. "Bring me back some, if you go for them." He's not moving - the console might escape if he's not there to hold it down. He takes a pull of his beer and turns his gaze out towards the party, watching the crowd mingling. How do they do it? People aren't meant to mingle. They're meant to stare broodingly. Or maybe that's just him.
"All good," Kys replies with a grin, not bothering to hide his amusement - or his pleasure - with her. "I don't know, in the right situation, that mask could probably be quite interesting." She's a writer of those stories - figure it out. "Let's see, there was that man," and he points to a paunchy master smith now leering at Suriya, "and that man," this one's a tall, brooding bluerider frowning at the two of them. "There were two or three others, and I'm pretty sure I have a bruise on my cheek." There's nothing on his fa- oh. "How about you?"
The party seems like it's going swimmingly, everyone is mingling and drinking but the ship seems to be doing a little masquerade of it's own. The lights and electricity begin to flicker. Just a little bit. Soon, the room is covered in complete darkness. Everyone stops, except the music but the music turns a little off key into something a little creepier. Maybe the musicians are scared? Maybe they can't read their music. Something in the corner lets out a series of three long beeps before everything flickers back to life. Where's Suri? Not in her seat, but she is running back with a tray just LADEN with food. Y'all saw nothing. The plate is placed on her table, in the center cause she's nice, and the goldrider is opening up another bottle of nice chilled ale. "Wonder what happened, but hey! Snacks are here!"
"Oh, trust me, I have stories aplenty about what that thing is actually good for," is paired with a cheeky grin from Ligeia. Eyebrows waggle and her tongue slicks out briefly to wet her lips oh-so-enticingly. "But it's all theoretical." For now. She cranes a bit to look at the two men pointed out - and maybe speculate about a few others, for good measure - but when her attention turns back to Kys's face, it's with a wry tilt to her grin. Yes, she caught that mention of a bruised cheek; yes, she's shameless enough to snake a hand down to try to find out which cheek is bruised, so she can squeeze the other. "I'm surprised the dress is intact, honestly," she laughs softly. "Me? Nah. I think I just have one of those faces, you know? I think that guy," some greenrider fella over there, wearing a rooster outfit and sipping a cocktail, "was staring at me, buuut I think he was more interested in adding my feathers to his tail." The flickering light gives her pause for a moment, brow furrowing, but then everything's fine again. Safe forever! Nervous smiles abound!
Should A'she go check things out? Maybe - but he's not going to. Not as long as Suriya seems unperturbed. Pushing away from his perch, he reaches across the table to snag a snack, popping it in his mouth - one presumes that's where it went, anyway. Hard to tell with all of the hair. "Thank you," he says. Polite Ash? What's he hiding? Probably nothing. Or maybe the console he was leaning on happens to control the lights. Anyone's guess.
Smirking, Ky'zai turns his head and presses a kiss against the side of her head. "Hardly," he says, just a bit severely. "It's more likely no one wants to risk pissing off a queen, and it's quite clear to anyone with eyes," even if they're all heart-shaped, "that you are a goldrider of no little distinction." She finds the bruise and he shifts his hip so her hand is in a safer place. "Meanwhile, apparently as a woman, I look like a tart. Given my father," he adds dryly, "I'm hardly surprised." Poor Ila'den. "And maybe not his tail is what he's interested in, think about that?"
Suriya glances over to the console, shamelessly stares at A'she's butt and she grins, nibbling on a meat roll. NO SHAME. NONE. "You're welcome, babe." Whatever mystery is responsible for the lights will forever be a mystery. As long as the ship doesn't completely lose power, they should all be safe. She'll be sure to add it to the incident reports and slap it on Wendyn's desk in a few days. It'll be alright. She has a whole other stack to add to the pile. Suri doesn't put them in chronological order, she puts them in order of severity so as each page goes by, the disasters grow more and more. The look of horror is her favorite part! She even includes crude illustrations. Wendyn likes colors, right? Red is Suriya's favorite color. "Oooh, A'she. I think those girls are interested in someone's tail!" Gotta love party gossip.
"It's definitely the face," Ligeia counters playfully, sticking her tongue out as if to combat Ky'zai's severity. "She's the one with all the distinction." Verzhuqueth would have it no other way, either. "But I guess it all kind of… bleeds into everything all the same, you know?" Her hand is easily moved, resting lightly where it lands on safter territory. "Pffft. You look like a fine Lady, I'll have you know. They're just uncouth fiends, all of them, trying to sleep their way to the top of whatever Hold you claim as yours. They're the tarts." Assertions made, gauntlets thrown, all of that. "Ohhh, no. No, if he wants to put my feathers in someone else's tail, then he's got another thing coming." There's a flash of a grin, impish and bright. "Buuut, I'm open to suggestions." Only from Ky'zai, though.
Let's point out that those women weren't the only ones oogling tails, SURIYA. Not that A'she has any problem at all - he even gives his hips a little shake and his clutchmate a feral grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. "If you're gonna write it up, make sure you put plenty of little sparks on it. And see if you can get those two," and he jerks a thumb towards the two women apparently staring intently at a rooster…'s "tail", "in there somehow." Just what kind of pictures are ending up on Wendyn's desk? Probably the best kind. If you ask nicely, you could probably even convince Ligeia there to annotate them in her best style. Give the Weyrwoman a real treat.
Ky'zai has a suggestion, and he whispers it in Ligeia's ear. It might result in them absconding from the party - but only to find one just a bit more private.
Blood. check. Tail. Double check. Faces? Check check. Suriya is listening intently to the conversation, keeping those snacks moving into her gaping beak. She pauses only to take tiny sips periodically. Are they going to fight? She has her money on the girl in purple. She looks like she can give a good pounding. Someone is sleeping their way to tarts? Who's Monaco's resident baker? She has to see this person, out of morbid curiosity, of course. With the price of meat, wot it is, when you get it, if you get it~ When they plan to venture off into the unknown, Suriya pouts. Well, the show was nice while it lasted.