Changing the Weyrlingmaster Log

26th May 2003
Logged by Lylia


Living Caverns
Reuben and Fyria are here.

Fyria is bored. Plain and simple. Granted, she's quite proud of her sassy new leathers, as she once again is picking every bit of dust and dirt she spies off her sleeve, imaginary or not. "I know I should've never picked white," she says to her table companion, "But it's /such/ a nice change from the black I usually wear, don't you think?" Her companion, one of the younger greenriders in Inferno, simply nods. Better not to disagree with a whip-carrying bluerider. Especially Fyria.

Lylia slinks in alone, doing an admirable impression of Druseth. Step after step, she makes her way towards the Tsunami table, where a half-naked young man gives an enthusiastic wave, blue lines still not entirely washed from his chest. "It's well past morning, where's the wine?" Lylia pauses for a moment, then ends with, "Oh. And, hello. Yes." The half-naked young man gives a nod over to the Inferno table. "The drudges put it all over there."

Fyria taps her own empty goblet rather thoughtfully, a slight grin appearing on her lips as she overhears Lylia's request for wine. She spares the young man a quick, half-approving look followed by a smile, as she adds "Of course. After all, Inferno can drink anyone under the table, so why put it anywhere else where it might be wasted? A passed out rider does no justice for a full wineskin, you see…" Time to teach the younger Inferno riders how to drink like one, evidently, and Fy takes this moment to refill her goblet with a particularly dark red vintage.

Reuben sit in a corner, all by himself and with scroll spread out around him, neatly one might add - one pile to the right and another to the left, while the one he's reading is opened and spread out in front of him. Glancing up as he hears voice, he only notices that they belong to riders and won't bother them with anything at all.

Lylia has started to saunter towards the Inferno table, a pleasant smile plastered on her face. The 'time to politely ask for wine face' withers as she hears Fyria's remark. Her eyebrows narrow, nose wrinkling as she steps a little closer. "A young'un like you? I've been drinkin' for /Turns/ more than you. And Tsunami riders know how the ride the drink better than anyone." Her arms fold neatly across her chest. Nyeah. In the background, the half-naked Tsunami man gives a little yelp of 'Tsuuuu!'.

And at the table, the greenrider gives a smug little look towards Half-Naked Man, followed by a somewhat pitiful expression as her eyes drift lower. No need to know what she's thinking of. "Oh please, Lylia. Age has nothing to do with it - then again, perhaps it does…" Fyria's smirk widens with that innocent remark as she takes a sip of wine. "You should know, then, that Inferno is the drinking wing, if anything, no? After all those /Turns/ of drinking…"

Reuben looks up, a little startled at the sudden noise rising among the riders gathered in the caverns. He really ought to have stayed in the archives with this. Gathering courage, he reaches for his mug of klah, set at a safe distance from the precious scrolls and takes a sip from it before speaking up, "please.. Could you all keep it down? I'm trying to study!"

A group of young Apprentices nearby glance up from their studies for a moment, eyeing the two women with a great deal of interest. Hmmm… Time for a studybreak, perhaps?

"You claim to be, but then, can any wing really hold the title for so many Turns? Times have changed, dear. We've got young, fresh drinking riders in our wing. And a few more seasoned ones who know the way of the drink in ways some Inferno riders will never be able to understand." Alcohol, beyond reality. Lylia steps a little closer, face slightly pink as she holds her glare. "Perhaps it's time for your wing to put its marks where in your collective mouths! Oops!" Lylia glances over at Reuben, offering an apologetic look. "Oh, I'm sorry. I /do/ tend to get loud… especially when /right/," a glare is shot at Fyria, "but I'll keep it down. No promises on /her/."

Fyria simply leans back in her chair, fingertips tapping on the tabletop as that smirk keeps its place on her lips. "Oh, Lylia, Lylia, Lylia…" she sighs rather patiently. "No need to get your leathers in a twist, m'dear - remember, you taught me as a weyrling. Time for the student to outsmart - or outdrink, the master, eh?" Dark eyes flash amusedly over towards Reuben, followed by a quick wink. "You can't study /all/ day, m'boy. Take a break! Come… have a drink! I'm sure even you could outdo this brownrider over here…" She tosses a wry look at Lylia, only to lift a brow at that assumed challenge. "Why, are you challenging /me/ to a drinking contest, Lylia darling? I mean, I'd be glad to - but I'd feel incredibly bad if you were to pass out here in the living caverns, so vulnerable and all…" Ouch.

Reuben's dark eyes flicker between Lylia and Fyria. He obviously don't really care for the subject of the conversation, just as long as they keep it down. Someone did suggest to him to sit up here to meet people, but if it was at the expence of his studies he would gladly move back down in the archives. "I don't drink, ma'am," he mumbles at Fyria as she suggests that he join them. "Just a glass of wine now and then, that is…"

The Apprentices decide that this is indeed /much/ better than burying their noses in starcharts all day, and scrolls snap shut as they subtly inch a little closer, especially at hearing the word 'challenge.' Watch the marks begin to fly…

"You're still a student. A student in weyrlingmastering, and a student in drinking." Lylia snorts at the bluerider, flopping down on a bench and gesturing to pitchers of ale. "I've passed out in worse. Anyone who messes with me knows they'll come to pay for it. Besides, I'll be using your slumped body for a footrest quickly enough." Lylia follows Fyria's attempt in coercing another into the moral corruption, eyeing Reuben quickly. "Yes, do come have a drink with us. A glass of wine, five glasses of wine…" Beam.

Fyria makes talk-talk motions with her fingers as she rolls her eyes. "I tell you what, Ly. Since we've such an audience gathered…" She gestures towards the obviously-ogling Apprentices, who quickly change their attentions elsewhere in a flurry of coughs and throat-clearings. "Why don't /you/ put your money where your mouth is?" Or her stomach, for that matter. Fy beckons a drudge over, who immediately pours Lylia a full goblet of wine, and to whom Fyria raises her own. "One glass down, Ly - so many more to go! I'll just assume the little thump-sound you make as you pass out onto the floor is your concedence that, well. I win." Beam right back.

Reuben glances toward the snickering Apprentices, giving them a frown of worry or questioning, then looks back at the riders. Was that an order, perhaps? Being holdbred and really only here on borrowed time, he wasn't very sure of his options in this matter. Slowly putting his scrolls into a pack hidden under the table, Rube comes over to the two riders, his
expression much like that of a scared puppy. "Just one glass of wine, right…" he says, shuffling his feet, while clutching his pack tightly as if it were a shield.

"Just make sure not to vomit on me before you give in. I like these leathers." Lylia brushes some imaginary dust off the sleeve, before smirking at Fyria. "It seems we have a contest. But a contest isn't good without a prize, you know. A wager." Half-naked Tsunami man comes over and stands defensively behind Lylia. The rider gives an innocent smirk at Fyria, before patting a seat by her as she beams at Reuben. "Good! Sit down, we'll pour you a glass. You can see Fyria lose."

"You mean Lylia lose," Fyria corrects the Weyrlingmaster. For a moment, she looks at Half-Naked Tsunami Man, and sighs. "Well, I'd ask for him to bet the shirt off his back, but evidently I'm too late. And the trousers aren't worth the effort," she concludes with a laugh. Fy goes quiet a moment, her eyes narrowing wickedly as she downs a good portion of her wine, and replies "For once, I agree with you Ly. A wager…" Fy thinks, then offers "I'll bet the entire stash of wine which Inferno has that you wouldn't be able to drink half a glass beyond me, Ly. Now that's a pretty high prize - what can /you/ offer in turn? Granted, the sound of your rump hitting the ground followed by your head would be pretty nice in itself, especially in front of all of them…" Hand gestures to include Reuben and the Apprentices. Hopefully, Fyria isn't deluding them… nor herself. For Inferno's sake.

"Alright, but only one," Rube says, taking the offered seat, his pack still clutched in his arms as he tries not to look too closely at Half-naked Tsunami man. Sure people would strip down at home, but only to work, not where people ate such. At Fyria's words about the man's pants his eyes grown wider and he can't help tossing a glance over his shoulder as something catches in his throat and he begins a coughing fit. "I apologize, ladies.." he says as he recovers, somewhat teary-eyed, looking from one to the other, "I.. I'm not really used to that.. Err, that sort of language.. Well, from a lady, that is.."

"I hope Hyzen would approve of that. Let's hope the rest of Inferno isn't ready to throttle you, when Tsunami is drinking it up in our… well, yes." Lylia stumbles for a moment, but immediately recovers as she ponders. "Well, I suppose offering him wouldn't work… Hm. I know. I'm so confident in this, I'll wager my knot." And Lylia rips the gold-threaded knot offer her arm and gently lays it on the table. "And you can't tell me the weyrlingmaster knot ain't valuable, you shardin' bluerider." Her gaze doesn't leave Fyria as she comments to Reuben. "That one isn't a lady, not at all."

Fyria is caught off-guard by Lylia's wager - but only briefly, her eyes falling on the knot rather… hungrily? Naw, not Fyria. "That's a pretty impressive wager, Lylia. Too bad you're deluding yourself - especially as I'm one up on you already…" She lifts her empty goblet with a wicked smile, only to refill it to the brim with the deliciously dark liquid. "Are you /sure/ you want to bet something so esteemed and precious? From one lady…" Here, she outright glares at Reuben… "To another, I'd be happy to allow you to simply concede that I can outdrink you."

Reuben takes in a sharp breath of air. He may not know a whole lot about Weyrs - as an outsider - but he's heard and read enough to know that the position as Weyrlingmaster is an important one. Staring shamelessly at Lylia, he doesn't even notice Fyria's glare at himself. "Are you sure you wish to do that, ma'am?" he asks the rider, suddenly aware and certain that he's overstepping several boundries by asking the question.

"At least I'm less of a fool. When you lose, Inferno will rip you apart. However, in the slim chance that a sudden health problem occurs and I faint as a result, at least I'll be losing the paperwork, and the stress, and the annoyance, and…" Taking a deep breath, Lylia moves to reach for the knot, before letting her hand drop, a shuddering breath drawn. "No, I'll bet it. I'm sure. I'm sure I can win. I'll never lose to an undersized, troublemaking /bluerider/." A quick, reassuring grin is given to Reuben. "I'm sure. I'm… I'm sure. I won't lose that knot. I /won't/." But she gives it a forlorn pat.

Fyria snorts as she gently swirls her goblet, eyes falling from Lylia's expression to the knot. For a /very/ brief moment, she's somewhat touched by Lylia's expression - but that quickly disappears at the prospect of winning. Which she will, of course. "Better to be an undersized, troublemaking bluerider than an old, slow brownrider, my esteemed Weyrlingmaster," she counters with a slight bow of her head. "By the way… if you ever need a ladder to mount Druseth, just let me know. My family back in Lemos could whip something up quite nicely…"

Reuben won't mention that nothing's ever a given. Nothing's ever a /sure/ thing. He just stares at the knot lying on the table, wondering if this was really the way things was done at the Weyr and if so, why it wasn't mentioned in the Records. "But.. But.." is all he can manage to get out as his whole outlook on life is changing by the two riders' drinking game.

"Weyrlings like /you/ made me prematurely old. This is my revenge." Lylia's glowers even more darkly the second her dragon is named. "Oh, I'll be fine. Though I think /you'd/ need the ladder to get up on that blue of yours, or do you just hop like a trapped wherry? Now, are we going to start this, or do you just want to work your mouth and not your stomach? Scared, are you?" Another reassuring wink is given to Reuben. "Oh, don't worry. A little wine and you'll loosen up and understand. This is all just good fun to us. Good… fun…." Glowerglowerglower. Sharding blueriders.

"Now Lylia, jabs like that are /so/ unbecoming to one of your age and rank. Really…" Fyria holds up her goblet and wiggles it, teasing the Weyrlingmaster with a smirk. "My dear, I've already had a goblet full. I believe you are, in fact, one behind me?" To emphasize, she takes another long swig from her goblet and leans back with a knowing smile, only to say to Reuben "Drink, my boy. And learn how to hold one's wine from someone who can, and I don't mean her…"

Reuben nods silently to both Lylia and Fyria and reaches for the full glass of red wine that had appeared from Faranth knew where. Rube hadn't noticed anyone bringing it over or anyone setting it in front of it, yet here it was in front of him anyway. "Yes.. But just one glass," he repeats, making sure these two had understood that he did not induldge in such things as drinking.

"Hmph!" Lylia grabs the wineskin, sloshing it into a goblet and downing it with little hesitation. A smirk appears on her wine-touched lips, and she fills it up for a second time, again downing it, this time a little more slowly. "There are jabs I'd like to say, but I won't out of respect for his ears." Lylia glances at Reuben, lifting her glass. "You'll learn nothin' from her but the skill of slurring your speech after a glass or two."

Fyria watches Lylia catch-up attempts, and it takes much effort not to laugh. "Easy, killer. I'm sure that young man over there is quite entrhalled with you…" Fy points towards Half-Naked Tsunami Man with a chuckle. "But even he prolly has no intent on carrying you off to your weyr. Though at the rate you're going, he might have to run for a bucket, first…" Fy simply finishes the remaining wine in her own goblet before reaching for another wineskin, this one marked with one X. "Enough with that stuff though - care to try /this/ vintage? It's from a small cothold outside of Benden. Rumored to be quite strong… think you could handle it?"

Reuben won't be taking sides in this match, ohh no. Even if it were just a friendly drinking game with no high stakes, he wouldn't. "Well, ma'am," he begins, looking into his glass, still rather full, "I don't think I need to learn to drink at all. I mean.. I try to stay away from alcohol for the most part.." Patting his pack, he grins a little and glances between the two and adds in an apologetic voice, "makes it hard to concentrate.."

"He'll take me whever I shardin' well want him to. He's a good boy." And like a puppy, half-naked Tsunami guy comes over and leans against Lylia, giving a protective growl. Yes, he's her half-naked pet. "What kind of flavor does it have? Strong or not, I'm not going to waste my tastebuds on a mediocre tasting wine, not when we've got a lucious store." Lylia turns a rather kittenish look upon Reuben, eyes widening. "Not another drink? But… it'd be ever so much fun for you to join us." She's a bad Ly.

Fyria shrugs nonchalantly as she fills her goblet with the decievingly simple beverage. "Suit yourself, though your young Tsunami companion might be distraught to learn that indeed, Lylia has no stomach for the strong stuff. Such a disappointment…" Fy makes tsk-tsk noises as she sniffs her goblet, makes a brief face, then takes a slow drink. "Actually, it's a good thing for you to stick with that weaker stuff. More for me, eh?" Fy turns her gaze upon Reuben and holds up the flask. "Care to try it?," she offers with what seems to be a slight flush to her cheeks.

If anyone would compare Rube to a deer caught in the headlights, they wouldn't be far off. The teenager, shrinks back in his chair eyes flickering back and forth between Lylia and Fyria, and with the added 'weight' of half-naked Tsunami guy, he seems to lose his voice as well. Shaking his head at the brownrider first, he then turns to stare at the bluerider before shaking his head even more vigorously at her, all the while trying to make his legs work as to escape this madness.

"Fine, I'll try it. But if it tastes bad, I'm going to get revenge for my tastebuds upon you, dearie. Fill 'er up." Lylia holds out her goblet expectantly, trying and failing at keeping her expression blank. "And you should staaaay." She points a slender finger at Reuben. "C'mooon."

Fyria obliges Lylia's request and fills her goblet completely, a few drops straying onto the table from the neck of the flask. "Go easy, now, considering you're a first-timer to the stuff…" She leans back, a little too firmly, into her chair, and grins at Reuben. "See? She's starting to slur her words already. I give her another few minutes, and she'll be getting quite intimate with the tabletop."

"Uhm," Rube says, fingers locking to squeeze the leather of his pack. "Y'know, I, errr.. I have a lot of work to do, and, err, not that much time." Licking his lips, the poor boy stays in his seat only because the commands from this brain doesn't seem to reach his legs. "I mean.. I'll probably only be here for the summer and the archives here are so, well, extensive, you know?"

"Less talk, more drink you shardin' pile of herdbeast… mrph." Lylia takes another sip, before wincing. "Not the best taste. Honestly Fyria, don't you care at /all/ 'bout the taste of it? Really, you're so uncouth." Wincing, she takes another mouthful of the wine. "You can't miss winter here," she says to Rueben, a bit of slur indeed starting to creep at her words.

"Speak for yourself, you weathered piece of wherry hide," Fyria says right back before taking another swig from her goblet. She grabs a napkin and flings it towards Lylia with a laugh, chiding "You're supposed to /drink/ the wine, not wear it. Shall I have a drudge get you a bib?" Before she can answer, Fy crooks a finger towards Reuben and says "That's why we drink, you know. To keep us warm. See?" The finger turns to point at her own cheeks, which are indeed flushed at the moment.

Reuben bites his lower lip, looking over at Lylia with a sad sort of expression on his face. "I promised my parents to come home before the passes close up," he says, his gaze moving to look at Fyria for a long moment. "It's not healthy to go out in the cold with alcohol in your blood, you know..?" he says, quirking a brow slightly. "You only think you're hot, when really you're not. More than one holder at Balen lost his life running around outside drunk."

"I'll make you wear it if you don't watch your mouth!" Lylia snarls, before gulping down the rest of the goblet, then refilling it with only minimal shaking of her hands. One hand holds the goblet tightly, the other reaches out to tentatively stroke the weyrlingmaster knot upon the table. She glances over at Reuben offering a little grin. "We'll fly you home, then. Pah. You must see a 'Reaches winter. And alcohol runs in our veins anyway."

Fyria simply laughs aloud in response to Lylia's outburst, only to snatch her own wineskin and ignore the goblet in favor of drinking right from the skin. "You and who's wing, Ly? I'm betting at this point that you couldn't stand on your own two feet if you tried!" In a fit of giggles that nearly has her choking, she simply laughs, then uncorks the skin with her teeth and takes a long drink, only to eye the knot again. "Be assured, Inferno will be drinking /our/ wine tonight in celebration of a new Weyrlingmaster in their ranks, by the looks of you."

Reuben shrugs a little, the corners of his mouth twisting downward. "Don't see how 'Reaches winter is that much different from Balen's," he mumbles, feeling more relaxed now for some reason. He's still not very comfortable with the riders' drinking, but at least he can talk to them without fear of insulting them. Or at least, he can hope that they won't remember it in the morning..

"Oh, I could, I /assure/ you, dear. You're the one that will be suffering." Lylia does give a little cackle, however, as she gestures her goblet at Fyria. "And the fact that you think that becoming a Weyrlingmaster is a celebration proves you have no idea about what it is to /be/ Weyrlingmaster. It is a /sacrifice/, a burden and gift. You know nothing." And Lylia sulks, clutching her wine and continuing to drink. "There's naked /skating/, you /must/ stay," she chirps at Reuben. "And sledding and races and snowdragons, and oh! I love winter."

Neiana arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

"Lylia, darling…" Fyria stifles a hiccup as she swings the wineskin towards the brownrider with a rather odd expression. "I know more than you might think. You see…" Here, she leans forward and gives Ly a shrewd little look. "I was a /weyrling/ under you. Remember? Remember Urzketh getting stuck in the entrance to this very cavern?" A rumble echoes from the bowl - something Urzketh had forgotten, apparantly, and hoped to keep that way. "I look /forward/ to the opportunity to whip those young weyrlings in line. I can assh.. assh… asshure you…"

Reuben's eyes nearly pop out of his head at the mentioning of 'naked skating', but before he begins to comment on it he gives off a little chuckle and nods kind of knowingly, "I'm sure," he says, dark eyes revealing that he won't fall for /that/ one. "Of course, staying through winter will give me more time to study the Records," he muses, giving the pack holding the scroll an almost loving pat as he smiles at Lylia. "I may take you up on the offer, weyrlingmaster.." Even as Fyria's speech is slurred, the things she says are rather interesting. A dragon getting stuch in the entrance to the cavern? You don't read about /that/ in the Records..

Moving like a whisper of wind, Neiana quietly makes her way in from the lower caverns. With her arms free of the usual basket the usually adorns one, the seamstress looks as if she's found away to escape her sewing for a time. With all the talk going on she can't help but stop to listen to the talk of the riders and the dragon getting stuck in the doorway.

"You have /nooooo/ right, my dear. /None/. You couldn't keep your /dragon/ outta trouble and you was a /menace/. There's no right for you to teach the weyrlings, when you couldn't even teach yourself. Druseth knows how to teach dragons, work with 'em. He /knows/." Lylia gives a satisfied little nod and finishes off her goblet of wine, "See? You have to stay through the winterrr. Good. Druseth 'n' I are always willin' to give a lift back to wher… wherever."

"On the contrary, I have the /most/ right. After all - I've been there! I've been in trouble! I know what to expect!" Fyria does hiccup this time, which Fyria answers with a good-sized swig from her skin. Suddenly, she blinks, and gives Ly a shrewd look. "Are you jabbering away just so you don't have to drink, Lylia? Is that what you're trying to do?" She slowly looks over at Reuben with a few blinks, and asks "What do you think? Lylia here is talking away so she does'nt have to drink, right?" A slight look of you'd-better-agree follows, drunken though it may be.

Reuben glances at the knot, on the table and can't help giving a slight cough at Lylia's words, "excuse me, ma'am, but… You are the one who made the bet," he says, quite calmly as his glittering dark eyes try to meet hers, not quite without fear, though. "And last I checked the Records, a bet was a bet.." Even if it was a really stupid one. Being directly confronted by Fyria, he swallows a slight lumb in his throat and glances over at the current weyrlingmaster, then back at the bluerider. "I can't say, m'lady, but she does /sound/ as if she's been drinking…"

"Yeah, but it'd be a hi… Hipp… hypocrite! You can't tell them not to do what you did! You'll let 'em get into danger and their injuries'll be on you're hands!" Lylia gives a protesting squeak and downs the rest of her goblet. "I'll show you who ain't drinking. Little troublemaker, never carin' what you did or if you'd get your dragon scarred. Bloody nuisance, all of you. Can't be good like Lhana or Wyn, had to be the trouble. And now you'll drink me to death and my blood'll be on your hands." And she jabs a finger towards Reuben. "She /challenged/ my honor! My honor! Dragonriders don't stand for that!" Drinking is a sort of honor. Almost.

Neiana chuckles soflty then moves on to the serving table where a mug of something is grabbed as well as a plate of this and that. Slipping into a seat not far from where all the lively chatter is going on she's now all set ot listen or more. With all the owrds flying around and the sluring of them Neiana can't help but chicle even more "SOunds like you've both been drinking, and rather well at that."

Fyria simply breaks into a fit of giggles, nearly toppling herself off the chair at the same time. "Oh admit it, Ly. Urzketh and I are one of the best weyrlings to turn out of that *hiccup* classsh…" Fyria chuckles again as she reaches for the skin, misses, and gets it on the second try. "Good is boring. Good doesn't get you anywhere. Slightly bad does, no? And I'll bet even Lhana and Wyns has a bad streak in 'em…" She takes another drink, only to carefully eye Lylia's goblet. "Lookin' a little empty there…"

Reuben hasn't noticed Neiana until she spoke and nearly jumps as she injects her opinion into the conversation. Grinning at her over his shoulder, he nods and gives her a sort of wink, "they're having a drinking contest. Over that," he says, pointing at the weyrlingmaster's knot. Turning back to look at Lylia, he shakes his head, becoming more and more brave in the company of the riders, "but putting your knot up as a prize is… Silly," he goes on, almost saying 'insane' rather than silly, but managing to replace that word in the last splitsecond.

"You? Sii'kyn's the bloody weyrleader! Wyn's an a-accomplished rider and train' to dragonheal! Lhana's a good rider! You're just… a… a troublemaker! You're at t'bottom of it! You have to know how to use the bad, not run rampant like a child!" Lylia punctuates her words with a thrust of the glass, before downing the remaining drops and refilling it, another swig quickly following. "I'm always silly," Lylia intones to Reuben, looking serious about it. "S'why Qua loves me."

Fyria tut-tuts with a finger waggle, and points to her knot. "On the contrary - I'm an accomplished Assishtant Weyrlingmaster, thankyouverymuch…" She musters up a smug little expression and simply beams. Without going cross-eyed. "Now calm yourself before you burst something. You're still a good half-a-skin behind me… I think…" Fyria blinks, takes a good, long drink from the skin, then nods as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Or, you are now." CAckle.

Neiana ponders this contest with wides eyes before moving down a few seats to watch "Can I get you two a few more skins or anything?" is asked as her own plate is set down before her.

Reuben sighs, shaking his head a little at Lylia. Too late to get through to her now, or maybe she really /didn't/ want to be weyrlingmaster anymore? At least, in Rube's eyes, Lylia didn't stand much of a chance of winning this challenge, though he'd lost count of how many glasses each rider had had. "Do you think this is how they always settle matters?" he asks Neiana, turning to look over his shoulder at the woman with a quirked eyebrow. If it was, the boy was certainly disappointed and horrified.

"Accomphlised? Ha! Not 'nough to be a proper weyrlingmaster." Lylia scowls, her face barely managing to work as she downs her goblet quickly, and takes a moment to collect herself. Slowly, she grasps a wineskin and pours it into her goblet, shakily beginning to gulp down its contents. "I'll show you, little… grrrr." Neiana gets a bleary look and a nod. "More would be much *hic* appreciantiated." The goblet is once more jabbed at Fyria. "I've been outdrinking bronzeriders since I was sixteen, I /will/ /not/ /give/ /in/. Stupid dragon." A quick glare is turned towards the door. "Drus'th made me give up drinkin', so out of practice. Won't give in."

Fyria ooh's at Neiana's offer, and nods quickly. "More wine, yes. And less gibbereishsish," she manages to get out before giving her head a good shake. "WHooooa… not doing that agin…" Fyria blinks rapidly, focuses on the wineskin, and holds it up with a firm, wicked smile (if not slightly lopsided). "Giving up already, Lys? Maybe you should lishen to yer dragon, since he knowsh what's best for yash…" Wavering just slightly, she manages to lock ehr lips around the skin… and doesn't let them go. Once it goes up. Twice it goes up. Finally, she sets it down and laughs aloud. "Yer gonna loooose…"

Sadira arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Neiana waves to a passing drudge and quickly asks for two more skins of wine and a platter of assorted foods for those who might want it "I hope one of you remembers this after you've slept off the wine you drink." With the skins and the platter being set on the table before the group she looks over at Rube "Not always, this is the first I've heard of something like this, but that doesn't mean it hasn't happened before."

This is certainly not the first impression of Weyr-business that Reuben had expected to get. "Ma'am," he says to Lylia, with pleading in his voice, "you're not /really/ going to hand over your knot if you lose, are you?" Brows knotting together, he stares at he with dark puppy-ish eyes and begins clutching his pack again, from fear that doing nothing is doing the wrong thing. "Maybe we should do something? Get someone..?" he says to Neiana, "make them stop this foolishness?"

Sadira bounces into the caverns, pauses to pick up some forgotten dirty dishes, then bounces into the kitchens. Sure she heard what was said. Is she going to stick around and find out what is going on? Not likely.
Sadira heads north into the redolent depths of the kitchens.

"Never. /Never/." Lylia shakes her head violently, continuing to drink as she leans against the table for support. "You'll give up. You will. I keep going." The brownrider continues to drink, shrinking slightly under the taunts as she continues to sip at the wine. A slow but constant pace seems to be the new plan. She still doesn't look at Reuben, giving a little shrug. "I made the bet. I am honorable."

"Not in /this/ lifetime, I won't. You'llllll seeeee!" Fyria straightens and shakes her fist, only to grab another wineskin and hug it towards her bosom, eyes wide and bright. Too bright. "You'll have to drink me dead in order to be - beat me, Lylia!" With a wry grin, she reaches a hand out towards the Weyrlingmaster knot and smiles. "Soon." Her precioussssss.

Reuben's tongue comes out to lick his lips as his eyes flicker from one rider to the other, worry shining from their depths. "Please, ladies," he says, leaning forward a little, putting his pack down on the floor to lay his hands on the table. "There /must/ be a better way of settling this…" Never mind that they were well on their way of drinking their way into a stupor. This was hardly the best way of losing your position. "Can't you just call it.. A tie?" he suggest quietly.

"I'd rather have you dead than with m'knot." And that's a promise, if not tonight, then in the future. Lylia growls, finishing off the goblet and pouring another, blinking rabidly as she tries to maintain focus. "I won't give in til my body falls to the ground." And that may be happening soon, given the way she's clinging to the table. "No tie. Til we die." Drunk and
rhyming. Cute.

Fyria snort-hiccups as she eyes Reuben warily. "Mind you, young man. She made her wager, and she shure as Faranth's tail wasn't drunk when she did…" Fyria sways just a tad as she shifts in her chair, still clutching the wineskin like it was her life. "I need to use the latrines, but I'm /not giving in/ until you do!" Such a lovely statement to announce in front of everyone. Blame the wine. "Urzketh might object to me dead, I'm afeard… and you don't wanna tangle with m'blue…" He'll kill you if you try anything.

The housekeeper arrives to cart Neiana off to bed.
And soon, she'll be carting off Lylia, too.

"Stubborn…" the rest of Rube's rant is lost under his breath as he leans back in his chair, staring at both riders with a shocked and disappointed look. Holdbred to the core, this boy, in case you didn't notice. "Never been to Bitra, but I heard that's how they act there," he adds to his muttered rant, looking away to avoid eyecontact with either rider. "Never stepping down from a bet…"

Usher arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

"You sure you don't want to go to the latrines, give in?" Lylia slowly refills her wine glass, letting the sound of wine sloshing be emphasized, then the drip-drip of the skin's last drops into the goblet. Drip, drip, drip. "We're honorababable, we can't stop. Can't."

Fyria crosses her legs beneath the table and shakes her head. "Sherds no. Though I actually have to agreer with you. We're an honorable lot, we are, we are…" She mutters further, ignoring the drip, drip, drip of the wine in favor of taking another swig from her own. "Lookin' a little weary, there. Why don't you just put yer head down on this nice, convenienet little table…" Fyria raps her knuckles - or tries to, as the first attempt totally misses the table by a longshot. Fyria frowns, and raps again - this time more slowly. *rap rap* "Table. Firm. Hard. Mmph."

Reuben won't keep telling these riders that what they're doing is silly and somewhat childish. Throwing his hands up in the air, he rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair and mumbles something about getting the healers. Certainly has become brave now, hasn't he? Well, these two won't remember in
the morning will they? Reaching down, he picks up his pack and rummages through it until he finds the scroll he'd been reading before being called over for a glass of wine. Which, by the way, still stands half-finished in front of him on the table.

"Why don't ye put yer head down into my fist?" Lylia shakes the goblet towards Fyria, some wine sloshing over the edge. Lylia promptly licks it off her finger, before continuing to drink. "I ain't gonna give. Ain't. Ain't." With each syllable she thumps her fist on the table, and finally, with a little whimper, she sort of falls forward on the table, her fingers clutching towards the knot, fingertips just brushing it. Lylia has passed out.

Fyria blinks quite rapidly as she watches Lylia's head slip lower, and lower, and lower… till finally, she watches the brownrider kiss the table goodnight. "Ly?" Fyria reaches out a finger and gently prods the brownrider once. Twice. "Whooo! I win! And you witnessed it!" Fyria points at Reuben before she grasps the knot and raises it in the air with a triumphant grin - only to fall face-forward onto the table herself with a loud *thud*. Down for the count.

"But I was… Reading," Rube says, staring at the riders as they're both out, lying across the table. Sure, he's seen people like that before. Balen is not /that/ much of a backwaters, but these were /dragonriders/. "Help…" he says feebly, standing with the scroll in one hand and pointing at the passed out riders in the others, with a look on his face saying 'not my fault'.

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