Tradewinds Tavern
Curiosities from every corner of Pern bedeck the high ceilings of the Tavern, giving truth to its name. Great, arching windows overlook the pleasantries of the inner courtyard, their wide sills holding a wild variety of potted plants, containers and the greenery within adding splashes of color that almost do not fit the accompanying decor. A small, flowering tree marks the exit to the courtyard -- a gift from Southern Boll -- and an ornate Harper Hall harp displays on a stand in a corner. Prominently on display at the bar is one of the original, small Port barrels from Benden Hold; it is a pride and joy for the barkeepers and regular patrons alike. A large, meticulously polished bronze bell hangs behind the bar, oft times used to signal closing to the more inebriated customers. The bell's hanging beam is the preferred spot for Hold firelizards, as many find their distorted reflections fascinating to no end.
You see Flopsy, Greed, Carroll, Psychotic, Acero, and Agerion here.
Meshach is here.
Obvious exits:
Residential Hallway Inner Courtyard Dining Hall
Meshach
Pale skin sets the mood for this unattractive teen's appearance. His slim face is speckled with boyish freckles and more than a few pimples. A small salvation might be gained from his strong chin and high cheekbones if the unorganized cedar mop crowning his head didn't counter them so completely. Below his sun-speckled face stretch long and lanky limbs almost devoid of muscle or grace. The only positive effect this lack of body mass may afford is that the bits of hard won muscle clinging to his frame are all the more visible.
When the teen remembers to wear them silver and blue mark Meshach as the head barkeep of Xanadu Hold.
Light sisal shows its natural shades as it drapes over the narrow shoulders and torso. The plain fabric has been tailored into a cool and serviceable shirt that stops evenly at the upper thigh. Emerging from under the short sleeved tunic are twill shorts the color of rust, one of the few shades that doesn't war with this boy's carrot top complexion. Iago perches on Meshach's shoulder.
Meshach looks to be in his late teens.
Carrying:
Iago (#2482)
Peydra
Peydra can hardly be accused of delicacy; at five feet nine inches, her form has filled out with the solid bulk of muscle. Broad shoulders sport the well-defined muscles considered far more attractive on men, and her arms and legs continue the pattern, built for sturdy functionality more than grace or charm. The slight flare of chest and hips confirms her femininity, but do not come close to dominating her appearance. Dirty blond hair has been close-cropped for comfort and simplicity; its natural curl is subdued by the short length. A few freckles spatter her nose, and vivid blue eyes reflect light and moods with equal ease.
Silver and purple twine on Peydra's shoulder; the mating of threads into a declaration of position: Wingrider of Xanadu Weyr. The strand of brown that laces through the ensemble marks her lifemate's color.
A light tunic of tan cotton has been loosely belted around Peydra's waist, just tight enough to avoid obstruction without granting her much shape or cutting off the brush of air against the skin underneath. Her pants are long but loose and thin. Her thick boots are the only rebellion she makes against the heat; supremely practical in their durability.
Peydra looks to be in her late teens.
Peydra walks in from the residential hallway at a slow pace, a drawling stroll rather than the brownrider's more usual brisk walk. Her gaze is on the floor in front of her feet, but it lifts as she moves into the busier atmosphere of the tavern. Her eyes flicker to the bar, and it is in that direction that she moves.
Meshach glances up as he hears the door from the hallway give off the complaining squeak it does every time it's opened. "I need to get that fixed." He says more to himself then anyone else. Other things soon come forward to fill his attention however. A regular, already drunk enough to be a problem, asks for a refill on the cheapest beer and Mesh quickly grabs the mug and hurries to obey. He hasn't yet learned the fine art of how much drink t let the customers have and it's showing. The newly filled mug is slid back across the counter to the man, silencing his calls with the drink.
Peydra dips a slight nod to Meshach. "Something strong," she requests, sliding to sit on a barstool. "Without any fruit juice in it." Her gaze flicks to the drunken man a bit down the line, then back up at the bartender. A moment of consideration is all it takes for her to dismiss him as a real threat, but still she carries herself with an air of taut readiness; taverns are places where danger can erupt unexpectedly.
"Whisky , wine or beer, miss?" Meshach carries no sense of readiness with him, instead slight shines of weariness show in the droop of his eyelids and the slight slouch in his posture. The bad weather has been chasing people inside, and it seems they all want to drink something. While waiting for the lady's response Mesh turns quickly and grabs one of the many old rags soaking in the basin. After ringing it out Shach turns back and starts wiping the counter, there isn't any reason to waste time after all.
Karasa walks in.
OOC: Karasa says, "where on Pern is this? I just @moved..."
Karasa opens the door to the Residential Hallway and disappears from the gossip of the Tavern.
Peydra's lips twitch wryly at the title. "Whisky," she votes. Strong enough, certainly. She lets her eyes flicker around the room. "Is this place always so busy in winter?" she wonders. It would make sense; the monsoons chase people inside, and set them thinking about moisture. "I'm from over Weyrwards, and haven't been over here, really."
Karasa walks in from the Residential Hallway.
Karasa walks into the Tavern, not completely soaked, no, but feeling that way. She shakes coat out, which she barely remembered to grab, and hangs it up on the rack by the door. Spying Peydra she winces. Well, maybe yesterday was just a bad day? She gathers up her courage and walks over to the nearest stool, which is a few away from Peydra, thank Faranth, and sits.
Meshach pulls a mug out from under the bar and sets it down on the counter firmly. "Whisky it is then." A large grin is flashed to the girl before he retreats to the other side of the room to fetch the whisky skin. The complicated clasp is undone quickly before the tender carefully starts filling the mug. "I wouldn't know actualy. I only got here this summer." His gaze leaves the drink for a moment to glance about at the gathering trongs before switching back tot he pouring job. "I hope it's not always this crowded, I don't think I could put up with too much of this every Turn." The mug is full and Mesh lifts his right hand enough to stop the flow. As he redoes the latch Shach notices yet another in the number at the bar. "Can I get you anything miss?" he asks wearily.
Karasa smiles at the man kindly. "Just some klah to warm this chill out of me, Apprentices aren't allowed anything stronger," she says, chuckling, and turning to Peydra. "Hello, ma'am," she says as politely as possible, which is rather politely.