| Characters | Alexa, Troy |
| Synopsis | Troy, a visiting Harper, offers a bit of entertainment to the Igen weyrfolk, including Alexa. |
| Out-of-Character Date | January 22, 2020 |
Igen Weyr - Living Caverns
Second only to the Hatching Sands in size -- although its walls are not so nearly circular -- the living cavern is filled with numerous rectangular tables, almost too many to count. The Weyrleaders have the table farthest from the kitchen and hearths at one end of the cavern. The hearths are kept as low-burning as possible during the day when folk come inside to escape the heat outside. They burn brighter at night to keep away the deserts chill. No matter the level of flame, there is always a stew pot that hangs for nibblers at a good temperature. Favored drinks, particularly iced klah and juice, are kept on ice and interspersed at various food tables scattered about, along with baskets of rolls and fruit. There are, of course, scheduled mealtimes, and at certain points of the day the available fare slides into the menu for the nearest meal, be it breakfast, lunch, dinner, or late-night snackings, but the staff has long since acknowledged that people will sit to talk and nibble here at all hours. In the cooler parts of the evening in particular, the cavern hosts games of chess, checkers, dragonpoker, and others. Several degrees are knocked off thanks to the Technician Craft's cooling system.
Winter - Month 3 of Turn 2724
Winter in Igen is still a hot and sunny affair, though the desert Weyr does enjoy a slightly cooler temperature than they would in Summer. Either way, most people still congregate inside, where the caverns keep things pleasant, especially during the busier lunch hour. As has become her habit, Alexa as more or less stolen an entire table for herself. It is not out of intention so much as necessity. There are books. And papers. And files. And charts. And some more books. And somewhere in the mess is probably a plate of food. But all of it takes up space as she spreads out to work. At least there's a chair or two that's empty.
Having booked a gig here in Igen, Troy is excited to enjoy the colder seasons in the more warmer regions. As he is settled at a table with a gitar in his hands, the young man who has begun to build a bit of a reputation for his story telling and song crafting is crooning to the crowd in his sweet raspy falsetto. He is dressed in a pair of plain pants, a simple darker colored shirt and a tunic. His hair could use a bit of a trim as it roams over his dark eyes. Today, he sings about the girl that got away. A girl born from the embers of a tiny fire, lit by the kiss of a star. A quick and furious relationship that burned out as quick as it came and then she was on to the next careless whisper on the warm winds. There is no regret in this song, but it's filled with a passionate optimism that one day they will meet again. Next to him on the table is a pitcher of water and a mug half drank and a plate of meat on a stick for snacking on between sets.
Maybe a distraction is just what Alexa needs. At least, she's paying far less attention to all the paperwork than she is the singing. But it's not a dreamy-eyed look in her eyes, as her head tilts and her ears listen. Rather, it's a dry sort of smirk just curling at the edges of her mouth, a twitched eyebrow and an expression that doesn't seem to jive with the passionate nature of the song. Picking at her own plate of food — which is found with a little nudge of her fingers to a pile of papers — she waits for the song to close before saying, "Any of that actually happen in real life?" in a dry sort of tone. "People finding each other again."
While Troy sings, he may have a few ladies captivated by his crooning tone. It's sweet and sultry, just the way a love song should sound. He teases the words as if it was a string between his fingers, giving a tug here or there, causing a sigh to spill amongst the crowd. Hearts will flutter, eyes will batter. As he comes to a close and offers a smile to the polite applause, he shifts the instrument to the side so that he may wet his throat with the water. As the Weyrwoman asks her question, he curiously tilts his chin upwards in her direction. He offers her an encouraging smile to his knotmate. "I have never experienced it myself, but I've heard stories of star-crossed lovers who have been yanked to different ends of the worlds by duty, just to find each other many turns later, wiser and more sure of what they want in life. Love can be hot and instant like a fire, or it can be patient and gentle like the ripple upon the water's surface kissed by a whisper of the wind."
"Interesting," concludes Alexa, who's definitely not among the swooning. No offense to them, but she's clearly more inclined toward amusement over the whole thing, than indulging in the fantasy. "In my experience," she continues, plucking up an olive, "Love is a bit rougher. And most people that get torn apart find someone new to love instead. Or, they don't find love at all. Or what they thought was love turns out to be infatuation and lust." Popping said olive in her mouth, she chews thoughtfully for a moment before deciding, "But it was a pretty song, nonetheless."
"Thank you, my lady. I am honored by your compliment." Troy says with an easy smile upon his face as he blows some low hanging bangs away from his face. "Are you saying that you used to be in love once, but that other person moved on and it left your heart a bit rough like sandpaper?" He asks curiously as his brows lift upwards. "I can see why that would be difficult to move forward if one's heart was given over completely, but not held delicately and cherished as it should have been. It would be surely his loss." He says in a flattering tone towards the gold rider as he gives her a bit of a half bow.
"No, actually," corrects Alexa, amusement retained in the curl of her lip, though her tone has gone dry as she turns to fish another olive from her plate. "I've never been in love at all," she admits. "But I've read about it — and seen enough of it — to know it's not at all like the ballads would have us believe." It's the rest that has her fighting a bit of a laugh, though it isn't cruel in nature. Just a little sardonic. "You're definitely a Harper," she declares. "With all those flowery words and courtly manners. S'probably why I never would have made it. I'm too dry for that sort of thing. And my name is Alexa," she adds.
"Oh. My apologies. I thought when you meant by your experience it would have been first hand." Troy says with a warm smile in her direction, eyes apologetic for his misstep. "My name is Troy. Senior Apprentice. I live in Fort. It is an honor to meet you, Weyrwoman." He reaches for the instrument again and brings it into his lap as if it was an old friend. He brushes his fingers along the strings gently, plinking away at them. "I think there is a chance for you to find love. We all have nothing but time on our side. Love though, by the books, should be built up with mutual trust, one born of friendship, rather than lust or a quick round of passion. Though such times are equally enjoyable." He says with lofty brows of amusement. "It's the slow burn that makes the fire worth growing into stronger flames. A fire that must be tended at all times. You may see yourself dry, my lady, but perhaps you are just in need of a drink." He fills the mug of water next to him, nudging it across the table towards her.
"Firsthand witness," says Alexa with a grin. "But not firsthand experience." And while they might be different, the weyrwoman will count them as the same. "No need to apologize," she adds, waving it off with a literal flick of her fingers. "Easy assumption to make, given my choice of words." A grin and a pleasant, "Well met," offered in return for his name, it's the rest of what he says that gets a bit of a snort from the goldrider. "Nothing but time," she repeats. "I'll grant you that. But not everyone finds love. And not everyone desires love," she adds. "Though you speak as if you've experience with the rest of it-" a little finger-wiggle which might seem to trivialize all that, "-Passion and whatnot. And do you really talk like that all the time? You don't have to answer," she adds quickly with a grin, though the offer of a drink gets a skeptical little look. "Usually when people offer me drinks — that I tend to decline — it's a bit stronger than water."
"I have had a dance or two in the shadows when I was foolish and with a head full of drink that was most definitely stronger than water. Though I am here to please your crowds and to entertain. I would not wish to trip over my words, or the notes of my instrument .. or stumble about. I like to listen to gossip, not become it!" His fingers nudge the water closer to the edge of the table in her direction. Nudge. Nudge. "Are you declining my offering of water?" He asks with a chuckle. "And, I suppose I could tone down my whimsical speech a bit for you. I am in the zone." As his fingers go back to plinking away at the notes, they begin a steady strumming as he bobs his head a bit, tapping his foot on the ground to create a beat with his drum. "Would you like another song?"
"A good motto for life, I think. 'Be not what gossip is made of'. Or something like that. I'm sure you could word it better," decides Alexa with a smirk. "I was never cut out for all that flowery business. Books," she adds, tapping one of the tomes on her table. "That's where my heart lies." The nudge-nudge of that water gets a laugh and, after a moment of thought, she snags it up and lifts it in gentle 'cheers' toward Troy. "Better?" she asks, taking a sip before setting it down. "Though I am capable of getting my own water," she adds dryly. "And sure, why not! But something with adventure in it! And at least one good fight should be involved," in that song.
"I know that you are capable of getting your own water, but I would be lacking as a gentleman if I would not offer you mine." Troy says as he continues to strum as he thinks about her request, then bobs his head. From there, his fingers begin to race along the notes, creating a fiery pace as he thumps his foot heavily on the ground. Bump! Bump! Bump! Bump! The crowd in the room starts to clap along with the beat as he motions them to with a bob of his head before he turns his attention upon the gold rider. His voice loses the soft, sexy falsetto to become a rougher rasp of dust in the throat. Intense.
"I've seen your face in the shadows!
I've seen your face in the places I wasn't meant to be!
I've heard them /whisper/ about you —
I've heard the men in the bars, and I've seen the women lock their doors at night!"
"They say your eyes are on fire!
They say you'd kill a man for walking the wrong side of the line!
The wrong side of the line!
"But men! They say a lot of foolish things,
And in the end the only words,
I can find to believe in are mine!"
As he leaps to his feet, he rocks his body with the motion of the guitar, kicking up dust with his boots as his hair wildly flops about in his eyes.
"They say! This place! They say she's been dead for years now!
So death is!
Not something!
Not something that scares me!
There's worse things - than death here!
They told me… Keep Quiet!"
As he whips his body about in motion, he spins himself about a couple of children, his voice a rapsy warning to them, his eyes on fire.
"I will not be told where to stand!
I will not be told what to say!
Not by man or machine!
Not by you, not by anyone tonight!"
You're gonna have to do better than fear!
You're gonna have to step out of the shadows and fight!"
"And when they see your face again!
They will know what it means to have fear dragged out into the light!
Drag it out!"
The notes of the guitar ring out proudly in a war anthem. A challenge to the enemy that is deadly, but hides in the night. He beckons it forth with his lyrics. Come! Come fight me! FIGHT ME IF YOU DARE!
Alexa grins and claps along with them, eyes bright as the song continues. There's a laugh of surprise and delight for theatrics of it all, and mischief in her gaze as the lyrics continue and the crowd joins in. She won't be dancing around with the children, but she can definitely stomp along and add a few table-thumps of her hand for emphasis. Goldrider she might be, but she's not afraid of a party. Or of things that go 'thump' in the night. "Bravo!" she declares, lifting the mug of water in a salute. "Far better than love songs!"
As Troy plays, there is a feral gleam to his eyes as he sinks his heart and soul into the lyrics. He looks like he could throw down and fight the next guy that gives him the evil eye right there and then. As he pours through the solo of his guitar, he leaps up on the top of a chair, pushes a foot down on the back of it so that he can ride it back down to the ground with a thump. As he works out through the last notes, he breathes in quickly, chest puffed out, chin held high. Defiant! He revels in the moment, staring out into space for a moment before he finally comes down from his adrenaline high and gives a sheepish smile to Alexa. He sweeps himself in a bow towards her, one arm outstretched, the other clutching his best friend by the neck. "Thank you my lady. The honor is mine that my song pleased you."
"It was a good song," agrees Alexa, leaning forward to gather her papers up. "And while I can't say it's more realistic than your love songs, I will say that I find it much more entertaining." So, it was a win in her book. Snagging the water, she downs the rest of the water like she's chugging a beer, salutes him with the empty mug, then sets it down and nudge-nudges it back his way. A bit of rummaging around the table and she's managed to corral her work into a nice, neat, portable pile which she promptly picks up and clasps to her chest as she stands. "It was nice to meet you, Troy. And thank you for entertaining my weyrfolk," she says with a grin. "Feel free to partake of all the water you'd like, and maybe a snack or two if it suits you. I've a meeting to attend," she adds by way of explanation.
Giving her another smile, Troy is all grins as he rightens the chair back up, then settles into it. "Thank you, Alexa. I hope to see you again sometime, over mugs of strong water." He says in a joking manner as he refills his mug with the pitcher, then takes a sip. He lifts his free hand up to her to wave, watching her depart with a dopey grin on his face.
