WEAVER
Why should it matter if some far off world was similar to Halo? They were not the same. That far off world was no threat. Honestly, the only thing that might make it matter is simply that Weaver might be more inclined to try and convince said person to move. Ha. Though Kiada seems pretty well established in the Grounds, and so Weaver wouldn’t even suggest that. ”Was it as cold as Halo?” she asks, curious if other people lived in impossibly freezing places. That’s about the only inclination that it matters to Weaver, makes her like Kiada a little bit more.
The way Kiada rubs her neck and responds leaves Weaver smiling all the more, clearly understanding. In fact, she looks positively delighted, which seems weird given that Kiada doesn’t know why. Oh, how much shit had he given her for her Outlander friends? For Loren? She is pleased to have something in her pocket to retaliate with, should it be useful. ”So was he why the rooms were nice?” Her smile is amused, and it’s clear Weaver does not care at all. She has long since lost the ability to be awkward about things. ”I do hope they were decent on their own, though if I have to pimp my brother out…” She shrugs, raising an eyebrow, though it’s clearly a joke.
Weaver chuckles at that. ”Ah, but see, I want the first to be equally good. Not too strong, not too weak. Everything your heart could possibly want in a glass.” Which was perhaps true. There was enjoyment to be found in a proper drink, something vastly different than just drinking for the sake of it. Weaver waits as Kiada tests out the drink, smiling at the response. ”I thought it might do.” Though she’s already grabbing bottles and glasses. She pours a bit of the spiced hard cider she’d come to prefer into a small glass and slides it over to Kiada. ”My own brew. Dry apple cider, cinnamon, nutmeg. Left to infuse in an old oak barrel,” she says, giving the woman a taste. She pours a larger amount into her glass, some whiskey, and a little bit of a sweet liquor. This she swirls around, instead of shaking as she did with the other drink, and then drops in a candied lemon peel. ”I would prefer fresh lemon, but it won’t survive an entire season here, so I candied everything so it’ll last longer. Cheers.” Weaver lifts her glass toward Kiada, tilting it in her direction but not clinking them together (martini glasses are very poor for such things), before bringing the glass to her lips for a sip.
The way Kiada rubs her neck and responds leaves Weaver smiling all the more, clearly understanding. In fact, she looks positively delighted, which seems weird given that Kiada doesn’t know why. Oh, how much shit had he given her for her Outlander friends? For Loren? She is pleased to have something in her pocket to retaliate with, should it be useful. ”So was he why the rooms were nice?” Her smile is amused, and it’s clear Weaver does not care at all. She has long since lost the ability to be awkward about things. ”I do hope they were decent on their own, though if I have to pimp my brother out…” She shrugs, raising an eyebrow, though it’s clearly a joke.
Weaver chuckles at that. ”Ah, but see, I want the first to be equally good. Not too strong, not too weak. Everything your heart could possibly want in a glass.” Which was perhaps true. There was enjoyment to be found in a proper drink, something vastly different than just drinking for the sake of it. Weaver waits as Kiada tests out the drink, smiling at the response. ”I thought it might do.” Though she’s already grabbing bottles and glasses. She pours a bit of the spiced hard cider she’d come to prefer into a small glass and slides it over to Kiada. ”My own brew. Dry apple cider, cinnamon, nutmeg. Left to infuse in an old oak barrel,” she says, giving the woman a taste. She pours a larger amount into her glass, some whiskey, and a little bit of a sweet liquor. This she swirls around, instead of shaking as she did with the other drink, and then drops in a candied lemon peel. ”I would prefer fresh lemon, but it won’t survive an entire season here, so I candied everything so it’ll last longer. Cheers.” Weaver lifts her glass toward Kiada, tilting it in her direction but not clinking them together (martini glasses are very poor for such things), before bringing the glass to her lips for a sip.
I was made to be wild, wicked, and free
