Log:The Doctor and the Dragon

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The Doctor and the Dragon

"Dragons are quite common in a number of societies...Whole nations are based on their use. China and Wales spring to mind but even nations like Romania and England are entwined with dragon mythology, permeating into names as well as national heroes. St George in England. Vlad Dracul in Romania. Dracul meaning Dragon. Dracula meaning son of a dragon.


Bronwyn Gallagher, Weaver Utridge

25 April, 2018

A dragon meets a doctor in Cat-22, and a discussion of dragons ensues.



Tuesday night. It's a little on the cool side and there is rain threatening, so Bronwyn is enjoying the pleasures of Cat-22; notably the bar. Sitting on a stool as she sips on her cocktail, she surveys the room with curiosity and interest. The blonde has her hair in a ponytail and big glasses to look intelectual to go with her desert boots, jeans and sweater. A satchal bag leans against the legs of her stool.

Weaver is lucky enough to arrive while things are still relatively clear, although it looks like he's ready for it to fall at any time. He's wearing a white hoodie which he's happy to unzip when inside, jeans, and tennis shoes that look as if they haven't touched a speck of dirt. He mosies up to the bar as he takes his jacket off to reveal a a grey t-shirt underneat with something in Spanish scrawled on the front and back. He looks around for the bartender, and when he doesn't initially see one he turns to Bronwyn. "That thing have any rum in it?" he asks without so much as a hello.

Bronwyn certainly noticed Weaver's approach but she wasn't expecting him to speak to her. "It's your lucky day" she smiles in reply before offering over her drink. "Mai Tai." She gets rid of the umbrella before he can take it. "Try not to drink it all" she teases before adding, "Doctor Bronwyn Gallagher, glad I can help."

Weaver takes the drink without a moment's hesitation. He was lifting it to his lips when that title comes, and he lowers it a bit to look over to rim to Bronwyn. His brow briefly quriks as a slow nod comes, and he damn near drinks the remainder of it before handing it back to her. "I owe you one, and maybe another." He pats at his stomach then, and finally gets to naming himself. "Weaver Utridge for me, but I prefer just Weaver."

"And I prefer just Bron" she replies as she studies how empty her glass suddenly is. She places it on the coutner before gesturing for the barkeep. It seems she is better at getting attention than Weaver. "Another Mai Tai for me and whatever the gentleman wants." A gesture towards Weaver to indicate the gentleman she means. Then she is turning to face him again. "Are you a local?"

"Rum, tiny little ice cubes," Weaver is quick to announce to the barkeep. "Well, Bron." He says the name as if trying it out before continuing on. 'Yes, I am a local as it were. I guess that's better than being asked if I'm a native, but just a bit worse than the usual questions. What about you, though? I can't say I was expecting a doctor in this place of all places, but, then, I don't expect a doctor anywhere but a hospital."

"Not that kind of doctor" Bronwyn apologises. "I'm a doctor of anthropology. So I could probably tell you the roots of some of tribal motifs you wear, intentionally or not, but I also know that you're more likely to have come from around here. Apologies if I phrased the question in an insulting manner. What are the usual questions I should be asking?"

Weaver flippantly waves off the question, and pulls up a seat after looking around for a moment. "Don't worry about that kinda shit. If you worry about insulting people you can't get to the meat of shit anyway. Anywho, can't say i know how ants throwing things is a science, but I also flunked outta that chemistry course. But, you do have me wondering something. Are there, like, any kinda tribes or whatever out there with dragon shit in 'em?"

Bronwyn smirks at the ant quip...in the hope it was meant as a joke. "Dragons are quite common in a number of societies" she replies. "Whole nations are based on their use. China and Wales spring to mind but even nations like Romania and England are entwined with dragon mythology, permeating into names as well as national heroes. St George in England. Vlad Dracul in Romania. Dracul meaning Dragon. Dracula meaning son of a dragon." She finds time to pause. "Before I babble on, is there something more specific you were thinking of?"

"St. George I heard about growing up. Bastard dragon slayer and all that" Weaver's lips curl into a snarl, but in the next breath he's back to that faint smirk of his. "As for dragons, I was just curious. Let's just say I have a love for 'em in all the imagery associated with that kinda shit. It's always been, well, an interesting thing for me."

"It interests a lot of people" Bronwyn nods before a sip on her newly arrived cocktail. "They're creatures of strength. Creatures of terror. Both heroic and villainous depending on the story a society needs to tell." A smile at the snarl. "I take it you're on the dragons side. And nothing wrong with that. Unless you're also into eating virgins and lighting villages on fire."

When Weaver's drink arrives he flashes a smile to the bartender, and then takes his first sip of his drink. "I'm for the former, but I think we got different ideas of eating. I also don't think you can really set a village on fire anymore anyway. Least not with everything being made of metal and all that. But, yeah. Who wouldn't be on the dragon's side? "

"The people who are afraid of them, I guess" Bronwyn shrugs about those who oppose dragons. "In some stories they were representative of evil. Killers. Thieves. Inhuman...that last one probably the main reason they were disliked. Humans don't like things that are different much. In the stories where dragons were noble and protectors, of course you'd be on their side. But you can't assume all dragons are good just like you can't assume all humans are good. You have any dragon tattoos or anything?"

Weaver harrumphs, his good mood seemingly soured while he finishes of his drink. It isn't until her question comes that he nods, smiling once more. "A couple yes, but not too many. I do have a question of my own, though. Is there, like, a dragonlogy? A doctor on dragons?"

"Probably" Bronwyn laughs. "I doubt they're called dragonologists though. I think you'd be a after someone who studies mythologies with a specialty in dragons. A folklorist...which is also what I am. I just don't have the specialty in dragons. I can try and help you find out some things you want to know" she offers. "Would you like another drink?"

"Folklorist does sound damn fancy," Weaver muses in between sips. "And yeah, I could do with another drink. Never knew there was actually money and work in studying all those legends and shit. I would've thought you stop caring and learning about that stuff when you get outta school."

"There's plenty or work but hardly any money" Bronwyn sighs before gesturing for another round of drinks. "I hope I never want to stop learning. School can't teach you everything, it starts you on the way. Up to you how much more you want to go down that road after they stop. What do you do, Weaver?"

"I mostly host events for my family and take part in a few of our more philanthropic events." Weaver reaches for his new drink, and sloshes it around for a moment while keeping his gaze on Bronwyn. "It's not the best thing in the world, but it's technically a job and gives me something every so often."

"Philanthropy is definitely something worthwhil. If you're happy doing that and you aren't starving as a result, sounds a perfectly great life to me. Do you just host or are you organising them?" Bronwyn inquires. "What kind of charities exist around here that you support? I'm assuming local foundations more than national since you work with your family. And I ask a lot of questions" she laughs with a blush, "So forgive me if I'm being rude. I'm new to this town and I'm interested in getting to know it."

"Ain't a thing rude about questions. Some questions can be rude sure," he muses before tkaing a sip of his rum. "Some times it's local things - local to to the state or New England. People pay some paltry amount to write off on their taxes, and look good since it's for a 'good cause.'" His hands lift and fingers move to quoet that last bit. "I don't organize them, and can't organize for shit. I host galas and shit like that. Usually means no drinking except for the occasional glass of wine. I also don't think I'd starve if I wanted to, but I don't think I've actually tried too, though."

"If you ever need a Doctor of Ant Throwing to attend, let me know" Bronwyn smiles warmly. "I've met a few people here or at bars or at the library or even at a medieval tournament, but no one who goes to charity events. Other than yourself, of course. I could even do some dragon research for you." A tilt of her head. "Do you think that sometimes they're not for a good cause?"

"Eh," he answers with a noncommittal shrug. Weaver finishes off his drink with a sigh, and sets his glass back down on the bar. "A cause is a cause. Good, bad, whatever. It gets some of those fucking prudes out of their house, and a few of them drink so much that they talk about all kinds of salacious bullshit." He chuckles, scrutinizing Bronwyn for a beat. "But, I'll make sure to keep you in mind next time we do something with ants or dragons. Especially the fucking latter, but that's just my own wants."

"I'm not a gossip merchant but...who doesn't like salacious bullshit?" Bronwyn winks. "Thank you for the possible invitation" she nods, raising her drink in a toast and clinking glasses with Weaver. "When did you start being so interested in dragons? It feels more than just an interest, like a calling." Her brow furrows a little. "Have you seen a dragon, Weaver?"

"Don't thank me just yet. Some of those things can be boring as shit some times, and you pray that the roof just comes down on all of it," Weaver says when lifting his newly filled glass, and tapping it against Bronwyn's. "As for the interest, it's always been there." He shrugs. "Maybe I'm just one of those guys that never really grew out of those things they loved as children, but really. Do I really look like someone that's seen a dragon?" he asks with a wicked little smile.

"I don't know" Bronwyn admits with a shrug. "Obviously dragons don't really exist" she notes with a glint of mischief in her eyes, "But people often see things they want to see or misinterpret. I've seen some strange things in my work. I'm sure they all have rational explanations but...sometimes...you're not completely sure. And rational explanations aren't at hand. You may believe you've seen a dragon."

"Misinterpret, huh? Well, if I see a dragon I'll make sure to take a picture and send it right to you, and-" He stops then, and shakes his head. "Actually, how about this." He reaches over for a napkin, and pulls a pen from his pocket. He scribbles on it for a moment, and then rises from his seat. "This is my number. Call me next time you ever see something about dragons, and I'll make sure to get you that picture of a dragon."