Logs:Better Ideas
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| RL Date: 21 November, 2014 |
| Who: Jadzia, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin takes Jadzia to Telgar on an assignment to sound out the local mood. Later, there's rewards. |
| Where: R'hin's weyr / Telgar Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 5, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: M'lach/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Lia/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
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| Savannah's (mostly regular) late morning meeting is just winding up. While most of the wing is focused on various areas around High Reaches sweep area, the wing's focus is by no means solely there. Nita's sent Telgar-wards, R'vis and K'son (both brownriders by perhaps no coincidence) are sent to Southern, and Bristia's dispatched to Igen (the Hold presumably, though it's never specified aloud). Jadzia is given no assignment, and unlike the past couple of sevens since she joined, is not asked to tag along with another rider. Instead, R'hin slides closer as the others are departing, murmuring to her, "Hang back a moment, would you?" Being given no real direction leaves Jadzia not entirely sure what to do with herself once the wing is sent on its way. But it means she's already sort of hanging back when her Wingleader suggests that she do just that. So she waits, watching people leave until they're gone enough for her to eye the bronzerider expectantly. It's not a very passive expectance, though. It's more 'what the hell'. Her expression earns a low-throated laugh from R'hin as he leans against the wall near the hearth. Once the weyr is quiet and the last of the dragons has departed, he says, "Word's getting around about Igen. Need to lay low there for a while, but an -- opportunity has come up. Two avians, one stone, as the saying goes," he chuckles to himself, before tipping his head to regard Jadzia. "I was approached by a Boreal rider, requesting... help to become its Wingleader. She has plenty of contacts down south; she knows M'lach. You met him; what's your feel? If I were to approach him offering peace, you think he'll work to settle with Nimae?" She listens, expression softening to her usual resting bitch face. "Does that happen a lot? People coming to you asking for help to get a few more sirs and ma'ams? Or whatever it is they get out of that." For herself, Jadzia glances toward where the booze is. But then she looks back at R'hin with a little more focus. "He seems to like peaceful. But he's all devoted and shit, so it probably depends on how pissed off she is." "Sometimes ones' reputation proceeds one," R'hin says, with a lofty lift of his chin, though the regal posture isn't held for long before he chuckles. That he's noticed where Jadzia's gaze goes is by no surprise, but he straightens and walks towards her, perhaps in deliberate distraction. "Weyrmates," he says with the drollness of one who has never had one, "Can be very persuasive. Peace for his woman, peace for Igen and High Reaches, and a leg up for a woman who will owe a great debt." All in all, he sounds satisfied, even if it's merely a plan. His motion does hold her attention. But so do his words. "Can they?" That's probably rhetorical, but presumably, she doesn't know. "It sounds all well and good. If he'll play along." But Jadzia seems skeptical. "In my experience, men - especially relatively happy men - aren't always the most agreeable sorts." She's clearly had less than stellar experience. "Aren't they?" It's possible that's surprise in R'hin's tone, briefly, though he doesn't inquire further; instead he reaches for Jadzia's hand, and if she'll let him, intends a quick spin to non-existent music. Someone is in a good mood. "No," is her simple answer, not really intending to linger on the subject of men. Certainly not with R'hin. She's somewhat suspicious of the hand-taking, but not so tense that she can't follow through the spin. It might make her smile for a moment, but she looks up at him like he's not the person she (barely) knows. "Did you get laid?" she starts guessing. "Or did one of your enemies get murdered?" It might say something that she rates these somewhat equally. After the spin, R'hin draws her closer, resting an easy hand on her hip. "What can I say. I enjoy a good challenge," easy, familiar amusement rides his voice as he says it. The Wingleader sucks in a breath, exhales, then grins down at her. "And what's your poison, today, Zia? The cool, tense atmosphere of Telgar? The warm, anticipatory climes of Southern? Or a romp in our backyard somewhere?" Jadzia doesn't seem to mind the closeness, a hand lifted to catch him familiarly behind the neck as though this is all totally normal. "I think Telgar sounds the most interesting. I was just in Southern. Unless you're suggesting we laze around on the beach. Then I'm all for Southern." Because who wouldn't want to do that? "No," though there's a hint of amusement at the suggestion all the same, it's overridden by the anticipation in R'hin's gaze, as he murmurs to her, "Beaches are for later. Work now," such that is is, "The weyrlings are nearly a month old. How is Savroveth with young ones?" Of course it's work now. Fortunately, Jadzia doesn't seem very put off by this idea. "Smooth as Tillekian whiskey. That's just how he is, though. He's really only been around Iesaryth and Reisoth's hatchlings for very long." Who aren't considerably younger than him, admittedly. "Well, it's good to find out. As long as," with a scowl that is only half feigned, "You don't try and run off to Quinlys like Telavi did. I don't like sharing my wing." As she mentions whiskey, R'hin glances over his shoulder at the liqueur cabinet, then back to her. "A reward, later," he promises, his arm sliding from her hip to her waist, with the intent of guiding her easily towards the ledge. "Trust me, Quinlys is the last place I'm liable to run off to. You're much more appealing." Whether Jadzia means that suggestively or not, that's how she says it, a little playfully. "I guess I ought to try being good then, hmm." Poor Jadzia. So put upon. "Good," R'hin says, perhaps a bit more roughly than he means. "She does have a certain appeal," the Savannah rider concedes reluctantly after a beat, as they walk. "Oh, don't worry. You'll get presents whether you're naughty or nice," he says, laughingly. "But I'd like to not get thrown out of Telgar. Not yet, anyway." With a scrape of talons, Leiventh is settling on the ledge just as they emerge. "Presents," says Jadzia in a way that's much more reminiscent of Zia than herself. "I'm not gonna get us thrown out, anyway. And, it's not my fault we got tossed out of Igen." So there. Savroveth is circling the bowl, but the brownrider seems to assume she's riding with R'hin. The hesitation suggests that R'hin's giving her the option, even going so far as to look at Savroveth, as if silently seeking the brown's permission. "Not entirely, no," he concedes, albeit with some laughter, as he shrugs into the riding jacket he pulls off the hook, then climbs easily up onto Leiventh's neckridges. Jadzia probably doesn't need the assistance, but it's pure habit that has the bronzerider stretching down to offer a hand, anyway. Instead of what's probably her usual impulse to push the assistance away, Jadzia accepts the hand and settles in against the bronzerider, strapping herself in in a way that's become habit in her short time as a rider. "You should probably be on good behavior just in case. Maybe you'll get presents, too." Whatever that means. Whatever that means, R'hin is clearly intrigued by it, if the amused glance over his shoulder is any indication. "In that case," he's murmuring, and yet he doesn't get to finish the sentence, as Leiventh drops off the ledge. One, two, three wingbeats -- no coincidence -- before they vanish between. Telgar is cool in spring, but compared to between it's probably warm; they can feel the rumbling from Leiventh as he greets the watch pair, circling down into the bowl. The chill in the air discourages all but those with a purpose from being outside; down by the lake, the young weyrling pairs are visible with their Weyrlingmaster watching carefully over them. Savroveth follows the trio between, greeting the watch dragon in his own awesome way once he's on the other side, which will remain between the two of them, evidently. "Why's it so easy to forget how tiny they start out?" Jadzia sounds oddly cheerful. "They remind me of foals. Maybe not as cute." "Definitely not as cute," R'hin's agreeing, as he slides to the ground, keeping his jacket on to ward off the chill. The weyrling dragons are naturally curious at the two new visitors, though Leiventh is his typically reserved self, and appears to do little other than a brief once-over of the small dragons. Savroveth, therefore, earns more of their attention: questions pouring out one over the other towards the older brown. Jadzia puts her hands into her pockets once her feet are on the ground, gaze seeking out her lifemate as the brown wades carefully into the younger dragons, regaling them with various answers of questionable truthiness. "An audience. His favorite thing," she says, wryly, like Savroveth might not hear her. But even if he does, he's too busy being awesome to give her dirty looks. The Weyrlingmaster steps forward, and there's some pointed questions from his blue to the Reachian brown, but after a short time -- after seeing Savroveth at ease with the tiny dragons -- he seems to relax marginally. R'hin's hand reaches out to trail down, then settle in the curve of Jadzia's back, setting a slow pace. His intention isn't to head directly to the weyrlings, but in the general lake direction, where they can keep an eye on things. "Absolutely nothing wrong with being the focus of attention. It means they're not looking elsewhere," comes R'hin's humorous murmur. Underneath the weyrlings' bright, unfiltered chatter with Savroveth, is something else -- slow at first to be noticed, a terseness in the air, but faint, like an aftertaste. The brownrider walks along at the bronzerider's pace, attention drifting back to her dragon. She probably has all those answers of his filtering through her own head. "He's definitely good for being the focus of attention." Even if that's not always her most favorite thing. Jadzia chews on the inside of her cheek, shifting her jacket up just slightly around her neck. If Savroveth has noticed anything, it doesn't seem to have affected him very much. One of the weyrling browns in particular has latched onto Savroveth, almost literally -- awkwardly waddling over to lean on his tail. "You ought to make more use of that," the bronzerider says, with a tone that is oddly approving. As they're walking, a pair of Telgar riders nods in their direction, expressions tense but not exactly unwelcoming; R'hin gives an easy nod in return, but doesn't stop. He falls silent, like he's listening, too. Perhaps it's her guard training that does it. That makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, telling her something's off, even if it's hard to put her finger on it. Jadzia makes an agreeable sound somewhere in her throat, even nodding briefly at the local riders. But her attention is distracted by something else and, judging by the way she's looking for whatever it might be, she's not entirely sure what it is. "Maybe Southern would have been a better idea." Though R'hin gives a faint bark of a laugh, he murmurs, "With every brown and bronze itching for Isyath to rise? You'd never drag Savroveth away. Nor I, Leiventh." He inhales deeply and lets out a low breath. "You feel it, don't you?" A glance at the weyrlings; the Weyrlingmaster seems amused at the attention Savroveth is earning. True that may be, Jadzia might prefer dealing with a horny dragon over this uneasy feeling. "What?" is questioned, but only because she does feel it. Despite Savroveth's attention to the weyrling dragons, shifting his tail slightly to jostle the younger brown without actually pushing him over. With a shake of head, R'hin answers (or doesn't, depending on the perspective); "Let's go get a drink. Mix with the locals a bit." The weyrling dragon doesn't look overly deterred by the jostling, edging back a moment and then trying from a different angle. He's a determined little thing. Getting a drink is definitely an idea that Jadzia can get behind and she nods even as she moves to walk with him in a generally drink-ward direction. Savroveth will just stay where he is for now. He might get bored of the weyrlings eventually, but considering he's basically on their wavelength, it might be unlikely. Hopefully they weren't planning on doing anything productive! Productive doesn't really seem at the top of R'hin's list; he leads them into a room off the main caverns, where a bar-like setup providing a convivial social environment. It's pretty full tonight, and it doesn't take long for the Savannah Wingleader to ingratiate them into the group playing darts -- helped by the fact he buys a round for everyone first. The Telgarians are relatively wary at first, but after a few drinks they seem relaxed enough, happy about their recent batch of weyrlings (unlike that awful clutching at Benden); though they seem cautious at any gentle questions about their current Weyrleaders. Mostly, anyway -- one older rider grumbles about the order of things, and that she's upset everything, earning shhing responses from the others. This seems to incense the man enough that, with a dark look, he leaves. His mood is infectious, perhaps; one by one, soon after, the Telgarians drift off, leaving the Reachians to their own devices. It's not much longer after that before R'hin suggests they head home, the bronzerider quiet and thoughtful. Jadzia listens more than she talks. Or drinks more than she talks. Not enough for drunk, anyway. If anything in particular interests her very much, she doesn't show it very well. And once R'hin suggests that they go home, the brownrider is quite willing to think that's a decent idea. Surely Savroveth has been left to his own devices by now. The weyrling class has indeed been ushered back into the safety of the barracks for a nap, even if it's reluctant in that small brown weyrling's case. R'hin doesn't seem apt to linger once the decision's made, and it's not long before the cold of between, and then the cool air of High Reaches greets them, Leiventh circling down to land adroitly on his ledge. R'hin heads in first, unlocking the door, before moving to the hearth to get a fire going, as he says, "See if you can't find something to drink." Oh, if there's something to drink, Jadzia is sure to find it. And, if nothing else, she's probably got her flask stashed away somewhere on her person. Never without something as important as that. "Are we still working?" she wonders as she takes the bottle of what she finds, rather than pouring either of them a glass, to the couch to make herself comfortable. At least as comfortable as she's going to be without taking her jacket off. "No, I think we're done for the day." R'hin sounds oddly tired, expression drawn as he glances over his shoulder; he seems to have noted her selection of one of his cheaper liqueurs, with a slight wince. "Something not hangover inducing," he adds, with a hint of his usual humor briefly surfacing, "Unless that's what you want?" He turns back to the hearth, managing to get a flame flickering, switching to the poker to stir things up. "You know, if you keep boozing up the strays," her, presumably, "they're gonna get annoying and start expecting handouts whenever they see you." Jadzia takes a drink instead of going to get something better. "Why do you even have this if you aren't gonna drink it?" Finally satisfied with the state of the hearth, R'hin stands, setting the poker beside the hearth. Unzipping his jacket, he drops it over the back of the couch, before settling in next to the brownrider. "There are times when cheap drunk is called for," he says, a tad wryly. But she's chosen it, and so he reaches for the bottle. Once she's handed over the bottle to him, after another healthy drink, Jadzia shifts to shrug out of her jacket and drop it on the floor by her feet. "Usually always," she comments in regards to cheap drunk. That's what she is, anyway. "I hope you didn't mean for me to have a quick drink and leave right away," since she's making herself comfortable and even turns so she can pull her legs up to settle across the bronzerider's lap if he's amenable. R'hin takes a generous gulp; with most of his more expensive drinks, he savors, but this stuff is made for gulping. With a cluck of tongue, he says, "I'll need to show you some of the finer things in life, Jadzia. You're a rider." As if that's some sort of obligation. He's chuckling, and certainly seems amenable, given the way his hand trails out along her thigh and towards her hip, pale eyes on her. "I won't kick you out," he promises. "It's not like I've never had good booze. But even the best of it doesn't really hold a candle to Savroveth." So cheap it is, evidently! Jadzia glances down at the bronzerider's hand, then up to his face with a quirked little grin. "What will you do?" "It's not just how it goes down, but how it comes up as well. If it does," R'hin explains, patiently and yet oddly intently, as if he feels it's very important to impart such knowledge, while setting aside the offending bottle. Meanwhile, he shifts his weight a little, and now that hand, at her hip, is trailing up under her top, a grin quirking his lips upwards as he leans closer, bringing his face nearer hears. "Tell me to stop now," it's not a request, such much as an offer. A way out, if she wants it. "If you let it come back up, you're just being wasteful." And she might be being a smart ass because there's no way she's never done that. And seriously regretted letting it happen. But that hand of R'hin's is distracting so Jadzia's attention focuses on leaning forward to meet him with what's meant to be an encouraging kiss. So no on the telling him to stop, probably. Her response earns a throaty, amused laugh from R'hin, but no verbal response because the bronzerider is rather busy. First, meeting her lips with his own, heated kiss, and secondly working very determindly to get those annoying bits of clothes off that separate them. Never fear! Jadzia is quite willing to help with the whole clothing situation, for both of them. And she doesn't have a shred of modesty to her name even once she's more unclothed than not. Talking doesn't seem to be much of a priority for her anymore. Not when she can be doing much more pleasant things with her mouth. For an old guy R'hin certainly knows his stuff, and it's later (much) later, as they lay tangled together in a pleasant afterglow that he murmurs into her ear, "Worth it." Maybe it's not her that's supposed to get all sleepy and stuff, but Jadzia could probably drift off pretty easily right now, tangled with the older bronzerider. She tilts her head with a lazy smile and wonders in a quiet voice, "Did you doubt that it'd be anything but?" "Mm," comes R'hin's noncommittal answer. He stirs just enough to grab at the edge of the throw resting over the back of the couch, pulling it over them. "I wondered," but she can see enough of his expression to see that teasing grin, the glint of amused pale eyes. "Well," says Jadzia in (not very well) feigned defense, "I wasn't expecting much out of you, but I guess you were okay." She wiggles against him under the blanket that he pulls over them. "I might even consider doing it again. Unless this is supposed to be a strictly one-time sort of thing." She can feel the rumble of laughter through R'hin's chest, even if it comes out as a low-voiced chuckle. His arm settles more comfortably about her after she's wiggled her way to a comfortable position. "No rules. No strings," he promises, laconically. "Just the way I like it," murmurs Jadzia, quite content to rest her head against him and trace her fingers across his abdomen in lazy patterns that become even lazier as she relaxes. "Can I stay awhile?" Because she's about ready to fall asleep and leaving now is an incredibly unappealing idea. "Told you I won't kick you out," R'hin replies after a long moment, the delay only for the fact that he's falling asleep himself. |
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