Logs:Body Language
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| RL Date: 3 September, 2015 |
| Who: Faryn, Jorrth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jorrth has a word with Faryn. Sort of. |
| Where: Akluseth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: T'mic/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated! |
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| An observant person will notice it: the watchrider taking Faryn up to Akluseth's ledge, where she stays the night and leaves the next morning on whatever varied schedule she's been given. This morning, early drills a lack of early morning meetings have given Faryn her run of Edyis' weyr, and now the run of Akluseth's ledge while she waits for the watchrider to remember he's supposed to come grab her. She's standing outside now, leaned back against the wall with a book in hand, reading with the occasional glance up when the sound of wingbeats comes close enough. An observant dragon, also. Jorrth's outline is very difficult to mistake - the dragon who comes without straps and without a ride, to a ledge that is familiar to him, if he's not much visited Akluseth since everyone got mad. But he's here now. Here, and landing in practiced, perfect form. Here, with those keen eyes of him pinned on Faryn beneath that thick, broad brow as he settles his wings and flicks his tail. Faryn's perfunctory look this time shows, first, a dragon coming in for landing, so she starts putting her book away into her satchel, watching the dragon grow as distance closes, and then, "Aw, shit." Her eyes cut up, presumably to take in the rider she suspects will be there, but there's nothing to see. "You're not my ride." To which Jorrth snorts, and shakes his head and the bulk of muscle along his shoulders, wings unable to keep fully out of the motion. He stays, for the moment, where he'd landed, watching the woman he's known since forever, and waiting. Clearly waiting. Clearly. Clearly enough that Faryn straightens her bag, crosses her arms and lifts her chin defiantly at him. "What, then? Did T'mic...tie a letter to your leg, or something? Is he down a well?" She leans around slightly, as if she might find a scroll-case somewhere, in absence of anything else strapped to the blue. Jorrth mirrors that lean, shifting one of those delicate little feet of his, putting his shoulders and chest into it, and peers at Faryn's ankle. Faryn clears her throat, eyebrow raising at his counter. No letter, then. She's frowning at Jorrth now, and self-consciously looks down at her ankle too. "Ugh, use your words." Which is perfectly reasonable. Jorrth straightens up, and looks at her for one breath. Two. And then hops forward (yes, he can still hop) and licks. Right at the face. How do you avoid something you can't anticipate? How do you anticipate a dragon licking your face? Why is this happening? These questions, and more, answered now. You don't, you can't, and because Pern is cruel. Faryn, slightly off balance from looking down, definitely misses it coming until she squeals - yes, girlish - "Oh, gross, Jorrth, NO!" And she scrambles back with such fervor that, yes, she trips. Falls flat on her bottom. Glares. At this point, Jorrth dips his head. No, he doesn't try lick her again. He doesn't even headbutt her. But he stares at her, all up close, while she's on her backside. And blows warm air through his nostrils at her, too. It's all false gratitude, Faryn propping herself up on her hands with that big head all close, when she says, "Gee. Thanks. I needed that, I guess. My day isn't really complete without it. You should do it tomorrow too." It's a human gesture, but it's one he knows, that up-down of his head. And Jorrth will, too. She better be here tomorrow. He's still a moment, that the gesture might stand on its own, and only then moves to nudge at her with that big head of his. "I'm not going to come out here so you can touch me with your disgusting tongue and knock me ass over teakettle, Jorrth." Faryn sighs and straightens, adjusts her bag so it's sitting in her lap. Jorrth's nudge gets a distracted, but not unhappy, pat. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." In that, Jorrth seems satisfied. At least, he steps back, and turns his bulk around, looking out toward the ledge briefly, then swinging his head and shoulders back to look at Faryn once more. A solemn blink follows. Faryn rights herself, brushing the seat of her pants and sorting out where her jacket is in disarray. "Go on," she shoos him, trying to interpret that look -- all the looks. Ultimately, she waves her hands at him in the absence of a broom. "I'm fine. I just - need time to think." Frown. "He needs you more than me anyways. Get lost." Jorrth blinks once more at her, and then spreads those wings and makes a great big jump, and is gone. |
Comments
Roz (18:52, 3 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
You leave poor baby Jorrth alone, Faryn!
<3
Squishy (21:21, 3 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
So much cuteness!!!
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