Logs:Candidate Cash-In
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 8 October, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo meets with Farideh and calls in one of favors she owes her. |
| Where: Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 13, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Drex/Mentions, Torani/Mentions, Everett/Mentions, Rategar/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Some Jo-ness. |
  |
Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr
Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of
carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground
-- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers,
and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from
falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into
the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off
some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even
feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black.
The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire
cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the
expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is
easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a
broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels
that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks,
however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. It's a decent but cold evening outside in the galleries. Usually one would not find Jo in such a place, but she's here in her black leather - standing against the railing and watching the clutches on the sands in a contemplative manner. There seems to be an anticipatory air about her - as if she's waiting for someone to arrive. Which might be why Tacuseth and his desert shadows touch upon Farideh's queen with a greeting and a « Mine would like to discuss some business with you. If yours has the time. » Dark eggs gathered around her, where they can be comfortingly near and yet still seen by the occupants of the galleries, Roszadyth lies in quiet repose. She doesn't appear surprised by the blue's request, not when his rider is there, and hers? « Farideh hastens, » she sighs, waning sunlight and all. And true to her dragon's promise, Farideh is speed-walking into the galleries a mere couple of minutes later; as if maybe she was already on her way when Tacuseth summoned her. "Jo," she says, only slightly out of breathe when she sidles up to the other woman at the railing, smoothing out her merlot skirts. Tacuseth returns the warmth of a dusky desert sun for his thanks towards Roszadyth. When Farideh is quick in arriving, Jo doesn't even turn. "Impressive clutch," she says by way of greeting, arms folded as she nods. "Make sense there'd be so much, the way those flights were, Gentle Kitten." So it's back to Gentle Kitten since the clutching party. "I trust I didn' interrupt anythin' important," she says now, turning her gaze over a shoulder towards her as she approaches. "Do you think so? They're a little--" Farideh's fingers skim the railing before settling on it, her eyes doing much the same of the eggs and Roszadyth. "Dark. Black. Mucky. I don't think I've seen a while clutch that looked like-- let's just hope they hatch, however many there are." She frowns, from whatever troubled thoughts she's having, then slants Jo a sideways glance. "No. Nothing important. What did you need? Or are you requiring my presence even to ogle the eggs, now?" "Tac's clutch was rampant with deformity rumors," Jo tells her, returning her gaze towards the sands. "Tac came out okay. I reckon these here will, too." Meeting that glance, she answers with a wry, "Ya mean besides gettin' to oogle ya without that temperamental boyfriend of yers? I like to reminisce. I also need to cash in one of those favors. Somethin' I've mentioned before." She nods towards the eggs. "I don't think anyone would say that." The tone the goldrider uses is borderline protective, never mind she was the one broaching the subject to begin with. "I'm not as dead set on them being one way or another, as long as they-- Lilah? The goldrider who disappeared? She was determined that her dragon's daughter, the queen egg, would come out deformed. I have no such illusions. As long as she hatch." Farideh's face is far too serious already, but then she's turning, to scowl at Jo. "He just doesn't know you," she says, defending the sailor. "Ah-- oh. Who?" "A deformed queen?" That's a new concept to Jo. "Huh. Guess it takes all kinds, darlin'. Not that deformity in a dragon's a bad thing completely. As long as they're functionin' alright'n not dumpin' ya to the ground durin' flight." Apparently, that's what matters. On Drex, though, "He doesn' know me," she mimics with a look, "'n yet he nearly tore my head off. He seems awfully possessive. Hey," both hands lifts, "I ain' knockin' yer style. Maybe he can fuck or somethin', but, I'd watch that streak in him. For what it's worth." But, then there's business. "Gotta couple I wanna toss into the barracks," she tells her now, brisk. "Just me doin' my good deed. Plus, maybe they'll owe me later down the line. Rategar'n Everett." "A deformed queen." Farideh isn't impressed by that notion, nor Jo's reassurances on deformities. "I don't imagine Weyrs have much use for deformed queens, though. Can she clutch? Can she fly? Can she use her old influence?" It's a morose train of thought; one which she's quickly shaking her head at, making a face at Jo as she turns back to the rail. "Is that so wrong? He just wants protect me and our-- he just wants what's best for me," she says, succinctly, her fingers reflexively flexing against the railing. "Rategar and-- him? The bartender? You can't be-- no, fine, but know how much this pains me, Jo." "Maybe she'd just be deformed in the head," Jo takes a guess with a slight shrug. "She can have all the other stuff workin'." She eyes Farideh when the goldrider tries to defend Drex, the slip getting a "Our...what?" Eyes drop towards Farideh's belly, lips thinning. "It's not wrong, but it's also a slippery slope. He's gotta attitude problem. I don' like him." Yeah, as if she doesn't have one herself. "Rat'n Ev, yeah," she confirms it with a nod. "The bartender. What's wrong with him, huh? Good'n decent sort. He's wants a chance'n a I reckon he should have one. What's so painful 'bout that?" It shouldn't be surprising when Jo is graced with a stern stare and a frown. "I hope to never see one like that, not like Torani," is Farideh's quiet reply. "What?" Her startled gaze sweeps over Jo, and she, notably, takes a step away, brushing back the hair from the left side of her face. "Nothing." Nothing, Jo! Nothing! "Why? He's perfectly likeable. You met him once, and not for very long. How can you decide on a person like that?" A sigh slips out after that, followed by a sharp inhale. "He called me classless, and he has an attitude." It's a small reaction, the one Jo makes upon hearing Torani's name. It's there and gone quickly, the wingsecond looking towards the eggs. When Farideh reacts the way she does next, brows lift. "Perfectly likeable. The man met me once'n was suddenly actin' like I had fucked ya." Even if she did. "He decided on me fairly quickly. First impressions, Kitten. They can be a bitch." Either way, she doesn't look convinced about anythign Farideh's giving out. Talk of Everett gets a soft snort and a, "'N what did'ja call him in return? Tell the truth." Pause. "Everyone has attitudes 'round here, it seems," she adds with a look. "Includin' you. A kind-hearted sort should steer clear of this place." The bluerider's lack of reaction might have registered with Farideh, had she not been avoiding Jo's stare altogether at the moment, gripping the railing tightly and staring at Roszadyth. "You did, and no, he doesn't no, and he doesn't trust riders." It's an admission of some sort, given she is a rider. "I wouldn't take it personally, but you--" She almost sound disappointed. "Nothing. He has made friends with Drex, and somehow decided I'm the worse of us. Drex ordered drinks on my tab and your friend, the bartender, wouldn't even tell me who it was. Not like I'm a weyrwoman or anything," says the one with pricked pride. "'N yet," Jo claps both hands together before spreading them out towards Farideh in indication of her rider status. "I don' take it personally," answers, hands dropping. "I'm just makin' an observation. I came up to y'all'n he was already stabbin' after me. I don' trust 'riders much myself, but-" There's a shrug as she says, "I did nothin', Kitten. That's all I'm sayin'." That Drex gets along with Everett earns a look of interest from her, falling silent as she considers that revelation. "Well, he's a cheeky lil' bastard," she declares of the bartender with a slight grin. "I have no problem sayin' that. Most of my friends tend to be. Ya'd be better at keepin' him in line than I would be. Perhaps a good dose of candidacy'll humble him. Make'em all soft'n pliable for those claws of yers. Ya could have pulled ranked on him, y'know. Weyrwoman'n all." "And I'm just saying that you should give him another chance instead of holding him to-- first impressions," complete with air quotes. "I didn't like you must the first time we met, either. If you remember that far back. Before the dragon." Farideh leans back a little, arms extended, and gives Jo something like a smile. "I wouldn't. I don't like to. I'm still a long way from being like-- any of the weyrwomen I've known. I don't feel like I can pull rank. I'd rather if he'd just be reasonable. Calling women, whoever they are, classless, is a bit much. Let's hope candidacy helps him." "If I come across him, I'll give him 'nother chance," Jo tells her, head tilting a little with that look on her face of one that's reluctant. "For you. 'N, ya liked me. Ya just didn' know it yet. I tend to grow on folks like one of those tough mountain flowers. I'll give him 'nother chance, but if he turns rabid on me, I'm bitin' him." She could be joking. Maybe. She shakes her head on pulling rank before saying, "Ya should at least learn to. It'll come in handy one day. Like, instead of worryin' 'bout what Everett thinks of ya, Rat might end up bein' the real thorn in yer ass. Not particularly fond of the 'hand myself, 'n that's sayin' somethin'. Perhaps candidacy'll kick his ass 'round, too. I reckon he'd call ya worse then classless." Lesser than two evils? "Jo," sounds like a warning. "You're not biting my boyfriend." Words Farideh never thought she would say together for five hundred, Bob! She sighs and turns away from the railing, facing the benches, with a neutral expression in place. "I wonder why you want two men, who are thorns in my ass, to be candidates, then. What if they Impress? And stay around forever? Neither of them have a craft? Skills? I'm dreading it already, but, consider it done." A hand goes up in the air, waving around indifferently. Indeed, the words seem strange coming from Farideh's lips, but Jo doesn't even bat an eye. "Then he should play nice," is her response, lips pulling back from teeth to bite the air between them audibly. Facing her now, "I want'em in cuz they'll owe me," is her answer, like it's something the goldrider should have figured out. "I don' care how nasty they act. I can' really judge, can I? If they Impress, maybe it'll make'em better people, eh? I improved, a lil'. Maybe they'll find other more delicious targets than a taciturn weyrwoman. 'N, 'course they have a craft! Ev, well, he's good at drinks. He's good at usin' that tongue of his to get through situations, too. Rat? Well, I hear he's good in the sack. That must count as a skill. Do they have to have a craft? I didn'." But she gave her consent and the convict rider nods her thanks. "It'll be good, Kitten. Ya'll see. I'm always right 'bout these things." Uh-huh. The odds of them agreeing on the Jo-and-Drex situation are nil, so Farideh wisely shrugs it off in favor of pointing a slim finger at Jo. "I don't want to hear how you regret it later. You made the call and I'll do it-- I'll give them the knots. It might make them better people or it might make them worse. It might ruin their dreams, sever ties to their families, and-- all of the usual things that happen when you Impress. You can't take it back." They both know that. "I'll trust you, I suppose, though I can see plenty of ways this can backfire," she says, finally, and pushes away from the railing, canting her head towards the exit. "Anything else?" "Oh, I have no regrets, Gentle Kitten," Jo sounds far too sure, the smile lopsided and knowing. "They get knots, my job is done'n I get back to my business. Whether it ruins'em or not, that's up to them. We all had to learn that lesson." She pushes herself away from the railing now, casting one last look upon the sands as she says, more soberly, "They give ya any serious trouble, ya come to me 'bout it. I'll sort'em out, alright?" Looking back to Farideh, "Ain' gonna let anybody hurt ya. Guess that's the chivalrous part of me, but I mean it. Thanks for the favor. I'll look at the eggs a lil' longer." "I'll try and remember that. I wonder how you'd react to being woken up before dawn because one of them called me bitchy." Even Farideh has a sense of humor! Sometimes. "It's fine. It's almost like I win out anyway-- we can get all the candidates we can, as long as they aren't from Tillek," the goldrider replies, making an exaggerated face. "Good night, Jo." She pauses -- only to give the bluerider a lasting look -- and the nods; turning, after, and exiting the cavern. "If ya callin' costs me the opportunity of gettin' off, ya owe me big," is Jo's return to that, reacting to the humor there with a grin. "Yer callin' should be nothin' short of them stealin' all yer panties, or worse." She nods to the farewell though, watching her leave for a moment before she states back, "Night, Kitten." And then she's back to watching the eggs just a little bit longer before she, too, leaves the cavern. |
Leave A Comment