Logs:Cohorts Gone Camping
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| RL Date: 25 June, 2014 |
| Who: Alida, G'laer, Ilicaeth, Teisyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alida and G'laer finally go camping and do all the things they said they would, even shoot the breeze around the campfire. |
| Where: Southern continent |
| When: Day 2, Month 2, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Arvan/Mentions, B'gherio/Mentions, Gallania/Mentions, Melinda/Mentions, Oliwer/Mentions |
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| It took months to see them off on the agreed upon trip. Scheduling became difficult between one's duties and the others and trying to find the same two days or one and a half together. But finally, finally, the schedules matched and G'laer and Alida packed up the needed supplies and went. The weather was predictably hot in southern and the appropriate measures were taken to guard against anything so exciting as sun sickness, even with it still being the cool of early morning. They started with fishing as pre-dawn is a good time for fish to bite and fish would give them something to munch on later. The quiet of the river was peaceful, only interrupted by the occasional clamor of success or near miss. Conversation at this point was predictably little, and what was had was largely technical in nature, as was the conversation in preparation and execution of the mid-morning meal. Mmm, fish. It was shop talk for fishing, and for the plan for the afternoon. Hunting with spear and bow. By the river they'd found tracks, and rather than just sit in the woods and use the dragons to flush things out, they went old school, tracking. Being G'laer and Alida, of course their primary target was something of suitable danger: a jungle cat. Jungle cats in jungles are especially dangerous for the three dimensional aspect of the hunt, the need to be aware of what's above as well as what's around. In the end, the jungle cat eluded them, but they got wild porcine and a few other smaller creatures to show for their efforts and the later part of the afternoon and early evening was spent elbow-deep in innards to clean what they'd killed. A swim was in order to clear the filth from them then the making of camp on the beach for the evening, complete with campfire crackling as the reds, purples and yellows of sunset color the sky out over the water. G'laer's settled on a driftwood log, using a stone to sharpen the tips of his arrows while the already spitted meat is monitored carefully over the fire. He's been largely quiet and not doing his part thus far of 'shooting the shit' as was the intention and agreement. There have been a few smiles today, mostly in answer for the things they've done together, but no laughs. Perhaps the evening brings hope though, what with the action of the day seeming to wind down and things becoming fairly serene once more. Teisyth is settled in the sand, claws digging what can only be termed a trench about herself, largely keeping to herself as she has most of the day save for the joint hunting expedition elsewhere on the continent. Quiet is good enough at many times, but with the current lack of primal instincts to focus herself on, the woman's becoming a little more restless, her expression vaguely darker as she watches their dinner cook at the edge of the larger fire, Ilicaeth sprawled out like a lazy dog near Teisyth, his own coppery claws giving the occasional flex...his tail twitching merrily near its terminus. The blue was thrilled to subsume himself for once in his rider's own mind, and feel her emotions - see through her eyes - how his particular human hunts. His gaze still holds the deep green of utter peace and pleasure of that time. It's not until G'laer's finished with his arrows and re-homed them in their quiver, setting the thing aside with all the care that a normal man might handle a child, that the greenrider speaks. "So this is the part where we talk." It's a statement more than any real conversation starter. "Right?" He glances to the fire. She'd said campfire. So there it is, check! She seems almost relieved that her companion manages to say something, a certain tenseness across her shoulders fading slowly with his words. Still... "Not gonna break yer arm fer it..." Alida murmurs with mixed dark humor and her usual gruffness, her intense green eyes turning to look at G'laer for extended seconds as she studies him for any telltale signs of chicanery. Offhandedly, "I ain't great at cookin'... you want yers fully done, 'r half-way?" Their pork. As for the veggies and tubers she brought with, they're cooking in a little pot suspended above the fire, and baking in hot coals. "A little more than half, but not much more." The man presses up and leans down to grab the quiver, moving over to where he's stashed his things a few steps from the fire. "What do you want to talk about?" It might be that he doesn't know what people usually talk about in this kind of scenario. G'laer fishes in a bag for a moment and then returns to his seat. "I'll attempt it...but guarantees..." An eloquent shrug likely tells G'laer that he's stuck with whatever he gets, though Alida finds dinner a much less interesting topic now that G'laer's prodding her for talk. At first, the blonde smirks softly, notes, "Usually bullshittin's more give 'n take, a flow uv' conversation." Her own weapons have already been cleaned, though arrows and knives await honing nearby, and it's to one of her blades that the once-squatting bluie returns, hefting it up lightly, then moving to where her own whetstone sits on a log they previously hauled up. "Whatever... Y'got any information about..." Hand-wave. "...my situation?" G'laer doesn't complain about the possibility of under-done or over-done meat. "Mmm," is a noise of confirmation. "I've... had a lot of time on my hands lately, so I've got about to some of my farther contacts. One of them left this for me." The greenrider rises again and takes the necessary steps in order to lean and offer her a folded and sealed message. "I haven't read it, but it's about your situation." As a scrawl on the front indicates. As she carefully peers at their rotating meat, pokes at the boiling tubers in the pot, Alida listens quietly to G'laer's words, her mind quietly working at why the man has extra time...until he notes the message he has for her, offers it out to her. Blink. "How long were y'gonna sit on that? Until..." The bluerider sounds not only impatient and surprised, but irked at the delay...until she suddenly thinks about likely reasons for such...and she cuts herself off. Puff. "Thanks..." is noted with earnest speed, the utensils, knife in her hand set down upon a warm rock in favor of accepting the folded missive. For long moments, she reads what's within a couple of times over, and then further folds the thing until it fits within the pocket of her cargo-type shorts...the pale-blonde's expression remote and far away for long seconds. After her greens return to the present, they flick over to touch upon the greenrider's blue gaze, and note, "Must be nice ta' have those kind'a contacts. Mine 'r more...limited." Her alto sounds vaguely troubled, self-derisive, bitter, and yet darkly humored. Puff. "I owe ya, in kind." "I only just got it the other day, and we were already planning this. I figured it's kept these many turns, it would keep til we'd hunted. No point in distracting you." G'laer wouldn't want a distracted hunting partner. "So, to answer your question, I was going to sit on it until just about now." He turns and returns to his seat. "Sometimes it's nice. Sometimes it's work. I'll take that debt." G'laer would probably accept almost any debt someone wanted to owe him. "S'what I finally figured..." Alida notes dryly to G'laer's reasons for 'holding out' on her, the blonde nodding once as she pokes at that pot of tubers again. Looking back over her shoulder at the greenie, listening to him, she can't help but reinforce blandly, yet bluntly, "In kind." Period. She won't do something 'extravagant' for him in return for 'mere' information. There's still a wealth of things which that missive has fired in her mind, and after some mulling about, it finally finds utterance in a low, "You get along with yer folks?" "Heard you the first time." G'laer enunciates each word as almost separate from the rest in answer to her reiteration, and it does make it sound like he thinks her a little slow, but then she was the one who reiterated first. "My mother is an over-demanding busy-body and my father, as ever, is stoic and steady. I get along with one of them." Does she need more than one guess to know which? "You'll let me know if you want help with something else, about that." He nods toward the pocket into which the missive has gone." "Oh piss off..." Alida mutters only a hint sourly to the man's first words, then abandoning her food tending in favor of honing her knife. Much better. A soft and knowing smirk touches her mouth at word of G'laer's parents, the blonde then chortling in short order at her companion's words of his likely preference. "Remind me not ta run inta yer mother." A small bob of her plaited head comes soon enough on the heels of the other's offer, the woman looking down at her current handiwork as she murmurs, "My ma' was...kind, I guess." She was so young when Melinda died. "Firm...smart." Scraaape, hone. "My da' was crazy about 'er." Where Alida leaves off, G'laer picks up. He shifts nearer to the fire. "Don't. And especially don't end up in bed with her. I can only imagine what kind of nightmare interrogation a flight winner has to endure." This is all delivered in a way that is either strictly serious or deadpan for comedic effect. "I suppose that's good." Both the qualities of Alida's mother and her father's feelings for the woman, but he sounds a little uncertain; happy home lifes haven't been in his wheelhouse for a very long time. Looks as if Alida didn't think about that contingency, for when G'laer mentions it, she looks a hint mortified. Silly Holder. The rest of the man's answer is very softly snerted at for its careful, generic quality of response, the blonde continuing to hone her blade carefully as she quietly inquires, "Any uv yer sisters like you?" The way her clipped tone very slightly emphasizes that 'you' might leave him a bevvy of ways to respond. If G'laer is amused by Alida's look at the thought of Ilicaeth flying Faelaerith, it doesn't show on his face. Then again, those smiles have been harder to come by today, and lately in general. "Like me...?" The greenrider asks, "In what way, like me? Generally, I'd say we're all fairly different. That's the thing about big families; you get lost if you're like another. I'm only glad there aren't any multiples to be angsty about that sort of thing." "Oh, you know... Like you. C'n sometimes be a real dick, tight-lipped, old nitroglycerin sittin' around..." If it isn't obvious from her casual tone and the faintest of smirks touching one corner of her lips, Alida's being at least semi-sarcastic. Semi. She is trying to be fair in this 'give and take' of inquiries and answers they're giving to each other - a rarer thing, to be sure - and so the bluerider finds herself murmuring very softly, "Gettin' close ta someone's dangerous." As if in response to her thoughts, words, Ilicaeth's great head swivels upon the sand, his nose pointing directly at his rider, though his green eyes have long-since lidded. "None." That's easy enough to answer. "You ever met anyone like you?" G'laer's brows lift to make the inquiry a little more pointed. "It is dangerous. Sharding stupid, really." And it's then when G'laer throws a dark look toward his dragon who continues happily digging her trench, now it's headed down toward the water so the trench can become a moat. Exciting! "Probably not worth it, most times. Only ever hurts in the end." He speaks with the bitterness of recent experience. A lift of one hand to touch five fingertips lightly to her chest, along with a faux-expression of ignorance are all for G'laer. Moi? "Enlighten me..." Eyeroll. And then the blonde goes back to honing her blade, though she stops for a few moments to watch Teisyth's moat-making, and to answer G'laer with a muttered, "Yeah." Sniiiick-scrape. "Even dangerous havin' a dragon..." Again, she stops honing, green eyes flicking up almost guiltily to Ilicaeth, whose eyes do actually manage to crack open for a few moments, showing nothing but blue. "You don't seem to make a lot of friends around here." That's the observation G'laer offers in explanation of 'like her.' It might not be as helpful as the one she offered him, but it's less provocative than what he might've said. "Dragons..." He eyes the green and then simply doesn't finish, falling, instead, into brooding silence. Teisyth, still oblivious! Heeere comes the water! Hooray! For a moment, the blonde almost answers him in her typical fashion used with so many others: glib and insouciant. But this time, Alida's open trap shuts again without a word spoken, at least not until she's had time to mull over a slightly better answer. "Could say the same uv you." Indeed. Still, "Too dangerous..." Added in a tight little whisper, "...too painful." A sudden hard shrug and she's back to the usual 'her' with, "Most uv' what people call 'friends' 'r just acquaintances, anyway. No real substance." As for dragons, well, she can't help but notice how Teisyth goes on about her oblivious business as her lifemate eyeballs her - Ilicaeth now doing the same thing, as well - Alida finally murmuring though the warm Southern air, "Given wha'cha' told me about 'er... I figure she doesn't keep much uv anything from ya'." The significant look of green eyes awarded to G'laer indicates that the blonde doesn't think it's that way between him and his green, however. "True." G'laer admits. "But we're supposed to be friends, aren't we." It's not really a question. He studies the blonde, expression betraying indecision. He looks toward Teisyth again and shrugs. "Not much I can keep her out of if she really has a mind to know it." The tone implies that she's just obnoxious like that. "You and he?" Information sharing, he means. And then abruptly, "Oliwer left me. Left the Weyr even." Her only 'answer' to that is a faint hint of a wary smile and a small flash in green eyes, then a setting aside of her current activity in favor of checking out the meat, again. "Crap..." is huffed out low, the blonde seizing one skewer from the fire, then using her little belt knife to poke open one morsel of the flesh. "Well... gotta settle fer 3/4's done..." And over to G'laer is handed the cloth-wrapped, thin rod of meal. Her own is left to continue cooking, though the veggies are checked again, as well as the tubers. Of Ilicaeth, "He's like me... except when he ain't." Snerk. To that tidbit, the blue offers a loud CHUFF before he tucks his splayed wings tight into his body, and...rolls himself like a ponderous boulder towards Teisyth. Whatever the woman might've been about to say to her nutball lifemate dies aborning when G'laer so casually mentions the state of things with his weyrmate, 'lida almost turning her head to look at him, then quickly aborting that telltale response. For long moments, she finds herself wondering what to say, how to say it...and if she should say anything at all. Finally, quietly, "We ain't easy ta live with." People like them. The greenrider reaches out to accept the meat that he'd been minding in her stead while she sharpened. He's not, apparently, concerned about how far along the cooking got to. Perhaps they just have different definitions of doneness. He's still near the fire, still minding the meal. "That doesn't tell me how much you share with him or he with you. I wasn't meaning to redirect things. It just seemed the sort of thing one tells a... friend." He shrugs and then settles a brooding look on the flames. "Pretty stupid of me to try really. Especially with someone so good as he." Smoothly, as if the transition from him talking to her doing such is quite natural for people like them, "We have...a kind'a agreement." Shrug. "We keep close enough...but we don' step on each others' toes." A stir of the pot with steaming veggies presages her clipped, "Any minute fer those..." Then, after another terse set of moments, "Got a few things we don' intrude on." Beat. "Unless absolutely necessary." So, apparently the woman and her blue do sometimes burrow their way down to the nitty gritty when the shit hits the fan. But with G'laer's words of his opening up comes a darted look over to him, the bluerider's eyes touched with hints of mixed wariness, faint wonder, and dry understanding, the potatoes in their darkened jackets poked at again as she finally responds, "I've only known one guy... but somethin' tells me I'll be fuckin' stupid enough ta keep tryin', once it ends." So they're in the same boat. There's a nod for the description of the relationship betwixt rider and dragon. G'laer doesn't, tonight, press the boundaries by asking what few things. "I'm not still trying. He's not asked me to come to the Hall. I'm respecting his wishes." The way the greenrider says this suggests it's not his idea. "Anyway." Moving on. "What's your next step? With your situation and all?" If he were the kind of man to say 'if you don't mind my asking,' he might do so now, but he isn't, so he doesn't. "Probably for the best..." Alida murmurs with feeling, though she sounds a little torn within her larger bout of pessimism over 'love.' Oliwer's wishes make her itch to inquire further about just what set off this 'spat' between greenie and Healer, but, like G'laer, she lets that dog lie, for now. As far as next questions go, it's almost a relief to the bluie to shift to something less immediately perilous to her emotional well-being, and she murmurs a quick, "Quiet recon. I'll check out every fuckin' one uv those holds, if I need ta'." Given the look of utter determination on her face, there's nothing, no one that can stop her, either. "Will you take him or keep him out of sight?" That's another way of G'laer asking if she means to go incognito or not. The look on his face is cool and calculating now. This is no doubt an easier topic for him to focus on. "He's almost always outta' sight..." the woman replies as they slip into habitually guard-like discussion. So perhaps she's done reconnoitering down here before. "I got'a' ace in my sleeve, that way. Two, if ya count Pyrite." Smirk. For all her foibles, at least the golden flit is persistent and loyal. A sudden poke of sharpened stick's end into a tuber measures it as "Done..." and soon the thing is lofted, then settled next to G'laer, quickly broken open to let it cool a little before eating. "It..." Pause, frown. "It just never felt right." There are nods for the first and second. G'laer's silently absorbing as he starts on his meal. "What they told you, you mean?" He hasn't forgotten the discussion they had about it the one time long ago now. "Yeah..." Alida mumbles, finally taking her own spit of meat from the edge of the fire, and trying out a hunk after blowing on it some. Passable, therefor edible. As she uncovers the pot and sets it between them for vegetable consumption, then nabbing up her own tuber, the now-thoughtful woman murmurs, "A few too many loose ends, fer my tastes." She doesn't sound 100 percent certain, however, and, due to lack of self-trust on this issue, the blonde lapses into silence while they both consume their well-earned dinner. Meanwhile, Ilicaeth's finally stopped his slooow rolling towards Teisyth when he either bumps leadenly into her, or is told to stop. "Always worth a second or third look when things don't make sense." G'laer comments, which must be encouragement for the path that she's taking. Of course, he hasn't another question just now, so it's silence and eating for them. Teisyth, on the other hand, isn't of a mind to stop Ilicaeth, because there's a moat between them. She built it herself! Silence is a natural with these two, it seems, and it rests easily between Alida and G'laer as they eat their tasty, but simple meal. Perhaps she'll try to entice him into a round of exercise a little after they finish eating, for not since she's left Pars has the woman had a chance to spar in truth with someone who is her equal...without much worry of unintentionally injuring the other person. Whether or not this happens, Ilicaeth does continue languidly rolling, until his squarish form flops right into Teisyth's moat...from whence he issues a soft creel to the green. Look what you did to me! Aiyee! Stranded! G'laer has no objection to exercise, though Alida may take issue with him going easy on her when it comes to his full strength. Dislike it as many women do, there are simply undeniable differences of strength when training is on near enough to equal footing. He's largely silent for the rest of the evening, and in truth, the day to follow with the exception of the various types of shop talk this excursion lends itself to. Teisyth is a valiant hero, of course. If valiant heroes are supposed to sit on the sand and just guffaw themselves to sleep. |
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