Logs:Connections
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 8 April, 2013 |
| Who: Jo, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Vrianth goes up and Tacuseth catches, again. Jo and Leova talk through a shoulder-rub. |
| Where: Leova's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 6, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
  |
| Long and hard-fought as it is, this flight of Vrianth's is anything but anticlimatic... except perhaps in comparison with broken glass and what that does to fragile human skin, and in how the rangy green's wound up with Tacuseth a distinctly unusual twice in a row. Unusual, at least, for anyone but Idriloth. At least it's from a greater height and considerably greater distance from which the pair may glide back to the starlit Weyr, and with far less urgency, while down below, Vrianth's rider stretches, boneless and content. She yawns. "Made it to the bed." Progress. Maybe wily Tacuseth was well in the know for when Vrianth when up, for the blue pair was present among the winged chasers when she did. Jo didn't even protest all that much this time around in her wingmate's presence, and in the end, when she finds herself naked and coming to in bed - with Leova - she doesn't look all that surprised about that, either. While Tacuseth is busy gliding in bliss with Vrianth towards the ledge, Jo is stretching long and languidly up against her wingmate in much the same fashion. She doesn't seem to be leaving anytime soon, and she doesn't have an inch of modesty on her. "Think we're improvin', do ya?" is her lazy response to that, arms settled over her head in the stretch to only drape back with a sigh. "Progress. No one got cut this time." There's a sardonic lift of her lips to that. Leova doesn't even say, 'Yet.' "Maybe." She yawns all over again. "Could be." Idly, she sets her teeth to the muscled arm slouched around her. Not like she's biting exactly, more like seeing whether Jo's likely to pop. Her next yawn's stifled against the bluerider's skin. "If you could have cut someone there... anyone at all... who would it be?" Jo does settle that muscled arm around her all smooth-like, and the graze of teeth there has her tightening that arm and curling close. Murmuring, "Keep that up and I won' take no responsibility for the next go-'round of this, darlin'," in her lazy warning, the smirk light as she deliberately brushes her free hand down Leova's side. The question, though, earns short and quiet laughter as she returns, "Anyone whose dragon chased yers tonite, or just in general? Cuz I've got a list otherwise." So of course the greenrider has to nip at her again, afterwards pressing a smile into that same spot. And while she doesn't twist invitingly into Jo's touch, neither does she ignore it: just a simple, "That feels good. Get my shoulder, hm? It's sore. And... let's go with the chasers, for starters anyhow. Can't tell me you don't have no list for them." Meanwhile, another stretch swings her top foot forward, the better to slide it out from under the sheet and hook the cloth backward for more fresh cool air. That nip gets something close between a chuckle and a low growl from Jo, her rumbled response to that being, "A dangerous move. I'm not above havin' ya again." She even shifts as if she was about to tuck the greenrider right underneath her, but the request perhaps saves her from putting action to her words. For now. Long fingers trail up from her side towards her shoulder, and then she drops a kiss there before kneading it in with a little pressure. She sits up some to get a better angle, answering as she does with a wry, "That one from Ista is at the top of that one. Sahveyeth nearly clipped Tac's wing and his damned rider was close to meetin' my damned fist. The knife would've been better. Bet ya didn' see the way he was starin' at ya." Bet Jo noticed it anyway. "And that one from Boreal. S'varis. Looked like he could've eaten ya alive. I broke his nose once, or was that Z'ian?" She can't remember. The massage given to shoulders seem to take a bit more priority. "No, you'd have to be 'below,'" Leova informs her, low laughter in her voice, though the greenrider puts slight emphasis on that one first word. She sinks forward, then, giving Jo all the access she needs for that, and perhaps the bluerider can feel through Tacuseth just how much it helps. Muffled, "Did he. Don't reckon I did. Did he look at me the way S'varis did?" though that smoky voice implies it's not as important as all that. "An Istan coming in here, raiding. Shame, shame." "Really," Jo is easy to counter on that score, leaning forward to meet Leova's gaze. She almost looks defiant. Almost. She seems to feel, through Tacuseth, that her ministrations were helping, and so she works in earnest. She was a woman that could please, and please well when she wanted to. Then, reverting back to the previous topic, she says, "Get me below and we'll see." There's a pause to that, and then she addresses the chasers and their riders. "Yeah. They both did. I can knock'em out for ya. I tripped the Istan up before he got to ya, didn' I? Would've done the same to S'varis, if he made a move. They oughta know yer mine." Possessive, she is in this state, the purr of her voice in line with her wingmate's smokiness. It's probably some of Tacuseth lingering in that sentiment, too. "I took care of it. I ain' lettin' no Istan take a Reachian." "Mm." Already more amenable to getting rid of that tenseness now that Vrianth's taken care of, Leova stays languid, one of the larger knots beginning to loosen. "Now that I..." remember? In any case, "That was good." A little later, lazily still, "No Istans. Check. Fort? Benden. Mon-a-co." Because Jo's Jo, kneading both shoulders to a soothing state, "There are other ways to release tensions, darlin'," she notes with a small quirk of lips. "I believe I was thorough enough that yer green likes us around even more," for Tacuseth to catch again. "And it was. Good. Can' remember much of it, but I remember that." She lets the silence linger, but upon the last given, there's the wry, "None. They're all the same, right? All are willin' to take from us. Thieves. I can smell thieves, ya know. Are ya feelin' better? Need somethin' to drink?" "This," determines Leova, "is a very good way." She sighs, breath that draws in and goes right through her lungs as though Jo were pressing that, too, out. "Mm." She's hardly disputing it, not when she frees her arm from the covers to reach forward to grip the edge of the mattress, opening up the space beneath her shoulderblade. "Better and better. Drink would mean getting up. Or your stopping. Which would be bad... think they're all thieves, all the time? Or just when they're flying after our greens. Or queens." "Good, yes," Jo agrees in her humor, "but not the only." Thumbs press inward towards Leova's back, "I can be quick," one would think she means to continue the former, but it's likely in reference to finding something to drink for them both. She doesn't really clarify. Answering the last more directly, though, "We can be biased, right? It can be both. They have their own. Got nothin' against them, mostly. Yer turn." She leans forward a little, fingers continuing to work their magic. "Yer list. Who's on it." "If you come right back," long-suffering Leova supposes, as though that's surely what Jo would have meant. "And... mm." Her eyes have mostly closed. Her skin's reddened and warmed where Jo's been rubbing, her muscles increasingly supple. "S' a good spot." But Jo wants an answer. To something. "List." That. "Don' want to knife nobody right now." It would probably mean getting up, after all, unless the bluerider's volunteering. "Want to be done with paybacks." There's a slight reluctance before Jo draws her hands away and leaves the bed. Over her shoulder, "I'll be right back," she states a little playfully before she heads over towards where she sees a decanter and cups. She pours one for her Leova and then herself before she returns, climbing back onto the bed carefully and handing one of the cups over as she brings her own to her lips for a long, much-needed taste. "I think I'll never be done with paybacks," she admits before she takes the time to drain her cup and set it aside. "It's become who I am. I think. It's good that ya don' have a list. I hope to never get on it," she adds the last, sending her a crooked grin before Leova will find her fingers kneading into her shoulders once more and at leisure. Leova's gone and lifted up on her elbows by the time Jo comes back, accepting the cup gratefully but waiting to drink until the bluerider's settled. It makes drinking more difficult, or maybe Jo's work more difficult, but she steals sips here and again. "It a rush?" she wonders. "When you get one." Get them back. In any case, "Sure will try not to put you on one, anyhow. Could be, hm. Awkward." "Ya might try and put a knife in me, should Tac catches again," Jo states on it being awkward, anyway, her ending up on Leova's payback list. "Got enough knives in me to last me the rest of my life." Her naked body looked carved up, as it were. There's a silence as she settles more behind the greenrider now, fingers kneading and working against skin before she chooses to answer that with, "Been had one. More than one. Still workin' on the payback part. Still decidin' how best to make it hurt. Make it burn." "Well, if you want another... maybe I could. If you asked nicely." Or just, this. The greenrider tips her head back for a last gulp and then she's turning back into putty, her head pillowed on folded arms. "Feel like what you're saying, it maybe should bother me as what it does. But I get that. Wanting that. Sometimes it's hard not to go rattlin' my boxes, seeing what's still there and what really has gone away." Smirking, "I don' want another," Jo drawls, leaning towards her. "I like how we are just fine. I like that we talk now, but, I think that's because I've changed a bit. Been startin' to see the Weyr more as a home than, just some place I ended up." She can tell Leova's fully in relaxed mode, the bluerider arching a brow at her back as she adds in, "Hope ya'll do the same for me, wingmate. I could use a good shoulder-rub." She turns to the topic of payback then, her words. "Ya think I should let it go. Let them go," she surmises, slightly amused. "I don' much about ya. Where ya from. Weyrbred?" "Yeah?" It's curious, but barely a question, too much lassitude and too little prying for that. "Mm. Shoulder-rub. Will do." There's another yawn. "Have to be right this minute? Could... owe you." One thing at a time, in order, if Leova's not to lose track of it too much. "Can't say as I think you should let it go, don't know enough. Some things... a body's got to do. Just... so long as that's not all your seeing, hm? And no. Holder, born'n bred. Can't still hear it when I talk?" "Yeah," Jo soothes, the smile behind the greenrider genuine and unseen. "Ya owe me. I'll hold ya to it. Ya should rest, while ya can. I can stick around if ya want me." She looks towards the ledge and can see the darkness of the sky. Her gaze lingers there through Leova's words on her payback, the convict rider absently answering to that, "It was. It should be all I see, but....it's not. Not anymore. I took comfort in that, and I still do, but..." a frown crinkles her face briefly before addressing the last, saying to that, "A little. Maybe. Holder, myself. Guess it's hard to tell anymore, the way I am." Not like it's freezing cold and Leova needs a space heater, but, "Be nice." Jo can't see the brief distance in her eyes, after that, right before she shuts them. "Not a bad thing, changing what a body wants in life. And something like that, not like it's... giving up. We changed, we both have." Her voice has begun to drift, but words still drift out with it, even so. "Ever want to buck for wingsecond? Break the new round of weyrlings in proper-like. Could you ever see yourself flying in Z'ian's wing? If it weren't for Glacier. Or," and she must be smiling, here, "him in yours." To the first, there's a gentle, "Yer weyrmate. He should come." There's a slight lift at the end to suggest that's almost a question. And then, there's change, and she nods only once, though, it's likely not seen. "Not bad. Sometimes not good, too," she gives on that briskly, but the next has her frowning, just slightly. Fingers pause a little. "Been talkin' to Taikrin, maybe?" she quips then, quietly. "Wingsecond? One day. Someday. Not today. When my list is shorter." If ever it gets shorter. "If not for Glacier, then....I suppose. If he wants me there. Or he could be in Glacier. It doesn' matter to me, but I think he would do Boreal good." "Mm." Leova yawns against the back of her wrist, stifled where her words escape on either side of it, one by one. "Have I. She's a busy woman." There's a chuckle there, dying to be voiced, lifting the occasional syllable. "Better you'n me, I think. Though it was... wasn't always easy, when my clutchmates did, here and there... surprises me a little, though, that you'd ride with him. Not a bad surprise. Reckoned people get on better when one's not reporting to the other outside of bed," but evidently there might be exceptions. And it might have seemed as though she'd never talk about Anvori, but it's just taking her awhile. She turns her head in the other direction, maybe looking at her cup on the nightstand, except she's looking past it. "Don't reckon he'd feel... comfortable. Need space between here and there, anyhow, getting more back in my skin 'stead of hers. You know?" "She is," Jo agrees on the acting Weyrleader, "but if ya need to see her, she'd find time for ya, I think." But then, Z'ian. There's a silence that's perhaps more uncomfortable than not, the convict rider's fingers still lingering on Leova's shoulders. "Is it more of a surprise to hear that....he means somethin' to me?" she chooses to say on the bronzerider in question, clearing her throat. "Or ya already know. I get it, though. About Anvori. Bet it's hard bein' around when ya feelin' like someone else. Never had a weyrmate before. Been used to keepin' on my own. Tacuseth catches, and I can stay in those feelin's for a bit. A lot of it's his, but, I got my own, too." "Think she would, if I needed," Leova agrees, but briefly, listening and sleepy and listening some more. "Got that... impression, anyhow. Could pretend you never ever get talked about, if it makes you feel better?..." It's not the easiest thing to do, but she turns her head back the other way, peering over her shoulder with just one eye, pressing just that little bit more into the bluerider's hands. She's smiling. Maybe not focused, but smiling. "'S nice. There's so... so much going on," so much unsettled, from their holds' heirs to their wings and weyrwomen to, sometimes, even whether they'll run out of dessert. So much that they're not talking about. "Connections help. 'Preciate you, Jo." A yawn hovers through her voice, not quite there yet. "Sleep, hm?" She's warm. The covers are warm, maybe not too warm. And, at last, their dragons are no longer heading to Vrianth's ledge but there, safely home. At last, Leova can let herself sleep. There's a touch of alert interest to something Leova says, so much so that Jo can't help the immediate, "He talked about me to-?" but she doesn't finish it. Not when Leova presses more of herself into her capable hands and she catches that smile. So much going on, and the bluerider could nod to that. "Connections do," she agrees, thumbs working circles into her skin. "I think things will work itself out in the end, darlin'. Always does, one way or another." But her wingmate finally drops off, even as their dragons have settled comfortably on the ledge. And Jo? She'll work her magic just a little bit longer before she rests beside her in bed. She's got the time. Tacuseth's not going anywhere. |
Leave A Comment