Logs:Dangers
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| RL Date: 19 July, 2016 |
| Who: Alysce, K'hal |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alysce wins her bet with Jo? |
| Where: Riders' Lounge, High Reaches Weyr / Southern Continent |
| When: Day 24, Month 4, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jo/Mentions |
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| It's really late in the Rider's Lounge, but there's still a few dragonriders lingering about with their last drinks and card games. The bartender hasn't done last call yet, but it's obvious that it's coming soon. Most tables are unoccupied save for three - and only one is currently home to just one rider drinking by himself. He's a mountain of a man with dirty blonde hair and a mean look about his features as he is found hunched over his half-filled mug, staring ahead at nothing. None of the occupied tables give him notice, nor do they look his way - If anything, those present seem content to let the brooding beast of a bronzerider brood into his silence. Getting a lift up to the rider's lounge for the last couple nights hasn't been too difficult, a promise made here and an exchanged favor there, but going unnoticed as a harper in a room full of dragonriders? Perhaps more so. It helps that Alysce wears no knot; it also helps that she is clad in a dark leather jacket that mimics dragonrider lines, except that it lacks pockets to keep a trimmer line, with matching boots and beige pants that cling to the shape of her legs. She also keeps mostly to herself, exchanging some few words with those that choose to sit next to her, but otherwise, nursing a drink alone. Tonight, as the night wears on, that jacket has been shed and placed on the chair next to her, revealing a finely woven, white sleeveless tunic underneath. The stuffy weyr and the Spring evening could account for this, except that now--. In the nearly empty cavern, Alysce's chair scraping against the floor as she pushes to her feet might even be audible. There's a slight sway from the lithe apprentice, but then she is winding her way through the maze of tables towards the bar in the back. That is, until something trips her up right near the bronzerider brooding, her half-empty beer sloshing down her own shirt and plastering the thin knit to her curves. "Oh, shit. Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't get any on you, did I?" is expressed with concern all for him, however, as the harper flushes. K'hal appears to not notice much beyond his current drink of choice - until Alysce is suddenly there and some of the beer indeed gets on his shoulder. He throws a dark glare her way, and yes, his blue-eyed gaze lands right on her beer-soaked chest. It doesn't lighten the gruff-sounding ire from him: "Watch where you're fuckin' going." Eyes flick to meet her flushed face, then back to her chest before he shifts back to his drink. Alysce's nose wrinkles slightly at his response, a brief gesture that is washed away with a quick smile as she answers, "Sorry, again. I am such a klutz." Her fingers lift to brush at the beer on his shoulder, bringing her to only lean closer as she tries to help. "I guess I should take it as a sign I shouldn't get another, maybe. It's late, anyways, right?" Wry amusement plays on the question that she asks rhetorically. Blue eyes spy on those fingers that his shoulder, her lean drawing his attention more than her words despite him saying back, "Bet you are," on her being a klutz. His mug lingers around his mouth as she speaks more, seeming to be lost in thought about something before a snort escapes and K'hal says back, "Sounds like, this your way of bumming a free drink off of me by tripping into me and showing off your tits. Which look nice, by the way. You can jiggle them in front of me all you like. You ain't getting a free drink off of me, though. Not for some tit-jingling." It seems to be a word to him. Tit-jingling. If anything were to threaten to break Alysce's act, professional harper that she is, it seems to be that. Her lips flatten for a moment, dark eyes sweeping over K'hal before she again resumes her smile before she offers, "No, I'm not looking for any free drinks. I get enough of those. Something more exciting, though--." Her words trail off in suggestion, her thumb dragging against leather for one lingering moment before she pulls away and straightens. "Excitin'," K'hal echoes that word in his husky voice, eyeing her from where he sits. "You came all this way, just to get fucked by some rider? And not just any rider, either," at this, he's up from his seat, facing her. Crowding into her personal space if she doesn't back away fast enough from him. He's there, in her face, his breath the smell of ale. He'll grab her wrist if she doesn't get away, towering her over her as he leans and says, "You'd run behind your ma's skirts if you know what's good for you," he warns with a touch of leer in his tone. "I don't play with delicate food," he says with pointed meaning. "No, not just any rider," Alysce repeats in agreement, tension thrumming through her body as he catches her wrist. "Someone dangerous; someone interesting." The harper doesn't flinch, though. Hair gets tossed over one shoulder as she peers up at K'hal, a challenge written in her expression. "Are you going to turn away a rabbit if it steps deliberately into the trap?" The act, surely, has fallen clearly away now. No more smiley, klutzy young woman stands there. "You know what you're asking?" K'hal tosses her challenge right back at her, not letting her wrist go. The other riders that casts looks in their direction appear wary, but he doesn't seem to notice them. If anything, there's nothing to suggest he's playing, either. "Rabbits can't handle me." Still, with his free hand he reaches for his mug and drains the last of its contents - all while keeping an eye on the harper. Alysce is shameless in the face of the other riders watching. In fact, she only seems to grow emboldened by it as she leans closer, closer to the man built so much larger and taller than she is while pressing up onto her tiptoes to erase some of that difference. "I'm asking a dangerous man to take me back to his weyr and fuck me," she says dryly. There is a hint of a laugh, as she continues to add, "Don't worry about me; I can handle myself." Silence is what meets Alysce's bold words, the bronzerider staring hard at her as she speaks. K'hal lets her close that distance, watching her like a predator to prey with nothing but a straight face on display. It's only when she talks about handling herself that he leans over - close to her lips as if he was going to kiss her, and then towards her ear before he drops, "Cute. Who sent you?" "You're assuming even if someone sent me that I'd listen," Alyse points out with a finely-edged humor to the words and only a bare hitch of her breath in anticipation as he leans closer. If she is disappointed that there is no kiss, it doesn't seem to phase her. "I am just a Harper looking for something exciting and a good story. If you can't handle that--." Her shoulder rolls up in a careless gesture, for all that it's obviously been practiced. "Oh, so you're not a 'good girl', is it?" K'hal counters that, his hold on her wrist tightening a bit more. "That don't tell me nothing. You could still be working for someone, harper or no." He could add more, surely. He could say more, indeed, but when he looks over past Alysce and notices that they have drawn attention from those in the bar, he frowns a fraction before growling out to her, "Fuck stories. You can come back with me and Dakketh, but there won't be much talking." He steps from her towards the entrance, finally releasing her from his grip with the intentions of heading towards the ledge with his waiting dragon. Alysce only quirks a crooked smirk for the question, a tinge of pain briefly flickering across her expression as his grip tightens. Still, she answers, "Harpers are always working for someone, but I can guarantee you that none of my fellow crafters sent me here." It seems she takes 'Fuck stories' as a challenge, though, as she only exhales a sound like a laugh and a simple, "We'll see." But then he's moving to leave and she scrambles after him, only stopping to scoop up her jacket and assure those watching, "Just a little lovers' spat. He just loves me so much that he gets a bit too protective." Whether they believe her, if they have over heard anything, is dubious. Whether she cares--. She's out onto the ledge and out of their presence soon enough, anyways. "Ain't a crafter that would send you," mutters K'hal, but it's not something he's currently going to contest while they're in public. He's already on the ledge when Alysce speaks up to those watching, the riders not looking entirely convinced, but seeming content enough to keep in their seats, too. Outside on the ledge, the bronzerider is already on Dakkath, the pair watching when she emerges in a heavy silence. The dragon doesn't look friendly nor pretty, either. K'hal will silently reach down to pull the harper apprentice up to climb before him before the dragon launches up, up, up....Between. Not towards his home weyr at all. Well, Alysce asked for danger and excitement. Still, as she settles on the dragon with a little wiggle that is probably not required to get comfortable, it is clear that she was only expecting the latter, not where they end up. The apprentice tenses as they go higher, her lips opening to shout something back at the bronzerider, but Between rips the words from her lips with its oppressive quiet. Her eyes close in Between, tensing and counting, only opening once she feels the rush of wind again. Wiggles and all, K'hal doesn't seem to register any of it. Between takes them somewhere warmer than the Reaches, the deep blues of the ocean the only other indication that they're somewhere south at night. Dakkath swings over towards the beach, seeming to be looking for a particular place to land. When he does, it's near a grove of trees where a large hammock has been drawn, a dead bonfire has its place and a gathering of crate placed together as if some ship had decided to abandon them. The bronze lands and K'hal's swinging done to dismount, only offering up his hand to Alysce once his boots hit the sand. There's even an impatient stiffness in his frame as he holds out his hand to her, all played out with not a word from him. "You know, it's considered polite to give a girl warning if you're going to whisk her away. Or are you trying to play into the stereotype of bronzeriders taking girls?" Alysce questions first, her own annoyance playing in a thin edge of the words before she accepts the hand to slide down Dakkath's side. She doesn't thank the dragon, or bow, or otherwise acknowledge him like most who live in a Weyr would. Instead, her dark eyes remain on K'hal, a challenge if ever there were one. But eventually, she drags her gaze away to sweep over the beach, taking in what she saw from above but closer now. K'hal looks like he's going to answer any of what Alysce says....but the moment her hand is claimed and she's off the dragon, he has her up against the nearest tree. Up against him. Up against a sharp blade to her neck. It doesn't draw blood, but it's indeed there with the potential to. His face close to hers along with his body against the tree, "Aye now," he breathes, seeming to be barely contained. "Let's start this over again and proper, now, ya wily little cocktease. Who. Do. You. Work. For. Leedris? The Lady Rola?" Threat and lust war for dominance in his tone, his free hand already working to secure a hold of her waist against him. It's the knife that finally breaks through Alysce's bravado, panic sparking in the dark eyes that lift to K'hal with the knife between them. She barely breathes, pulse racing as she gives up her secret without a second thought, cursing, "Fucking shells, Jo. Jo sent me. Ok? I'm not working for anyone. Jo and I have a bet." She doesn't move, not with a knife against her neck. K'hal still doesn't speak much, watching Alysce finally freak out with a stony face that betrays nothing. There's only the brief flicker of recognition of Jo's name in his blue eyes that searches hers for any falsehoods, not letting up the knife nor the proximity of his body as he echoes, "A bet. What kind of bet?" The obvious search gets an obvious question, as Alysce challenges with a sharp edge of fear and frustration on her words, "Why the fuck would I lie to you about that, when you dragonriders could talk to each other in an instant and find out? I'm not stupid." Given that she's in this predicament, well. Finally, she moves, her arm lifting to wrap fingers around the wrist of K'hal's hand holding the blade, but it's a gentle movement that she makes to try to pry away the edge from her throat. It seems fear only fleetingly won over bravado and the belief the young hold that they're invulnerable, since she adds dryly: "I am not going to talk to you while you hold a knife to me. If you want to know about our bet, you can put that away." The knife seems to stay right at her throat. K'hal doesn't seem to have any intention of moving it away until....the very last second, many moments later. He reverses it, dropping his arm down, but his other hold around her waist remains as he watches her unnervingly. After a considerable amount of time, "People lie in fear," he says steadily, his hold on her firming as his face moves close....close to the side of her neck....and there's an indulgent sniff. It's as if he had detected a feast. "People'll say anything to a stranger." His nose still close to her skin, he goes quiet and seems to wait for her to say more. Relief is evident as the knife drops away from her throat, tension melting from Alysce's lithe form with it. "Harpers don't," answers the apprentice as if it's the truth. "Every lie, every word that comes from our lips is purposeful." Yet, her head tips, allowing more access to her neck even as she moves finally into the large frame that pins her. And that hand on his wrist drops away, to curve an arm around his shoulder and bury fingers into blonde hair instead. "And what's a harper doing with betting with Jo?" K'hal vocalizes now, the knife seeming to have been slipped away somewhere on him in order to free a hand that cups her throat, and then drags lower. "Harpers aren't her style." Words are low, and callused fingers reach the swell of breast when she buries fingers into his loose hair. "And what does it have to do with me?" he now asks aloud, his head angling towards that exposed neck before his teeth graze her right there. It's a sharp nip, but it doesn't break skin. A small noise escapes from Alysce's throat at the nip, immediately arching into him as her fingers tighten into his hair. Her words, though softened by a sudden flood of want, are still sassy when she answers, "Well, let's see. I came up to you in a bar and asked you to fuck me. What do you think this mysterious, impossible to guess bet is about?" A pause, before she continues, giving up more without being prompted, "We were discussing being dangerous. But, there's more ways to be dangerous than wielding a knife, aren't there?" There's a 'huff' of noise in response to Alysce's own, a sort of sharp exhale that has him closing his free hand about her covered breast. In disbelief, he suddenly leans away to look at her face as he drops, "She asked you to fuck me?" There's a snort to follow and her last earns a brief, "There are, but I'm not good at any of those." So the knife it is. But suddenly he's tugging her towards him, and he's going down, down to the sand and landing on his backside. If she falls with him, his arms would guide her to straddle him. Alysce isn't pulling away, so down she goes. And while he might be the one to guide her to straddle him, it's all her that presses a splayed hand flat against his chest, as if that could possibly pin him. His question is answered by the apprentice leaning closer to capture his lips demandingly with her own. K'hal is a man of few words, certainly. Alysce really doesn't have to do or say much to convey her intentions, and the bronzerider really doesn't delay what was obvious anyway. Once down and straddled, and her lips on his, his hands nearly rip her top off to get at bare breasts, all the while his kiss is equally demanding. He'll even one-up her with a thrust of his hips against her before really putting to action the sort of danger that the harper apprentice was seeking. There's not even a second thought spared for clothing that might be ruined; that is a problem for another time. Right now, the problem Alysce faces is shedding the rest of the clothing between them as quickly as possible, and even then, some items are left on in the rush to bare what is necessary. It's only after, sweaty and satisfied, that she stops to appreciate the broad frame underneath her, her hand dragging across the plane of his stomach slowly. "You know, we could have started with this," she tells him, words twisting wryly. "But I think you owe me an apology. At least for calling me a cocktease." One like K'hal seems to appreciate the enthusiasm of one such as Alysce. His aggression bares forth in the way he claims her, and when all is said and done, the bronzerider's skin is sandy and sweaty against the harper's lithe form. "I've had a few run ins with women that nearly stabbed me to death under the pretense of trying to get into my pants," is his excuse, and he doesn't appear sorry for it. "You're not a cocktease," he decides to say then as he looks over at her with half-lidded eyes, "but you're still not good at answering questions, either. I would've fucked you sooner if you had." "Oh? Tell me about those women," Alysce suggests lightly, her fingers finding a scar on his chest even as she asks it and brushing over it. "Were they prettier than me?" She stretches slowly, teasingly against him even as she asks it, not seeming to mind at all the sand or sweat. And for not being good at answering questions? Well, she only flashes a crooked, shameless smile. "They liked knives and my dick," K'hal is not shy in saying. "Pretty. Can't remember much..." Well, Alysce stretches and he wraps an arm about her, his voice trailing before a hand reaches down to slap her backside. "Never been with a harper before," he admits how, eyeing her. "My type isn't their sort. You were that hard up to take Jo up on her offer? She must've offered you something good in return." A small squeak escapes as he smacks her, followed by a wrinkle of her nose even as Alysce questions in a challenge, "What type is a harper?" She curves closer as his arm wraps, but the first order of business seems to be to drop her lips to the curve of his shoulder and bite it, lightly. "A favor. And a bet is a bet. A challenge is-- well, a challenge." K'hal's lips pinch close to grin at that squeak before he answers her on harpers. "Follows the rules," he answers her with a meaningful look. "Teaching others to follow the rules. Telling stories, and singing stories. I'm holdless-stock. harpers didn't much have anything to do with us." There's a deep rumble for her bite and he seems to be contemplating the bet made. "What would you use the favor for?" he asks her then. "That's obvious; if you met many harpers, you wouldn't think we're all rule followers," Alysce answers blithely, her own brow only quirking back to the meaningful look, daring. Then she shrugs her shoulder, a practiced, careless roll upwards before she drops her head onto the shoulder that she just abused. "I don't know. I don't know that I really need a favor. But--." A pause, before she allows, "Maybe something. It depends." "So you risk a knife to the throat for a favor you don't know what to do with?" K'hal seems more amused than anything. "Maybe I do need to study you harpers again." He leans over to bury his face in between her breasts, one hand reaching to cup one before he's sitting up. "Need to get back," he states then, eyeing his dragon waiting nearby. "You can come back with me. Make those little noises again in my bed. I won't slit your throat." "I don't think it's only harpers that know a favor is always useful." The rest of Alysce's wisdom is saved for another day, though, as he starts to move and she does the same. Sand is shaken out of black hair with a ruffle of fingers as the harper moves to sit as well, and she reaches for her shirt to pull on the clothing regardless of the state while her gaze slides after K'hal's to the bronze dragon. But her only answer is a sarcastic, "Well, I'm not walking back, so--." Though, ending up in his bed does happen. Grinning, "Unless you're expecting to dance your way over..." K'hal has his clothes at least somewhat presentable before he's mounted and offering her a hand up with him. Of course, once back in the Reaches, the rest of the night with little much else until morning. Especially clothing. |
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