Logs:Divided Attentions
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| RL Date: 9 August, 2015 |
| Who: Jo, Irianke |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo stops by to let Irianke know that plans are in motion. Irianke is affected by Lilah's disappearance in Fort. |
| Where: Irianke and Niahvth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 6, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Ali/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: General sexiness. |
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| With all of her turnday celebrations passed and gone, Jo has been seen returning to tasks at hand. Despite her being outside Irianke's weyr, he has Tacuseth send greetings to Niahvth, his touch like a desert shadow. « Mine would like a visit, » is his simple request, the blue's presence somewhere up above towards the southern rim with the watchrider, and ease and calmness in his mindvoice. By now the news of Eliyaveith's absence has reached High Reaches and the impact of such news has already dampened some of Niahvth's bright floral touch that usually blankets the Weyr. Since then, Irianke has stayed within her weyr, though this is not unheard of, particularly on busy days, and has had all her meals delivered so Jo's interruption, through Tacuseth, times itself well with a trolley of food being pushed towards the weyrwoman's home. A voice, uneasy with itself, extends with, « She is welcome, but, » Niahvth hesitates, an uncharacteristic uncertainty trembling in the mind space between them, « I apologize in advance, » she ultimately decides to say to explain what Jo will see when entering, which initially doesn't seem out of the ordinary: Irianke sitting at her big stone table with a crystal decanter of something strong. It's likely that Tacuseth has heard of the Fortian Weyrwoman's disappearance, for the blue's touch of shadows thin as if in understanding. « We understand, » is all he sends as Jo - fastened up in her black leathers - is slow to enter the weyr as she lets the food trolley pass before her. Once in, she pauses within the threshold and watches Irianke at her table with the decanter. Head tilts a bit as she takes in the scene, not making her presence known yet. If anything, she seems to draw in the somberness of the weyr with a keen eye, and waits. The drudge puts a neatly plated dish of food on the table along with a basket of bread, a little bowl of butter, and a pitcher of something not klah, sets the napkins and utensils neatly and walks out. It's then Irianke looks up and finds Jo, ignoring the drudge and the food, and motions, "Did you want a drink? What am I saying, of course you do, fetch a glass and we'll drink to lost...," the goldrider skips a beat, seeming to lose her train of thought and says, "Fuck it. To people we didn't even really know well at all and somehow feel compelled to feel sad about." Jo moves out of the drudge's way without even looking their way. It's only when her and Irianke's gazes meet that she moves further into the weyr. "I heard," she ventures to say as she collects up a glass on the way over towards her rather than a chair at the table. Once she's by her side, she'll have two fingers try to touch the goldrider's chin and lift her face up to her as if she wants a closer study. Quiet, "Yer alright, Iri?" she asks, sounding uncharacteristically serious. "Fine," says the goldrider, uncharacteristically curt in that response, trying, and failing, to dodge those two fingers at her chin, and unbidden, look up to the bluerider. "I didn't know her. Not well. She's not dead," this much Irianke says with certain. "No one's mourning. It still, whatever." Irianke, normally so good with words or at least masking her own feelings on a myriad of subjects, dismisses this ever complicated one with a sudden shake of her head, dislodging Jo's fingers. "I imagine K'del will either get drunk tonight, in the privacy of his weyr, or run off to Southern for some comfort. They were close, I think." When she dislodges her fingers, Jo curls those fingers to herself before she turns towards the table and reaches for the decanter to fill up her glass. While doing so, "Never met her myself," she admits briskly as she pours. "We Reachians know about Weyrwomen loss, after all." Her brief look towards her seems to include Irianke in that regard - since she's now part of Reaches herself. "Still, it's an odd way to go." Moving to settle in a chair right across from her, "I thought K'del was with another goldrider," she says, taking a healthy drink without a wince on its potency. Her dark gaze lingers on Irianke. "Southern's Weyrwoman," says Irianke, a marked bitterness brittling the title. "But he seems to make friends of many goldriders across Pern, just not those of High Reaches. Not since his... weyrmate? The pretender Weyrwoman Iolene was murdered. It would be easier if his weyrmate were Reachian." The subject of K'del's love life draws the once Igen, now Reaches, goldrider out of the Fort-induced funk and she finally reaches for her plate, only then realizing there's only one setting. "Were you hungry? Should I have the kitchens send something else up?" "This why ya want him gone?" Jo drains her glass, watching her as she reveals more about the Weyrleader than she clearly knows. "He's...do ya want him?" There seems to be no judgement if she does, but curiosity colors her quiet tone. On food, she looks over what is brought before she shakes her head and simply says, "I ate, darlin'. Came 'cuz I had some news, but I think it can wait. I'm more concerned 'bout you." This, of all things, makes Irianke's pallid face flush, though not with the pink of affection, but with surprised laughter. "Oh, Faranth, no. I don't think a Weyrleader's attention should be divided between so much and I suspect he has already made his choice of Weyr over family, but I do not need a Weyrleader who does not have the spine to make it a decisive decision, as cold hearted as it seems. It's either High Reaches and his duty or his family. He cannot have both and have be successful in all his roles." "I agree," Jo states, leaning all the way forward to reach the decanter for a refill. "Someone in his rank'n position shouldn' have his loyalties divided." There's something marked about her statement, though it's likely missed. Once her refill is had and she resettles, "So, where does this leave Fort?" she asks her, seeming to gauge the woman across from her. "In a worse state than High Reaches when I arrived, one weyrwoman incapacitated by, what I hear through the rumor mill, a difficult pregnancy and a weyrling, nowhere near graduating." Irianke considers Jo, long after the bluerider's finished talking, even while her hands move mechanically to cut and eat her evening steak and steamed vegetables. "Fort is not of our concern though," other than K'del's relation to it, it would seem, "And it might very well aid with what I asked you," she pauses delicately, a forkful of squash hovering in the air before her mouth, "Before." "No doubt they'll pull through, if we could through two deaths," Jo remarks blithely with a drink. "If Fort is as resilient as we seem to be over here." Pause. "Other opportunities may present themselves, darlin'," she says of K'del, and their business arrangement, "but I'm ever watchful. Perhaps this at Fort could serve our purposes, if K'del is as close to her as ya say. I'm securin' help, as we speak," she adds, delivering her news. "I've been cashin' in favors for distractions." "Have you?" Irianke sets down her fork and knife and reaches for her own alcohol, nursing it about the rim, sliding the cup fluidly between two hands so it's rotating slowly. If it weren't strongly alcoholic, it'd seem like a cup of tea. A sip, then a longer sip, and then the goldrider is reaching for the pitcher of juice delivered and cuts the liquor. As if it only occurred to her just now, in spite of what she might know or have heard of Jo, the brunette says, her words quiet, "Don't hurt him. I may not yearn to have him between my legs but he is a good man." Wryly, "I don' kill 'riders," Jo seems to repeat the words from a previous conversation, the woman leaning back more comfortably in her chair. "'N, he won' get hurt. He'll just be preoccupied, or the attempt will be so. I can't promise Cadejoth'll take the bait as well." There's a pause as she considers the liquid seen in her glass then, turning quietly contemplative as she says, idly, "Mm. He is. I won' deny him that." "That'd be an interesting exercise. Will the dragon chase even without the rider's attention?" Irianke muses. "If I could share these thoughts with our dragonhealers, I'd ask them to pay attention. Take notes. Study what happens." But alas, says the cute little shrug, this is an impossibility. "Jo," the goldrider reaches over, one hand released from her cup, to find the bluerider and touch her, at whatever the closest point might be. "It would be somethin' to look into," Jo muses, playing with her half-filled glass. "Imagine how useful that sort of information could be, in the future. Seein' how the bond of rider'n dragon could be manipulated. Or used, if 'manipulation' is too strong a word. Who's to say the gamble wouldn' be worth it?" But Irianke's hand is there, and the convict rider watches her first before draining her glass again in record time before her hand reaches out across the table to meet her. "Ya called me Jo," she idly notes with a touch of amusement there. Fingers curling about hers, "Come 'ere," she states quietly. "I called you Jo," agrees Irianke, pulling herself from her seat, fingers tightening about Jo's, and nestling into the bluerider's lap. "Jo. Jo. Jo." The Igen woman says the name thrice and leans in each time to take a kiss from some part of the bluerider: behind the ear, along the neck, right at the collarbone. With the goldrider on her very capable lap, Jo draws an arm about her waist, pulling her further to herself. It's comfort. It's possessive. She'll try to steal a kiss on her lips when Irianke embraces her, murmuring close, "Ya know ya can come to me for anythin', right? Or tell me anythin'?" Fingers lift to caress her chin, trying to lend the weyrwoman her comfort and strength should she wish it. A low, husky laugh responds to Jo's words. "I appreciate that," says the older woman sincerely, in between her hands roaming to find some place to rest and not being satisfied with wherever they end up for long. "I do. Friends are hard to come by and I'd like to consider you that." Pause. "And more." Irianke reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind the bluerider's ear, her finger trailing over the ear's curves once more after doing so and then following the lines down the other woman's jaw. "I can be," Jo is easy to say, tracing her cheek with her nose towards Irianke's ear. "I am. 'N more, baby," before her tongue snakes out to taste her just beneath her lobe. If there's a little nip there at the end, the pain wouldn't be sharp. Exposing her neck to her kisses, "Do ya want me to stay tonight?" she asks, her breath hitching as her hand seeks to touch Irianke's bare skin. "Yes," breathes out Irianke, her hands reaching back to untie the ribbon about her neck and parting long enough to shed her blouse. "Stay. I have a meeting with K'del later tonight, but, until then?" Nuzzling what she can of Irianke's neck to her answer, "I can stay until the meetin'," Jo promises, her hand boldly seeking to cup an exposed breast. "Until then, let me take care of ya, Irianke." Her grip on her waist tightening, she'll manuever to get to her feet then before trying to draw her into a heated kiss as she works to shed herself of her black leather jacket. Only then, once the jacket hits the floor, that she'll try and lead her towards her bed without breaking any contact. Well-versed, by now, with Jo's clothing choices and her own, Irianke aids in making sure the pair of them are naked before they push past that beaded curtain and onto her bed, a guttural sound of pure, anticipatory pleasure echoing before anything actually happens. Poor K'del and that poor shared wall. Maybe he's not home. |
Comments
Alida (22:20, 9 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
I enjoy seeing these two interact in the myriad of ways that they do so.
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