Logs:Following Grapevines
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| RL Date: 3 September, 2015 |
| Who: Jo, X'vin, Tacuseth, Besmernyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: There's a small Fort invasion in Snowasis by the name of X'vin. Jo checks him out (since she went on HIS turf last time). |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Alida/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Dee/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, E'dre/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions |
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| It's busy in the Snowasis bar tonight. Both Glacier and Savannah wings are out in a good turn-out this night, claiming their usual spot at the dart boards and surrounded by pitchers of ale. Jo takes up her usual spot - a table close to the action but apart enough to know that she's not lifting a finger to toss any darts. She has a mug of dark liquor in one hand as she watches them, facing the entrance and keeping an eye on those that enter and leave the place, as usual. Every now and then she joins in on their banter, but for the most part she looks content to enjoy her drink alone. The last time he was here, X'vin was swept upon by a goldrider and cased by an overprotective blue one, which is perhaps why his entrance is nondescript, a rolling stroll through the entrance from the patio that sees him settled on a barstool with a grin at the surprisingly familiar bartender. But aren't they all? It helps that there are crowds larger than the midday one; foreign or not, neither his knot or his patches seem to be garnering too much attention for him to handle, and he orders with a very white, very toothy smile then turns to look around, eyes bouncing off each of the (occupied) booths before landing on the far wall where the dart game is. If he is looking for company, he's not being terribly conspicuous about it; after a round of the game when his drink comes, he takes to really settling in on that chair, jacket removed and draped over the back. Jo's probably caught his entrance, and his non-descriptness doesn't alert any flags just yet. She briefly watches where he goes before she's paying attention to the dart game, some particularly clever move from one of her wingriders earning a loud round of applause from her wing and groans from Savannah's. She merely shakes her head and drinks, but maybe it's something that prompts her to look again towards the bar counter that see her staring at the stranger again...a stranger that looks more familiar the longer she looks at him. If recognition hits her, she seems to be good at concealing it since she's blatantly staring at him now as she drinks from her mug. Eventually it becomes abundantly clear that the most interesting thing tonight is the dart game, and X'vin isn't the only one watching it despite being several degrees removed. Or perhaps something else that way has his attention. Either way, he watches, making short work of his first glass of wine (Benden. Red. Top shelf.) and ordering a refill before he hies himself down the bar several seats, all for a better vantage point. A better view in general. And it's in that movement he catches Jo's eye, his smile toothy and white for her staring. By all appearances, he doesn't recognize her either. Shame. The card games going around this night is indeed quiet ones, for all that little attention that Jo's been giving them. Really, it's the dart game for the night, drawing a bit of a crowd already as the two wings square off. As for the convict rider, once she catches X'vin's smile and attention, there's a nod from her and briefly raised mug in wordless greeting. Eyes flick down towards one the seats at her table, an open invitation should he wants it as she nurses her drink. If they're gesturing silently as a form of communication, X'vin will counter with a small smile, a shake of the head, a tilt of the chin to the stool beside him. An apologetic, upward palm and flick of fingers to the dart players - who are loud - a disappointed wrinkle of the nose, and a point to his ear with a shake of the head. Wouldn't be able to hear a thing. X'vin wouldn't hear her snort, but he'll probably catch that thin-lipped pinch of Jo's mouth in his direction for his message. She then drags herself halfway over the table to try numerous times to snag the back pocket of one of her wingmates, and once he feels the tug and looks back at her, "Save my damn table!" is her message before she slides back down and is away with her mug. She winds her way through the crowd, reaching X'vin's side and leaning up against the counter rather than claiming the stool yet. Watching the dart game, "I spy a Fortian in our bar," is her greeting, stealing a glance his way. "Admittedly, ours is better." "Not sure I'd say it's better, relatively. The Glass Fountain has class." He isn't particularly fervent in defending the establishment in his home weyr, "but the bartenders here are perfect. And sometimes," slyly, "the company is alright too. Hi, Jo." So he does recognize her, and X'vin's smile is far too smug for having made her come closer. "I thought that was you. Couldn't tell." He lets it sit for a moment, watching the game as she does, taking a sip of his wine and proceeding to lean his elbows back on the bar, head canting off to the side. "How's things?" "Who needs class where I come from?" drops rhetorically from Jo, delivered with a quick shrug as she people-watches. "I'll save that for the hypocrites. Yer company, right here, is awesome, by the way." She looks him up and down as she sweeps a free hand up and down her body in indication of herself. She rolls her eyes and snorts at the rest, returning with a wry, "X'vin, right? Surprised ya remembered my name. Thought I was forgettable over yonder-Fort way. Things are good, considerin'. Recoverin' old Weyrleader. New senior. Me enjoyin' all that life has to offer. I haven' died, at least. What about you?" He gets her study now, and it's not exactly a covert one as she draws that mug to her lips. "Where do you come from? Where I come from, a little class goes a very long way." X'vin is equally rhetoric, not expecting an answer so early on being reacquainted, but he tips his glass in acknowledgement to his name. "You're hardly forgettable. It's the leathers, I think." Those ones, you know. That make her blend into exactly no crowds. "I heard about Niahvth's flight," which he was notoriously absent from, "and your weyrleader. It's unfortunate it had to come to that. Holders are tricky" He sounds largely indifferent, for all his choice of words isn't. And thoughtful, in saying, "Stabbing a weyrleader is one way of getting what you want, I guess. Though I can't imagine what they thought they'd get from it." "From the 'sunshiny hold' known as Keogh," Jo answers anyway with a fake bright smile and joyous voice that she drops seconds later by taking a drink. "My father gave no shits 'bout class. Guards didn' need it. Are ya from some secret place only reachable by dragons?" Still, she raises her own mug to his answer on her being memorable, that smile of hers winsome. "Ya stick out," she relates as well, looking him over. "I don' think they make'm like you over here. Suave'n shit." There's a slight shrug as she looks away, the wings celebrating once more by the dartboard as she says on the flight, "Yeah, holders are, darlin'. Good thing it wasn' fatal. Whoever did it, must've been mad enough to do it." She looks at him before shaking her head, looking as if the injustice of it all is a tragedy. "Yet his bronze flew Niahvth anyway, too." "A hold on the coast just south of Gar, actually," corrects the Fortian rider with a chuckle. "Guards there had manners. Class. They got fired otherwise. You can be polite and effective." And, apparently suave, something that X'vin will take as a compliment. "Bad breeding stock, I'd say. Shady morals in the genes. Maybe I'll come around more and hedge your chances at a better future." He has to be joking. Anyways, there's the matter if K'del, a swirl of the glass and a low hum. "I hear he was close to it though. Lucky you'll have him back, even if he is damaged goods." He falls into pensive silence for the latter, the dartboard losing his interest. "Cadejoth does have a record for defying logic. He set the bar high early; I imagine it must be hard to keep your crowd adoring if you don't keep them on the edge of their seats in anticipation." "Guards with class'n manners," Jo tries those words together for size, nodding as she regards the bronzerider beside her. "What, is that what matters over there? I dunno 'bout polite, but I'm effective. Got different ways to be effective that got nothin' to do with manners." She laughs on him and better futures, shaking her head and taking a drink as she says, "Mmm. Are ya one of those where good breedin' matters?" she wonders aloud, angling a little look his way with that curious curve of her lips. On K'del, there's a quick shake of her head as she looks back towards the game. "We're used to damaged goods here," she drawls out, a touch dry. "It's pro'bly a prerequisite now. I'm startin' to think Cadejoth has the whole thing rigged, the way he catches. Does that bronze of yers keep the crowd on the edge of their seats, or is that just bronzerider ego talkin'?" Her mouth lingers around that mug, the look she's sending X'vin playful along with an intense study. X'vin tsks lightly under his breath. "Wouldn't'e lasted a second where I'm from. Shame, too. Would've been nice to have a decent looking woman guarding the doors, not just men or the women with mustaches thicker than the ones I can grow." That might answer what kind of person he is. "Seems a bit more like you get very good things, and you wear them down with use and misuse. You break your nice toys by being careless with them around here. I look forward to seeing exactly how long your newly minted weyrwomen last. It was a fire, with Weyrwoman Azaylia, was it not?" Her mention of Besmernyth has him lifting a single shoulder in a shrug, and his answer is very oblique. "Besmernyth doesn't care for crowds." "Just as well," Jo is easy to agree with his words, her lips quirking a bit at him as she hitches up an elbow back to brace herself against the counter. "I ain' exactly a holdbred kind of girl, anyway. I might've stuck around for someone like you, though." There's a low chuckle on X'vin's next as she drinks, eyes falling on the dart game and the raucous wingriders around it before answering as an aside, "Irianke's Igen. She ain' Azaylia nor Aishani." Cutting a look his way, "She ain' Reachian bred," she notes on the Weyrwoman. "She ain' afraid to take risks. Women like that have a tendency to live a lot longer. I'll reckon she'll prove ya wrong. Fire," and she nods on Azaylia. "Sweet girl. A lil' misguided. Yer bronze pro'bly shouldn' talk to my blue," she notes on the last with a flash of teeth. "Tacuseth's all showy crowds'n dark shadows. He's clever enough, though." "Would you have? That's a shame. Girls who stuck around for me got disappointed. You don't seem the kind to stick around." X'vin's raised eyebrow is inquiry of its own, wordless, and he watches her rather than the bartender who comes to check his drink or the game that is resuming. He seems satisfied already, with a half-full glass and decent company."Farideh's Igen too, is she not?" There's something knowing to the quirk of his lips. I mean, she Impressed a gold on Reaches' sands, but..." But. Tricky "I hope she does. Where do you bury all the bodies?" It's unfair and irreverent, and particularly unkind given hangover traditions from the Pass, but he says it anyway, too nonchalant. "It's hard to say," is of Tacuseth, and his crowds. "Besmernyth is very cold. Other dragons don't bother him when he doesn't want them to." "Not into girls, maybe?" Jo teases lightly, playing with her mug. "No, I don'," she agrees on her not sticking around. "I didn' say I'd stick 'round for long." She studies X'vin just as much as he does her - hers bordering on amusement and calculating all at once. She nods once on Farideh before she says, "She's interestin'," is all she seems to say on that one. "She could learn a lot from me. She might live a long while, too. It'll depend, really. Body-hidin'?" Laughter, and there's a bit of sparkle in her eyes from the lighting. "We Reachians don' spill all of our secrets," is her answer to that. "'Sides, ya seem like an expert yerself. Tacuseth's used to all kinds, darlin'," on the last, taking another drink. "Just like me. Cold don' scare us." "Not into girls who can't keep my attentions," X'vin corrects her easily enough. "Hold girls...rarely are worth more than a romp. Just like caverns girls, but at least they know what a going on around them enough to gossip their heads off about it." He's keenly interested moments later, the evidence there in the way he stops worrying his wine glass and turns full focus on her. "And what, exactly, would you purport to teach her, bluerider? How to work the mines? How to catch someone in your bed? She's got that second one down pat, and I wonder if she even has it in her to do something that might warrant the first." Someone's done his research since they last met, it seems. "He doesn't mean to scare," X'vin says evenly, and probably doesn't even notice the goosebumps that raise on his arms or the shiver that trips down his spine. "He could try," is hollow, as if saying he couldn't would stop Tacuseth from trying to engage Besmernyth. "What about girls that used to be holdbred 'til they ended up runnin' with thieves'n the sort?" Jo has to ask now with laughter in her gaze. And well, indeed someone's been checking up on her, for before she could come back at the bronzerider with some usual smart-alec comment, her mouth is closing again the further he speaks. She looks around them as she nods a bit, the smirk that touches her lips bordering on smug. "Very good," the convict rider says as she does so. "Seems like the grapevines ya follow have long arms, Fort, to be hearin' 'bout lil' ole me." Returning her gaze to him, "I could teach her how to handle rougher crowds," she goes on to answer now. "A weyrwoman should have a skill like that. Diplomacy with words don' always work. She's a pompous lil' thing, but, I'm still holdin' out hope that she can be taught. The mines won' have her'n as for bed-play," there's a pause and chuckle for that as she takes a drink. Talk of their dragons draws a curious air from her now, and there's a slight unfocusing of her gaze as Tacuseth's deep desert shadows seek out to taste the presence that is Besmernyth. There are no words for now - just a taste of her curious, his shadows mere wisps on the wind. Belated, "'N what would'ja deign to teach our young goldrider?" she asks now while her blue seeks. "Can't trust a thief," X'vin says, suppressing a smile. "You have to follow more than grapevines for what you want, sometimes. To think, I had to spend marks the closer I got to the weyr. You've got a very hush bunch, but they're not unflappable. It's why I don't trust thieves." The glass touches his lips once while she explains Farideh, and he drains it, setting it at just the point where it might be snagged for a refill in passing. "I wouldn't put my money on her hitting anyone without breaking her own wrists, but it's worth trying. I'm surprised you got her into any place that has rougher crowds." But then again, "I suppose maybe if she'd known that sooner, K'del wouldn't have gotten a knife in the back." The hairs on X'vin's arms are still up, his gaze wholly focused as the bartender takes the hint and refills his glass. "Why, certainly nothing she doesn't already know. It's why I like her company, when she'll have me. Fickle girl." There is something waiting for Tacuseth, too close to the edge of Besmernyth's consciousness to allow any intrusion shrouded in it's own darkness with eyes closed, unmoving as the blue probes, It could be dead, that thing: too skinny, skin and bones and stygian darkness. It doesn't move, not even the mangy patches of fur under the touch of icy wind. But it growls. Amused by something, "All this to perhaps get into my pants, or was there a reason to ya lookin' so deep into a mere bluerider of many in the Reaches?" Jo asks this as she takes a drink, her gaze on the dart game. Stealing a look his way, "They must've not been my bunch, then, for it would've taken more'n marks to them to talk 'bout me. As silver-tongued as ya appear to be." She snorts on Farideh and fighting before she remarks, "Anyone can be taught, but I wouldn' teach her to swing a punch. I got her to go 'cuz she has nothin' to fear from me. They both should've been careful in a place where there was unrest," she adds on K'del with a press of lips. "The heir there was just found dead. That's enough to have me walkin' 'round there with my hand on my knife hilt." Pause. "Ya've been in her bed, is it?" That gets amusement, too. As for Tacuseth, he still probes, but it's less so than before. The curiosity is still there on Besmernyth, and growl doesn't let those shadows flinch. Instead of words, he sends a visual of a dry desert wasteland with a sudden drop of winds. Nothing moves. Nothing whispers. A pindrop could be heard in its place. It's all still. Watching. "It's hardly because I think I'd need to spend so many marks to get in your bed," X'vin says, equal parts snuffing her joking advances and encouraging them, the way he's looking at her. "And it hardly matters who told me; it talked to people who knew things about you. Even if they're trivial things," and there's a low sigh for that. Even he knows how carefully things can be held to the chest. "I'm surprised they didn't stab her," he admits, brisk. "It would have been easier if they wanted to kill a leader. Smacks of timing, doesn't it? If he'd died, it wouldn't matter that Cadejoth caught Niahvth. He probably wouldn't have. The world is filled with these odd coincidences." Of Farideh's bed, he has only a mercurial smile and a tilt of the head, his brows raising. Besmernyth is not the aggressor, but he is aggressive if that growl was any indication. There is a low, hanging, breathless pause with his chill flush against Tacuseth's cold, and then, « What do you want. » There's a soft snort on the first, but Jo keeps her council. "Cuz I was lookin' you up?" is her return on trivial things, her smile baring all. "It would make sense. I'd have done the same if someone like you were to show up one day on my turf, looking to see me." Beat. "She's not a leader," she goes on to say about Farideh. "Although, if it was meant to deflect attention, goin' after her would've been more useful for whomever did it. It is an interestin' coincidence, though," and there's something there in her tone that would probably be hard to pinpoint. And then, that X'vin merely smiles on her question about Farideh's bed draws open laughter from the bluerider and a wry, "Uh-huh. How is Fort, since I haven' asked?" Perhaps it's a segue for something while Tacuseth's wasteland remains so with no winds. The cold lingers on those words before the blue answers back, « To meet you. » It's simple, the request, watching. "It sounds like a bad joke. A Reaches bluerider meets a bronzerider in a bar. She goes back, and tells another bluerider, who goes to Fort to meet the bronzerider. A joke or the preamble to a properly smutty and rejected Harper's novel." The point, though, "Call it vanity, but you never told me what she said that piqued your interest. Of course, vanity is just enough paranoia to warrant my own curiosity." On Farideh, he is not tentative in his agreement. "Not as such, no. Even so, killing a goldrider has it's efficacy." The statement hangs well into her laughter. When he speaks again, he's moved on from High Reaches' junior in favor of his own, "Fort is recovering well, from her own troubles. No weyrleader to stab," is of note, but there is no secret that since Lilah disappeared, it fairs only marginally better than Reaches. "Progress feels slow when you're in the midst of it." Besmernyth's not annoyed; he is still and steady and frigid. « To what purpose? » Snickering on the joke, "As if ya had better to do," Jo notes with a look, as if sizing X'vin up. "She said ya gave her a vibe. An oily one, I think. I don' rightly remember. But. If she has a curious vibe 'bout somebody, it's usually good to look'em up. She used to be a guard." As if that is something important. On Fort, "What 'bout that weyrlin' goldrider?" she asks, curious when Lilah is brought up. "How is she farin'? Can't even begin to imagine what sort of position she's been left in there.Still, ya'll manage to evade gettin' yer Weyrleaders stabbed over there, so, that's somethin'. Maybe we Reachians are just so rebellious, eh?" « Mine thinks it would be useful to, » Tacuseth has no hesitation in answering. « And I. We. » The wastelands linger in silence, the cool now a mere taste of it seeping through its landscape. "She told me I smiled too much," X'vin recalls with the slow deliberation of memories that are difficult to retrieve. "I think it might be all the miserable weather that makes you all so bitterly against joy. Or maybe it's just that they teach you in the guard: smiling is suspicious." His own is easy though, maybe not even a little oily, for what it's worth. "Dee has to prove something. Besmernyth says her Taeliyth is strong. It's the most we can hope for." As for rebellion, X'vin has an eyebrow for it, and a low grunt. "Fort's been through plenty without knifeplay involved. I'd keep it that way, if I can." Besmernyth is not exactly welcoming, as it were. He does, eventually and with oddly laborious movements, leash and draw the monster at the door away, just enough to allow he might welcome the intrusion. « Speak, then, » he says, sounding bored and already too disinterested. "The smilin' is a curious phenomenon for us," Jo teases in a serious tone, nodding as she examines his lips. Totally innocent. Right. "Ya do have a lot of teeth. That could be somethin' to be suspicious of. Maybe ya look to disarm folks with it. That could be just as suspicious. Says ya got somethin' to hide." Like she should talk, and the convict rider's current smile is deliberately disarming. She nods on Dee, frowning a bit as she says, "She's pretty young. Hope she can handle the pressure-shit comin' her way. Lookin' to rule one day?" That's for the last bit with a little bit of a smirk for him. As for Tacuseth, « Just wanted to introduce myself, » he's courteous enough. « I'm not one to disturb. Name's Tacuseth. If there's anythin' you need, » and that emphasis is a heavy one, « you're welcome to let us know. Her offer to him. Mine to you, if you're inclined. We might find common ground. » The monster at the door only gets a curious taste, but no leeching. "Oh, I've got teeth. I just have the sense and good manners not to bare them without reason." Even so, X'vin's smiles are never those tight-lipped, stuck up sorts; the flash of white adds to his charm. "Don't read so far into it. You all might find the world a touch brighter, if you do." The bartender comes by to fill his drink again, but X'vin stays him at the halfway mark with a hand. "Everyone has something to hide, bluerider. They're just...not always secrets that are dangerous." X'vin takes a sip of his freshened glass. "If I wanted to rule anything, I would have stayed home and never gone to Stand. But if it would get Fort from foundering to recovery, I would. Not my choice, at any rate. E'dre and Hattie...they'll do what they think is right." Which, it should be noted, doesn't sound like what he thinks is right. "Hope Dee's smart enough to tease out the important parts." The monster is skin and bones and bright glowing eyes of white-blue in the snow, but it retreats into the flanking woods, leaving only the suggestion it is still watching, with more eyes than were shown. « And what, » is amused, so amused in that low and cultured pronunciation, « do you think you could do for us. You're a dragon of the Reaches, and a blue, no less. » Snickering on teeth, "I bet," is all Jo sardonically says to that with a bit of hip. "Optimistic. Aren' you full of surprises." She drains her mug and sets it on the counter, her head angling over her shoulder to keep X'vin in her sights as she finally turns her back on the dart game. "Show me a brighter world'n I'll be less critical of the smiles that come my way, darlin'. Guess where I'm from, there's no difference with secrets. But who knows. Maybe ya can teach me a thing or two'n I you." His answer on ruling Fort seems to catch her interest since she says back, "I question the dragons that choose the folks that end up rulin' these places," acknowledging the discord she detects there. I smell ambition in ya, X'vin." It must be a heady scent. The desert wastelands rustles a few sticks here and there, the study given in kind as Tacuseth answers the Fortian bronze with « I wouldn' underestimate, bub, » the rough and grit of sand heard and tasted. There's a flicker of darkness - something so cold, sharp as steel and dangerous with the foul and familiar scent in the wasteland air. It's only a snapshot. It's a sensation with no images, and it's there and gone in seconds as though it hadn't happened. « Depends on what you're looking for, » his voice comes again. « If you're slick enough to see it. If not, » and the like a decaying plant, the wasteland slowly starts to dissipate, « then I am just what you think I am. » X'vin settles on smug while he works the meager contents of his glass, and has nothing but a short bark of undertoned laughter for her assessment. "Filled to the brim, yes. You see what you're looking for. And you smell my cologne, though I understand how you might make that mistake." His tongue touches his lower lip, teeth grazing there briefly before he lifts the rest of his glass to drain it, eyes unfocused, listening to something only he can hear. His conference with his dragon is lengthy, by estimation of those often quick communiques, and when he puts the glass down he keeps it close to discourage another refill. "It's easy to be wary when your dragon can't land one of those positions, though, isn't it?" Besmernyth is unmoved, at least by all outward presentations. Fleetingly interested, yes. « I see just fine, » he says, and something growls just beneath the surface. His words breath frost on steel, so cold he might snap it with a minimal of pressure, but he is otherwise placid. And dismissive. « My rider will remember yours. He already has. » Much to his annoyance. « If your...particular sort of help is requisite, perhaps I will send our own help along. » "Nice cologne, then," Jo is quick to say, her study on X'vin being a sharp one. "It's very convincin'. 'N yeah. I s'pose it is easy to be wary. Lucky I have nothin' to be wary 'bout, at least. Ya should enjoy a game of darts her sometime," she goes on to say with a nod behind her towards the wings playing. "They're here often, even when I'm not. The losers have to buy the next round." As for Tacuseth, he doesn't seem fazed. Perhaps little fazes the blue since the illusions are all gone and his are merely the shadows they were before. « We are fleetin', » is what he gives to it all. « And the Reaches is a big place. » And them, not so much. Withdrawing at last, « Interesting meeting you. » At least. When Jo's eyes unfocus at this point, it's brief. Perhaps the unbidden 'Hmpf' sound and the curiously odd look X'vin gets that comes upon focus will be a brief one, too. "I'm told I have exceptional taste. But it seems to me, you're wary constantly. You should relax a little more. Let the sun touch your eyes now and then." He's moving then, to spill a handful of smaller mark pieces on the bartop and pull his jacket off the back of his chair. "I don't play games well," he notes, "but your friend - I forget her name - she knows. She'll tell you, if you ask her. Or maybe she won't. Cagey, if I recall." Moreso than Jo, at least, who gets a real lookover, finally, from boots to the top of her head, and it's unclear if he likes what he sees. "I'll look you up, next we're here," he says breezily, unaware or unwilling to acknowledge the sound she makes, or her curiosity. "Clear skies, Jo. Be sure to give your queens my duties." « Not fleeting enough, » Besmernyth notes with a puff of dry, cold air: the sort that chaps immediately. He has no farewell; just the methodical development of a crest of ice that forms his impenetrable wall, settling his island once again to rights. "The beaches down south are good this time of turn," Jo allows that, her voice a little dry despite the quirk of hr lips at something said. "Cagey. I'll keep that in mind, X'vin. Do that." That's for the offer to look her up, equally breezy as she steps from the counter and claims her empty mug. It's clear she's heading right back for her claimed table. "To yers, 'n you," is her own farewell as she pivots and heads off. |
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