Logs:Forging New Traditions
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| RL Date: 29 October, 2015 |
| Who: Bristia, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Savannah's leaving for Monaco the next day and Jo stops by Bristia and R'hin's place to see her off. |
| Where: R'hin's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 1, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: R'hin/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Keysi/Mentions, Kyouri/Mentions, S'din/Mentions, Suireh/Mentions, Riahla/Mentions, T'zur/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Language. Backdated. |
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| The sun is setting when Saindyth gets the murmuring crowds and the shadows, signalling Tacuseth's touch along with a brief « Jo would like to visit before yours leaves, », the blue's proximity felt from her and Leiventh's ledge that has become familiar to him. Saindyth has, it seems, grown used to the visits from the blue; his question is responded to with a burbling warmth, welcoming and inviting. « You are most welcome. » The green is, as is her habit, perched up on the rim with other Savannah dragons, enjoying the last of the sun on what will be their last day at High Reaches. The ledge itself looks full; in a non-deliberate echo of their arrival, boxes are piled on top of one another, waiting for transport. The doors to both sides of the weyr are open, though the hearth on R'hin's side of the weyr is the that's burning, both the warmth and light serving to draw the visitor in that direction. Inside, it's a kind of organized chaos; the couch has served as a makeshift clothes horse, the table as temporary storage for a handful of knick-knacks, a locked wooden box, and a well-worn knife. The top of the liquor cabinet, now empty of its contents, also stores a handful of items, mostly letters and a few bits and pieces of personal items, jewelry and other things. Bristia moves amongst it all with fast steps, like a woman on a mission, choosing one of the three piles for each item she pulls out of the press. « Thanks, doll, » comes from Tacuseth despite the subdued tones of his rider's grief as he lands carefully on the full ledge - in a way as not to upset the boxes. Even Jo is slower to dismount as she looks around, wrapped in black leather pants and a newer, dark riding jacket. Her face lacks the easiness one is used to seeing on her as she looks around at all she can see from the ledge before walking towards R'hin's side of the weyr until she pauses before Bristia. Silence reigns as the convict rider takes in all the items being stored before she focuses on the blonde's back as she says, "It's gonna seem like y'all weren' ever here, won' it, darlin'?" "Like we never existed," Bristia agrees, with a kind of wry humor, tempered by well-worn grief of her own. She stops before Jo, regarding the bluerider, sharp blue once-harper eyes taking in the Snowdrift Wingsecond's expression. Wordlessly, she reaches out to squeeze the bluerider's arm, before releasing it. "Drink?" She's already moving, as if it's to be expected. "I found a bottle stashed at the bottom of the wardrobe. I think maybe even he forgot it was there. No glasses, though." If there's an unevenness at the reference to her former Wingleader, it's hidden in her voice, and she's already turned away, moving for the cabinet. There's a dark grimace from Jo on that answer, clearly against Savannah wing leaving but for now, she says nothing. That squeeze to her arm manages to clear up that grimace, however, and when drink is offered, "No better way, considerin'," is her agreement, moving further into the weyr now to examine the progress of the move. When her dark gaze lingers on Bristia in the end, "Do ya wanna go back?" she asks now, arriving to a table. "There's lots of reasons to," Bristia says, with her typical temperance of opinion, straightening once she's located the dark-glassed, label-less bottle. She moves over and offers Jo the first drink, as the guest. "It isn't the first time, there's been as many reasons for as against." The greenrider's lips thin, in remembrance, exhaling. "It's funny, in a way, that both times are because of him." Taking the offered bottle with a nod as she one-handedly loosens the front of her jacket, "There's been more of yer home than here," Jo takes a guess before she takes a long drink, then passes it back. "I get that. Now that he's...." Pause. "...in yer boots, I 'spose I wouldn' wanna be here, either." Looking around now, she adds quietly, "Too many memories." Back to Bristia. "Ya known him a long time, haven' ya?" she asks now for the last. Bristia gives an easy nod of agreement with that assessment, reaching to take the bottle once offered. She's looking down at it, initially, not drinking, as she answers: "We Impressed together. He was a right little ass back in those days, and he and the Weyrlingmaster S'din were each, so sure they were in the right. Got me in trouble as much as not, ended up running laps with him around the bowl almost every other day." She makes a face, though there's a fondness that curves her lips upwards. "He kind of... grew on me. Like... a creeping plant." Now she takes a drink, letting the liquid slide down her throat, exhaling and setting the bottle on the table within easy reach of the pair of them, reaching for the knife on the table. "It's not even the memories, honestly. There's as much of that at Monaco as here, moreso, in some respects. It's..." her finger traces the edge of the blade, lips thinning as it draws a thin line of blood on her finger. "I feel the onus to see it through. To stick with Savannah, even if we might not be Savannah, any more." Her blue gaze flickers towards Jo, as if seeking to determine whether the bluerider comprehends that, or not. Hearing some of R'hin's history seems to draw some of that easy smile to Jo's lips as she listens. With a soft snort, "I would've joined," she relates on running laps, shaking her head as she reaches for the bottle once more. "He grew on me that way, too. Had a way 'bout him, that's for sure." She takes a drink as she listens to the rest, her dark eyes landing on the drawn blood on Bristia's finger. Meeting her gaze from there, there's a tiny nod and a, "That's good. That's good. 'Til the very end, right?" Looking away as she brings the bottle to her lips, "Ya...let me know when it's all done, right?" she asks now, frowning. The bluerider's admission that the bronzerider had the same effect on her seems to lighten Bristia's expression, letting out a soft laugh. "Yes, well. He was something, all right," she murmurs, vehemently. What isn't exactly elucidated, but then, perhaps it doesn't need to be. She sets the knife down, briefly sucking on her finger, while her gaze meets Jo. Her, "Of course," seems sincere enough, as she slides into one of the chairs, pulling the wooden box towards her. She produces a key from somewhere -- one of her pockets? -- and unlocks it, flipping through the contents -- which at a glance appear to be well-worn scraps of hide. Every now and then, she pulls one free, until a small amount rest on the table. These, she pushes towards Jo. "You might make use of these. Better than I would, at any rate." They're familiar, if one recognizes the stamped markers that indicate a debt owed, often used by gamblers. The names on them might not be familiar, but it's by no coincidence that the handful of markers she's pulled free list their place of residence as somewhere in the High Reaches sweep area. "He was a real good friend when I needed one," Jo admits more soberly, settling into the chair opposite of Bristia as she takes another drink and sets the bottle between them. "Back when I didn' believe in friendships." Looking straight at her, "I could tell," she says now, "that he regarded ya highly. Somethin' tells me that he doesn' regard another easily. You...Him...the wing....this place....will be missed." The words are earnest and genuine, the wingsecond pointed in her regard." Now she watches what the greenrider is doing with the hide. When a pile is pushed towards her, she picks the topmost one up to examine what's written. She picks up another and another before looking to Bristia and giving her a single nod of her head. "I'll be sure to look into them," she says in her thanks, one corner of her mouth lifting. "I wish I had somethin' to give in return, darlin'. But, ya have me. Even though I'm sure she's stayin' here, ya have Keysi, too. Anythin' ya need, Bristia, ya come to me. Have Saindyth reach out'n I don' care what time of day or night it is." There's a flicker of surprise from Bristia, well-heeled with Turns of practice, at the bluerider's talk of friendship. Warmth spills throughout her expression, however, a natural disposition, at the words she will be missed. "And we will miss this place. Truly, it became a haven when we were exiled." While Jo reaches for the pile, the Savannah rider reaches for the bottle in turn, taking a generous gulp. With a quick smile, a half-shrug of dismissal, the former harper murmurs, "I'll settle for a once-in-a-while visit with the latest gossip. I imagine, given we're welcome back, High Reaches is no longer unwelcome. At least, while Kyouri is acting Weyrwoman, at any rate." There's a smile, now, for the latter words: "Thank you. And the same for you, too. Though," with a wry grin, as she glances at the bottle, "I'd prefer not dawn. Far too used to the late morning starts, I'm afraid." "Savannah'n Glacier dart games in the Snowasis," Jo brings up with a touch of wistfulness, shaking her head. "Can't believe that shit has to be over now. Even with me in Snowdrift now....it ain' the same. Glacier's gonna miss ya'll. Ya gave'em good competition. It became tradition." She collects up the hides and opens her jacket to slip them inside into one of the inner pockets as she states, "I'll visit. Promise. I'll bring the drink next time'n we could sit out on the beach'n catch up. Or throw knives. Late mornin'," that brings a grin, "which," she pauses now to dip fingers to dig into her inner pockets once more to fish out a letter and lay it between them for Bristia to pick up. "I'm to deliver that to his son," she explains now, nodding towards it. "I reckon I would find him through Destina?" "Traditions," Bristia says, with a twitch of lips, "Can be created anew. Perhaps, now that you're in Snowdrift, it will be Snowdrift and Glacier?" she suggests, with a tilt of her head. "The wings in an interval needn't be so separated. Competition in a Pass enhanced surviviability. In an Interval, one might term it a liability." She's giving a nod of her head at the offer of drinks, with a not-quite-serious, "I'll hold you to that. Especially the beach part -- that's one aspect I'm looking forward to." She's still holding onto the bottle, apt to take another drink -- it gets halfway to her mouth when Jo pulls at the letter, and then she lowers it, with a long pause, and a longer regard. "I reckon you could be right." She grimaces here, now, lips twisting. "He never talked about him. I imagine he thought distancing himself apt to provide a better upbringing than the twins experienced, in the shadow of their parents." That she disagreed with that sentiment is written all over her face, and in the way her fingers brush, but don't pick up, the letter. Her, "Stupid old fool," starts out exasperated, but ends in a sharp inhale of breath, as if checking whatever sharp emotion follows it, gaze cast downwards, shoulders tense. "If Taikrin'n Mielline could get along," Jo says of traditions between the wings, something about it seem amusing to her. "But ya have a point. The wings here are far too isolated." The silence that follows suggests the wingsecond is thinking about it in full before talk of beach draws her back in with quiet laughter. "Good, darlin'. It's happenin'." And then, the letter. She goes silent and just watches the other woman, studying her face and its features as she speaks. After awhile, "I was never one to pry," she admits, frowning at the letter. "we all have our secrets'n, we do the best we could with what we got. He...must not know his father," suggesting she had read the letter, looking up at her. "I can't imagine how....well, my father was shit, so, I used to wonder if I was better off not knowin' mine. Knowin' him didn' do me one lick of good." Evenly, "I'll hunt this Destina down'n get this letter to him. I just thought ya should know." After a silent moment, Bristia unfolds the letter, scans the contents, and exhales with a shake of her head in wordless judgement. "Perhaps he was better off," she says, finally, grudgingly. "Who can say? The fact that he made the choice, and didn't offer it to his son is, well..." she exhales. "Exactly the sort of idiotic, self-serving decision he'd have imagined as self-sacrificing." The heat with which she says the words is underscored by a complex grief, and it makes her silent as she lays the letter back down. The talk of Snowasis and Glacier's wingleaders earns a twitch of lips, brief: "They needn't. R'hin watched more than played," the greenrider's fingers lift, shifting from the letter back to the bottle. "I heard you might have some sway with Mielline these days," with an unsubtle gesture towards her wingsecond's knot. She takes a deeper draught of the bottle, and with a voice still roughed by the alcohol, seeks Jo's gaze as she murmurs, "Thank you." Not for hunting Destina down. Not for delivering the letter. For the other, unspoken thing that hovers in the room between them. With a grin to something Bristia says, "Fucked up a lot, did he?" Jo asks, shaking her head before the grin fades in the face of grief. "Doin' foolish things. Crazy things." She takes the letter and slips it back into her jacket, turning to say, "I doubt Mielline trusts me, but, she had let me grieve by skippin' some of my duties in favor of hide work in my weyr. That's somethin'. Dunno if I have sway with her yet. Maybe she'n I won' be such a crazy idea after all." She watches the greenrider in silence now, meeting her gaze for that last and letting the silence stretch out between them. Eventually her dark gaze falls on where R'hin's room is, then the rest of the place that had become so familiar to her as she finally speaks. "I only hope that someone's there to do somethin' like that for me, should the time come, darlin'." Meeting her gaze again, "That ain' enough to pay him back for his kindness, but it'll have to be." Pause. "I told Keysi," she let her know with a nod. "The way he regarded her....she needed to know. She understands." There's a significant look to that before it fades and she adds in hoarse voice, "It'll get better, darlin'." "Of a surety," Bristia says, without hesitation, to the idea of R'hin fucking up. "I swear, the only thing that kept him haring off sometimes was Leiventh's practicality and the occasional reality check from me." It makes her smile, however, for all that. It fades somewhat at the silence that follows, and at Jo's words of hoping for someone to be there for her at her time. It's a silence in which the greenrider could offer, but she does not. She doesn't know Jo well enough, and doesn't presume to step into that role despite the ties that bind them. "It'll do," is what she says, instead, of paying back debts. There's a brief whitening of knuckles on the bottle as Jo mentions Keysi and the knowledge she's shared, but after a moment, she sighs. "I suppose it's right." The latter words earn a tired sort of smile: "I could say the same of you." She glances over her shoulder, at the bed beyond, and back. "I'm staying here, for our last night in High Reaches." There's a pause, and a change of tone, something more pointed: "If you wanted to stay, too, I wouldn't object." Even if there's nothing overtly sensual in the offer, her meaning is clear. There's a 'huff' of laughter from Jo on R'hin's fuck-ups, the bluerider's grin one of nostalgia. "I dunno what Leiventh was thinkin', lettin' him pick the craziest-lookin' bitch outta all the females after a hatchin' feast to fuck," she tells the story of their meeting, but the tone is fond of the memory. On Keysi, "They wouldn' even let her see him," she tells Bristia, anger simmering beneath the surface. "None of us." But it's anger that fades in light of the last - the leather-clad woman staring back at her for those pointed words and only a brief silence to follow it. "Yeah. I'd like that, too." The bluerider's laughter makes Bristia laugh, too, blue eyes shining with it, as she says, "I suspect Leiventh learned long ago not to get in the way of the things R'hin truly wanted." The anger makes her reach out, reach for Jo's hand, soothing. The assent makes the Savannah rider stand with alacrity, and unhesitatingly draw Jo towards the bed, pausing only to grab that bottle with her spare hand. One last night. One last goodbye. Surely R'hin would find it fitting. |
Comments
Alida (01:36, 29 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
- siiiiiiiiiiiigh-sniffle*
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