Logs:Girl Talk
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| RL Date: 14 January, 2013 |
| Who: Jo, Azaylia, H'kon |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Three riders come down for three different things. H'kon gets roped into fashion talk by Azaylia, and Jo explains that she isn't girly. |
| Where: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 10, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'kon/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
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| Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms. Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them. Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outsde each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves. As becoming routine for this convict bluerider, all anyone can find mostly of Jo is either early in the day or late at night. During a time when most are out enjoying the evening through the bar or on the lake, she's taking the time to raid the stores. She's busy looking over the stacks of bed linens in one of the corners like one would a map - and, it seems she's been in the storeroom for quite a while since there's a large basket set down on the ground and already filled with things from bathing supplies to writing supplies as well. She has on her customary black riding leathers with her hair mussed up, and looking rather diligent at her seemingly mundane task. Bed linens. Now would that be under L or B? Is it sorted by fabric, or by demand? Azaylia doesn't seem lost, exactly. She probably shouldn't be, what with inventory being a weyrwoman's duty and all. One of many. But here she is, drifting through the dark aisles and shelves with a glow held in front of her. Quiet steps are such due to her nature rather than any attempt at sneaking around, halo of light pausing next to some quilts. No, that doesn't seem to be it. The unhurried search continues, Azaylia pausing only when her light falls on a large basket and a woman's figure. "Oh." Not a squeak, sounding distracted. "Hello?" She'll try to approach Jo, if allowed, though her eyes fall to what her wingmate might be sorting through. Another trip to the stores, another different acquisition. This time it's something fairly innocuous; a folded bit of leather, maybe thirty by thirty centimeters, all neatly gathered into one compact hand, and held before his chest as he makes his way - toward people. At least these aren't the same he's met so recently in the stores. Folk might start thinking H'kon's up to something. It might've been a smooth escape, but when Azaylia stops, so too does the brownrider, having come more or less after her, if at a great enough distance that they're clearly not here together. And he gives the faintest of sighs. And waits. Jo was lost to the study of bed linens until it takes a single step to get her to whip her head around. Eyes narrow to find the slight form of Azaylia standing there, her hand having strayed close to her side as if in open reflex. It pauses, of course, once she realizes it's one of the weyrwomen - and especially, a wingmate. "Oh. Hey," she gives in greeting, leaning back away from the stacks and hitting her boot against the basket. "Didn' think anyone would be here this late." Her eyes then adjust beyond the goldrider and finds the familiar face of H'kon, and there's a slight lift of one corner of her mouth as she drawls beyond Azaylia, "And look who else it is. The one with the face." Surely, she knows his name? Eyes flicking from one to the other a few times, she adds quite wryly, "Please. Don' let my presence stop ya if yer here to make out among the linens or somethin'. I'm almost done." Azaylia eases a relaxed breath at the familiar voice, hefting the glow a little higher to match the face. "Hi." Not a question, but she makes up for it, "It's late?" A moment of realization before the young woman gives a laugh. "Guess it is." A stray lock of hair is tucked behind her ears as she continues to look over, "Redecorating? I was-" It finally dawns on her, with Jo's teasing words, that they're not alone. Turning around, she doesn't have to lift her light very high to find H'kon's familiar visage. "O-oh. Hello, brownrider. How-what?" Polite greeting has her peering at the bluerider with wide eyes. "I didn't even know he was following me- were you following me?" Flush may not be visible with her complexion, but it's audible in her tone. The bluerider's description of him has H'kon's eyebrows drawing together. His chin lifts faintly in her direction, from the less-well-lit place he occupies behind the acting weyrwoman. And when he is lit? "Weyrwoman," is acknowledged first, that bit of leather disappearing behind his back to be held by both hands, at ease, but not really. "Jo," comes second, short even for the single syllable it is, green eyes roving once more past Azaylia. But soon it's back to the goldrider: "Incidentally, only." And if there's a look to the exit that's a bit wistful, well... at any rate, he stays put. "Weyrwoman. H'kon." Jo studies them both as they react to her words, though her gaze strays more towards the brownrider and mirrors the chin lift in return greeting. "I assumed," she says to Azaylia, the lopsided grin growing a bit more. "Replenishing," she then goes on to answer to why she was there, tapping her boot towards the basket on the ground. "I'm low on sweetsand, hide sheets, writing styluses..." And then a shrug is given as she folds her arms across her chest and turns slightly back to the stacks of bed linens. Piercing gaze back on them both as she asks, "Redecorating, yourselves?" H'kon is given one last, if perhaps wary glance over her shoulder before Azaylia decides to peek at a shelf. The one behind Jo, where she can poke at various scraps of knitted fabrics and curtains. The glow basket is placed next to what she's looking at, "That's what the storerooms are for. You do a lot of writing, Jo?" Asked as she pulls out a bright yellow something. "Not really. Unless it counts if I'm redecorating myself?" The weyrwoman gives a small smile, one that turns a little funny as she holds the large scrap up for H'kon to see. "What do you think?" Oh yes, that exit must be looking so nice right about now. H'kon's shoulders move only faintly as he adjusts his grip on the leather behind his back. "No," answers Jo's question, flat. He seems nearly ready to try and step around the two women, weight shifting in preparation, when he's confronted by that bright scrap of cloth. Eyes go a bit wider, and then, with a slight puff of air that might be resigned, and a sniff at residual sinus blockage, he settles back to his heels. "It's... very yellow." To the weyrwoman's question of her writing, Jo reaches up and taps her temple a few times before answering, "Too many thoughts at the end of the day. Clear the mind." She then turns to reach for an off-white stack of folded bed linen, though her gaze darts over when Azaylia pulls free something bright and yellow. There's a light, barely-there but amused snort to the brownrider's flat answer to her question, and then she regards them both, taking in the the awkwardness present with noted interest. Not that she's going to say anything about it. Nope. And since Azaylia didn't ask for her opinion, "Brings out the eyes," she notes, a little flat. "What are ya lookin' for?" "Well, yes." Azaylia agrees on the hue, sounding hesitant. "But is it too yellow? Too bright, do you think?" She sounds unsure enough that the question may not only be for victim number one, but Jo as well. "Really?" She's just about to put the fabric back until her wingmate speaks up. It has her shaking out what must have once been a curtain at one point, or possibly extra fabric left over from a skirt. It's not much. Just enough material to keep one decent, made obvious by the way she pulls it taut over the dress she's already wearing. Despite looking distracted, "That's a good idea." For Jo's writing. "You don't talk a lot, so you must think a lot." Logic! "I like to come down to the stores when I feel like a new dress... I'd hate to waste a weaver's time by ordering something new." The look H'kon levels at Jo for her eye comment is, at its kindest, suspect. True to form, he says nothing specific on it to the bluerider. Of course, when Azaylia levels another direct question on him, answering is less an option. A look between cloth and young woman, another slight shift of his shoulders, and, "It is not too bright for you." The brownrider's head dips downward, and he rocks to the balls of his feet, barely perceptible, to give a mumbled, "A weaver should be pleased to have their work worn by a gold's rider." Even mumbled, it manages to sound chiding. The look H'kon sends her way raises Jo's brow, her chin dropping as she then turns to drop the picked linen into her basket on the floor. She snorts again and shakes her head, turning instead to study the off-white bed linen she had pulled out while Azaylia answers on the yellow piece. On the matter of her writing, though, "More like," she answers, staring down at the little haul she's put together in the basket, "it's better for me to write it all than piss somebody off. Anger management, ya can say." Right. She even flashes them a too-bright smile that matches the bright yellow and lasts for only a second. "And, I write home, more often than not," she adds in a bit too breezily. "Pesky folks, always askin' about Weyr life. Ya know." Azaylia stays wrapped up in the cheery yellow for a few seconds longer, far-off gaze may hint at her getting a third opinion. "Might be too yellow for fall." Back in it goes. "I don't even know what I want, really." She answers H'kon, not seeming to bat an eye on what could be taken as a slight scold. Still rummaging, "'Very... yellow.' isn't what I'm looking for." Another glance for the brownrider, her own words sounding... disappointed? Never go to a man for fashion advice. "Anger management." She repeats, thoughtfully. "Do you write down the names of all the people that upset you?" H'kon's mouth actually does open, just a little, for that space of time in which he stares at Azaylia after it's been suggested that season should somehow affect clothing choices. He catches himself soon enough, draws himself up, and brings that bit of leather around in front of him. Jo gets another one of those looks - not the blank stare look, the other one, like she'd got before. And he clears his throat, when it seems they'll carry on talking. "Avalanche drills in the morning." To Azaylia: "I hope you find something... seasonally appropriate." To Jo: "Best of luck with your self-discipline." He's not exactly making a break for it, but those little legs sure move fast to get past them and out. H'kon is afford a long look when he speaks - though he speaks very little - and so it's certain that Jo is watching the man as he makes his exit, the woman shaking her head along the way. "There's a man in Crom somewhere that's wonderin' where his twin went," she comments as an aside to Azaylia, watching the brownrider leave. "I just happen to know that man. I swear that man doesn' fancy me for some reason." Yeah, as if nearly pulling a knife on the brownrider last time they met was just a dream. She then turns to the topic at hand, turning her gaze on the weyrwoman and her question and shakes her head once. "Nah. I don' write the names 'all' the time. Gotta really piss me off to do that. Ya ever do it yerself?" Then, nodding towards the bright yellow, "Try a different shade of yellow," she suggests, though she's reluctant to for some reason. "I meant it about it bringin' out yer eyes and all." Azaylia joins Jo in her watching H'kon leave, a little tilt to her posture while hands remain on the shelf. "Oh? Crom?" About the brownrider's long lost twin and all. "I think he was much more normal as a boy..." The words are carried on a whisper, only letting Jo in on her theory. "But I think Arekoth sucked all the fun out of him, when he Impressed." She can't get it all out without a giggle, eyes flicking back to the older woman. Her smile fades, "H'kon doesn't fancy anyone." Simply fact, so there's really nothing to worry about. As for people making it onto the weyrwoman's 'list', "Mno. I don't." With Jo's encouragement she's not going to give up on her search just yet, answering the compliment with a shy little "Thank you." "So ya think him growin' up...or rather, him Impressin', changed him to this?" Jo puts to Azaylia with piqued interest as she goes back to studying the shelves of things around them. "Why would a dragon do that? His Arekoth. I always thought it was the rider influencin' the beast more than the other way around." She meets the weyrwoman's giggle with a smirk of her own, and when she answer on H'kon fancying anyone, "So he's that way to everyone. I'm so relieved." Flat, perhaps, but one by now is used to the few tones of the bluerider. She turns to the topic of making lists, Azaylia's answer getting a brief, "Try it sometime. Don' gotta write down any names. Makes a difference in the day." And then that, an incline of her head, to her shy thanks as she herself is back to rummaging. "Not really." Azaylia admits, "But Arekoth is so... friendly." Her tone suffers when something that looked pale gold at first turns out to be only off-white. Sigh. "He is. I used to think he only hated me, too." But no, the brownrider just seems to be a stick in the mud. With a glance to Jo, she offers a small smile, "I would if I ever got mad at anyone." The goldrider herself seems to realize how rediculous that sounds, and she tries again. "I don't know if that's true, but I can't think of anyone off the top of my head." Perhaps the idea just needs a tweak, "Something like a diary?" More of a vocal thought than anything, pushing the box of scraps away and moving on to another. Jo actually chuckles once, given Azaylia's words overall on the brownrider, seeming to understand. "He seems to not," she notes, looking at the goldrider over her shoulder. "I mean, he's said more than a few words to ya. That must count for something. Anyway, I'm used to the regard, bein' how it is and all. I usually just wrap it up to someone putting' a lot of stock in all the rumors about me." She pulls out another off-white looking linen, frowning at it and pressing fingers into it as if she was testing its texture before she responds to the rest on journaling. She arches a brow over her shoulder at Azaylia at something said, "Seriously? Ya don' get mad at anyone? I find that hard to believe." She pauses, and then adds with an incline of her head in acknowledgement, "Yeah. Maybe. Something like it, but without all the flowers-and-hearts-drawin' and shit. I mean, it's fine if yer into that sort, but I don' bother. Don' remember a time I've ever been really... girly." Azaylia loses some interest in her search with a faint mumble of, "Maybe I should ask for Brieli's help." Not that Jo isn't cutting it, but the other weyrwoman is one of the more fashionable souls in the weyr. "Rumors." Dismissed with one word, hinting that either she hasn't heard the ones about her wingmate or she doesn't particularly care for them. "I... sometimes I get upset, but usually it's because I did something. Not anyone else." Turning to lean back against one of the shelves, she tries not to look too embarrassed at Jo's opinion on things overly feminine. She, who dots her i's with little circles. "You don't like, uhm..." Now what is 'girly', really? "Boys?" "Don' think that rumors don' have a ring of truth to them?" Jo asks, slightly amused. She doesn't seem all that offended when Azaylia moves on from finding the right shade - especially since Jo's probably the last woman to go to on fashion, with her only wearing black leathers and all. To her next on being angry at other people, now the bluerider turns from her perusal of the linens to lean back against them and give the younger woman her full attention. "So...if I were to go right now and paint yer whole weyr the lovely shade of orange," she muses slowly, eyes narrowing a fraction, "then ya wouldn't be pissed off at me?" She catches her embarrassed look with an amused one of her own for the all things girly though, silence winning out for a moment to that question before the convict rider finally lifts and drops her shoulders in a casual shrug. Hitching up a leg over the other, "Boys? Yeah, I like plenty of 'em. Don' mind the girls, either." It is the nature of some blueriders, so it probably wouldn't be such a surprise. "Got all kinds of tastes. Still don' make me girly, though. Don' even look it," and she brings hands away from herself, indicating the whole leather length of her. "But for 'you' though...weyrwomen always got men hangin' off their ledges for them. Bet ya got a few, or just one, right?" Since they're on the subject. Azaylia peers at the glow she's brought, though not directly at it. "Maybe they do. I just think it's rude for people to..." A pause as she tries to find the words. "Everyone talks about everyone else. We were just talking about H'kon. But, I don't know. We're not doing it to hurt him... that's what I feel like rumors are." The bluerider's threat has her giving a gentle laugh, "I think Hraedhyth would be angrier than I would be. Re-painting the weyr sounds sort of fun." More like, she isn't taking Jo's threat at all serious. While she may not be girly, and not all too picky about the lads and ladies, "Still, you look nice." In the black leathers. "Oh. I guess? I mean, yes, there are some bronzeriders like that but..." Azaylia gives a one-shouldered shrug, not terribly interested. For once. "She's the one to hang off of other ledges." She, meaning the gold dragon who has stolen Tacuseth's wallow before. "I don' even know him," Jo says on H'kon with a touch of wryness. "It seems like ya know him more than I, however, so." So. "But I'm inclined to agree on rumors. Not all believe as ya, and Z'ian, do on it." There's an open chuckle on the matter of her repainting Azaylia's weyr, shaking her head as she quips back, "Ya want an orange weyr? I'm talkin' bright orange, here. The kind to keep ya awake at all hours. Might make ya wanna cry and everythin'." But her amusement lets off at the compliment, the convict rider moving to dust something off her jacket as she straightens it up and says, "Yeah. I know." Bravado, perhaps. "And that dragon of yers is all Tac talks about since she stole his ledge. It's disturbing." The name Z'ian sounds familiar, enough that her brow is furrowed lightly, trying to put face to name. She doesn't seem to succeed, but then it's hard to think when being so persistantly threatened. "No, I don't want one." Playing along, "I could just order you as Weyrwoman to paint it back. But..." And here's where she's smiling just a bit wider. "I still wouldn't be mad at you." Bravado or not, the goldrider is happy to give the compliment. She picks up her glowbasket, "Really? That's so cute." She knows better than to really gush around a fellow Glacier rider, "He should visit sometime. You, too." Invitation isn't given much thought as she aims a glance towards the exit. "I should let you get back to your resupplying... And I've got hides to look over." A step towards leaving, lingering only for a polite farewell before she's off. "It'd be interesting," Jo drawls, stepping off from her lean. "Ya orderin' me around." She's all about interesting, right? "I think ya should be mad," she gives then, lips pressed together. "Just not...natural, to like everyone. Someone's gonna piss ya off eventually. Might even be me." She matches that wide smile right then and she's then bending over to collect up her basket of replenishments. It falters when Azaylia gushes over Tacuseth's fascination with her queen, and bemusement touches her face at the invitation, but the convict rider doesn't let that linger on her face. Instead, "See ya around, I suppose," she sends back letting the weyrwoman leave first. "I'd get worried if ya see me around with a bucket of orange paint in hand." And then she'll be the last to leave, going in the opposite direction towards her waiting blue for the night. |
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