Logs:Inescapable
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| RL Date: 8 February, 2013 |
| Who: Jo, Z'ian |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo and Z'ian take a needed getaway. |
| Where: Some Far-Off Southeastern Island |
| When: Day 5, Month 13, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: It's suggestive. You've been warned! |
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| By the time it's the afternoon, the sun in full swing. Jo has exhausted herself swimming in the remote island's pristine blue waters. Tacuseth's still out half-submerged in its depths while his rider is stretched out languidly on a blanket, in a full pale yellow bikini that puts all of her scars and markings on display to the naked eye. One could see the deep scarring of a leg wound from being shanked there, along with thinner, long-healed scarring and scratches over her toned stomach, the sides and up her muscled arms. Her hair was twisted up with a few lazy pins keeping it in place, and with her face to the sun and drying the ocean off her skin, her eyes are closed and she looked uncharacteristically at peace. All was well in her world. This was Jo, in all her scarred glory. The heavy afternoon sun takes its toll on bronze and his rider, with Tsanth resting in the shallows of the water out a ways. He's allowed one wing to be extended so that Z'ian can apply a healthy coat of some protective ointment to that recently healed wound, lighter stitch marks still in evidence. His man on the other hand is developing what looks like a really fantastic case of sunburn along his shoulders and neck. Dragon tended to, he emerges from the surf, brushing the sand off of his arms and legs before kneeling onto the blanket besides Jo. It wouldn't be the first time today that he's curiously cast an appraising look to the scars that accent her body; it also wouldn't be the first time that he does it discreetly without commenting. Quietly, he twists around and lays down, back on the ground with his arms folded behind his head. Reaching out, he brushes one finger against her bare leg. Curiously with a smile playing on his lips, "What are you thinking about?" Tacuseth seems content enough to swim all day in the sun, his leg bandages well and truly soaked to the core with him half submerged. At least his rider doesn't seem to mind - for now. Despite Jo lounging like the whole island was hers to command and own, the convict rider seems oblivious to Z'ian as he moves about and kneels beside her. Her eyes stay heavily lidded though they slide sidelong to study his bare skin and the case of sunburn he was getting. When he finally lays down, her hands slide to clasp together over her stomach without her lids moving. It's really only when he touches her that she stirs, her body shifting and that bare leg seeming to ease to his touch. All subtle, despite this Glacier rider usually so 'in your face' with everything. At his question, she smiles just a bit. "I'm thinkin' about when yer gonna get me my marks," is her quick answer, finally cracking a full lip open to look at him. Right. Z'ian totally kicked her ass in swimming and she knew it, but, she was still going to front like she was the shit at swimming. "And, wonderin' when ya goin' to ask," she adds then, her other eye opening to jerk a chin down towards the scars. Or, she tries to indicate them. She's clearly noticing him looking since she undressed herself. "I'd suggest holding your breath to hurry up the wait time on me handing them over to you. But I like it when you're conscious." Z'ian answers, cheeky as he moves one arm to cover his face and block out the sun. The subtle movement of her against his hand generates a soft smile from him, a quick pleased one. He trails one finger along her closest leg, seemingly undeterred by the appearance or feel of the scars he encounters along the way. "I was waiting for the moment when I stopped feeling like an ass for thinking of asking anything. It hasn't come yet." He keeps an attentive eye on her lidded expression as his mouth pulls up into an easy sort of grin. With a sigh he drags himself up onto his elbows, half-sitting, half-reclined. "I don't think that moment is coming." Glancing towards that deep scar, he reaches forward and places his hand there. "Because I don't have I have a real single question. I just feel kind of angry that you could be put in a position where this could happen to you." Jo snorts as she slides elbows down just a bit so she could sit up a little. Pinning the bronzerider with a look, "I'll give ya something for the burnin', Risk-Taker," she seems to entice, pointing out the pinkness of his skin. She'll even reach a hand over from her stomach to try and pinch what's probably a sensitive spot on the closest peck she could reach, close to his nipple. "Far better than the marks I supposedly owe ya. Tac told me I had ya by half an inch." More than that, but she isn't telling. His response on asking gets low laughter from the relaxed bluerider, peering over at him with the sun in her face. When he touches the largest scar on her leg, his words that come next have her lifting a hand over her forehead to shield the sun from her eyes - allowing her to be able to see Z'ian better. There's a tentative smile that peters out, almost borderline shy in nature - unusual for her, but, "I ain' no damsel, darlin'," she notes then, her shiny bravado back. "All this? Helps remind me to duck better. To fight better. To be faster. Gotta save yerself, I've learned." Head tilting now, "Us Glacier girls, we're pretty tough," she says wryly now, leaning over to trying to shoulder him with her own. "But yer the type that protects, hm?" That hurts alright, his tender northerner skin really doesn't appreciate being pinched in these sort of circumstances. "Ow. Jolie." It's the very rarely used 'stern' Z'ian voice that's pulled out for that particular move of hers. He snatches at her hand that rendered the assault and then for the innocent one, winding his fingers up in hers. "Yes and Tacuseth is such an unbiased source of information." He huffs, barely containing the grin that threatens to break through. But then there's, "I know that. It's just a feeling that someone failed you, when you needed them not to. That you shouldn't have had to learn all those lessons that way." There's an unusual distance in his voice and he glances away from her on that next question. "I guess so, maybe. Not when it counts though." That shoulder comes in contact with him and he allows the smile now, using his hold on her hands to pull her closer. "That's me putting my own troubles on you, sorry. And really, I love that you're not a damsel. If that counts for anything." The laughter is sharper now at Z'ian's stern voice, Jo not looking the least bit intimidate. If anything, it would make her bolder, and so she does drawl, "Better than a bite, at least." But now he has by both hands, her long fingers curling to scrape those nails against his skin as she answers sagely for her blue, "He absolutely is unbiased. He's accurate to a fault. Betcha yer bronze would have said the same. Since he's enamored with me." Oh yeah, because everyone is. All joking aside in light on failures and scars, the convict rider looking him over before she responds, "I sometimes used to think if I would have turned out different, if I hadn' left with Deetan. But. I'm hardheaded. I would have done somethin' to fuck up, one way or another. Maybe I would have been my own 'Deetan'. Glad I learned them, though. Girl I was, I don' think she would have survived the stuff I had." Her piercing eyes watch him as he looks away, her lopsided grin, forming a little before he pulls her closer. Instead of that pull getting her where he wants her, she's using the momentum to straddle him. Her scantily clad tanned body pins him down, keeping her hands trapped in his, his last getting a wry, "What troubles? Hey, it can' be all me doin' the sharin' here! Tolja what happened, right up to the mines. Don' ya owe me a story?" He winces a little when her nails scrape against his tender skin and he endeavors to get those pesky fingers of hers just a little better wrapped up so she can stop inflicting pain on him. At least for a couple of minutes. "Yeah, I bet he would. I'm surrounded by two tricky dragons and one devil woman. I'm hopelessly outnumbered." Z'ian exhales loudly, so put out. She takes that momentum, using it against him to get the advantage and he ends up just letting his shoulders drop down onto the blanket. He laughs and rolls his eyes upwards to her, "You can't change it, we can't change it. Even if I want to go back and erase the bad things for you. Fix it. Wanting to fix things for other people is a mental illness, I think." It wouldn't be their sort of outing with out at least a little self-deprecating humor from him. "Right, I owe you one." It gives him pause and he runs his eyes down her body, releasing her fingers. His hands find their way to her knees and up her legs to her hips, "After we graduated weyrlinghood, I got involved with this girl. She was searched with us, didn't impress. But she didn't go home, even though she had more of a life there than at the 'Reaches. I thought, anyway. We were much too different for it to ever work, fought like cats and dogs." His fingers tighten their grip and subtly pull on Jo, glancing down and up again. "I was crazy about her though, really. But I got caught up in the ah... thrill of being a twenty-something bronzerider? And I slept with just about anyone. And she would find out. We would fight. But she was too invested and too proud to just kick me to the side straight off." He takes a breath, giving pause for her digest any details before plowing ahead to the epic conclusion. Jo and pain seems to go hand in hand, the convict rider seeming to have a crazy penchant for it. So, she's amused that Z'ian makes the effort to get her to stop her nails from scraping, at least. And at least, she stops. For now. "Hopelessly," she agrees to him being outnumbered, baring her teeth in a wide smile. Shifting against him, "Nothin' wrong with wantin' to fix it, Zach," she answers his self-deprecation with a bare shake of her head. "Like ya said, can' go back. The mines...the things I went through after it...made me who I am. Like ya are who ya are with Tsanth." Z'ian gives her a story and she sits up as he touches her hips, listening about an old memory. She doesn't interrupt him but she does give him a little smile on certain parts of the story. When he pulls subtly, she moves just a bit with playful resistance. "Aren' all bronzeriders wild like that, no matter the age?" she teases with a raised brow, ready to duck any jab aimed at her for it. "Sounds like me, though. She wanted ya all to herself, sounds like. Ain' many like her, in a Weyr." Then she waits for the conclusion while she idly trace with her finger randomly over his chest. "You know, my life didn't start at Tsanth?" Z'ian shoots back, playfully recovering his usual smile to spar with her over beginnings. "I haven't even been a rider as many turns as I wasn't a rider yet. Two more and I'll be equal with it." His grip on her resisting movement becomes firmer and he splays his fingers against her bare skin. " Maybe it's all the hype. It goes straight through to our big thick heads and gets our egos all inflamed." His smile turns crooked and then he laughs, his pull not so subtle now. "Sounds like you? Do you want me all to yourself too?" It's a quick tease before he gets on with it. "No, there aren't. Anyway, things got real ugly for awhile. I made promises to her, over and over. I broke them. I lied. I said I would change after each of the boys was born and I didn't follow through." He pauses to take a breath, "I was a terrible father when they were little too. And eventually, she did leave. I couldn't believe it, you know? As insane as that sounds. I tried to win her back, fix it. But I couldn't, I'd destroyed any shred of trust she ever had in me. I was a mess. It was turns before I could look her in the eye. And now I guess... We're on speaking terms? I know that I'm different, that I worked on things. She'll never know, she doesn't care too. And I don't blame her. She's not a bad woman, but I was a pretty wretched person then." The finger tracing isn't being accompanied by scratching to his delicately pink skin, so there's no attempt to fend her off. Yet. "That's the short and dirty of it. I'm an unfaithful, lying bastard that's a bad father to boot." "I do," Jo counters on Z'ian's life being Tsanth, "but there's many a man I've heard boast that theirs had started the moment they laid eyes on their little bronze. Not sure if it's straight up arrogance, though." She taps fingers to his tease on her wanting him all to herself, saying, "The you of then sounds like me." She only has time to answer that first, though there's subtle laughter to that second. His story has some of the tease slipping to something more genial, setting herself on top of him with her head resting on folded arms now as she studies his face. Only once the story was done, "Monogamy is a tough nut," she notes idly, a tough of humor in her eyes. "That's her first mistake. Shit happens. I even look for shit to happen. Her mistake was in tryin' to change ya." After a brief pause, "So ya beat yerself up for this? Ya were young, Zach. And, what did she think would happen should Tsanth catches in a flight, huh?" She clearly doesn't understand the woman's position, but then, as wild as she is... She continues to trace with the soft part of her finger, his last getting a lopsided grin at him. "A bad boy. Ya've been holdin' out on me, have you. Well. If it's makes ya feel better, ya certainly won' get any judgement from me," she notes, pointing that finger down on his chest. "I can' talk, with the way I am. Ain' gonna make ya change, unless it's what ya wanted yerself." "No, not for me. He picked me because of the person I was then, so I was someone. I guess I'm not the same man now as the kid who stood on the sands. Maybe life did restart or it just changed me." Z'ian laughs just then when she taps her fingers to his chest. Exhaling slowly, "Right? I probably just wasn't ready for something like that so soon. And the kids? Maybe if I'd stayed at the Hold and got married and did what was expected, maybe we would have ended up differently." For now though, he just shrugs. "It's not exactly beating up anymore. But it's not a real glamorous, generous portrait of myself that I just painted. Even if you're not that bothered." He reminds in a gently teasing tone. Folded on top of him now, his hands travel from her hips to her sides. Just barely brushing all that exposed skin along the way. "I did my changing. I learned you can't lie to people, say things you aren't going to follow through on. Trick them. Then expect them to stay by you." Eventually his fingers find their way to her pinned up hair, playing with the stray pieces. "I don't think you care about the monogamy. Just know that I'm not going to pull any shit on you. I learned that lesson the hard earned way." The way he plays with her hair, then drops those hands to her shoulder should be warning enough. The tip off that he's reversing their positions, using the extra muscle behind him to roll her down underneath him. "Same here. By the way. On forcing changes." Jo leans back a little on the first, a pensive look on her face as she mulls over what Z'ian says on him changing past Impression. "Not sure if I changed much since Tac," she admits, looking towards the blue out in the sea. "I was hard-edged before I met him. Haven' changed since." She turns a crooked smile on him for her not that bothered on the portrait painted on himself, the woman tapping fingers against his chest as she counters with, "I was convicted for murder. Ya honestly think I'm goin' to make a fuss about slip-ups?" Her look, pointed. When his hands travel, her hips shift against him so subtly. To distract him? Maybe. At least her skin is fully dry. Her chin lifts to his fingers in her hair, keeping her eyes on him as he speaks and she doesn't interrupt him. It's only towards the end that she says, "I don'," on not caring about monogamy. "But yer the type a girl would want to come home to after a long night." Of debauchery? Of dirty business? She catches the warning signs, but lets him flip them over, her back hitting the blanket and the convict rider sending up to him a look of pure challenge. Letting her hands now flowing down his back towards his backside as her thighs reflexively part to grip about his waist, "Good, on not pullin' shit on me," she seems to tease now, her smile one of trouble. "I won't, either. To it all. Think I actually like havin' ya around me, bronzerider." "It hasn't been as long ago for you." Z'ian replies easily, not seeming too concerned with her lack of change. "Maybe it's because you haven't needed to yet." Positions reversed, he's much less generous with her personal space than she was with his. His forearm sinks into the blanket besides her and his hand slides up to cup the side of her face. "You didn't do the actual murder." Pointed right back at her. "And I don't know, it's just very uncomfortable to talk about. Maybe I was worried, that you'd figure out I wasn't this great guy. Shattering of illusions." Feeling her legs against him, he ducks his head and then leans in to capture her mouth. "You can come home to me at night, when you want." It's serious but tempered with a sly tease and wolfish smile. "Don't tell the other women that though, I don't offer that to anyone else. They'll get jealous." He tenses at the feel of her hands running across him, not the bad fearful sort of tense, more like the eager type. "You do? I wasn't able to tell." Chipper commentary as he glances around to where they are, he's really asking for it. "I want to be around you. Damn inescapable woman." He comments with a crooked grin, fond and affectionate. Need? Jo makes a slight face before she says, "Maybe I like who I am. All black leather and trouble." It's a low purr, those words, with Z'ian having her underneath him and for now, she seems just fine letting him have the control. With his touch to her face, there's a flicker of something in her eyes when he mentions she didn't do the murder she was convicted of, it being so momentary that she hitches that smile right back in place like it hadn't happened. What he even follows that with gets a seemingly teased, "I'm not exactly a good girl, Zach, so I think yer fine. Ya don' need to hear about the shit I've done." She lets him capture her mouth as she arches her back against him, her chest to his own as she tightens her hold she has around him. Her kiss is a little rough as most times, her breath heavy when it breaks and he speaks on her coming home at night. "I might actually take ya up on that," she seems to warn playfully, both her hands now getting a good handful of his backside. She is definitely incorrigible. "And sure. I'll be sure to keep such a secret to myself. Can' have them goin' after me with knives." Yeah right. She laughs at his last before she leans up on him and removes her hands to draw them behind her back. Her bikini top strings are pulled, allowing her to undo it as she drawls, "I am, that. Inescapable. I warned ya, bronzerider. Guess ya gotta pay the price, now." Her tone says exactly what that price is, if the removing of her top doesn't. "Such trouble." Z'ian can agree to that, touching his fingers to her lips. "I'm not saying that you have to." It's perhaps unneeded reassurance, but he provides it anyway. He's right there though, so close. And he does catch the lapse in her expression, brief as it is. He makes like he's about to say something, but the moment passes and she's pressing her lips and her body to him. It does the trick of distracting him from asking anything more for awhile. He'll match her roughness with enthusiasm, letting the weight of his hips fall into her. "I don't want any catfights in my weyr over space on that great mattress I have on the floor." It comes out as a quiet whisper between catching his breath and speaking again. His eyes are drawn to the sight of her loosening and then losing the top to her bikini. "I was sold on you the night you showed up to my weyr the first time. I'll pay the price, willingly. More than few times over if you want it." The challenge is gone, mostly. It's replaced by an obvious wanting as he takes that hand from her face and trails down her neck, chest. No more grazing, brushing touches. The teasing is over, at least from the bronzerider. "Yeah," Jo lets her voice drip with boldness, "I just bet ya have no problem with all I have on display." Yep. She provides ample distraction from any flickers of a darkness within - something the convict rider definitely wasn't about to reveal with the sand being warm along with the sun. All she provides is her sultry laughter and just a little pain in her rough handling of him, his whispered words drawing a wry, "So sold on takin' a risk. No one can say I won' be willin' to oblige, when I'm pleased to." With the top gone, her hands now move to grip his ass once more - underneath his shorts that she's trying to pull down at the same time. Challenge and games are long gone now as need takes over, letting the bronzerider find her more than willing instead of playing the cock-tease this time around. |
Comments
Barnabas (Barnabas (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 10 Feb 2013 01:49:08 GMT.
< FINALLY!
It's like a 90s sitcom every time with you to. "WILL THEY?!"
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