Logs:Never Patient
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| RL Date: 30 May, 2015 |
| Who: R'hin, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo comes upon a drunk R'hin post-Fort Hatching. Plans of a trip are made. |
| Where: Sheltered Lakeside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 12, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Sybile/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Keysi/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions, Bristia/Mentions, S'din/Mentions, Meara/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Language. It's R'hin and Jo. |
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The far side of the lake gets much less foot traffic - there's less grass, due to the poorer soil, and the bed of the lake is muddy and not at all as nice to walk in. But a small stand of four willow trees with long branches hanging low and swinging in the breeze provides some relief from the sun during the heat of the day. A pair of small curved benches sit underneath the trees. The ground rises up sharply towards the northwest end of the lakeside, and the waterfall that feeds the lake thunders downwards there, foaming the water and creating a fine mist in the air that distorts the light. All around the trees, there's a snow white blanket that's formed throughout the day's snowfall. A line of steps, none too evenly paced, leads all the way to the shelter of those trees, and it's on one of those benches that R'hin's chosen to stretch out on his back, legs hanging over the edge -- he doesn't quite fit by far -- a bottle of something near-empty in his hand. He's staring upwards, silently, still enough to maybe appear asleep. A few hours earlier, the weyrlings returned from their trip to Fort's hatching, obviously upset, though things are quiet enough now. One can be sure that despite the missing presence of the Reachian convict riders at the Fortian Hatching - save for one petite, long-haired bluerider that would likely not to have been noticed at all - word that at least something bad had gone down there would have filtered through the ranks. So, it's probably not so surprising that Tacuseth and Jo can be seen along the shore, heading in R'hin's direction. The latter has something bottle-shaped in one hand as they approach, a fire lizard keeping level with them until he vanishes Between upon arrival. The blue stops as his rider walks on, a swing of leather-clad hips as she reaches the bench where the bronzerider is sprawled. And stares. Undoubtedly, R'hin becomes aware of her presence, and her blue's, as she approaches, though there's only the slightest turn of his head. "You come bearing gifts," he notes, with only slightly slurred amusement. His lips thin, for a moment, as he swings his feet down, sitting up, lifting gaze towards Jo. "What would we do, if we didn't drink to honor the dead, I wonder?" "Well, it's a gift either to make ya forget or to throw it against a tree," and Jo hefts up the bottle, as if she's going to demonstrate for him. Once he sits up she moves to drop down and sit next to him - letting the silence permeate the space before she answers. "Join'em, I'd wager," ends up being her blunt response before angling the bottle over for him to take. "Heard somethin' went down in Fort," she adds them quietly. "Sybile didn' wanna give any details. For her to be shaken up, must've been somethin'." "I'd never dare throw good drink against a tree. Bad drink, on the other hand," R'hin spreads his hand with a dark laugh, as if to suggest that would be inevitable and no great loss. As Jo sits down, his weight shifts, just marginally, enough that his shoulder's leaning against hers, as he exhales a breath. "Green, she didn't find a rider. Shook the kids up something fierce," he nods towards the weyrling barracks. "Took Quinlys a bottle, after. Can't say I envy her." He turns his head, to better study his companion, taking in her measure with an air of concern that he'd normally conceal. There's quiet laughter on destroying any kind of booze since Jo counters with, "Shit, I wouldn' toss the bad, either. Remember too much of the days when that was all I could get." She settles close to him, studying his face as he fills her in with a slow crinkle of her brows. At the end of it, "Shit," she exhales the word, looking away as she shakes her head. "No wonder. I can imagine Quinlys's gonna have a time on her hands with that. Fort, worse." Meeting his gaze again and catching that look of concern, there's that subtle shift of one corner of her mouth, lifting to bring the light of that brazen cockiness through the weariness she openly wears as she reaches over to briefly press a hand to his shoulder. "It's been a time of reflection," she says, referring to her wellbeing. "Been thinkin' of Aishani these days. Of my brothers." There's a moment of consideration from R'hin before he, too, laughs quietly. "I suppose it'd have to be really bad booze for me to destroy it," he concedes, with a fast-fading smile. His gaze flickers away, towards Tacuseth, for a moment, then back. His expression is serious, taking in her mien and words both, with a long exhale of breath. "Yeah. Have you heard from them, since...?" "Things have been busy at the Hold," Jo answers with a nod, "but Jolan answered a note I sent him by my firelizard. He wants to meet again, but I told'im I have some things to take care of first. Really, need some time to think before I see him again," she confides with a slight shrug. "Wanna have somethin' to tell him 'bout Lijo, anyway, with yer family's help." There's gratitude in that incline of head. R'hin nods in quiet agreement. "Do things on your own terms," he agrees, taking a long swing from his near empty bottle, exhaling sharply at the strength of the liquid. Her mention of the Beowins earns a steady look, nodding. "That could take time. A spinner's patience," he smiles a little, at the comparison. "You don't strike me much as the patient sort, temptress. Ought to find something else to distract yourself with, in the mean time." It could be suggestive, though that doesn't seem to be his intent. "Always, baby," Jo agrees with the first with a smile that shows teeth. "'Sides, I'm still not convinced that papa dearest don' know where I'm really at. Ain' lookin' forward to seein' his ass. It's all good, darlin'," she adds on his trader family, lifting the bottle as if in a toast. "I'm gonna try'n see first if I can run into him on my own. Yer right, I don' do patient much'n I've got plenty of distractions. Someone has to be the official Weyr Corrupter 'round here. Anyway, sounds like ya have somethin' in mind for distractions," she notes with a pointed look, her chin dropping as she levels that look. There's a low-throated chuckle from R'hin as Jo admits her lack of patience. "You do have that part down pat. Speaking of corruption, though," with a little smile. "How about a trip to Igen? Introduced one of the weyrlings to some of the Igenite tea the nomads use. Think she was intrigued. Ought to get some more for her, some fresher stuff. Wouldn't mind spending a few days there -- think Taikrin'd miss you?" Nodding sagely - in dramatic fashion, no less - "It takes turns of experience, of knockin' heads together long before anyone makes me see reason," Jo gives with an amused snort. Letting it fade somewhat, her head tilting a little as she lets some of her concern for him bleed through, "Ya know ya can always crash at my weyr," she notes more soberly to R'hin. "If ya just wanna. If ya wanna vomit. I have a bucket." That's sincerity, right there. Her smile wolfishly returns on the topic of corruption, "Corruptin' weyrlins', are ya? Of course I'm game. What's so good 'bout this tea? It makes ya horny or somethin'?" She waves a hand on the account of her wingleader before she says, "Me'n her have an agreement. I'll likely have to scratch her back sometime down the line in return, but it's a fair trade. I'll let her know, but count me in." "I can... actually imagine you mean that quite literally," R'hin replies, with a curve of lips. Her sober note earns a brief pause, a fleeting smile. "I just might." Where might almost certainly means definite. Her question about the tea earns a twisting of lips. "Not sure it's your sort of tea. It's... mm. The nomads use it for insight. In small doses, it can give you vivid dreams. Supposedly, if the tea is fresh enough and used in the right conditions, it can give you waking visions. Self insight, that sort of thing. Not sure I want to see what it might show me, but it's... useful, to give others a nudge, now and then." He leans to click his bottle against hers. "It's a date, then." "Ya know it," Jo counters on the first. "Granted, I'd like to think I've grown beyond the days from total reckless to only partly reckless." She grins to his reply to her sincerity as it was, her expression turning into one of frowning curiosity as she hears about the tea. "Sounds freaky," she quips, breaking the seal on the bottle so that she could take a drink. "Some weird shit. Ya never tried it yerself? Hm, might be fun to try ya know." This is Jo, after all. "Maybe it'll show me Deetan so I can kick his ass in my dreams. 'Bout as insightful as I'll ever get, darlin'. Why the few days?" she asks now, clinking her bottle against his. "These Igenites won' be easy to give it up?" "You're getting practically timid in your old age," R'hin adds, the timbre of his voice clearly teasing. "Not sure if seeing myself in a new light would do much for me," he says, dryly. "But I suppose, we could try," his brows go upwards. "Probably won't be quite as fun as you think. They treat it very seriously." As for her latter question, he spreads his empty hand. "Take at least one or two to find 'em. They move around constantly. Only thing you can bet on is finding an oasis they've been at recently to let you know they're not far. Might be faster with the two of us, though." Jo snorts on that initial statement before quipping back, "Yeah, I'll give ya old age..." with an aimed nudge of her elbow. On the tea, "That new light might have ya seein' yerself with a haircut'n tattoos," she notes, slouching back a little with her bottle. "Do they have other teas? I know a lady in Crom that would love the business." She nods a few times on the last, considering before she says, "Hard to find. They must have more than tea, then. Might be good to get away from the Reaches for awhile. Focus on somethin' else. Yer wing don' mind it?" R'hin's wince is, as ever, over exaggerated, if a shade more belated than ordinarily due likely to the amount of alcohol already in his system. Her mention of haircuts and tattoos makes him squint. "What's wrong with my hair?" is his, perhaps, only partially faked defensive response. He tugs a free hand through it, making a face at her. He makes a noise, shaking his head. "They only trade in fairly small amounts. Aside from the weak stuff. Have to earn some goodwill with them for that. Spent, on and off near a Turn doing 'em favors -- they make sure you pay your debts," he says, wryly. "Worth it, though. They're an interesting people." He sounds, as he ever does, envious of them. Her mention of Savannah has him smiling with a sudden pride. "Not the first time, nor the last I've had to step away. Bristia's got it well in hand." Laughing, "Oh, I like the long hair look," Jo is easy to answer. "Just, insight might have a different look for ya." She'll even try to reach over for a strand before she returns to her bottle. "Work in favors," she picks that one out with a raised brow. "That sort of work is popular in Crom, too. I look forward to meetin' them if they have your interest." She continues to study R'hin despite the amusement and the teasing, and his proud answer for his wing earns him a genuine smile. "Good folks in that wing of yers. Takes somethin' for Glacier to accept them when we hardly get a long with the rest of the wings." "Good. Because cutting my hair isn't on the agenda. All it'd do would make me feel like a weyrling all over again." Exaggeration is par for the course for R'hin, though the sentiment on his hair is probably not that exaggerated. "They're a breed unto themselves. Takes something, to not only survive, but thrive out in the desert." He lifts the bottle to his lips, draining the last of the contents with an exhale, setting the empty bottle on the bench next to him. "Not all good. Pains in the asses, a lot of 'em. E'nest, especially. A'gon. Bristia as well," but there's a fondness when he speaks of them that suggests for all that, there's a loyalty he has to his wingmates. "The fact that we lose to your wing as much as win at darts might help with that," he says, with a twitch of lips. It might help that a number of Glacier riders flew under him, many Turns ago, but he tellingly doesn't mention that, either. "And ya don' wanna go back to those days," Jo notes on weyrlinghood with a flash of teeth. "Shit, me neither. And, these Igenites of yers, I can' even imagine havin' to live out there everyday. I mean, we all will do what we have to, some more than others, but..." She watches R'hin drain his bottle and waves her own at him when he should look her way. She laughs outright upon hearing about certain wingriders in his wing, shaking her head and saying, "Well, good thing we're all good sports, eh? We always buy y'all a round after. I like Bristia," she notes, nodding. "It makes sense ya got folks like her around ya." "Not on your fucking life," R'hin says, vehemently. "I had S'din as a Weyrlingmaster -- that was a trial, for both of us, I suspect." He can, at least, chuckle about it now, even if it's with a hint of dry rancour. Her words, though, drive that quickly away, with a low-throated laugh. "Folks like you, too." With a sharp exhale and a shake of his head to her offer of the bottle, he pushes unsteadily to his feet. He stretches an hand down for her, though he's unsteady enough that he might not be a great balancer. "Let's go lie in your bed and get warm and maybe fuck and forget all about today." It's not near his normal level of charm, but then, maybe it's aimed just at Jo's level. With laughter in her voice, "One of those that had a stick up his ass?" Jo relates easily. "I had Meara. She wasn' so bad, but I still probably gave her lots of heartburn. Figured at her age, she'd be used to it by then." No apology, clearly, for the hell she raised in her own weyrlinghood. That toothy grin grows even moreso at R'hin's next on the Igenites (and her), and she stops up her bottle when he gets to his feet and offers his hand. To his offer, "Did'ja really have to ask?" is her own question leveled back at him as she uses his hand to get to her feet. She's not even buzzed yet. Using that hand to try and jerk the man towards her, "Let's go," she offers, clicking a tongue back towards where her dragon waits. "A hold out from the Pass," R'hin corrects, as if that makes it much worse. In his mind, perhaps it does. "Set in ways that won't serve us for the next two generations." He doesn't seem in the least surprised at her admission, adding: "Heartburn and worse, I can imagine." As for the latter, with a rueful shrug: "Thought it'd be more polite than throwing you over my shoulder -- plus, I think we'd just end up in the snow if we tried, and there's some parts I don't wish to risk to frostbite. Yours, and mine," he says, with a low-throated laugh, steadying finally once she's stood, though when she jerks that hand towards him he stumbles, into her, unapologetically, on the way to her dragon. "Aww, well, lookit how ya turned out from all that learnin' of what not to do," Jo teases on weyrlinghood, the laughter sure to follow. She looks too innocent with that shrug on the comment about the heartburn she was sure to deliver her own weyrlingmaster, and she snorts in amusement on his answer to hers about throwing her over his shoulder. "I'd pay to see ya do that in yer state," she notes over her shoulder. "But yeah, I ain' lookin' to freeze my tits off." She's steady when he falls into her, clutching his arm as she guides them right towards her waiting Tacuseth as she says, "I seem to have a knack of always knowin' where ya are drunk." She shakes her head at her own statement but it's good teasing all the same as she leads them out. "A fine specimen, an exemplary example of bronzerider," R'hin song-songs in turn, laughing moments later. Her over the shoulder comment gives him a moment's consideration, though: "Maybe something to strive for next winter. Work ourselves up to it?" he suggests, slyly. Once he has his balance back: "Yeah you do. It's a gift," he says, fondly, throwing his arm around her as they walk, more than happy, it seems, to travel with Tacuseth -- the fact that Leiventh allows this might be different and unusual enough to note, though R'hin himself makes no mention of it. "A bronzerider through'n through," Jo seems to agree with laughter. "An', if ya strive to pick me up sloshed beyond seein' straight, ya better make sure ya don' end up dumpin' me in the lake or somethin'. Or lay me on a glowbasket thinkin' it's a dragon. Or drop me in K'del's bed thinkin' it's yer own weyr." Yeah, she can keep going with her outlandish scenarios. With R'hin draping an arm over her, she snorts with an expressive eyeroll that laced with amusement as she echoes, "Uh-huh. A gift, he says." And, for now it seems, Jo doesn't seem to make note that he hasn't chosen to go on his own dragon - even though for those that know her well, believe that anything can be mentally filed away by the wily convict rider. It might seem like a gift at first, since despite his intentions it soon becomes clear that R'hin needs to sleep off some of that bottle. Later, though, when he wakes in the night, he'll be sure to make up for it, even if it does mean he's late to the Wingleader's meeting the next morning. |
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