Logs:New Pants
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 7 June, 2011 |
| Who: B'tal, Raum, Tomaeran, Warucori, Xavior |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tom gets rescued! And pees himself. Sorry, Jeibeth. |
| Where: Beach, Western Island |
| When: Day 17, Month 12, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
    |
| It's heading into late afternoon now and this isn't the first time that B'tal has made a trip to the island. It /is/ the first trip that he's made without his wingleader or somebody equally bossy present and, as such, once the careful green he rides lands in the sand just within the water line, B'tal seems hesitant to actually get off of her while his blue eyes scan the beach. It's kind of mayhem down here, by now: the winds are getting worse, the rain is in full force, and more than a few people are eyeing the skyline with trepidation - and that includes Tomaeran. Dragons: kind of the lesser evil at this point. Despite that discontent flicker of his eyes, he strides up to B'tal and Jeibeth with an air of self-importance, tipping his head up to get a better look at the greenrider. He might be next in the queue, but; "Aren't there any /bigger/ dragons around to take me? My uncle is our leader." Xavior looks as dreary as the skies, hanging back near a stand of rocks that he seems particularly attached to. He's also attached to the ones over there, and over there, and the ones behind it too. The lean shaggy man looks really quite reluctant to leave this floating pile of rocks. His sodden beard is given a yank as he watches Tom with silent eyes that tell no story of what brews within. Zaxameth makes a neat little landing and Cori quickly swings down from his back and offers a reasuring smile to the frightened faces that turn to watch her and the blue dragon. He draws his tail up close and tries to hunch down low to look little somehow, his whirling eyes watching the people with intent interest. It's Jeibeth that tilts her head to look at Tomaeran indignantly. The nerve. Really! Dismissing him before B'tal has even had a chance to say anything, her gaze moves to find someone more worthy of her time. B'tal is left gaping briefly. "Uh, well. I guess there are?" He turns his head head toward Zaxameth as the blue lands and looks back at Tomaeran with eyebrows lifted. Like that one? Still, Raum has been hanging back, in no hurry to make good his escape. Maybe he suspects what's waiting for them on the other side. Maybe he's scared he'll get thrown off somewhere along the way. But eventually he can't put it off longer without seeming obvious, so down to the beach he goes to meet the latest two riders to touch down, approaching them warily. Despite his bravado, Tomaeran's cheeks go ever so slightly pale as Jeibeth looks at him that way: getting used to these dragons is going to take some doing. At least B'tal reacts in a way he finds more satisfactory; he greets the remark with a nod, half turning towards Zaxameth before his gaze narrows at the blue. "No better," he says, dismissively - and loudly. "That one's barely bigger. Where are the really big ones that I saw the other day?" Even in his glum state Tomaeran's dismissal of the blue makes Xavior chuckle, though it's reserved to merely a faint lifting of the corners of his lips, a slight rocking of his chest, and a slight brightening of cerulean eyes. Still he remains aloof, leaning on that beloved pile. Warucori lifts a hand to wave to B'tal, a familiar face in all the chaos. "Goodness." Understated and tacked on the back with one of her cheerful smiles. "What's this?" She only caught part of what was being said as she pulled her helmet off, but Tomaeran looking at her dragon and dismissing him so fast just makes her grin all the more. Zaxameth doesn't notice, he's eyeing Xavior all wet-face-haired and croons encouraginly in that direction. "Are they picking and choosing what dragon gets to take them back while there is a storm brewing? Goodness me." And off she goes to see if she can work Xavior off his rock, B'tal will have to deal with size-issue-boy. B'tal's eyes shift uncertainly toward his dragon's head as he starts to unbuckle himself and finally makes to dismount. There's some slight color in his cheeks as he hits the sand with his own two feet but it's all well and good that whatever she's said is not going to be repeated by the greenrider. "Uh. They're probably busy, sir. We do still have duties to attend." His roundabout way of implying that Tomaeran isn't the most important thing on Pern? "So... did you want to wait for one of them, then?" "Don't worry, boy," Raum hails Tom dryly. "They'll still fit your head on there, and the rest of us besides." Except, well. He doesn't look terribly thrilled by the pair that's come for them this time, and both B'tal and Warucori get a long up-and-down look as he matches them to their respective dragons and apparently decides something about them in the process. Xavior remains in the state of minor good humor for all of a minute and then he's eyeing the blue dragon looking his way in the soberest fashion possible. Long fingers reach back to unconsciously grasp the crags in the rocks while his chin lifts that scraggly beard as if to ward off the woman coming his way. His silence remains a solid wall between them as he awaits her words. Tomaeran scowls at Raum, though not, at least, at B'tal. The greenrider is given an appraising look, instead, as he straightens his shoulders and back. Sounding imperious; "They'll learn. I suppose - in the interests of not keeping you waiting - I'll acquiesce." Which means taking a step forward towards Jeibeth. Who... is actually not that small, really, in Tom's estimation, if his suddenly tightened expression is anything to go by. Warucori lifts a hand towards Xavior, a wave to go with her smile, "Hello. I'm Cori, Warucori." The pause that follows hangs on her not really being sure how to get him off the rocks when he's just looking at her and not giving her much to go on. "What's your name?" She motions towards the low-crouched dragon who's watching with great interest from his landing spot, "We'd like to take you out of the storm, if you're ready." Of course now Jeibeth seems inclined to stand as tall as she can on all fours with B'tal on ground, her shimmering wings pulled up over her back and mantled just so to make a more proper impression. "Good," is offered with a small nod of his head. "Um. I'm B'tal, by the way. And this is Jeibeth." Who rumbles uncharacteristically at her introduction before the greenrider settles a hand on her shoulder and flickers an apologetic smile at the man. "I don't think he meant anything by it, Jei," he asides to the green in a quieter voice. "I don't think he wants me lifting him that high." Although Tom flicks another wary glance at the green, it's the greenrider he addresses (it's almost as though he's not really convinced the dragons are sentient, or sentient /enough/, anyway). "Right. Well. Hello. I'm Tomaeran." He hesitates, evidently really not sure how to proceed, but definitely not actually intending to do something so mundane as /ask/. The bedraggled man holds his name close, unwilling to offer it out so easily to strangers. Instead Xavior answers what was likely not a question, "I don't care to go." The tone is mild and not terribly unfriendly, yet spoken with a firm nature. His vivid eyes scan her features in an attempt to ascertain her disposition. "Well met," is mostly a reflexive response to the introduction and for several moments B'tal seems much more attentive of the green before she finally settles lower in the sand to make herself much more easily accessible. "Do you have everything you're taking? Do you need a hand up?" Questions that need to be asked, particularly since B'tal still seems somewhat intimidated by the man. Zaxameth admires Jeibeth and her posturing and it even earns her a croon of compliment as the green stands up so tall and proud. His rider meanwhile looks troubled about the bearded man not wanting to go, "Well, I can see that it's a difficult choice for you, but would you rather face the storm ahead instead of being safe while the weather blows over?" And since she's not sure about the exiles having a choice, she looks over to B'tal with her eyebrows lifting. "There is nothing here worth keeping," says Tomaeran, with the unspoken amendment of 'except me'. He sucks in a breath before adding anything else, as though he's deliberating on the best way to deal with that second question and all that it entails. Finally - imperiously - he announces, "I can handle it, thank you." It's not entirely the truth. Certainly, he approaches Jeibeth the rest of the way, and certainly, he makes a show off climbing up onto her leg - but after that, he seems to hesitate, as though he's really not sure what comes next, but is definitely not going to ask. "We've weathered many a storm." It's an obvious fact presented as such. "I'll fair fine. Those that wish to go should." Of there being many that do, Xavior is assured. A hand lifts to indicate Raum, "He should go." His eyes flick from the Other back to Warucori and the quiet man tries to force out a smile that refuses to come. "Your beast, does it come from the sea?" It probably says something about her patience and deeply ingrained sense of propriety that Jeibeth doesn't move her leg in an attempt to knock Tomaeran off balance. Instead she stays still as stone and watches the goings on between Zaxameth's rider and the fuzzy exile. "We're not supposed to leave anyone behind," he calls over, then glances back at Tomaeran. "Just hitch your leg over like you'd get on a run--" Wait. No runners. B'tal scrambles up on top of the green with practiced ease and offers a hand to the man to help pull him up and get him situated. "You've weathered the storms more or less fine, although one of our healers tells me that the last storm you lost several of your young people." Warucori's voice is quiet, concerned and pained at the news of these young lives gone. "This storm will be worse, and you may be amoung the few who are left. You haven't had a choice before." Not that it's really a choice if she has to force him to go. The tall blonde offers a warm, supportive smle before looking over to Raum, "Oh, I will offer him his chance as well, there is room for more than one on Zaxameth. He is a Dragon and does not come from the sea." Tomaeran sounds distinctly bad tempered as he insists, "I know that." Clearly, he didn't. And it doesn't stop him from using B'tal's hand, either, though he's obviously trying to look impressive as he does so - as though he's doing it for B'tal's benefit, not his own. To make the greenrider seem useful. "On a run? You people make no sense." Neither, though, does Xavior: now that he's settled, the blonde exile glances over at the other man, shaking his head in utter incomprehension. Muttering; "As if anyone would stay here." B'tel's statement removes Xavior's need to smile and so his fur flocked features level first bland, only to slowly stretch tense, pulling his mouth in a straight line indicative of a stubbornness that grows within. The woman's words bring him about again, head tilting thoughtfully as he asks dubiously, "I have a choice now?" His attention swerves to the dragon with a nod that has nothing at all to do with approval. "A shame." "Why is it a shame?" Warucori glance goes back to her dragon who shares his attention between watching the green and her 'prize' and trying to get one for himself. He scoots slowly closer, not standing but sort of belly-sliding a few feet. Sly that blue dragon. "I think it would be easier if you decided you coming along was in your best interest. Don't you want to at least see what's out there beyond the sea? It doesn't have to be forever. We have a fine lake with fish I bet you don't have here." No argument from B'tal, of course. One might think he's used to bad tempered people with an over-inflated sense of entitlement or something. Once Tomaeran is settled, B'tal is quick to strap the man to the dragon. Lucky him! Except B'tal doesn't immediately strap himself in along with the islander. Instead he hops back down and leaves Tomaeran alone with Jeibeth to start approaching Warucori and the bearded guy. "You can't stay here," he says abruptly to Xavior, frustrated. "If you want to come back after the storm has passed I'll drop you off myself." He doesn't, however, say anything about his actual authority on these issues. Tomaeran stiffens, very obviously, as B'tal straps him in (and not in the sex way); mostly, though, he looks put out when the greenrider then abandons him. He's /stuck/. And /abandoned/. That said, he's smirking again as he listens in to the conversation that follows. Xavior's eyes narrow on the blue, though there is no menace behind his watchful gaze. "Many," including him, "were hoping they were sea monsters." Some were fearing, but he doesn't mention that. "Do they swim?" He does have curiosity, but it doesn't reach beyond the here and now. The gaze is pulled back to the pleasant woman, and for that very reason (her disposition) the hirsute man remains quietly civil as he shakes his head. "No, I'm fine here." He looks to the approaching rider as he continues the negation action. "I apologize for the rudeness of it, but I don't believe you." It's a matter of fact. Warm brown eyes glint with amusement, "Sea monsters." Even Zaxameth warbles eagerly, his head coming up, all curious about this. "Zax says that he would like to be a seat monster, he enjoys swimming very much. Sometimes we go to this tropical island spot and he fishes. It's so warm and the sand is like....satin." Do exiles know about satin? "White satin." Again Zaxameeth warbles, scoooting forward again, "He would like to know what your beard feels like. He has not...seen one as impressive." Cori lets out a little sigh when he declines again to come, her expression truly falling. "It will be best if you...come." She looks over to B'tal who is coming their way, frowning to herself, she's not doing a very good job being a bossy badass to get the exile away. A new, cold gust of rainy wind blows against them, a hint that the storm is growing closer. "Find someone that isn't going to waste your time by being a fool, Cori. We can get him later." Whatever that means. By the time the greenrider is turning to jog back toward his green, though, his eyes are a little brighter than they really ought to be. "I'm fine," he snaps at Jeibeth before climbing up behind Tomaeran to strap himself in all comfortably (well, maybe not that comfortably) close. "Ready, then?" Jeibeth is already starting to lift herself up. "He's a waste of time," promises Tomaeran, lightly, evidently talking about Xavior. /He/ meanwhile, is smug - though that didn't stop him from giving Jeibeth another wary glance when B'tal snapped at her like that. Totally weird. "Of course," he insists, though his voice wavers just a little bit as they start lifting. Whoa. This is-- new. His shoulders go back again: he is /not/ going to react. Yet. Xavior echoes the name, "Zax," passing it over his tongue with the lingering hiss that signifies pleasure. He likes the name. Again he listens to the woman, absorbing all that she says, nodding all through the talk of her beast. The one word spoken question of, "Satin?" does indicate his lack of knowledge of the 'finer' fabrics found in the outside world, but it is the curiosity of his facial hair that has him pressing back up against the rock, fingers once again digging in the crevices. Fact is offered, "It feels like rough hair," to stave off any advancement of the dragon. It is B'tal that jars the nervousness out of him and chases out a grin. "Yes! Leave me!" It's the loudest he's spoken all day, and again Raum is pointed to. Warucori digs into her pocket of her jacket and pulls out a scarf that she often uses during sweeps to keep her neck comfortable against the fur of her riding leathers. This she passes over to Xavior, but holds onto one corner, just allowing him to sample the weave of the satin-like cloth of the scarf for an example. She doesn't say anything, just offers B'tal a look of concern and sadness as he loses his patience with the stuborn exile. She's giving this one more bit of time, baiting him with the scarf to see if he'll find it interesting enough to ask about other things. It might work. B'tal is ignoring face hair man now in favor of, well, Tomaeran. Not much better but at least he's taking him to the Weyr without a big fuss. Once Jeibeth is standing again, she flexes her wings and her hind legs tense as she prepares to take flight. B'tal reflexively moves a hand to Tomaeran's side as the green launches skywards, gaining height so that they can blink between back to the Weyr. Tomaeran's knuckles are white, white, white, as they start, well, /flying/. He's doing his best to look calm, though, and manages relatively well right until the moment they actually go Between. That... was unexpected. And also, full of screams. Xavior does indeed sample the soon-to-be-soaked fabric as he repeats, "Satin?" yet in a need for confirmation tone. The weather does not seem to affect the tall weedy man at all as he stands there, curiosity flushing out calm speech. "What's it good for? It doesn't seem very... useful." It is judged to be, "Flimsy." As the green dragon rises his focus is pulled to follow and when they /disappear/ the stoic man gasps in surprise and horror! When they reappear it's high over the Reachian bowl. Jeibeth seems terribly disgruntled by this whole endeavor or at least it would seem by the way she makes a near dive toward the ground before her wings flare out to catch the air and she brings them all to a safe landing with no casualties whatsoever. "So, uh... you, um, okay?" B'tal started unstrapping himself before they even landed and now he's working on Tomaeran's. Quickly. There's urine dripping down Tomaeran's leg (and yes, onto Jeibeth's hide; sorry about that); how do you think he is? He's trying to look calm, though, and as though he knows nothing about that dampness. Also: the weyr? Pretty terrifying. So that's not helping anything at all. "I'm /fine/," he insists, through gritted teeth, despite his goggling. "You should have /warned/ me. How did you do that?" B'tal opens his mouth to say something but he's stopped short by Jeibeth's rumbling. "Okay," is all he says, uncertainly, to the man, and he tries /very hard/ not to let his eyes stray downward as he helps Tomaeran down once Jeibeth has stopped being so antsy and actually settles low enough to be helpful. "I thought you knew it was coming." And he must be telling the truth because he doesn't sound like he's lying. "How did I do what?" Then, "Through there's where you'll be staying. Unless you wanted to, uh, clean up first?" All this placation makes it hard for Tomaeran to actually yell; once he's on the ground, his fists clench, but really, it's all rather impotent. "Get us here like that," he says, in a sharp tone. "Once minute we were-- and then-- it's not /natural/." He shoots a glance at Jeibeth, clearly blaming the green - she's clearly not trustworthy at this point. None of this stops him from adding, "I want a pair of pants like yours." /Now/. Once the green is free of them, Jeibeth is taking flight again, bound for the lake, riding leathers and all. B'tal winces slightly watching after her a moment, then tries to offer the man a small smile. "Okay," he says again, glancing around as though hoping someone will magically appear that he can hand Tomaeran over to. He even glances toward the ledges up that flight of stairs. Would his sister /really/ mind if he dropped some random guy off in her Weyr? "Did you want to take a bath? I can get you some pants while you do that." B'tal looks at him shamelessly, now, probably trying to judge his size. For the pants! Here, Teris - maybe this man will suit you! He needs a bath and some new pants, but that just makes him ready for-- uh. Anyway. Tom isn't smiling, and even with Jeibeth gone, he isn't really all that much more relaxed, but the easy acceptance of his request for new pants (/new/ pants!) seems to have helped something. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth to say something, shuts it again, and then, finally, nods. "I'd like that. Where is your river?" Because that's where a person takes a bath, right? "Uh." B'tal seems a little torn on correcting the man, exactly, so instead he just says, "This way," and starts leading the way into the caverns. "It's inside," he explains just in case but otherwise seems to expect Tomaeran to follow him without anymore problems. Avoiding the living cavern, B'tal leads through the inner caverns and tries to beeline for the baths just to get the man settled somewhere so he can go find him pants. Or conveniently forget about him in the baths. The baths - well, really, /everything/ about the place - make Tomaeran's eyes bug out. But probably the baths in particular, what with the whole hot water thing they've got going. Hopefully, whatever happens, he'll get his pants somehow - and no doubt even if B'tal forgets about him, someone will find him and drag him off to captivity. Eventually. |
Leave A Comment