Logs:New Scars
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| RL Date: 23 August, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Late night baths include innuendo and deals. |
| Where: Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 8, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Drex/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
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| It's late enough that most people have fed, bathed and retired for the night. It's the perfect night for Jo to take to the baths, settling in the farthest pool from the entrance with her loose clothes crumpled nearby. With her naked back to the pool edge, she soaks up to her partly-covered breasts with her damp head resting back against the surface a little. Her bathing tools are within reach, and for the moment, she seems focused on soaking away the day in the shadows. One of the luxuries of having a weyr in the leadership complex is in the private baths, and so what could Farideh, glowering darkly at everything and everyone she passes, be doing in the communal baths? She enters noisily, shuffling without a care for who she disturbs, and dumps her garments in a bench, to disrobe. It's only after she's undressed and positioned herself on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, that she notices with whom she shares her nightly ritual. "For Faranth's sake," the goldrider snaps. "Of course it's you." Anyone making that amount of noise - and disturbing her peace and quiet at this time of night - would catch the brunt of Jo's notice. It's a glare being sent in the noise's direction, her lips already parting for some sort of scathing word or two until Farideh's familiar voice has her in pause. Watching her as she sits on the edge of the pool, "What the fuck's your problem?" is her 'cheery' greeting as well with a disgruntled sniff. If Farideh's the modest sort, she'll likely have an issue of it here since the convict rider makes no moves to cover up. "Comin' in here, actin' like ya own the place." The goldrider's not the only cranky one! "My problem is that I have a bath. I shouldn't have to come here just to wash off the day when I have a proper bath in my own weyr." And yet here she is, fuming and splashing, within warning, into the pool. "Does anyone know how to fix it when it stops working? Apparently not." Farideh shoots Jo an unkind glare in return, setting her shoulders against the inner wall of the bathing pool. "I can come in here how I like-- I didn't even think you knew how to take a bath," is retorted, hotly, and without much discretion; temper rising. "If ya were just a tad bit kinder," Jo notes, her voice dripping with heavy sarcasm, "then some poor beat like me would've offered to fix it for ya." Dark eyes watch Farideh like a predator stalking her prey, missing nothing as she gets in. Her lips press together at any further insults, though, that last one does have the convict rider leaning back up against the pool edge, arms laying out on top of them and with her back arching a bit with a roll of her scarred shoulders in a show of defiance. To her taking baths, "Then why doncha come over here'n show me how it's done, ya onery feline," is her return with just a touch of deliberate suggestion. "Ya can use yer tongue while yer at it." Crass on purpose, that slight lift of her chin and the barely-there smirk in place. "How on Pern do you know about fixing plumbing?" Jo gets ogled, but not in the sexual way. "Handymen, apprentices, smiths--" Farideh makes a disgruntled sound and slashes her hand through the water, only to pinch the bridge of her nose a minute later. "You're ridiculous," she says from behind her hand, which only muffles the sound. Her hand drops from her face and she leans back against the pool ledge again, letting her head loll there, eyes towards the ceiling. "It's all fun and games to you-- a baths the last thing I had. And now--" And now, she's sharing it with Jo, who gets another narrow-eyed inspection when her head lifts a bit from the rim. "I do come from a family of boys," is Jo's first quick answer as she reaches for some sweetsand, but then she adds quickly behind it, "'N I know folks. Dov could take care of it. He works in the caverns. He'd probably try to choke ya out though before he finished, if this is how ya treat folks," and yes, Farideh is getting a pointed look from her. "Not everyone's so nice like I am. I keep warnin' ya, Feline. Anyway, sounds like yer pissy 'bout more than some broken bath to me." Another look goes her way as she unceremoniously dumps the handful of sweetsand right on top of the wet hair mess that is on her head. The insinuation makes Farideh initially bristle, her skin pinkening from more than just the steamy conditions of the baths. "You give yourself quite a compliment," she replies, snidely, but thereafter, looks more sulky than angry. "I've had better days. Better turns, too. And you can't always be nice," is obviously a jab at the bluerider's so-called niceness, "to everyone and everything. It gets old." Sulky goldrider is sulky against the pool wall, flicking her fingers in the water much like a petulant child. "If I wasn' so nice, my sweet," Jo simpers as she starts to rub the sweetsand into a lather in her hair with both hands, "folks like you would be scared of me. That's not very useful for me, havin' folks scared of me. So yeah, I'd take it as a compliment. This here ain' 'bout me, though." Leaning her head back a little, "'N, anyway, bein' 'nice' is one thing. Bein' a 'bitch' is another. Boy troubles? Sexually frustrated? He not here to offer up his dick?" and she lifts her head long enough to look the goldrider over - as if THAT could be detected visually. A soapy hand lifts only long enough to give her the 'Go on' gesture before she resumes washing her hair. Dish. "Shouldn't it be the opposite? You should be scared of me," sounds as hollow as the actual threat is; clearly, no one in their right mind, would be scared of Farideh. "You're insane," she mutters lowly, and then sucks in a noisy breath. And holds it, staring at Jo with growing anxiety, her cheeks going from pink to red. "That's ridiculous," she hisses, glancing quickly to the entryway. "If I only wanted his-- if I only wanted that, I would just pick any idiot with half a brain here. Is it wrong to miss him?" Again, she sounds guilty. "Ya gotta long way to go to get someone like me scared of ya, Feline," Jo says, scrubbing at her hair. "I could show ya how to intimidate folks, though. Bein' a bitch just won' cut it. If anythin', it only annoys us." There's a quick smile to that, and wen Farideh declares her insane, there's the quick "So I've heard," in much the same tone as if she was just told that her hair was black. Of course the convict rider's crass words earning a blush gets a little knowing grin from her end, the little innocent-like shrug given as the initial answer to the rest of that. "It's the truth," is her verbal counter. "If I haven' gotten off in awhile, I'd be spittin' like a southern feline, too. Nothin' to be ashamed 'bout, Farideh. No, it's not wrong to miss him," she answers on the last without pause, looking her way. "Don' take it out on the rest of us, though. We ain' the ones keepin' him away. Want me to bring him back?" "Are you scared of Irianke?" However innocent Farideh tries to make that one sound, it's laced with sarcasm. "I don't know that I want to intimidate people. I want them to like me, I want them to come to me with their problems, and how is that achievable if they're too afraid to even speak up around me?" Jo's insistence about Drex just turns her redder, until the color seeps all the way up to her roots, and she can't do anything but duck down farther and farther into the water, up to her chin. "No," she says, in a miserable voice. "I rather like Irianke," Jo is pleasant and balmy in speaking about the other goldrider as she leans her soapy head back. "Now she's someone I don' mind gettin' behind, darlin'. Figuratively. Literally." Take that as you will, her shrug will likely say. "If ya want folks to come to ya with their problems, then ya'll have a better chance attractin' them with sugar rather than runner shit." Dropping her hands into the pool to look directly at her, looking at how red Farideh's gotten the more she speaks with an amused snort. "I keep forgettin' how young most of ya really are," she muses a loud, but more directly, "Ya want him back, doncha? Ain' that's what this tantrum's all about? A bath can get fixed. One night havin' to soak in a pool with me ain' gonna kill ya. Ya know that. What else could it be that's wrong with ya tonight?" "Oh, that's just disgusting," the goldrider says, her face reflecting those words. "I do normally, but you're K'del's problem, not mine, and I don't need to win you over with anything. You seem to find me just fine." Farideh shoots the bluerider an accusatory look, which isn't strong given how she's sunk down in the water and still as red as a berry. "I have a problem. I have a couple of problems. I don't think you can fix them. I don't know how to fix them." "Why, cuz she's a woman?" Jo is sardonic, dunking briefly under the water to wash the suds from her hair. "I'm no one's problem, love," she says once she surfaces. "What would K'del want with me?" As to winning her over, the convict rider is content to merely ask in return, "Have ya won me over?" It's not something she lingers on, but look Farideh's getting right now is a rather soberly critical one. But problem. That's something she latches on, the older woman running hands over her damp hair as she says, "I happen to be a problem solver. I also happen to be good at it. Those that can smell that on me rather than focusin' on how many folks I fuck on a given seven' find themselves luckier than without. Worst case, ya'll get it off yer chest talkin' 'bout it'n feel better than when ya fumed on in here." A brow lifts at her. "Because she's Irianke. She's my boss, and it's bad enough that--" Farideh's face twists in an unpleasant expression; whatever it was, she chooses to forgo saying. "I don't plan to win you over. That doesn't seem to matter to you. You do what you want to do regardless, and it seems as though you like catching me at my worst." Accusatory, again, but even weaker, as she combs wet fingers through her hair. "Can you make someone disappear?" she asks, eyeing the bluerider with skepticism. "Can you make babies appear out of thin air?" Jo just stares at Farideh, really, throughout her rant. There's amusement on her features as she washes what's left of the sweetsand from her hair only breaking her silence at the accusation. "So what matters to me, hm? Other than catchin' ya at yer worst?" Well, it doesn't look like she's going to deny that one. It's a moment for be addresses the last, her hands coming down into the pool before she dunks herself underwater and resurfaces before speaking. "Depends on the who," she says on making people disappear in the much the same tone as if Farideh had asked her to go get her a bubbly pie from the kitchens. "As for babies, that depends on how old'n how much time till ya need one. Why?" She seems willing to entertain both notions, at least. "What matters to you? I don't know. Sometimes, I think nothing, but you really seem to enjoy holding things over others, getting into fights, making people squirm." Farideh makes a face at Jo, and summarily stares down at the surface of the water right under her nose; it's easier to commit great crimes within looking anyone in the eye, anyway. "I don't know her name. I know she's pretty and blonde, and she waitresses out at High Reaches Hold. There can't be too many of those," is her first order of business. "I don't want her there anymore. I want her gone. It's too close for comfort and--" Then, her eyes, guilt-stricken, flick to Jo. "I told a lie." "'Nothin' is a vast word," Jo notes, wading closer to Farideh. "I could care for nothin' here, or maybe I care for but a few nothins'. Ya don' know me to even know what I care 'bout, Feline." It's a chide, almost. Still, as an afterthought, "I do enjoy makin' folks squirm," she admits, a touch wry. "Many of ya make it far too easy. Many of ya are far too afraid to be who yer meant to be." Her look turns pointed when the goldrider makes a face at her, and when the answer comes on who to disappear, there's very quiet laughter and, "Did he fuck her, Feline? Are ya jealous? Ya look like the jealous type. How often do ya see each other? Why should I make this girl disappear outta yer jealousy?" The questions are rapid-fire, one after another and probing. Perhaps it's clear the convict rider is searching for something - a right answer, maybe, or something else. Still, it's the guilty look on her face that draws her amusement away, her dark gaze narrowing as she asks, "What lie is that?" Wary eyes watch the bluerider move closer, though she's not yet wary enough to move away. "I imagine I'll find out soon enough," is her concession, however regally spoken. "How do you know? What am I meant to be? I'm just a silly little girl who got saddled with something too big to handle and I'm trying my best." Farideh's lips press tightly, and it's her turn to listen, to consider the questions Jo poses at her. She's hesitant at the end, unsure now that such holes have been poked in her cause. "Yes, he did, but does it matter if I am or if I'm not? I go to High Reaches Hold enough and it's an unpleasant reminder. Help her lose her job. See her kicked out of High Reaches, I don't care." She hesitates again. "Because you said that you solve problems? I didn't realize they had to be problems you considered worthy," she mutters. Still, she's more reluctant to reveal her lie; guilt runs deep. "What if I-- I told him I was pregnant." But Farideh doesn't have to explain to Jo what the truth is, when the truth is in both her guilt and as yet, perfectly flat stomach. "I don' know who yer meant to be," Jo tells her, "but I could help get ya that answer. I'd wager that that dragon of yers didn' just choose ya randomly, just like Tac didn' me. Even silly lil' girls can become formidable with the right friends." Onto Farideh's girl problem, the bluerider nodding once before she says, "My guess is ya hardly see him'n he hardly sees you. His fuckin' her doesn' make his feelins' for ya any less. Gettin' rid of someone based on those feelins' of yers is what I mean." Despite that, though, "I can make her disappear," she considers it carefully, studying the goldrider now. "Make her move away, at least. It's gonna cost ya." Beat. "Pregnant." It's barely an echoed question, and yes, her dark gaze seeks out Farideh's flat belly. Meeting her gaze, "Then ya have a fifty percent chance that he'll show up here in a panic," is her blunt answer to that. "I don't know that I want to be formidable, Jo," is her honest reply. "There are people like Irianke and people like me." Farideh isn't convinced by the bluerider's confident spiel, friends or no friends. "I don't want to see her. I haven't, not since that one time, but then I think about them kissing, his hands on her and--" Her lip curling back shows her disdain. "Whatever it costs, I don't care, as long as you can take care of it," it being her. "Pregnant." She splashes a hand in the water and leans back, base of her head against the pool rim. "Either he isn't coming-- maybe he went back to her-- or he is, but if he is, I can't hide the fact that I'm not. Unless I walk around with a pillow stuffed under my shirt, and I'd need a baby after." Shaking her head, "I didn' say ya needed to be like Irianke," Jo states, moving to a pool edge nearer to Farideh. But that's all she seems to say on the matter. She returns to the main matter at hand - the one that makes the most sense - with a slow nod. "Removin' someone from a place can be a simple thing," she muses, still considering. "I'll have someone watch the girl for a seven'. Get me some answers before I decide where she's to go. She'll be gone by the end of that seven'. Maybe even sooner than that, dependin' on how greedy she is. Ya just better hope they replace her with a man instead of an even more attractive girl." As for the pregnancy situation, that one has the bluerider shaking her head and saying, "I can't help ya fake a pregnancy, darlin'. It wouldn' be worth all the trouble. If it's somethin' yer dead-set on, I can recommend some folks I know that might be able to help. That's the best I can do there." Serious matters require serious expressions and serious tones. "I don't think he will do it again, but it's better if the-- if she's-- gone." Farideh slants Jo a sidelong look, obviously cognizant of the other woman's continued nearness. "No. I don't suppose you can. I'll have to tell him, then. If he ever responds to my letter, or he could have taken off for some faraway island somewhere, never to return," she says, briefly closing her eyes. "What would you do? If it was you? Run? Be mad? Happy? Sad?" "If yer so sure," is all Jo says of Drex, her tone of voice betraying nothing. "I'll take care of it." It seems like all Farideh needs is her word, for that's all the bluerider is giving. Moving on towards the topic of fake pregnancies, there's an easy shrug to that. "If it was me, I'd come," she's easy in answering as she rubs absently as her own face. "If only to see for myself. I wouldn' be a coward 'bout it. 'Course, if she lied'n I came all that way to find her belly's as flat as my own, I'd be upset at havin' my time wasted. I'd wanna know why. Might even put her over my knee'n spank her." She doesn't look like she's joking. Not too much. "That's just me, though," she goes on to say. "Thank Faranth I won' ever have to worry 'bout that particular scenario. If I were male, I'd likely have far too many children all over. Fakin' a pregnancy for me would be a waste of anyone's time, darlin'." Lack of immediate regret, or any type of protest to the idea, is proof enough of how serious the goldrider is. "It's kind of late to take it back now. I told him and-- he's either gone into hiding or he's coming, and if he's coming then-- I'm screwed," Farideh mumbles, unhappily. "I want to think he'll forgive me and just be happy we're together again, but--" Her eyes slide to Jo, meaningfully. "No, it's probably best you can't get pregnant, though you'd make Irianke and K'del pleased as pie. More babies, more Weyr options for future clutches." Perhaps Farideh should be worried that Jo hasn't named how such a request was going to cost her. Despite that, "If ya have her name," Jo notes belatedly, "that would be useful. Or if ya know some distinction 'bout her in case there's another one that looks just like her there." Covering her bases and all. "Ya wanted him to come," she goes on to note on Drex with a look. "Isn' that why ya wrote that ya were pregnant? What did'ja think he was goin' to do, other than run away?" She snickers a bit on the thought of a male her, adding behind Farideh's declaration, "'N more trouble they can shake a stick at. Shit, Tacuseth could've ended up bronze. I could've ended up Weyrleader." Imagine that. "I don't have her name and I don't know anything more than--" Farideh is immediately frustrated. "Other than being blonde, and pretty, and I think leggy, but I didn't look at her that hard." She tips her head towards Jo, "I know. I want him to come. I want him to stay, but if he comes and finds out I lied-- what if he goes away again?" Being an irrational, emotional twenty-turn old is hard business apparently. "I shouldn't have sent that letter. That is my problem," she admits, sinking down in the water again. "You? Weyrleader? I don't know, Jo. You're mighty strong, but--" It could be a tease, but then, her face is impassive. Straightening up, "Next time yer that jealous of the next girl sniffin' up yer boy, get a better description," Jo says with mild amusement. "As for that boy comin' here," she pauses as she turns and heaves herself out of the pool, apparently done with her bath, "try bein' sincere with him. Ya miss him'n ya wanna see him more often than ya have. Maybe he'll concede'n find some way to oblige. If he doesn' get that," another pause as she goes around the pool towards where her things lie, "then maybe yer better off. My experience is, if they really want ya, they'll make the effort." She only pats herself down including her wet hair with the towel, her back towards Farideh. Turning her head towards her on the thought of being Weyrleader, "If Taikrin could hack it," is all she says wryly, her lopsided grin probably not seen all the way and she starts putting on her clothes. "Would you like me to go there and point her out to you?" Jo's amusement doesn't go unnoticed and, with her words, earns a solid glower from Farideh. "It's complicated. He loves that stupid boat of his, and his friend he sails with, and he thinks he's going to do that forever. I tried. It's this or that." She makes a point of looking away when the bluerider gets out of the pool, and focuses on her fingernails instead. "I don't know that Taikrin ever had such a reputation-- or, not now anyway. Did she used to be a lot more trouble? Or do you just think you're more qualified than she is?" "Nope, yer description will have to be enough." Jo looks back at her, noticing that Farideh has made a point not to look at her which makes her grin that much more prominent. On Drex, "It's yer drama, darlin'. I'm just here to help my fellow weyrwomen." For a price, evidently. Loose clothes on, she turns to face the goldrider fully as she collects her boot as she looks pointedly at her and deliberately echoes, "Such a reputation?" Clearly she wants an explanation despite the casual way she says it. "I wasn' around when she was more trouble," she admits, "but I reckon she was plenty a thorn in K'del's side. I far as I know, I'm not." As for being qualified, Farideh gets a look delivered by her ego as answer to that. "It wouldn't be so bad if you picked the wrong blonde girl, but then--" Farideh's eyes find Jo again, though they're definitely honed in on the other woman's face and not her other assets, freshly clothed or no! "Did you forget that I am a couple weyrs down from Irianke's? Or what the rumors say about who all you get around with? I'm surprised you haven't broken up any weyrmates, yet. That I've heard of." She gives Jo a severe look, that says a hundred things in that one glance, and purses her lips. "Where did you even come from? I swear, you're something," the goldrider ends, turning to rest her chin on the edge of the pool. While Farideh seems to have a problem with Jo's assets, Jo definitely doesn't bother hiding the fact that she's ogling Farideh just a bit. Probably enough to make the other one uncomfortable, most likely. When the goldrider reveals her nighttimes with Irianke, the bluerider doesn't even bat an eye in shock. "Didn' realize bein' chaste was a requirement for bein' a Weyrleader," is her sardonic return, blunt with no apology. She's not even denying any of the accusations. "Is that why Cadejoth keeps on catchin' these queens? Will he not want to win anymore if K'del suddenly decides to tear a hide from the book of Jo? Or is it cuz yer just a prude?" Beat. "A jealous one, maybe," is her suggestive tease, chin lifting at the brunette with an air of challenge. It's only to the last that she snorts and sets about trying to jam her feet into her boots as she adds, "I come from the same holds y'all do. Don' get mad at me cuz I'm willin' to say what no one else will in this place." "I am not a prude," Farideh fires back, vehemently. "You asked about your reputation, and I answered that it's well enough I can hear you, I don't need to imagine the rest much." Her expression has soured rapidly. "And I'm not jealous either," has some sass, accompanied by a petulant glare and a hair flick; really. "Oh? Most holders-- Holdbred-- look at T'mic, or Yesia or-- I don't think you quite fall into the same category, and it's not just what you say or how you say it. You're--" She pauses to chew her lower lip in thought. "Dangerous." "If ya wanna have me, too, ya only have but to ask," Jo notes, taking whatever Farideh says and seeming to sum it up as such. Her ego. "Yer the sort that would claw my back out, though," she goes on to say, now looking at the goldrider's nails. "Add more scars to the ones I already got. I am holdbred. I just got over all of that 'stick up the ass' mentality much longer before I met Tacuseth." She's not seeming to deny she's dangerous. There's a slight shrug to that along with a blithe, "Had a hard life. Makes me less gullible." Each word that comes out of Jo's mouth makes Farideh angrier, and the maelstrom of emotions is reflected across her face. "Goodnight, Jo," is dismissive, as she turns away from the other woman and presents her back, feigning a great deal of interest in the suds running across the top of the pool water. Jo is non-plussed. Perhaps angering Farideh was her aim all along, for when the goldrider presents her back to her, it's blatant laughter that greets it. "Yeah," rasps the convict rider, the knowing look missed but the rather pleased tone of her voice not. It's even almost a purr. "Yeah, I thought so, Feline. Next time, I'll make sure ya hear the details clearer from yer weyr." There's a titter and then she's walking on out of there. |
Comments
Alida (01:32, 29 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
I think this is one of the very few times I've ever seen Jo truly irked. Enjoyable read, ladies! :)
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