Logs:Sex and Cards
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| RL Date: 22 January, 2016 |
| Who: Roszadyth, Farideh, Jo, Tacuseth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo and Farideh take a break in the rider's lounge. |
| Where: Rider's Lounge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 11, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions, Tevrane/Mentions, Drex/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions |
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| The rider's lounge isn't nearly as busy as the Snowasis, which, is likely why Jo tends to be found here more often than now this night. The wingsecond has a tankard on her chosen table along with a mug before her as Tacuseth reaches out towards Roszadyth with his dusty shadows and an image of drinks and a deck of cards with his rider. « She says even weyrwomen need breaks, » is what he sends verbally to her, amusement etched all through his voice as his rider - her dark jacket slung over a chair to reveal herself in a tank revealing her scars all down her shoulders and arms - idly shuffles through the deck of cards. Dusty shadows are met with a welcoming warmth and intangible touch, Roszadyth's greeting an extension of her rider's relief and pleasure. « I do believe that everyone needs a break lest they go mad, Tacuseth, » she returns, without accepting or declining the invitation. But Farideh shows up at the rider's lounge not long after, dressed in simple, tailored trousers and a sweater, under a terribly impractical, dusky pink coat; it's even got a fur-lined collar, that cozies up around the weyrwoman's throat and chin. "Cards, again?" she asks, skirting around the bluerider's chair. "Tell me you have better things in mind than seeing how badly you can beat me at poker," is issued as she plants her backside on the edge of the table nearby where Jo sits. « That I agree, » Tacuseth is willing to, the blue at ease with the gold as his presence alludes to him being on the rim. At the same time, Jo archs a look towards Farideh as she shuffles, watching her as she leans against a table. She stops shuffling to flick her dark gaze up and down the younger woman before she answers, "Well, I always have better things in mind for us to do. Things involvin' this deck of cards'n our clothes comin' off at each loss of a game..." then that gaze lifts up to meet hers, "but I don' think my gentle kitten, nor her lovin' pirate, could handle such display. A drink?" She nods towards the chair opposite her where an empty mug awaits. Where the blue is high up on the rim, Roszadyth has retreated to her ledge, where she can see everything from a much closer angle; whether that's better for watching over the kingdom is yet to be seen. "Is that all you ever think about? Sex and cards, cards and sex, and-- drinking." Farideh makes a show of rolling her eyes, but her eyes when they come to rest on Jo are full of affection. "A drink," she imitates, and upon following the nod to the empty mug, surprise. "How'd you know I'd come?" She slides the bluerider a sly look as she slips into the no-longer-empty seat and reaches up to peel off her coat. With Tacuseth watching from on high - always looking out rather than in - Jo leans back in her seat with a slow smile stealing over her features as she answers Farideh with a small shrug and a, "What should I be thinkin' 'bout? Runnin' the Weyr ain' my job, nor is runnin' a wing. Looks like I've got lots of space up here-" she taps a finger against her temple "-to be thinkin' only 'bout sex'n cards, cards'n sex, 'n drinkin'." It's a tease, returning the affectionate smile before reaching forward to fill Farideh's mug. The question that comes earns a suggestive look from the wily bluerider briefly before she says, "Cuz ya like me," in simple enough terms as she pours and nudges the mug towards her. "'N I think ya like that I flirt with ya. Even if ya won' give into the temptation." Claiming her own mug, "'N ya likely as fit to burst with all this stress with runnin' this place," she belatedly adds the last as she toasts her own mug before drinking. "Sometimes I do rather wonder if you're even really a wingsecond," the goldrider accuses, scrunching her nose up at Jo. "Mielline has her hands full. I don't know what I'd do if you were mine." And then corrects hurriedly: "My wingsecond," into her drink, eyes averted. "I do," Farideh quips, looking up from her mug with a barely-concealed smile, "and I won't. I made Drex a promise that I wouldn't sleep with anyone else-- not unless their dragon caught Roszadyth, and he made the same. I try not to be as shitty a girlfriend to him as he is a boyfriend to me, you understand." It's simply said, but there's some bitterness to the words that's easily enough deciphered. "Burst-- melt-- run off a high ledge screaming. I can't decide which will happen first." "My knot still says I am," Jo is amiable in telling her about her rank. And then, that smile only grows more at Farideh's slip. "If I was yers," she takes up, even through her quick correction, "I'd never abandon ya to these canines in this Weyr. Canines like myself. So they say." Beat. "That's a poor promise," she says now with a look to the goldrider. "It is a Weyr, darlin'. Sometimes sex is needed for all manner of things in order to function - flights not only included. If he's such a shitty boyfriend, why are ya so loyal?" It's a simple playful question, with seriousness layered underneath. On business, "I won' even imagine," she tells her, lips pressing together. "Surely K'del's takin' good care of ya while Irianke's gone?" Farideh's eyes shift to the wingsecond's shoulder where the knot is not, and then lift to her face. "I'm not prone to wandering the weyr at night in desperate need of sex, really. That's fine-that's not the part that I miss," which might be heresy to Jo, who knows. "Sometimes I wonder that too, but-- I don't want to let him go. It might be easier to. He never wants to be here and he hates-- all of this." She gestures to the room, but the implication is the weyr, the weyrfolk, the dragons. "I love him," sounds much sadder than it should of someone who's in love; it sounds resigned. Regaining her composure, the goldrider makes a face (obvs). "For once K'del isn't the problem. Fucking Lady Tevrane. And no, I don't mean fucking her, though I doubt if that would be any more pleasant." Jo follows that gaze to her own lack of a knot before meeting Farideh's gaze and saying, "I go outside the Weyr, to place where a knot works against me," seems to be her excuse. "Is that what ya think I do, Kitten? Wanderin' 'round, desperately lookin' for a fuck?" A brow lifts at that. On Drex though, her silence marked through before, in the end, "I know," she answers on Farideh loving him, her own face composed. "That's....that's good on ya, darlin'." She drains her mug and reaches forward to refill it, as she goes on to state, "I heard 'bout what happen in Nabol, with the weyrlins'. I reckon she blames the Weyr for what happened?" If Jo does or doesn't wear her knot-- Farideh's flick of her hand seems to indicate her lack of interest. "I don't know. I know you sleep with a lot of people. Important and not important people, and like you said, you have plenty of time to think about sex and cards, cards and sex." It's half tease, half actual curiosity. "Yeah," is on either side of silence, but back to the subject of Tevrane, she's frowning and sweeping the lounge with suspicious eyes. "No. Lady Tevrane knows we were only doing what we had to, and she damn well knows her holders hate her. She's convinced we're to help her spy on them, for her. Like we're her-- winged guards." "I have," Jo agrees, though there's a touch to her tone to suggest it's in past tense. "Maybe. Maybe it's just easier to make y'all think of me that way. It's easier to believe, so," there's a slight shrug to that as she lifts her mug to study its contents. "Even the bitch'n the whore has to protect her heart, darlin'." She lingers on taking a drink, seeming to savor its flavor before setting it down on the news on Lady Tevrane. "Spy?" she echoes, it being more a statement than a question. "Shit. K'del's not agreein' to that, is he? She said this to ya?" Considering those words, considering Jo, with her hands wrapped around her mug, Farideh is quiet. Quiet until she nods her head a couples times and says, "Would you even tell me the truth, though? You shouldn't have to protect your heart from me." She exhales, and with another glance around, scoots her chair around the table; all the way around until her chair touches Jo's chair and she can talk at close range, with it only looking like they're getting chummy. "It's not as though we have a choice. Lady Tevrane thinks that we are. K'del thinks we should do our own reconnaissance in the area, to make the decision. He's worried about if the holders are simply annoyed or actually want to make a push to oust her as Lady Holder." Jo watches her from her hold on her mug, her dark gaze studying the other in the quiet that comes until Farideh speaks. Some of her usual bravado slips to something quiet and still, and it takes some time before she answers with, "There's many truths. Some'o'em, didn' use to be. Some'o'em have always been. If ya ask, Kitten....if the truth is mine to give, then I won' lie to ya." It's perhaps a heavier answer than expected, and likely meaning more than the weyrwoman had asked. The next lets her study linger until the bluerider gives a barely-there self deprecating smile. "Ya could hurt me," she says, her voice low for her ears only. "Cuz yer the sort I fall for'n love. Why do ya really think I come on so strongly?" She keeps her gaze on Farideh, even with her now close. The Nabol business is clearly not sitting well with Jo with what she's hearing. Frowning, "Makes me wonder what my father thinks in Keogh," she murmurs, shaking her head. "If they want her out, who they think's gonna take her place?" There are an infinite number of places better suited to the kind of conversation Farideh and Jo are having, including-either of their weyrs, a private booth in Snowasis, or even in some private store, in the lower caverns. It's unfortunate that they're in the rider's lounge, with other people so near, and the subject so sensitive. "Jo," Farideh starts, but then stops, lips pursing; stopped by what is hard to say, though it's likely not just the location. "I thought you liked to toy with me and make me mad. I think you've said that exact thing," she returns, sticking out her tongue, and then sighing. "I don't know. I don't care. I thought Lady Edeline was hard to please. This one--" She makes a pinched face. "I don't want holders treating our riders like they're at her beck and call. It's distasteful, and her holders being unhappy is her problem. Damn stupid--" And the rest is an irritated mumble. Indeed, the intimacy of the topic has Jo's tone low, the woman stealing quick glances about them as she's come to that conclusion herself as well before returning her study to Farideh. To her name, there's, "I toy'n try to make ya mad to keep ya away," is her answer, her veils of teasing and suggestion missing. "Can't get close if ya hate me, right?" She grins when she sticks out her tongue before she says, "Didn' work, did it? Usually does." Dark eyes flick to her lips before she looks away, frustration etched on her face as she drains her mug once more. "I agree," she states on Farideh's opinion with the holders. "I know ain' fallin' to their beck'n call. Seems to me like they're lookin' to take advantage." The revelation has Farideh looking surprised, though the widening of her eyes is barely perceptible. "Really?" She's obviously unsure, but admits, "I didn't know." And now she does! More introspective now, she rocks her mug between her hands. "It would seem so, right? Now that Irianke is gone and it's just me and Jocelyn-- Tevrane said all the right things. I dislike that woman intensely. I'd rather deal with twenty Devakis than one Tevrane," she says, rankled. Grinning something genuine with an incline of her head towards the weyrwoman's surprise, "I show folks what I want'em to see," Jo says to it, a touch wry. "Or what they expect of me. Protection." There's a pause before she adds, "But I don' wanna be like that with ya anymore." There's something serious to her gaze before she turns to refill her mug. "Never met Devaki," she admits. "Makes me wonder. I hope this Tevrane's not up to some shit, Kitten. Last thing we need here." The mug stops moving long enough for Farideh to take a tentative sip. "Protection against what? Your heart being broken?" she asks, quietly, head slanted towards Jo. "N-- no? Then how do you want to be?" Her tone is hesitant, like she is uncertain about being so forward. And then, hugging her mug to her chest and frowning again: "I don't know, and I don't know how to find out. I'm not sure that I want to find out. I don't want to be involved in Nabol's business and I don't want Nabol in our business. At least, until Irianke gets back." "That'n other things," Jo answers on protection as she reclaims her mug. "I haven' had it so easy 'fore comin' here. Barely remember an easy time of it, even." She snorts into her mug as she drinks, shaking her head before she pins Farideh with her dark gaze, that question getting her regard before, "Nn. Be myself, I guess. If ya want me to. Some prefer the expectation of me than the reality'n, that's fine." As for Nabol and its business, "Don' fancy yerself a diplomat?" she asks with one corner of her mouth lifting in fondness. "Yeah, it's shit work. Yer the one that ends up drained by the end of it, too. Not the ones yer diplomatin' with. Perhaps Igen will return our Weyrwoman soon enough where it won' fall on yer shoulders for long." "You should tell me about it sometime. I don't mind getting to know the real you, if you'll let me, and I'll tell you some secrets too. I can't promise they'll be nearly as exciting." Farideh watches the bluerider with a hopeful expression, and then laughs. "Me? No. I suppose not. Not like that. Irianke always knows what to say to make everything better, or put people in their place. I can't get past my panic most of the time," she replies, thoughtful. "I hope it all sorts itself out. I'm much more comfortable wearing my much smaller knot, and I've realized I've still got a lot to learn. Can you believe that?" Nodding once, "I think I'd like that," Jo says on them getting to know each other, though she's quick to add wryly, "My past isn' really a secret. It's just no one hardly asks. Rumors 'bout me are far more interestin', Kitten. We will. I could bring us somethin' to eat." There's almost a shyness to her words, her expression - though the convict wingsecond catches it by bringing that mug to her lips. There's a grin for the last as she states, "I used to be the unofficial diplomat for my family growin' up. It was much easier to charm folks then than it has been since. I can believe ya prefer the life marked less stressful. Though, I wonder if ya wouldn' mind runnin' this Weyr yerself one day in the future." As quick as Jo admits it, Farideh says, "I'm asking, now." She gives the other woman a bright smile, that wavers only when she responds more seriously, "It probably helps to have the reputation though. It keeps people from bothering you when they think you're-- well." She might marvel at the shyness, a trait she's never seen on the bluerider before, but she's scrunching up her face and staring balefully at her mug. "I don't think so. Irianke isn't that old. I'll probably get transferred way before it comes to be my turn, and I can't say I'm sad about that. It's a lot-- the whole process, of being proddy, clutching, finding candidates, new weyrlings, having to lead with a veritable stranger, managing the Weyr, etcetera. It's our duty, of course, but I don't think I'd want it, that much." To Farideh's initial words, Jo has to smile and nod a few times to that. "Ya are," she agrees, and there's perhaps a small reveal of pleasure in saying so. The low laughter follows it as she sets her mug back down and states, "Grow up the way I did, ya learn to appreciate yer privacy, Kitten. Even if there's where I am just fuckin' around." Brow lifts then. "Transferred where, even? They'd be foolish to do so. 'N like ya said, ya have a lot to learn still. Who's to say what happens in the future? Weyrwomen do seem to be allergic to the Reaches." "Should we try making another night of it? I've been meaning to make a trip to Nerat and pick up some goodies. They have the best rum-soaked cakes, and there's a baker that makes these layered treats. They're amazing. I can pick up some things, and we can break into my newest bottles from Benden. What do you say?" Farideh's offer is given with a wide grin and genuine excitement over the prospect, since their last night in got cut short by a few hours and a lot of drama. "K'del mentioned there's one too many golds now, and the possibility that one of us may be transferred is real. Where, I don't know, but I suppose wherever would be more politically advantageous." And then, with a purse of lips and a pointed look at Jo, "Are you wishing me dead already?" Obviously, she's joking. "Wine'n rum-soaked cakes? Do ya even need to ask?" Jo teases, all smiles now. "Ya should let me bring something though. I seem to be moochin' on yer generosity lately, though I did take ya to that dive turns back." Long overdue, her tone is implying playfully. On talk of transferring, "Well he can transfer someone else," she is quick to say with a hardened jaw. "Reaches is yer home'n there's no need to let any of ya go." Eyeing her on that last though, perhaps it's a little more serious than intended as she states quietly, "Ya better not die on me, Kitten." "Rum soaked cakes," Farideh repeats, slowly this time, to draw out the anticipation. "Bonbons and cakes, and other treats. You can bring whatever you want, as long as it's going to go with the rest." It's spoken through another smile, and it stays, even through talk of transfer. "I doubt they'd send Jocelyn though, and that's all there is. It might happen, as much as I'd prefer it not. I'm sure K'del would sleep better at night knowing I was half a continent away," she says, dryly, and then bumps her shoulder against Jo's. "I'm not, yet." "Ya have a sweet tooth, ya do," Jo teases. "Fine, we can do it yer way. I'll make sure it fits." Some of that smile fades on talk of transferring, the wingsecond frowning before all she says to that is, "I hope it never happens, darlin'." Even to that bump against her shoulder before she finally finishes off her drink. Bumping back her shoulder, "I should go," she says, her tone touching on a note of regret. "I've still got some work for Mielline to finish up." Farideh makes a production of sighing and rolling her eyes. "Yes, yes, Mielline needs you to hold her hand while she takes a piss-- fine, fine. Go, before I'm less understanding about your leaving me all on my lonesome," she says, and ends it with another sigh. And then shoots Jo a smile. "Go. I'll get back to you soon. I'm going to hide out here for-- a little longer." Laughing, "If I stay any longer, my resolve to not touch ya in front of all these folks will leave me," Jo states with a mix of teasing and seriousness as she gets to her feet. "'N anyway, ya can always hide out where I'm at. Ya won' bother me." It's laid out there, simple, before she's fishing out a few marks from her riding jacket for the drinks. Hazel eyes lift when the bluerider stands, and her expression turns thoughtful. "Mm, I'll take you up on that in the future. Jounine can be plenty persist, if not directly." Farideh leans back and gives Jo a mischievous smile. "You might regret it, you know," she says. "I doubt that," is all Jo says, the woman inclining her head before she turns with a, "Enjoy yer evenin'," and then she's tossing the marks over towards the bartender on her way out. |
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