Logs:Stalkers and Socialization
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| RL Date: 28 January, 2015 |
| Who: Alida, J'taryn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The once-guard happens across a stalker Igenite. She's less concerned than she is intrigued. |
| Where: Records Room, Snowasis and Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 12, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Arynia/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Fayla/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, J'tel/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. J'taryn by K'zin. |
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>---< Records Room, High Reaches Weyr(#367RJs) >-----------------------------<
Books. Scrolls. Bound hides. Maps. If it's a record pertaining to the
Weyr, it's likely to be in this roughly oval room with its
floor-to-ceiling cherrywood shelves, its multitude of slots for scrolls,
and its wide drawers for materials that shouldn't be rolled up or folded.
A scribe is usually on duty at the tall desk up front with its good view
of the room, and is able to help visitors find what they're looking for
via the big bound index on its rotating stand. Past the desk, several
tables stand in neat rows for note-taking, each stocked with glowbaskets,
scrap hide, paper and pencils. Additional lighting is provided by a
many-armed wrought-iron light fixture, its glows gleaming through
luxurious glass containers in fluted shapes instead of baskets.
To one side of the room, a gap between two sets of shelves outlines where
another set once stood, now replaced by a tapestry-covered aperture.
Peeking behind the tapestry reveals another cavern, this one likewise full
of shelves, but occupied by only a few boxes of older records and a
somewhat musty air of disuse. As well, two narrow but solid doors are
locked when the room is unattended and a discreet staircase provides
direct access from the Weyrleaders' weyrs. Tall, blonde, and focused. J'taryn is settled at one of the tables, brow furrowed and blue eyes scanning down the page of a ledger. He wears no knot, nor anything that identifies him as the Igen rider he is, though the pale bronze is asleep in the bowl. He pays little heed to the people around him, though there are few enough as the dinner hour has begun and the living cavern is now the place to be. His finger draws down the page before flipping it and doing likewise to the next. He must have come in after she did, for Alida is also to be found here in the records cavern. However, she is tucked up at the very back of an 'aisle' of stacked and sorted hides and books, out of sight of practically everybody except the occasional records-keeper. Whatever she was perusing has finally been finished, though, for the shorter blonde is finally hauling her (numb) ass up off the floor, stretching and yawning, and moving to the front of the large room to replace the book in its proper section. It's between glancing around with owlish gaze and rubbing at slightly gritty eyes that she happens to notice 'Mister Pretty' out yonder, those intense greens blinking a few times in vague surprise at J'taryn. First thing's first though: her volume is replaced in its home before she angles herself to approach the Igenite from his flank...silent and unobtrusive. >---< NorCon: Dice Roll 100-sided die x 1 by J'taryn >-------------------------< 35 >-------------------------------------------------------------< Failure. >---< It would be nice to say J'taryn was attentive enough to notice the unnoticeable approach, to say that he's just that good, but alas. Blonde bronzerider is blind to all but the book in front of him. As Alida nears, he shifts in his chair, probably trying to relieve similarly numbed legs and rump, a slight sigh escaping his lips. She comes to a halt about three feet behind the bronzerider, quietly observing his habits...and then the interior of the tome he's currently reading. Maybe she's even observing choice bit of him, as well, like that similarly deadened hinder...or the line of his back. No matter; after some long seconds spent in her own study, the bluie very softly enunciates, "Finding what you want, sir?" in a cultured and civilized tone that could be easily misconstrued as coming from a professional Scribe. It's the sort of ledger kept by the Headwoman and her assistants. It's public information keeping record of arrivals to and departures from the Weyr. A keen eye says it's a fairly current ledger, though obviously not current enough to still be the one presently in use. He jumps a little at the voice directed at him. Blonde head lifts and blue eyes slide away from the page, though his finger stays to keep his place. J'taryn looks to the other blonde, with surprise, perhaps recognition, but then again perhaps it's just the unexpectedness of her address. "Not... no. But it's... I'm fine." His speech is halting, and still so when he squints, "Have we... we met? Didn't we?" Is there a chair nearby him? If so, Alida will pull it up and have a sit down. If not, the woman remains standing, though she slowly steps around to the Igenite's left side, the quirky little smirk-smile upon her mouth all for him and his response. "Around a Turn ago, I think...at yer place." Let him gnaw on that. Will J'taryn dig himself a hole, or fly away free and clear? >---< NorCon: Dice Roll 100-sided die x 1 by J'taryn >-------------------------< 80 >-------------------------------------------------< Exceptional success! >---< There is, the table is made for more than this man, even with his long limbs and broad shoulders. His eyes follow her into the seat. "My place?" He asks with some surprise. "I... No, I think..." He looks away, blushing and then back to squint again. "Was it a gather?" He doesn't evidently buy 'at his place'. J'taryn has at least the sense to look apologetic, "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name." If he ever had it in the first place. Even in his halting fashion, he 'rescues' himself from the 'trap' Alida set for him, the bluerider giving a faint chortle of wickedness at the back of her throat before she murmurs quietly, "Yeah. You had ta run ta' take care uv' yer lifemate." And his 'mouth.' She remembers, even if Ilicaeth doesn't. "Alida..." the woman's alto supplies for him readily enough. Just as levelly, "Yers is J'taryn." There's no hint of a question in her tone. Damned guard's memory for facts. "Oh," J'taryn lets the single syllable escape. "Yeah, that sound right," he admits while rising a hand to push through his hair. "Sorry, for... not remembering." He looks down at the book, slipping one hand to find the leather cord meant to keep the place and pull it in before closing it. "You've... been well?" There's a less-wicked bit of a smile for his monosyllabic response, Alida letting the bronzer off the hook for now, her head shaking in negating fashion as she hunches just a little forward towards him upon her chair. "Nothin' ta be sorry for..." the blonde's clipped and hard accent notes in easy fashion, something in her green eyes sparkling for a moment at J'taryn's inquiry. "I'm not much uv' one fer the usual pleasantries. Just saw ya' here, recognized you, thought I'd say 'Hi.'" Mhm. And if he knew how the bluerider usually acts towards 98 percent of strangers... J'taryn's expression is attentive and then earnest enough as he nods and give gesture to the book, "I was just... checking into something for a friend." Blue eyes flick away from the book back to the bluerider. It's a pretty out-of-the-blue question when the bronzerider asks, "Do you know a laundress by the name of Farideh? I'm trying to sort just when she came to the Weyr." "So I saw..." Alida ripostes only a little blandly, the bluie both curious and humored by J'taryn and his take on honesty. And then comes that pointed question, bringing out more of the guard in her, and evincing a faintly guarded look to appear about her eyes. "Why're you lookin' fer a laundress?" is inquired in return. The scratch J'taryn aims just behind his ear is an indication of his discomfort. "I'm not. A friend is. Someone she's known. I wouldn't want to compromise her position here by saying too much." He sighs, "It's all very complicated." The sigh and his tone says he wishes it weren't so. "Would be easier to never be a middle-man, but seems it's unavoidable sometimes." He frowns now, the lines showing on his face as he looks down at the ledger and then reaches a hand to rub across his forehead. "Well then... looks like we might be at a small impasse..." Alida murmurs not-unkindly to J'taryn while he shows his inner dis-ease. "I know what it's like ta be the messenger." And how. "Maybe a little trade uv information for information, then?" She's being downright equitable...and he doesn't even know it. A vague bump of one of the bluie's shoulders into his nearest arm presages her quiet, "This ain't any place ta talk. Walk?" "Uh," is surprise, "we are?" If she say so; J'taryn doesn't seem the type to argue the point with a stranger. He shifts uneasily and then she's making him the offer, so he lifts his brows, "I... maybe? Not sure how much is for me to say, but I can... try?" He's obviously no experienced hand at secrets or the information trade, but he's doing his best. He'll slide his chair back and rise, waiting for the lighter blonde to lead the way. "We'll see..." Alida notes non-commitaly, nodding at the bronzerider, rising with him, then pushing her chair in. As a small 'favor' to another rider from a different Weyr, the woman points the way towards a particularly long tunnel complex they can wend their way down while 'chatting,' her green eyes keen on her companion's features, mannerisms, body language nearly the wnole time. Once they're truly away from potentially prying ears, her still soft voice notes, "I think there might be a person like that here. Is she in trouble?" Her focus will tell her that he's a quiet man. He has all the mannerism to indicate his generally introverted nature. His carriage is careful, but it doesn't make the most of his great height nor broad shoulders. He doesn't make himself smaller, he just doesn't stand particularly straight. His hands keep carefully to his sides, one even sliding into his pocket as though that might keep it better out of trouble. His head is tilted down so he can better listen to the shorter woman. He always thinks before he speaks but not to deliver any untruths, apparently, but rather because he's a thoughtful man and that's just how it goes. J'taryn's brow wrinkles at her question, "Not exactly. I don't think, anyway. She..." He thinks how to put it, "She left a lot of people wondering where she is, most out of honest concern for her, I think. But it's hard to tell sometimes, with people." What their motives might be. Potentially quiet, even introverted? Quite different for a bronzerider. If J'taryn's dissembling, he's being good about hiding it, and Alida's curiosity increases as a result of her listening, his manner. After mulling her own response around internally for some moments, Alida cautiously murmurs, "A lotta' people... Wow. Either she's popular, 'r important. Both, maybe?" J'taryn freezes briefly, his step faltering before he walks on. "She's..." He starts after a moment, but has to stop to consider the answer carefully. "Maybe both." He reaches up to rub at an ear. "Might be she used to be friendlier. Seems... sort of prickly to me, but then I didn't know her before here." So he's certainly met the laundress himself. "Wonder sometimes if she doesn't..." The bronzerider trails off again, shaking his head, not finishing the thought. There's some quiet bobbing of her pale head in reaction to J'taryn's words, Alida letting her gaze shift over the tunnel they're currently walking through, green eyes keen for any oddness, ears perked for out-of-the-ordinary sounds. A faint chortle slips from the woman's lungs as the man breaks off his words, finding herself adding in an almost light, "Doesn't wanna' be found? Doesn't wanna return to what she had, maybe?" Pause, brow-furrow. "There's a few like that in the Weyr, sure." "Maybe she's tryin' ta keep 'erself safe? Y'know how ugly Hold politics c'n get." "Doesn't regret leaving." J'taryn finishes after Alida's guessed otherwise, his cheeks touching with a hint of blush. Then he's shaking his head. "I don't... really know the details, honestly." He shrugs his shoulders. "Don't expect she'd tell me, anyway. Or anyone else. Not sure what she's really like. I've really only met her a handful of times." And been sort of sometimes stalking her otherwise, but that doesn't count for getting-to-know-you points. Just because... "You blush nice." There might be a small grin on Alida's features, but her eyes say her words are earnest. Lack of words can sometimes be just as informative as a plethora of them, though, and so it's back to 'business.' "Did she strike you as fearful, or angry...'r something else when you met 'er?" The first words take J'taryn by surprise enough that he seems to lose whatever breath he had for a moment and he coughs, blushing darker, not, evidently, knowing just how to answer her on that score, so he latches onto the second question. "Bossy?" Like he's not sure, only he is because his brow is furrowed to a 'serious' degree. "Don't know if she'd seem different if she knew I knew of her from elsewhere." He hasn't tested that yet, and really, he doesn't seem the type inclined toward testing for the sake of it. In that way, at least, he might seem an appropriate spy or agent of whoever the friend is. There's another grin-smile from Alida for the bronzerider's darker blush, her steps leading them on almost as surely as if she was born to the Weyr. A hint of another little laugh at the back of her throat presages the bluerider's low, "Hoo man; bossy boots, too." There's a look of thoughtful pondering settling over the shorter blonde's features for some quiet moments, and then she almost surreptitiously murmurs to her companion, "I believe this Farideh's..." And the woman describes a female of the correct general age range, but not the correct appearance for the actual laundress. And it's not a lie, as Alida truly has no idea of what she looks like. "Ah, no." J'taryn will answer the description without a need for thought, offering in exchange the correct description. "I need to find the right set of records, but I didn't realize how many people come in and out of a Weyr," likely he's never needed to know for his day to day duties, "and not knowing when exactly she arrived, it's taking longer than I thought." J'taryn lifts his head, surprised, "Oh, yeah. I mean, I met her here. Didn't know her before. So unless there are two Farideh's..." Which doesn't seem likely to him given his look. Then again, the Igen bronzerider doesn't exactly strike as the type to know a lot about people who want to stay lost. He's certainly not trained for this kind of work. "Uh." He considers a moment and then lets his shoulders rise and fall, "Sure. I was going to go to Snowasis anyway, really. She comes after dinner sometimes." Stallllker. "Ahh..." Alida murmurs when J'taryn 'fesses up to having met Farideh at 'Reaches, the bluie sliding a vaguely askance-yet-humored look aside to the man, then noting, "Kinda creepy, bein' on 'er tail all secret-like, isn't it?" Those greens of hers might seem to both accuse and laugh as they glance up to his blues. "This way..." she soon notes as they come to a triple-split in their passageway. From left field again, "I know someone else with greeny-blue eyes. She's cute, too." The bronzerider has to think about her first comment, and he's still doing so when she makes her last. "I... she might be related. I had a sister here for a while. Well, half. Tayte. She's back at Vintner now." He observes, because that's probably what Alida meant by that comment, right? J'taryn's focus is back on the first matter, "I never really thought about it. I figured she wouldn't like to know I was keeping an eye on her, but... It's really... I'm just trying to keep her safe. From a distance, though." "Oh..." Alida again notes to J'taryn's words of possibly being related to Farideh, the woman then having to supress an outright stare at the bronzer when he admits to being Tayte's half-brother. She almost manages to not appear surprised...except for a faint twitch of one side of her mouth, and a bit of eye widening while they walk. She almost blurts out something to the effect of 'So your daddy got around, eh?' but a sudden cough ends that choice bon mott at 'S...' Instead, the paler-blonde manages a slightly intense, "Yeah...met Tayte a few times when she was bartendin'. Good at her work." And really, really lousy at her relationships. "Yeah, she mixed me some drinks when I visited her before," J'taryn nods. "Seems happier where she's at now, back working with the Hall. It's good. Only met her a few turns ago, really." He admits with a shrug. "She was fostered out of the Weyr and I was kept in it for fostering." His words are fairly succinct explanation, candid, unguarded. It's just how it is. "Have you... always been here? At the Weyr?" "Glad she's happier..." Alida notes with some vehement honesty, thoughts of H'vier dancing through her head for a few moments...making her nearly scowl. Blink. "Really? Oh..." Seperate fosterages, that explains it. "If y'll pardon me fer being straight-forward...you don't seem like the typical bronzerider...Weyrbred, too." Which is both odd and a relief to her. A sudden headshakes sends her thick braid to bobbing some around her shoulders. "Would've been Craftbred, but wound up Hold." The bronzerider stops a step, but his long stride easily catches up the missed distance. "Maybe not the stereotypical bronzerider," he can admit with a bashful look toward the floor. "But dragons... they don't pick the people other people think are likely, do they?" His didn't, anyway. "Maybe they just grow them different at Igen." He'll add with a slight touch of (uncertain) humor. "Which Hold?" is J'taryn's polite inquiry. Bashful? She could make J'taryn flame scarlet with her usual mouth and tactics, but this time, Alida simply grins at the bronzerider's reaction, follows it with a bob of her pale head. "One uv' my junior Weyrlingmasters was surprised I Impressed at all...maybe even distressed about it," the bluie clips off in almost-casual manner, a hint of hardness touching her wry alto. "Maybe..." is more quietly allowed as they near the Snowasis, green eyes darting over to take in the tall Igenite. "Grow 'em big, anyway." Brow-waggle. Her humor evens out with his next inquiry, the woman noting dismissively, "Pars..." before riposting, "I'm assumin' yer parents were - are - both riders?" The words about her weyrlingmaster earn a small smile from J'taryn, though his gaze slips away as quickly as it had come to the bluerider, to look back at the path ahead. "My father was tall," he answers his size with more of that bashfulness and the traces of the blush there again. "He was a greenrider. My mother is a laundress." Was and is, specifically. "I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with Pars. Whereabouts is it? I'm not... Jeb doesn't do very well with travel, so we don't much outside of Igen." And here, obviously.
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
"Ah. High Reaches," is J'taryn's thoughtful but short answer to the location of Pars. "Much like here, climate-wise?" He queries, before reaching a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Mm. Different on different days. Sometimes he's anxious about new places, other days he's just... difficult to manage." Well, no, that's probably every day, but the bronzerider will leave it there, since surely Alida can use her imagination based on Ilicaeth's last encounter with Njebrith. He follows the bluerider to the bar. "Used to be ale. Nowadays wine. Anything that's not too strong, really." Presumably, from an answer like that, he doesn't drink much. "Mostly. A bit drier in the winter, maybe." Shrug. She good with those. Words of Njebrith makes the bluie chortle just a little, Alida factoring in a casual, "Took me a good long while ta get even half-way used ta' Ilicaeth's chattiness with dragons. He knows better, now, than ta yakk on an' on with me." If J'taryn knew just how reticent the 'Reachian was about talking too much, he might view her current affable communication as a near-miracle. As they belly up to the bar - awaiting the 'tender, who's currently taking a couple other orders - the woman's nose wrinkles a little at the bronzer's words of his choice of alcohol. "I hear that. Rather be drinkin' hard stuff 'r beer, but..." Damned lack of wheat. Sigh. "You 'n yer sister close?" she fires off low from left field, finally catching the 'tender's attention, then ordering for him a red wine that seems to appeal to just about everybody, plus a scotch on the rocks for herself...passing over the proper coin. "Every dragon has their... um, things." J'taryn finishes ineloquently, his eyes drifting across the faces of the patrons as they wait, totally unaware of the near-miracle before him. Woe! The bronzerider's lips pull in a half-smile that echoes Alida's sentiment about beer, in the least. Wheat. More woe. "Uh, not especially, no. I only met her in..." He thinks, brow furrowed, "Turn thirty-four. She was looking for Dad in Igen, found me instead." Smirk. "Nice thing ta' call 'em..." Things. Tics. Weirdnesses...or worse. "But he apparently 'clicks' with you mostly fine. S'all that counts, in the end." Cue a firm nod. "Not that long ago, then..." Alida notes with uncharacteristic redundancy of the bronzer's words of Tayte, her mouth curling into a half-smirk-smile at something inside her own mind. When their drinks come and the 'tender has departed, the bluerider murmurs as her eyes slip around to take note of those nearby, "Best thing in the world fer her ta get away from that asshole." Who? The laugh that J'taryn has for the first is sort of a nervous thing, but he doesn't correct her. Maybe they do, in their way. The bronzerider's laughter is gone in the next moments as a frown takes over his lips. "Yes. That H'vier guy," of whom he knows or perhaps has personal experience. "Or is it otherwise..?" Alida brow-arches, inquires again of J'taryn about his own lifemate, her scotch lifted, sipped at with slow relish. Naming that 'asshole' gives the woman reason to wrinkle her nose again, some darkness apparent within green eyes as she continues, "Guy's got a shitty opinion uv' all females. Bully...likes power...shitty attitude." Sip. Back over, up to the Igenite's blue eyes go her own, searching the man's gaze keenly, directly for a few moments before letting up, dropping back to those others around them. Finally, an admission: "I'm not a good conversationalist." "Uh, well," J'taryn starts of his lifemate, only to be distracted as he furrows his brow to look at the bluerider, "I though I heard," probably in this very bar while he was stalking Farideh, "that he had a female wingleader and now she's his 'second," maybe he heard the story, or maybe he didn't, but his eyes show a touch of confusion, not that he seems inclined to linger on the subject. "That makes two of us." He takes up his wine and lets his eyes go about the room again. "I'm... quiet." Shocker! "Yeeees..?" Alida mock-inquires of the man's halting words, her lips tipping over into a keen little grin behind her glass, though that disappears when the topic of H'vier returns. "Word on th' grapevine has it that he knocked 'er up after a flight...that she needed time off fer the kid, and he sorta snuck in an' took over during that time. Made it permanent afterwards." Scowl, sip. "More grapevine talk has it that he was forced ta take 'er on as 'is 'second by the Weyrleader, 'r else he'd have ta step aside." Pause. "Asshole." Sip. To J'taryn's words of his own quietness comes a small bit of relaxation in Alida's frame, the bluerider rather relieved that she won't have to hold a true conversation she's not the wit for. Still... "That's a relief." Grin. "Ah," is probably for H'vier because he doesn't say ought else about the man. J'taryn does take a sip of his wine before saying, "Jeb is... a handful. Takes up most of my time. Which isn't to say that I don't care for him a great deal," probably more than words can express, in the typical fashion, "But some days I might wish a little more life to myself." Without the constant vigilance such a challenging lifemate requires. He looks at his wine before taking another sip. Then nothing. This is what happens when two non-conversationalists get drinks... eventually. Best not to continue any talk of H'vier, lest it sour Alida more. J'taryn's dragon is much less volatile of a subject, the woman quirking her head a little at his descriptor of the bronze, the nodding softly after she consumes another sip of scotch. "Ilicaeth's...well, he's my partner, in enough ways. We're both mostly independent, so we tend not ta step on each others' coat-tails when we want our 'space.'" Shrug. "He's the best...mostly," the bluie adds with contained dark humor and a subtle, bottomless loyalty and love. Smirk. "Sounds like... good." There's more of that eloquence. J'taryn's got a slight tinge to his cheeks, but he's hardly had enough wine to chalk it up to that, even if his tanned complexion were likely given to showing it. It might mean something for J'taryn's own view of talking about one's lifemate that he doesn't pursue the topic of Ilicaeth. "So you came here after Pars?" is what he does eventually ask (when his wine's about half-gone, which doesn't take long with the lack of speaking, unless she's interrupted the silence sooner). No, not really. Alida holds her own silence well enough, just enjoying sipping her scotch, hanging around with J'taryn, eyeing the crowd...until he asks another question of her. Instead of telling him to fuck off, or just staring at him without answering, the paler-blonde murmurs a little flatly, "Got sent here by Pars with a 'train. Wound up stayin'...an' met my match." Smirk, headshake, sip. Glancing over to the bronzerider again, enjoying his blue eyes, the guard notes, "When'd you Impress?" "Ah," his habitual response for the receipt of information. J'taryn's glass is coming to his lips again before he answers simply, "Turn twenty-four." She's not at all surprised by his 'terseness,' Alida bobbing her head again, returning her gaze to the usual crowd, and slowly polishing off her drink in the time that elapses between their various exchanges. At some point, her alto murmurs, "Don' think wha'zzername's gonna' be showin' up ta'night." "Farideh," J'taryn fills in as if he really believes Alida had simply forgotten the name. "She doesn't always," and he would know. The bronzerider, now finished his wine, places the glass aside. "I guess I'd better get back to Igen," where he probably ought to have been already. "Thanks for the drink," he offers to the bluerider as he makes ready to depart. "That's the name..." Alida replies in proper surprised and thankful fashion, as if she hasn't already memorized that name. For J'taryn's words of returning home comes a faint hint of disappointment in the bluerider's eyes, and a glib, "If you gotta..." One last sip finishes her liquor, the blonde nudging her empty beside the bronzerider's own, then standing upright. "Mind if I stroll with ya to the Bowl? Wouldn't mind some air...gettin' a look at yer boy." Grin. J'taryn's brows furrow briefly but he shrugs, "Sure, if you like." It doesn't seem to matter to him much one way or the other. Evidently he does gotta, since he doesn't answer that remark, but instead turns to head toward the bowl, likely trusting she'll follow his path, given that his height and solid build do a fair job of making an easy way to the bowl for anyone smaller than he if they come in his wake. She notes that brow-furrowing of his, wonders about the whys, then simply dismisses all of it in favor of accompanying the Igenite out into the cold. Good thing she's got her riding jacket shrugged on from before, or Alida might get pretty chilled. Once in the snow and cold, there's a look upward for the likely-arriving bronze dragon, and the woman's aside of, "Don't mean ta bother ya' if y'don' want company..." The bronze dragon in question has been snoozing away in the bowl and has just now been roused, stretching in a way that just takes up more space. "I..." His rider begins, that brow furrow coming back. "I don't mind. I just... don't come here for the company. I don't... people. Much." Words, J'taryn knows them, if not whole sentences. Well then, that makes identification of the bronze that much easier, Alida noting his coloration, any hide patterns, identifying characteristics. And then J'taryn's responding to her words like that, and the bluerider's attention is all for him. "I don't do company very often, either." She can't help the soft, self-depreciatory smirk that follows her pronouncement. "I got an idea: how about if 'caeth 'n I come 'n visit you sometime? Make it easier on yer lifemate over there..." cue a jerk of head over at 'lazy' Njebrith "...while the both uv us get some practice at this whole socialization crap?" Smirk. The bronzerider's eyes are on his lifemate, his stretching, wriggling, beginning to nearly vibrate mentally with contained energy stored up during his snooze. J'taryn's lips press together in what might be a silent 'um.' Then a shrug rolls his broad shoulders. "Sure, if you like." His brow is furrowed again in thought, but it doesn't seem to be one he's going to share. Pause, peer. "If both uv' us like..." the bluie addends quietly. "I don't push my company on anybody." She sounds only faintly disappointed. "Fair skies, J'taryn...Njebrith." A hand is lifted in rare farewell to the pair, and Alida makes to pivot about and take her own leave... and then suddenly turns back to swiftly step up to the tall Igenite and murmur tautly, "I think I like you..." before she again reverses her direction and steps off so quickly as to hopefully prevent him from answering back. It would be typical, wouldn't it, that J'taryn wouldn't have realized that she was being anything more than the typical sort of friendly? He jerks about in an inelegant pivot when she says that last, looking first shocked then... something, something not good. "I-" He starts, "My heart-" But she might well be too far to hear him by the time he's not surprised enough to start saying any of it, so it ends with, "Shit." |
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