Logs:Sweet Tits
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| RL Date: 10 April, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh and Jo get acquainted. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 7, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Sunny. |
| Mentions: Drex/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions, Laine/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Warning: Language. It's Jo. |
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| Despite all the doom and gloom about the Weyr, it's the rare occurance that one will find the black leather cladded Jo out and about in public. The dark blue hide of her dragon is half submerged in the lake while his rider looks on, busying herself with tying something on her firelizard. She doesn't seem to be in much hurry as her dragon cavorts about lazily, and for the most part those that are on the shore is giving her wide berth. Nothing new. Beautiful days are best spent enjoying the outdoors, even with the tragedies, and that's what brings a certain short-haired candidate down to the lake, carrying a basket full of odds and ends. She seems largely unaware of the avoidance on the shore and goes as far as waving at the bluerider in passing, which is fairly close, being that she's plotted a course just off and some. It's there that she sets down her basket, and starts to unload its contents, the first of which is an old, ratty blanket that she spreads out on the sand; then comes a hat, some shoddily-bound hides, and an assortment of snacks. That blue in the water gets a contemplative stare, as Farideh settles herself on her picnic blanket, cross-legged, and pulls her brimmed hat onto her head. Tacuseth notices the new edition faster than his rider does, the dragon keeping half into the water with his wings flat against his back. Jo merely lifts both brows to the wave, never pausing in her work of securing something to the firelizard's leg. It's made a bit hard due to said firelizard being fidgety. Still, noticing all if not most, the convict rider idly flicks a glance over at the contents being pulled out of the basket, not breaking her silence. The girl adjusts her hat just so, to shield her face from the sun, and shuffles the bound hides into her lap. Her fingers skim the edges of them, but never get as far as flipping them open. She is busily staring at the blue, her brows drawn together, with her lips pursed, like she's hard at thinking; thinking about dragons? "Hi," Farideh finally says, a little louder than intended, but one never know who is hard of hearing, "Can I ask you a question?" One hand lifts to her hat, to keep it firmly in place, while her head tilts back and eyes lift to the black-clad bluerider, Jo. Jo didn't look like she was expecting a question, considering how the weyrfolk keep out of her path. She's long to respond, looking Farideh over as she straightens up and runs a hand over her wild, black hair. It's almost as if she's considering how to reject the request. However, removing her fingers from the firelizard, "That is?" is her prompt, her tone a neutral one as her blue dragon fully surrenders to the water. "What's it like? Having a blue dragon?" It might be more out-of-the-blue, this question, with how innocuous she says it and the bright smile she offers up afterwards. "Do you like it?" Technically, that's three questions, but apparently Farideh isn't counting. She's too busy looking over the bluerider with inquisitiveness, now switched over from her dragon. "Who's askin'?" It comes out Jo's mouth before she seems to realize it's out. The firelizard gets the bottom of his mouth stroked once before he's off and Between before she straightens up her jacket, gets to her feet and says, "Depends on what ya mean by like." She walks over to the dragon riding gear dumped nearby and goes through the bag attached to it before continuing. "Ya want to pretty-pretty Weyr answer, or the raw dirty answer?" The question sounds ominous. It sounds even dangerous with that glint in her dark gaze that she turns on Farideh as she rummages. "Farideh," is supplied, easily enough. "What do I mean? What-- is-- riding-- a-- blue-- dragon-- like?" Farideh says it slow, like spelling out a word, so that Jo can better understand; what she perceives as the problem, anyway. "Is it any difference in having a blue dragon from any other color? Or are they all the same?" She seems genuinely interested in the answer, and even leans forward when Jo gives her a choice. ''Both, if you're giving up either. It might as well be both." That Farideh slows down the question seems to amuse Jo for the moment. She closes up the bag before dropping to sit up against it, facing the lake where she could see Tacuseth's head breaking the surface. "Well, Farideh," she draws this word out long, her dark gaze settling on her lifemate now as she cradles her hands behind her head, "the sweet civilized answer is that it ain' no difference other than who's chasin' who. 'Course they all got their personalities'n shit, so." She pauses to remove one hand to tap two fingers briefly at her temple. "And then," she goes on to say, "the uncivilized answer is the difference is in who ya end up fuckin' at the end of a flight outta yer control. Blues chase greens'n all that. Blues tend to fly faster'n the other male dragons. It's like ridin' any other dragon, I reckon. Other than the fuckin'." Simple answer, in Jo-logic with a shrug. Count it as one candidate that's hanging onto Jo's every word, waiting for the answer(s); what she gets might be more than bargained for, or maybe not enough. There's a perplexed quality to her expression, though her cheeks flush from the older woman's blunt words. "I thought-isn't that out of control for 'everyone? You just-- you end with whoever is-- the other dragon's rider? But, that's it? You aren't freer?" Farideh sounds a tad earnest; almost hopeful. There's laughter. The hopeful look on the girl's face is enough that the convict rider could make a play at shattering that. Jo sits up, quipping, "Ahhh, yer one of them candidates, is it? Oh baby, I'm likely the wrong girl to be getting' any reassurances from. Cuz, I'll tell ya like it is. I'll tell ya like I see it, see. Sure, I could very well, be lyin'. Sure, I could not. But, whatever I tell ya would dig into that head of yers like a plague ya can' get rid of." Lips curl a bit as she studies the other, taking in her freckles and her hair. "There's no control," she states as in agreement. "Ya Impress? Ya ain' free. The Weyr owns yer ass, and yer dragon owns yer ass. Freedom's out there," she nods towards where the Weyr entrance is, "but ya won' find it here, little girl. Better go out in the sands, when the time comes'n know that. It's how I saw it then. It's how I see it now." The laughter makes Farideh frown, but it's not until the full explanation is out that her shoulders droop forward. "Why? You have a dragon, you can go anywhere you want, whenever you want. You don't have someone telling you how to dress or not to talk to unmarried men, unchaperoned." She makes a face and stares gloomily towards the Weyr entrance, where the bluerider indicated. "Not out there either. No where. Unless, you're one of those-- what do they call them. Holdless people?" Her expressions says, not me. "What did you do before? Are you freer than then? Would you go back?" "Holdbred, are ya?" Jo makes a guess on the details Farideh reveals before inclining her head. "Yeah, well, just cuz ya can go anywhere ya want, whenever, that doesn' necessarily make ya free. Ya can' haul off and spend a seven down south, like. Ya merely make the best with what loopholes ya can find." Maybe that's the logic of a criminal, but she's not giving pause. "I was from a Hold, too," she admits, nodding. "All that chaperone 'bout a boy's runnershit. Luckily I didn' get that so bad back in Keogh. Still left, though. Still. There's many degrees of freedom, darlin'. Just gotta find the one yer willin' to stick with." Her last question gives the bluerider pause, looking out towards her cavorting dragon before she answers back, "Like I said. Degrees of freedom. His freedom," she nods towards the blue dragon, "suits me. Where I come from'n where I was goin'? I would've found a more permanent sort of freedom six feet under." The look she gives Farideh has brief meaning, perhaps assuming the candidate has heard a bit of the rumors surrounding her and her crew around the Weyr. A very brief, tentative nod answers the bluerider's question. "Doesn't that mean there's hope though? If there's loopholes and you can-- have, some, freedom." It's the degrees of freedom speech that brings back her disconcerted expression, her troubled eyes regarding Jo across the expanse of sand. "Six feet under--" Farideh opens her mouth to speak and then closes it, shortly; next, it's worriedly, that she says, "You would be dead? Were you up to no good? What kind of a life would-- well, unless you went around murdering people, or, stealing, or--" She's still frowning towards the end, ticking each deviant act off on her fingers. "But most Holds are sensible these days. Who would simply kill someone for that? Not even Lady Issedi's murderer was executed." "The loopholes I'm talkin' 'bout ain' for everybody, darlin'," Jo says with the barest of smirks before deliberately giving Farideh and once-over. "Yer don' seem like the type to handle it." But then Farideh's going on, hashing it all out aloud, and much to the convict rider's amusement. Her chuckling can be heard as she asks, "A holdgirl, rationalizin' murder. Now I've heard it all." She straightens up towards the candidate, leaning a little forward before she adds, "I'm a girl with a reputation," to the questions of death and no good. "That's all ya need to know. Pretty 'lil thing like you can' handle anymore than that. Anyway. If ya Impress, ya'll find out. Who knows. It might end up bein' all roses'n and bubbly pies for you. Shit knows it was for most in my weyrlin' class." Turning back towards the lake to lean against her bag in a great show of nonchalance, "Ya'll get yer freedom, darlin'," she says breezily. "There's hope for ya. I wouldn' even worry 'bout it." "How do you know? You've only just met me," the candidate says haughtily, attempting to readjust her hat like it's not obvious she's looking for something else to do than look at the bluerider, momentarily. "I can handle plenty. Have you had to plan seating arrangements for twenty dignitaries at a long table in just one sevenday?" Farideh makes an annoyed sound, but grudgingly slants Jo a glance. "I have friends that are sailors and they have knives. Maybe they've killed people-- I don't know. And my other friend is friends with those thieves and murderers from Nabol." She looks proud, for all that she's talking about crime and punishment, but she's not entirely pleased. "I don't want roses and bubbly pies. I want to go places and see things, and just live without restriction. Without expectation. Just-- me. That kind of freedom." How does Jo know? She was about to answer until Farideh went on talking about seating arrangements, and then the bluerider pauses completely before erupts into loud, raucous laughter. It's loud enough to catch her dragon's attention, and it's loud enough to draw looks from those down the shore. Slapping the ground beside her as her head is thrown back, "Good answer," she states, seeming to wipe tears from her eyes as she sits forward. "Seriously, baby. Not sure if I should say ya've just proven my point or that yer givin' me a big lady boner right now." Pause. "Not to mention yer friends with so many criminals. Looks like I better watch myself 'round you, don' I?" There's more chuckling before she settles back down, stating on Farideh's last, "Farideh, that sort of freedom's already yers. Even without bein' tethered to a dragon. Yer here, in this here Weyr. Yer already free." Farideh looks horrified that she's elicited such a reaction, or that Jo is laughing so hard she's slapping the ground and drawing attention. She even turns a lovely shade of pink to prove it. "You don't have to laugh so loudly," she says sullenly, lowering the brim of her hat that much, to hide her face. "A big lady-- what?" There's more shock on her face, more color flooding her cheeks, but she's stubborn enough to stand her ground rather than pack up her shoreside picnic and run back to the candidate quarters. "No, that's not what I meant." She sighs, and scrunches up her nose. "No it's not. It's never been, even now. The only thing that can truly change that is-- I hope, Impression." It's Farideh's expression that draws enough more snickers from Jo, the woman shaking her head and trapping her hands behind her head. "It was funny," she says in excuse to her dramatic laughter. "Never have I heard handlin' somethin'.... beyond bein' compared to seatin' arrangements. I'm gonna tell all my friends 'bout it. They're gonna seek ya out so they can gawk'n stare." She's totally in teasing mode now, it being etched on her face as she steals a look over at the blushing candidate. "And, it's called lady boner. Hard on. Arousal. Y'know." She's enjoying herself the more Farideh looks uncomfortable, but there's also a glimmer of approval there in her dark gaze for the fact that the other's still sitting there and toughing it out. Back to the topic of freedom, the convict rider shakes her head as her eyes close and her face lifts up a bit towards the sky in a semblance of sleep before answering her. "What, if ya don' Impress, ya gotta go back there? Says who? Nothin' can happen to ya here, babe. Not with all these 'riders 'bout. We protect our own here." "That's not-- what-- why?" Farideh makes another sound, this one disgruntled, and stares at Jo sullenly, clearly not getting the tease part. She looks like she wants to say something; something insulting, but she doesn't get that far. Instead, her shoulders slump and she casts a glum look out over the lake, and the blue in it. "I don't know what's going to happen. I want to stay, but-- that's not up to me. They could drag me back, kicking and screaming. Maybe I'll go to Southern next, or--" She glances askance at Jo, thoughtful. "I don't know what's going to happen, just that I want to try. Once? Twice? I might have a dragon on the sands this time, or the next, or--" A beat, a frown. "You wouldn't give me up to protect yourself?" Jo's not going to help Farideh out with her confusion, so the laughter stays in place. Even with her eyes closed. The glum response, though, does send one opened eye towards the candidate, studying her at length before she answers with, "Shit, Holdbred. No one can really make ya do what ya don' wanna. Not unless ya like bein' told what to do. I hear that's a kink somewhere. So, if that ain' yer kink, then grow a backbone'n stand yer ground." Sympathy, one like Jo doesn't have, but she seems willing to dish out tough love in spades. "They get ahold of ya, nick'em in the leg with a knife." Yes, from her tone, it's that simple. But really, it's the last that has her eyes opening and leveling a frown towards Farideh. Brows furrow just a bit in the pause that follows before the bluerider puts out there, "Me, give ya up? Farideh, take a good, long look at me'n then ask that question again if the answer's not obvious." The look she levels on the younger woman is a dead solid one. It's perhaps the first time she's looked serious in their budding conversation. "I have a backbone, but you act like it's easy. Have you ever told anyone no? Anyone who controls your future and your prospects? Your Wingleader? Your Weyrleader? The Weyrwoman? Any of them?" Farideh is obviously disgruntled, but the comment about the knife actually has her choking out a disbelieving laugh. "A knife? You want me to stab someone in the leg? Are you really a murderer? For Faranth's sake, you must be kidding." And that disbelief is there, in the widened eyes, the smile that's not quite a smile. "So, you would? Don't say I'm safe here. Amongst riders. None of you would keep me here if it saved your own Weyr from humiliation and strife. Saved your own skins." "I came from Keogh, with a guard-rearin' father," Jo notes, one arrogant corner of her mouth lifting. "I told'em no'n got the fuck out. As for this place, well, there's a way to get 'round that without havin' to say no." That Farideh is disgruntled, even about her knife comment, doesn't seem to bother her none. She even goes to answer back, "Yeah, stab'im in the leg. They'll live. It won' kill'em. Hurts like a bitch, though, but they'll live. Ya need one? I can getcha a good price." It's all said with a straight face. As to that last, that she came to that conclusion has Jo snorting, shaking her head once and returning to her nonchalant sleep as she quips back, "I dunno ya from a busty maid in Crom. I don' give a fuck who ya are, where ya from'n who's after ya. I protect myself just fine without havin' to turn in some uppy girl that can' even imagine shankin' someone in the leg without it bein' a joke. If ya don' believe anythin' else I've said so far, sweet-tits? Ya can at least believe that I'm the last in this Weyr to be turnin' anybody in. Ya can worry the least 'bout that with me." "Coming from a guard family sounds like an awfully convenient preparation for dragonriding, doesn't it? You were probably always in shape and brave," Farideh muses, if a bit more warily, given how their conversation has been going. Her smile is not pleasant, but borders on uncomfortable. "I'm not sure that would suit. I would just as easy stab myself in the arm as someone in the leg and I'm not sure that I have the-- guts to do it. Not that anyone makes me as mad as that." She frowns, and sets her hands down on her knees, though her flush makes a return with the bluerider's later comments. "How reassuring. Should we make a pact to be friends, then? That I can just believe something you said just like--" One hand waves flippantly in the air, and there's no disguising the irritation in her voice. "Hardly," Jo counters dryly on guard families and dragonriding preparations. Her guardedness is coming to fore now on talk of the past, the look she sends bordering on a slight warning. "So easy to assume things 'bout a person, ain' it? Yeah, I must've been all brave. What an easy life I must've had." It's a slow drawl, those words, the leather clad woman settling comfortably back to watch the dragon that watches them now. On knifing someone, "Takes practice, is all," she says on that. "I've hardly met a natural at it. Don' even gotta be mad to go for it." It's more of that Jo Logic before she arches a look Farideh's way for that last statement, and catching the flush on her face with a slight smirk. it doesn't lessen the dryness in her tone, however, as she responds breezily, "Look, I ain' here to convince anybody. Believe what ya want'n do what ya want. Chances are, whether ya Impress in this Weyr or not, ya'll hardly see me again. Weyr's big'n all that'n I'm not a girl that sticks 'round." Eyes closing, "Talk's been entertainin', at least." It could be the warning or it could be that she's starting to get more frazzled the more they talk. Whatever it is, Farideh's jaw tightens and she lifts her chin stubbornly, trying her best to stare down the length of her short nose at the older woman. "You're absurd." And it's with that that she grabs her things and starts shoving them back into the basket, before standing and doing the same with the blanket, which she balls up. "Hopefully I don't Impress a green so that we really don't. It would be too soon if we did. You might try to stab me in the leg," she huffs in a farewell, and turns, to stomp back the way she came, basket in one hand, crumpled blanket in the other, with that ridiculously hat still on her head. To the declaration, "Better'n bein' called a bitch, I guess," is Jo's lofty return, staying right where she is while the other gets up with her things. "I'll take it." It's Farideh's last though, that draws open laughter from the crass convict rider, the woman opening her eyes and straightening long enough to toss right at her, "Careful what'ya wish for, darlin'! Things tend to backfire on ya 'round here!" Ominous words, maybe, but if Farideh's heading out, she'll probably have Jo's laughter heading out right in her wake. |
Comments
Alida (02:49, 13 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
Jo was pretty nice to Farideh. Imagine if Farideh would've tried to talk to Alida. Yikes! ^^
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