Taikrin, Taikrin, Taikrin. Surely half the Weyr knows by now that she's turning 30, and damn proud of it. Certainly that's all she's been talking about with the wing for days now, enough so that F'rint finally told her to flaming shut up about it. Still, it hasn't lessened her enthusiasm one jot when the day actually arrives, clear and relatively warm for month 11. Though Taikrin's on restday, parts of Glacier are still out on sweeps which means that the brownrider is, remarkably, alone. For now. She's staked out a couple of tables near the end for herself, and is happily reigning over them with her pitcher of beer and plate of fried tidbits-- and having a ball of it, even if she is all by herself.
Not for long. "Taaaaaaaaaikrin," Riorde carols from the back of her dragon as he swoops in to a landing near the ledge. The brownrider starts yelling while still quite far out, but oh, does her voice carry.
Jo probably "should" be on sweeps, but then, that girl's just sometimes not where she's supposed to be. In her usual black leathers and her usual mussed up hair, the bluerider sweeps onto the ledge exchanging low, swift words with M'ron, another fellow convict rider. The man spots Taikrin first and jerks his chin her way, drawing Jo's attention towards her and stopping mid-sentence. She eyes the pitcher of beer and then knocks M'ron in the shoulder with her own as a friendly 'see ya later' before she's heading on over. Head turns at the yell from Riorde, and then once she's up to the tables, "Finally throwin' down?" is her deadpan greeting to Taikrin, looking over the table contents. "I see we've got ourselves a party here." A party she may just be inviting herself to if her reaching for the pitcher is any indication.
Maybe Taikrin might have caught that exchange with M'ron, but Riorde can be so damn loud sometimes that the brownrider is looking out over the ledge to watch her arrival. "RIORDE I GOT THE TABLE!" she bellows back, in case it wasn't perfectly obvious. Her grin for Jolie is both bright and crooked, though it dims a fraction when she spots (and recognizes) M'ron's retreating form. "Shells yeah I am," is her exhuberant response. "Pour yourself a glass, have some food. Reckon people'll keep showing up when they get back from sweeps. From the thickening of her accent, Taikrin's probably already had a couple herself.
Riorde's started to disentangle herself from her straps long before Sforzath's actually hit the ground, devil-may-care while her dragon dives. Safety measures? What safety measures? "HAPPY TURNDAY," she yells back loud enough for everyone to hear, sliding down her brown's shoulder and taking the stairs up to the ledge two at a time.
Jo catches that dimming look from Taikrin to M'ron's retreating back and with dry amusement, "He gives his best wishes, naturally," in comment of him, her smile briefly tight. "And I do, as well. Happy turnday, darlin'." The smile is less tight when she says it, her head inclining briefly. That all drops away to something more dubious at Riorde's bellowing arrival, the convict rider having seen much of her familiar form whenever Glacier got together, but, has always been as silent as a wraith throughout it. And well, she's not going to be silent now: "Hey, Riorde," is given in easy stride, studying her with blanketed curiosity as she pours herself some beer. "Looks like ya already started," she makes note with casualness, settling down opposite Taikrin with her beer and starts in on picking up a tidbit of food. "So," she drawls, settling back. "What ya got planned today?"
"Kind of him, ain't it?" Taikrin's smile is momentarily all teeth. "Thanks, though. Reckon I ought to catch up with him later." Where in this case 'later' means 'never'. But Riorde is here, and that means Taikrin has to greet her with equal enthusiasm, if not with equal volume. "Thanks babe!" She sways up and off her chair, and poses with her hands on her hips and a cocky grin. "Got a fast day planned. There's the thing later in the Snowasis, but in a while we're going to go hit up that place with those people?" The latter is a question for Riorde, complete with raised brows.
"Jo," Riorde acknowledges in return. The Glacier rider's friendly enough with wingmates, or at least started out so-- in the time since Iolene's murder, her fellow exile clutchmate hasn't shown quite the same enthusiasm for familiarity. It's not that she doesn't participate; she does, especially in the wilder of the wing's exploits, but it's not as if she encourages closeness outside of those shared deeds. Taikrin being an exception; when out in public, they're nigh on inseparable, and now Riorde more or less throws herself at her girlfriend, legs wrapping round, expecting the other rider to hold her up easily. "Thing with the people in the place," she agrees with one big, wicked grin. "Hey baby." Making out in public? Yes. They do that.
"If ya can catch him at all," Jo quips right back almost knowing - knowing full well the likelihood of those two 'catching up' was like her ever giving up her black leather attire. She turns to take in the enthusiasm between fellow wingriders, drinking back her beer casually and munching on the food with idle interest. She's all about the observation and so they probably wouldn't find it odd that she's silent through their exchanges, though, they can well believe she's taking in every word and every gesture. When Taikrin answers her on her plans, A brow lifts. "Snowasis, huh?" she echoes, musing over that as she perhaps considers herself going. "And...that place with those people." More statement with question, but she's looking from one brownrider to the other - especially since they're making out and all right in front of her. "That one certainly jogs my overactive imagination." The mug goes up to her mouth.
Taikrin might have an answer for Jolie, except at first she's way too busy with her overeager makeouts. She staggers a little at Riorde's impact, though that's probably due more to alcohol than any lack of strength because she doesn't seem to otherwise have any trouble holding up her slightly taller woman. Still, a girl does need to breathe, and so when she pulls away with an insufferably pleased look she says simply, "Hey." Finally, to Jo, "What was that about an overactive imagination?"
Riorde, when she finally lets herself slide down, looks incredibly smug. "I'm getting more drinks." No, it does not matter if there is a pitcher on the table already. Off she goes to buy a round of something harder.
Jo drains her mug of the beer, then reaches for the pitcher to refill as she eyes that make-out session. Of course, with the two in her wing, perhaps such displays was something she was already used to that there's not registered blush nor awkwardness coming from the bluerider. She's amused by it all more than anything. When they break, there's a low rumbly chuckle from her as she refills her own mug and watches Riorde head off for more drinks when she answers a wry, "As in, I've certainly got one at this moment," in her usual crass form, brow lifting briefly at Taikrin before she picks up some more food tidbits. "So this Snowasis thing. I've got some business I need to take care of, but afterwards I might be able to swing by. Think I've got a turnday gift for ya."
"Just so long as we're not too wrecked to go between!" Taikrin calls after Riorde, in a sentiment that would make Meara cringe. She sprawls herself back down in her chair and reaches for her beer again. "There are worse things to imagine," she smugs at Jo before asking more seriously, "Yeah? Glad to have you stop by, of course. What you got for me?"
La la la. Booze booze booze. There is a wait. Riorde's forced to wait. It's tragic.
Laughing uncharacteristically at the exchange between the couple, "So what's it like to be old now?" Jo sends with teasing innocence and a raise of her beer, knowing full well she really couldn't talk when she's knocking close to 30 herself. Eyes roll with humor at the smug look to the later, and when asked on the gift in question, "A little token. I'll drop it off at your weyr in the hopes of seein' naked girls hangin' out on yer ledge. It's the least I can do."
"It's flaming awesome. Like a punch right in the face of those shitheads who didn't think I'd make it to 25, much less 30." This, then, is the source of her turnday glee. "It's been all smooth thermals since then. Sky's the limit for me and Szad, right?" Taikrin leans forward to rest her elbows in the table, then raises both eyebrows speculatively at Jo. "Reckon there'll probably be a few naked girls, yeah. You sure you can keep up?"
Riorde reemerges with three glasses of what looks like whiskey, one in each hand and the third held a little more precariously between the two. "Something's gone wrong if there aren't naked girls," she comments as she comes up, thrusting out the drinks. Take, take.
When Taikrin speaks on making it to 30, some of her smile does slip. Yeah, Jo would know about that, wouldn't she? The smile is back, but with less wattage, raising her mug in a toast to that. "To makin' it to 30, darlin'," she gives, an odd, quiet sincerity that she then drinks to seal it. Riorde returns and when she gets a whiff of the stronger stuff, the bluerider's sitting up a little straighter. She sets her mug down for the glass, nodding her thanks as the comment on naked girls get a wry, "Hear, hear." She tastes the liquor and a notes of approval is sent out before she turns to Taikrin's speculative look and her question. Brows lift and fall from Jo at it along with that little cocksure smirk and a "I reckon yer goin' to be surprised that I do and more," is her jaunty counter, confidence born of her bravado. To them both, "Don' ya know by now that I give my best in "all" that I do?" Yeah, that being, in drills, sweeps....and other extracurricular activities.
"Ahha! That's my girl!" Taikrin's grinning from ear to ear as she reaches out to take her glass from Riorde as well. "This is good stuff!" She raises the new glass to match Jo's toast, then sighs in satisfaction. "Reckon I can talk at least three girls out of their pants tonight, AND I reckon one of 'em will be a greenrider AND that she won't have a dragon ready to rise. Got a smithcraft two-mark says I'm right. Takers?"
"I'll bet I can get her to go for me instead of you," Riorde counters as she lifts her own glass, a toast turned mocking. "And of course it's good. Wouldn't cheat you on your turnday, would I?"
The good stuff is being downed like water by Jo, sighing from the much-needed taste. "Ha," she chuffs out on the wagers being thrown around, the liquor loosening her up a bit more as she says, "We're talkin' numbers, here? Cuz I'll toss in I can raise as many of those girls by at least one. I'll take that wager and will double it if that one greenrider becomes a two." Pause. "That doesn't get stolen by yer fine lady, here," she adds, eyes full of amused challenge.
"Is it really stealing if I can take both of them home?" The look Taikrin's giving Riorde, with the raised eyebrows and smoke in her voice, leaves little doubt to her intentions. "You're on." This to Jo, after she manages to drag her gaze away from her girlfriend. "We're talking pants-off; bathing caverns don't count but private baths do." She's quick to set out the terms. "Stripping to the skivvies counts. You're on." There's even a hand held out for Jo to shake. Oh dear.
Riorde winds up smirking back at Taikrin, perfectly capable of reading her expressions, and leaves their personal challenge there. "I have a private bath," she offers up, like Taikrin doesn't know that. "But the hot springs will fit more."
To the question Taikrin levels to her girlfriend, "I can already tell this is about to get heavily skewed," Jo comments eyeing those looks being exchanged between the brownriding wingmates of hers. What did she get herself into? But then, the bluerider was always one up for any challenge put to her. She listens to the terms put out, nodding to each as if they sounded fair enough to her. She takes the offered hand and gives it a firm shake to seal the deal as she answers, flicking a glance between the two of them, "Fair enough. I'm in."
"It's like another turnday present," Taikrin crows as she shakes Jo's hand. "I'm looking forward to it." She finishes off her delicious whisky, then, and turns to Riorde. "Do you want to head out soon, before we get too wrecked to make proper images for the boys?"
There's that low chuckle, more like a purr before Jo's up out of her seat and is downing the last of her really tasty whiskey. Gesturing with her chin, all cocky and arrogant demeanor in black leather, "Probably the best one there is," she says on presents, straightening herself up. "Likewise." Being inappropriate and enacting wild shenanigans was Jo's forte, simply enough. Eyes turn on Riorde and she nods her farewell to her when it looks like the pair was about to depart, she herself looking out towards the sky with intention of getting back to work. "Taikrin. Riorde," is given. "Until tonite." And then she's heading out in the same direction M'ron went, her booted steps heard over the din of voices.
"For the boys?" Taikrin's choice of phrase makes Riorde lift her eyebrows. "Something I never thought I'd hear you say. Sure." She downs the last of her drink as well -- a good, solid slug that does injustice to the quality of the liquor she bought. "See you later then," she answers Jo, smile all sorts of promising.
"Well," Taikrin explains as she stands to head for the dragons, "It's hard for them to be afraid of you if you're too drunk to stand upright and find their faces with your fist."
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