Logs:Taking Pity
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| RL Date: 7 January, 2014 |
| Who: Alida, Taikrin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Taikrin has to deal with the mess Alida left behind after her flight-gone-bad. |
| Where: Star Stones, HRW |
| When: Day 25, Month 9, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A lovely, cloudless sky offers warm sunshine during the day, though the weather turns distinctly chilly after dark. |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions |
| It's not all that much longer after Cadejoth has dismissed the pair before Szadath drifts in on a curl of acrid smoke. « Ilicaeth. » He himself sounds amused, layered over a thread of annoyance that feels more 'Taikrin' than 'Szadath'. « Bring yours. » To where? The star stones, apparently. (To Ilicaeth from Szadath) The brown pair have taken over the south end of the stones platform, as far from the watchrider as they can manage. Szadath is perched, statue-like, to watch the bowl below. Taikrin stands at his shoulder, arms across her chest, and also appears to be watching-- though her lips are moving as if muttering to the brown or herself. Juuuust fucking great. Well, best to get to the second reaming out before his rider wants to lay back down again. « We're comin'... » notes the growly blue, his sands furnace hot, though some faint balm is taken from his sire's amusement. Not long after, Ilicaeth's backwinging as gently as possible to a landing, then edging his craggy frame over slowly towards Szadath's, and hunkering down so that his rider's closer to Taikrin's level. After a few moments to regain her hung-over marbles a little, Alida notes a little thinly to her Wingleader, "You want me down there?" Because, if not, the hung-over blonde's just going to remain mounted and save herself the pain. "No, I want to stand her and crick my neck and shout," Taikrin calls back. She's got hands on her hips, now, as she stares up at Alida in exasperation. "Yes, get down here. What the bloody shells you thinking lately, girl?" Szadath's low rumble, clearly amused, undercuts his rider. He extends the tip of a wing over her head, to cuff Ilicaeth in the shoulder. "Yeah yeah..." Alida mumbles, already partially out of her straps, and sliding the last few feet down from Ilicaeth's neck to the stone beneath her boots. The jar from that and her too-quick turn to look at Taikrin have the blonde suddenly turning a mixed pair of shades of green and grey...and just as quickly she's falling to her knees and one palm while barfing up a little food and mostly bile. Sorry boss: unable to answer, right now. As for Ilicaeth... he simply heaves a massive sigh, then rumbles and jiggles a little at Szadath's cuff to his shoulder. Give her another minute or two to barf and then recover, and Alida's waveringly climbing to her feet after hawking and spitting her mouth clearer, then noting weakly over to Taikrin, "Hardly a girl. Quit bein' that at 16." Shudder. "Just another fuckin' FLight... until lord blueballs over 'ere..." cue a look over at Ilicaeth, "...decides that he's gonna do it the quick 'n ugly way."
"Neither. Didja' get the affiliation uv' that dragon that rolled over me?" Alida quips wanly back to Taikrin, the blonde then listing over to a cleaner place with her Wingleader, where she then settles onto her ass. Carefully. Distastefully, her free hair - now slightly decorated with spittle - is twisted back and out of the way while the woman answers softly, "Nothin' personal. Ilicaeth got more fired up than usual, surprised me some. I caught all'a his frustration in one big blast...an' that fuckin' stupid brownie charged my shoulder when I was set ta run outta' there." Shrug. So, he paid for it. "His buddy came ta clock me after I laid 'im out, so she got in a free blow before I nailed her." Thusly, the black eye Alida now sports, and the swollen, bruised jaw the other female now sports. Taikrin settles gingerly down on her haunches besides Alida, then leans her shoulder into the brown's warm hide. "You can't go around being the first to throw punches just 'cause you lost a flight," she admonishes. "No matter how charged up he's getting. When's the last time he caught, anyways? You got to manage him and his needs better. Faranth knows he comes by it honest enough, but you don't see me picking fights during green flights do you?" Szadath rumbles his amusement again, and Taikrin fondly punches his side before adding, "Especially if it means I got to get notes from K'del about it like you're a flaming weyrling." "Yeah yeah..." Alida murmurs softly, one hand and arm huddles in guarded fashion over her midriff, the other wobblingly propping her up upon cold stone. A narrow of bloodshot greens presages more quiet, "He's never won." A loud chuff from the blue might just say, 'Not *yet.*' For the rest of Taikrin's words comes a low, slightly irritated, "Been managin' 'em just fine...until 'e got all ugly." A crochety sound emerges from her blue at that point, to which Alida has to grimace-grin. "That's what prissy-pant K'del don' get: I *have* been keepin' order in my own house all this fuckin' time. Keepin' the brakes on me 'n Ilicaeth both...'r him on himself 'n me." Hawk, spit, blegh. "We work perfect...a team." Shiver. "Until *that* time, when we both slipped ta'gether. Just *once*...an' now we're the 'uncontrolled' ones." She sounds weak, bitter, pissy. "What, never?" Taikrin sounds appalled -- IS appalled at that; she gapes openly. "He's how many turns old? Bloody shells woman, go make friends with a greenrider and get that done with. No flaming wonder the pair of you're out of control. Are you holdbred? I don't remember." She squints at Alida, as if the answer might be written on the woman's forehead. "You're lucky worse ain't happened if you've been holding him back like that. Letting it get so bad you're punching people-- that is out of control. K'del ain't wrong, as much as I wish he was. If he's got a drive that bad, he ought to be catching every three... maybe six months, seeing as how he's blue. A good goldflight'd chase it out of him, but I reckon that ain't much of any option." To Taikrin's appalled words come Alida's suddenly angry ones: "I *don' like* bein' out uv control!" She can't yell at this juncture, but the heat in her words is unmistakable. "Ya' *see* what happens if both uv us slip outta' it at the same time! An' *he* can't control 'imself, uv course." Not during a Flight. As for the other things Taikrin seems to imply... "I've screwed already." Glower, hiss. Ilicaeth's eyes sport little flecks of orange and yellow, but he's a steady rock beside Szadath, the blue angling his head down slowly so he can provide support for his weakened rider, if she wants it. "He's gotta' drive, yeah... but not constant. Enough, but not near-crazed...like 'e was yesterday." As to words of a goldflight...it's only Ilicaeth who responds, his craggy self giving a sudden bit of a hum. "It ain't about you screwing. It's about him. You clearly are not managing his needs if he's got bursts like that. Who do you think you're talking to, exactly? You think I ain't dealt with a dragon who gets a little wild about flights? You have him catching every now and then, you ain't going to have to worry about him controlling himself. It ain't going to come all spilling out of him and into you if you keep that shit under control. Don't they teach this in weyrling class or something? Faranth." The brown himself doesn't so much as twitch, though his eyes are brilliant with amusement. "Do I got to schedule this for you? How often you got to wash your dragon, how often you feed him, how often you chase and how often you make sure he catches? It's all the same thing." If she were younger, less tried by life, and less sick, Alida might glower and hiss at Taikrin. At this juncture, however, all she can do is mutter to herself, stare out at the air before her, and remain silent. Apparently, self-control reaches quite new heights when enforced by the blonde: all-or-nothing. "Fuck off..." the hung-over bitch mutters weakly to the other woman, then slowly moving so she can stare daggers into Ilicaeth's nearest eye. Muttered low: "Find yerself a willin' green who thinks yer the best guy this side 'a the continent, 'n get 'er alone, manwhore." Glare. "Quit goin' after all the ones ya gotta' cajole." A creaking sound emerges from Ilicaeth's throat at that, and he somehow manages to look pleased. Still irked, but also darkly humored, « I told 'er it'd come ta this. Silly humans. » He *would* get his way, sooner or later. (To Szadath from Ilicaeth) A snort of laughter escapes before Taikrin can stop herself. "Don't leave it to him to set it up. Dragons are flaming terrible at that. Go and find yourself a friendly greenrider and throw yourself on her mercy, for Faranth's sake. I got a couple who owe me a favor who might oblige if you offer something good. Or look pathetic enough." The way Taikrin is eyeing Alida right now, she might be sizing up just how pathetic Alida looks. "Speaking of offering, you got to make it up to those two you laid out, too. You even know their names?" To Ilicaeth, Szadath curls smoke, beyond amused. « Sometimes they are very stupid about things when they are not flying regularly. » "He's better at it than *I* am..." is grumbled out sourly, Alida then giving up a little of her precious dignity and leaning against Ilicaeth's head so she can save precious energy. "I don' throw myself on *anybody*." Mutter. She does look at least partially pathetic, given her hang-over, but that odd hint of blue-blooded arrogance about her features, and the martial look in those green eyes partially ruin it. And then it's back to a different kind of reality, the blonde only nodding to Taikrin, then adding, "If ya want me ta apologize truthfully... it ain't gonna work. I'm *not* sorry I layed inta them." "I don't care a cracked shell if you're sorry to them. You ought to be sharding well sorry to me for having to deal with your sorry ass AND how I'm going to have to go and deal with K'del after you made me look bad AND about how you made all your wingmates look bad." Taikrin's exasperation returns full-force. "Lie, cheat, I don't care what you do, but you're going to give me their names and their wingleader's names and you're going go and grovel or make excuses or whatever it is you have to do to make it up to them. Buy them sweets and flowers for all I care. Do their chores. Whatever, just get it done. And soon." She rakes a critical eye across Alida once more. "Maybe they'll take pity on you way you are now, I dunno. That card's not mine to play." "Lies it is, then..." Alida mutters mostly to herself as Taikrin growls at her, then blonde finally noting after the rant is done, "Yeah, okay. I *am* sorry that *you* inherited it." Happy now? At least she's being truthful. The look in greens says it all, though: Fuck doing their chores. As for pity... well, *that* gets her dander up, and the flare if indignation in greens is quite visible. Alida bodily hauls herself up with shaking hands along Ilicaeth's muzzle - the blue holding himself still to not hamper her - and then shakily moves towards his neck. "It'll get done..." is growled out as loud as she can manage, which is rather less forceful than usual. "Am I dismissed?" Testy-testy. "Yeah, off with you. Go dump yourself in a lake, then take an hour in the hot springs. You'll feel better. THEN go deal with your mess." Taikrin moves smoothly to her feet, in stark contrast to Alida's suffering. "I'll talk to K'del about this flights business, but you owe me a good bottle of whisky for it." Her lips are quirked: is she teasing? Serious? Both?" A sloppy, but earnest salute is given to Taikrin (since Alida respects *her*), the blonde then letting Ilicaeth turn a front paw up so she can sit on it and have him hoist her to his neck. She's too uncertain in balance and too weak right now to test a typical mounting, especially on the Star Stones. "Fuck K'del. Let 'im keep 'is fuckin' britches in a bind." Pause, lip-twist. "Unless yer just jonesin' fer a new Turn uv' whiskey, uv course, an' lookin' fer the best excuse." Smirkie. "You let ME worry about how to deal with K'del. Go on, get out of here. I'm tired of looking at your pathetic face." Taikrin makes a shooing motion, though she wears a smirk to match. "She loves me..." Alida quips blandly at Taikrin, then flipping her a weak bird before she slowly hauls herself into place between Ilicaeth's ridges. A pair of safety straps is snapped into place before the blue stands to his full height again, and edges slowly away from Szadath...though he does offer the brown a warble of slowly-rising spirits and farewell. Soon enough, said blue is falling with outspread wings from the 'Stones to ease takeoff on his rider, and gliding down towards the Bowl to insist his hard-headed rider take that long soak. |
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