Logs:The Man That I'm Not Supposed To Like
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| RL Date: 15 April, 2009 |
| Who: Gr'kaif, K'del, Yorma |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Yorma cries, Adiecyth flirts, and Gr'kaif wants advice on how to make women scream. All in a day's work. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 6, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day. |
| Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen. Ahh, summer! Such pleasant weather allows Yorma to don no real outerwear other than a (rather heavy) long-sleeved tunic belted at the waist more for functionality than to draw attention to her very subtle waist. Considering that the rest of the Weyr is out in short sleeves and shorts, Yorma looks out of place whilst leading a limping herdbeast to the pens. A look of determination if drawn into her delicate features but there's a bit of a sadness around her eyes. "Stupid Weyrherder..." Grumble. Sniffle. It's Cadejoth that is visible first, the pale bronze sweeping down from above to take down his meal in a single stroke. His rider takes longer to appear, dressed down to the point disheveledness, his cut-off trousers worn through in several places; without his jacket on, his shoulder, where his knot should be, is bare. K'del angles his way past the pen his bronze is currently terrorising, evidently intent upon taking the time to be outdoors, but not necessarily /watching/ the carnage. This path takes him not far from the herdbeasts, and Yorma, the latter of whom strikes his attention a moment later. "Doing all right there?" he wants to know. It's with morbid interest that Yorma can't take her eyes from Cadejoth's graceful descent on one of the beasts. But the herdbeast at hand demands her attention as the bronze dragon's presence results in a desperate, fearful beast trying to tear away from the leadrope. Yorma hauls down on the rope and turns the willing herdbeast around so he isn't so terribly near the carnage. Which brings Yorma very near K'del, and very much to her surprise. But the good Herder doesn't jump. "I'm fine. Except that now I have to stand here with my beast until that /dragon/-" And she says the word with a bit of resentment, "- is gone." A resigned sigh is emitted here, and Yorma gently strokes the head of her beasty friend. "It's okay, Woolly Bully, the dragon will be gone soon." Sweet as pie. "Sorry," says K'del, turning his head back to consider his dragon, and the intrusion he's made. "Needs to eat, though. And I need to get out during the day, sometimes. He won't take long - one or two, no more than that." Having said this, he stuffs both hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped lazily, his elbows bent. Then: "Do you name all of them, or just the ones you have a particular attachment to?" Yorma glances back at Cadejoth and then again at his lifemate, looking a little contrite. "I know they need to eat," she says apologetically. "It's just that the timing is bad. He would do me a huge favour if he had /this/ one for his meal. Woolly Bully's been suffering like this for some time and..." She fades off as she realizes just how sad her voice is beginning to sound. She rubs Woolly Bully's flat cheek. Sharp, dark eyes flick to the bronzerider. "I believe the right response is both, since I name the ones I become attached to and I tend to be attached to them all." Something in K'del's expression flickers, under the weight of Yorma's so obvious sadness. "Oh," he says, sounding distinctly more dull. "And it wouldn't feel worse to you, some dragon tearing him apart, instead of--" Beat. "Do you have to do the killing yourself? Isn't it a bit hard, getting attached to them like that? Doesn't it make it kind of... You know. Harder?" Cadejoth has landed, and is busy covering his pale face in blood and gore, though at least he's turned away from the pair of people, and poor Wolly Bully. Yorma doesn't seem distraught over Cadejoth's dining occuring not all that far off. Woolly Bully on the other hand has wide eyes and emits heavy huffs of disgruntled air but makes no move to shake the herder's hands from him as she stritches his favourite parts. "He's going to be dragon fodder anyway," she says matter-of-factly. "Anytime one of our breeders becomes unable to breed, we bring them here. Woolly Bully is still breedable but with this injury he can't mount so... Off to the pens he does." And breaks Yorma's ever-loving heart in the meantime. "I specialize in livestock, not butchering. So I just breed, raise, and otherwise care for the herds." Which might explain her maternal love for the ugly beast that is Woolly Bully. "Herder Apprentice Yorma," she introduces. "I'm sorry," says K'del, for the second time in this short interchange. "Can-- if you like. Get him to make it quick. He'll do that; doesn't take huge pride in making them squeal or anything." His gaze lingers over Woolly Bully, then slides back to Yorma. "Must suck. Dealing with that, I mean. When you like 'em." It takes him another few moments of silence before he actually manages to respond to her introduction. "K'del. Nice to meet you, Yorma." Yorma longingly caresses Woolly Bully's big, dumb head for a few more moments of silence before nodding. "That would be best for him. Sorry, I'm not usually this emotional. Woolly's just a good bull. Not that we don't have other good bulls but whoever handled him before tithing him to the Weyr was a very good handler. If you ask your bronze there to make a quick sweep away from the pens, I can get Woolly in the gate?" She's too busy petting the beast to really recognize the name of the man, little more than a nod given at his reply. Is it relief, then, that shades K'del's expression, if only for just a moment, before he responds to the rest of what Yorma has to say? Not being recognised - there must be something comforting in that. "Can do," he tells her, tilting his head back towards Cadejoth, who follows the request to the letter, hurtling himself into the air with a less than graceful shove from the ground, and then, away. "Don't worry about being emotional. My mother used to refuse to let us name the animals at home, so we wouldn't care. Still sometimes did, though." Yorma has to shove Woolly Bully to the fence and through the gate that she unceremoniously tosses open. Once he's in the pen she unclips his leadrope and pushes him out towards the herd before abandoning him there with a squeaking groan of the gate's rudimentary locking mechanism. Yorma looks as if she might either wave goodbye or some other gesture that is usually expressed between two individuals of the human variety. "Really?" Pause. "What did you say your name was? K'del?" Brow twitches in some distant recognition. K'del watches, albeit awkwardly, as the Herder shoves the animal through to the other pen. Then, his eyes strain upwards, seeking out Cadejoth in the sky above. He's visible again within short order, diving in - from K'del: "Maybe want to look away?" There's another moment or two, and then the bronze pounces, and poor old Woolly Bully goes down. At least, true to his word, it was quick. From K'del, who turns away again now that there's (admittedly, restrained) carnage, and looks awkward: "K'del, right." Hi. Yorma shakes her head and tightens her jaw, determined not to look away from her beasty friend who emits a pathetic noise that almost seems to be beckoning Yorma to follow him. How much time does she /really/ spend with these animals? "No, no, I've decided I need to watch. I need to get over this," she insists. "I'm a Weyrherder. This is a part of the job." But then Cadejoth's on Woolly Bully and no amount of the bronze's quick attack can absolve the big tears that spill into Yorma's cheeks and swiftly turn into full-blown sobs of anguish. "That was terrible!" she cries more or less /at/ K'del before shaking with more wailing tears. "Why would you let me tell you to do that? He was my favourite!" Of course he was, now that he's pieces of stripped meat in Cadejoth's mouth. Who knows if he really was her favourite. Although K'del accepts Yorma's determination without a second glance, he looks /really/ awkward, once those tears come. After a half step forward, his arms extending (with the intent to hug in comfort, or protect himself from being hit? It could be either), he falters, and then hesitates again. "I'm sorry," he says. Again. "He's-- um. It really was quick, I promise. And now he won't suffer any more, or anything. And..." Cadejoth does not linger over the eating of those one, though there won't exactly be any Yorma hesitates (or maybe she's just too gripped by the current sobbing to move very quickly) before turning in towards K'del, absolutely torn apart in tears and wails. "He was just there and then -swoop- gone," she cries in this awfully high-pitched voice common for women who try communicating whilst crying. "And you," she sobs onwards, "you, you, you-" Yes, him, him, him. "-you're that man that I'm not supposed to like." And apparently that causes her to cry even /harder/. K'del can't seem to resist a crying woman, and reaches in, this time with the obvious intent of wrapping his arms about her. There's no trace of awkwardness there: for all the world, they might have known each other for turns, and not just the couple of minutes. "I know," he soothes, his voice low and continuing while she cries and talks, though not so loud that he can't hear what she's saying. "I'm sorry, Yorma. I'm--" Wait. Pause. Stop. "Why not? You're allowed to like me. I think. Haven't completely screwed up, yet." Much. Gr'kaif heads in from the bowl. Yorma is sobbing her pretty little face off, her cries carrying well across the bowl. K'del, being the thoughtful individual that he is has his arms wrapped around her while bronze Cadejoth is in the pens having just finished his meal - and the leadrope in Yorma's hand suggests that Cadejoth's meal might be the reason for the Herder girl's relentless wails. "No, you're a bad man," she continues to cry, clinging to K'del despite her words. "You hurt my friend's feelings. And that means that I don't like you. Because I don't like people who hurt my friends!" And there she goes again, crying so hard she chokes in a ragged inhalation of air. K'del's hand brushes across Yorma's hair, though his expression, on a face aimed off into the distance rather towards the herder girl, is one of battling confusion and awkwardness, though the arms about her are anything but. "Who?" he wants to know, in between, "It's okay, really it is. Oh, Yorma, please don't cry. Don't want to hurt you, or anything. Or /anyone/." This? Is not K'del's month. "Please. Please don't. Shells." Adiecyth, the little flirt, has been edging closer and closer to the feeding pens ever since Cadejoth arrived. And heedless of the confrontation between the riders, she finally hops the fence and sidles over closer to him with a croon. Gr'kaif's no better, heading over toward K'del now with a hail of, "Weyrleader! Oh, hey, Weyrl--wuh oh." The overfriendly greeting's interrupted as he catches onto Yorma's wailing and starts backpedaling. Yorma manages to bring her sobbing down a bit with some considerable effort so that she is able to pull away from K'del and wipe her face off with her own shirt, utilizing the long sleeves for accomplishing that task quickly. But then Adiecyth joins Cadejoth and now the flood gates have opened again. "What is /she/ doing here? She isn't going to pick at my poor Woolly's remains, will she?" She turns on Gr'kaif's approaching form. "Is she going to try picking at my herdbeast's dead remains?" Oh, the pain! The anguish! The anger! Cadejoth looks up, at the green's arrival and resultant green, and echoes it in a deeper rumble - friendly, even downright warm. K'del's head, too, lifts and turns, and then, as he's released by Yorma, the rest of him does likewise. "Gr'kaif," he greets the other rider, opening his mouth to add something more just in time for Yorma's next outbust to distinctly out-interesting anything he might have had to say. "I'm sure she won't, Yorma," he tries, sounding a little bit desperate, now. "I'm sure of it. She's just interested in Cadejoth. Truthfully!" He gives Gr'kaif a slightly pained glance. Gr'kaif, rounded on, just stared at Yorma and slinks sideways so he can half-hide behind the taller K'del. He mutters to K'del, "... did... /do/..." he mutters. Then, voice raised to Yorma, he agrees, with one finger raised to make that point, "Um. Yeah, he's right on that one. She's all after him." See? Adiecyth gives Cadejoth an adorably adoring look as she settles at his side. The remains of the beast don't even earn a glance when there's such a big strong Weyrleadery bronze around. You sense: Gr'kaif, rounded on, just stared at Yorma and slinks sideways so he can half-hide behind the taller K'del. "What did you /do/ to her? Sir," he mutters. Then, voice raised to Yorma, he agrees, with one finger raised to make that point, "Um. Yeah, he's right on that one. She's all after him." See? Adiecyth gives Cadejoth an adorably adoring look as she settles at his side. The remains of the beast don't even earn a glance when there's such a big strong Weyrleadery bronze around. To Cadejoth, Adiecyth has a girlish voice, all bright colors and charm, as she reaches out. « Hello, Weyrleader. Cadejoth. You don't mind if I just join you here for a little bit, do you? No? » She's already making herself at home, after all, and doesn't seem to give him a moment to refuse her. « Maybe you could catch me a little something to snack on while we chat? You're such a dear; I saw you catch that one and it was awfully impressive. » Yorma eyes Adiecyth warily before awkwardly turning back to the dragonriders. But the entire scene seems too much for the young Herder to bear and she turns to shuffle off in the direction that she and her woolly friend has friend came, without so much as a goodbye. To Adiecyth, Cadejoth's metallic tang - the slinking of chains, tinged with blood so soon after his own meal - is bright enough, but distinctly less charming. /His/ attention is more-- fatherly? /His/ pack, his dragons. But that doesn't stop his usual enthusiasm: « Of course you can, Adiecyth! Nestle right in, quite all right. You're looking lovely today. » Of her request, he considers, but, sadly, declines. « I should like to, perhaps, but it might make the girl cry more. I wouldn't want to do that. » K'del gives Gr'kaif a doleful glance. He mutters to Gr'kaif, "... I swear!... asked..." And now look at what's happening. The tears! More loudly, he adds, "Not that Cadejoth's got much interest. These days. Even if Iovniath wants nothing to do with him." But the bronze is friendly enough, rumbling again at his green companion, even if he doesn't go so far as to put a wing over her, or twine his tail with hers. But Yorma leaves - K'del opens his mouth to say something, and then shuts it again. "I have no idea," he complains. Gr'kaif senses "K'del gives Gr'kaif a doleful glance. "Nothing, I swear! She asked me to let Cadejoth kill this animal, and--" And now look at what's happening. The tears! More loudly, he adds, "Not that Cadejoth's got much interest. These days. Even if Iovniath wants nothing to do with him." But the bronze is friendly enough, rumbling again at his green companion, even if he doesn't go so far as to put a wing over her, or twine his tail with hers. But Yorma leaves - K'del opens his mouth to say something, and then shuts it again. "I have no idea," he complains." One breath, « Oh, you're such a gentleman, Cadejoth. » Next breath, « She's gone now. » Which is as far as Yorma's consideration goes; because Adiecyth is preening, planting flowers all over those chains to cheer them up. « Thank you, Cadejoth; I appreciate it. That little one right over there will do just beautifully, » and she flashes an image of one of the smaller herdbeasts, helpfully. (Adiecyth to Cadejoth) While Yorma walks away, Gr'kaif shifts around to keep K'del between them at all times; it's not until the squalling herder's well away that he comes out from behind the bronzerider, sheepishly. "No interest? In Adi? She's hard to say no to," he says, with a crooked grin. "Y'know, girls don't usually cry after you do something they asked for. Well, unless it's sex, 'cause there's lots of them that'll go to it after that. And some of those greenrider guys--" like he isn't one of them; he sounds a little disgusted by /that/ sort of male greenrider now. And then, belatedly, he's offering a hand to K'del to shake his enthusiastically. "Oh, by the way, Weyrleader, just wanted to say hi, congrats, introduce myself and all that. Gr'kaif, over in Snowdrift, Gr'kaif and Adiecyth." To Adiecyth, Cadejoth is? He is! But... « You could catch one for yourself, and I could admire it? I mean, it's not that I mind, of course, but... » But what? He doesn't seem to mind her putting flowers through his chains, either, though they continue to rattle. Then again, he keeps moving, too, never quite still next to her, his tail twitching and coiling at regular intervals. "All Iovniath, all the time. Even though she scorns him," admits K'del. "Though he seems to like your-- Adiecyth. Enough to be friendly, at least." The young man is casually dressed, and knotless, and though he smiles, it's a rueful one. "She had some attachment to the creature. Named it and everything. Kind of weird. And then kept going on about how I'd hurt her friend, and... do you think she meant the animal?" Beat. More amused: "Don't like the ones that cry after sex, really. Screaming, no crying." He extends his own hand to shake, head inclining. "Vaguely knew that. Nice to meet you, though, Gr'kaif. And - guess you know me, already." To Cadejoth, Adiecyth, almost pityingly, « Oh, honey. It's the gentlemanly thing to do, and of course you're a gentleman. And anyway, you do it so much better than I could. I saw you, with that one. » She's an incorrigible flatterer, lacing more flowers in, the scent of mint and summer threading through his mind. « I can't believe that Iovniath would ignore you. Golds, always so stuck on themselves, aren't they? » she says, conversational. "Hard not to like," agrees Gr'kaif, leaning over to watch as Adiecyth fawns on Cadejoth. He grins again, just a moment at the pair, before he snaps back to the present conversaiton and blinks at K'del. "Wasn't... she the herder? I thought they got used to this stuff. Feeding pens, hello?" He waves a hand around as though to get the now-departed Yorma's attention. Then-- "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Screaming /afterward/? Because that ain't real normal either, sir, you don't mind me saying so." Pause. "And 'course I knew you. You're the Weyrleader, Weyrleader." To Adiecyth, Cadejoth is young enough (naive enough?) that he accepts Adiecyth's words at face value; a moment later, he's in the air, hurtling down on a poor, not long for this world animal, which he presents to the green soon after. « That's so nice of you! Mostly, I'm just trying to be better, by watching others. » His mind clinks and jangles, all excited an and content, the ultimate happy puppy. « No-- oh. A little. She's very regal, Iovniath. I suppose it wouldn't do, to consort too much with me. » "Nicer than Yyth," grins K'del, bracing himself against the fence with both arms, his fingers curling around the post. "You'd think. /She/ names them all, apparently. Loves them all. Don't really... /get/ it. From a herder." Laughter follows, his head shaking. "Okay, screaming during, true, true. Prefer to avoid people yelling at me, or throwing things at me, or kicking me. Generally." His expression, for the last, is bland. "Hard to escape that, suppose." When K'del leans against the fence, Gr'kaif copies him, leaning up on the railing all nonchalant-like. "Yyth, Yyth. That's the one that threw everything out of the weyr, right? That was great." He snickers even now, then stops. "Y'know, don't think I've come across many screamers during, either." Frown, headshake, moving on quickly now. "Guess you get a lot of /that/, though, sir, with that Weyrleader of yours, huh?" K'del tilts his head so that he can consider Gr'kaif as the greenrider joins him, and laughs. "Yeah, that's Yyth. Completely nutso. Feel a little sorry for P'ax, except he's kind of nutso, too." It's with mock seriousness that he adds, "You've clearly not been doing it right, then." He turns his attention away again, back towards the dragons, the milling beasts, as he answers the last; when he does, he sounds uncomfortable again. "Something like that." With a bubbly laugh for Cadejoth's obliging, Adiecyth hooks her talons in the beast and pulls it closer, between them. « You're such a dear, » she says, as she begins to eat, picking daintily at it. « Oh, psh, » is her answer about Iovniath, though. « We don't have anything to be scared about from her, now do we? It's not like she's got an exclusive on you. You belong to the whole Weyr now. » By which she mostly seems to mean her. (Adiecyth to Cadejoth) To Adiecyth, Cadejoth's mind rings with delight at having been so helpful, and so nicely rewarded by Adiecyth's contentment. Service to the weyr! So useful! « I do try, Adiecyth. I do! I'm glad you like it. » His chains rattle slightly at her comment about Iovniath; he hesitates, before responding in more structured thoughts. « Nooo, I suppose. But I'm her mate. Even though I care about all of you! » "Nutso. Huh," says Gr'kaif, with a grin. Teasingly, "Wouldn't of guessed, really. Didn't exactly stay to hang around: he wanted me to help clean up and all. --Not that I /mind/ helping, and all, just. Had a meeting to get to." The excuse is quickly tossed out, and then he's turning to face K'del, one arm still leaned on the top rail. "Yeah, sir? I mean, I don't know, maybe not. You got any pointers? Lessons? I learn real fast, sir." Big smile. "Right, of course," says K'del, of being willing to help. Of /course/. There's a glint in his eyes; he admits, "Wouldn't have stayed to help, myself. P'ax and I--" But that's not a story he seems intent to get into, because he bites back any further comment, and stretches his shoulders out instead. Busy. Really. "'Sir'. Do you need to call me that? It's kind of ludicrous, surely. We're not on duty. As such. And you're--" Older. More experienced. "It's polite?" says Gr'kaif, with a big hopeful smile. "I mean, don't have to, not if we're gonna be friends and all. But I figure, always nice to get on the good sides of the big knots, right? Some of 'em's sticklers for it--and the newer they are, the worse they are, I tell you. Still got that new thrill to it." He waves it off, though, in favor of sidling closer and even trying to throw an arm around K'del's rather higher shoulders. All companionable, of course. "So... those tips on the screamers, huh?" "Don't think I could afford to be. A stickler, I mean. Not given... The givens." K'del, however, nods firmly - and his smile is friendly enough. "Call me K'del. Please? Unless it's official business. Not sure there ever was any thrill, but..." Again, he breaks off. His smile turns slightly bland, and then fades. Gr'kaif's arm around his shoulders, however, and the resultant question (repeated once more) returns it; he even laughs. "Patience. Tongues. Stamina. The longer it takes for them to get there, the more likely they'll be to want to scream your name forever." "There's always a thrill," Gr'kaif says, sagely. "And just because it don't do any good doesn't mean they don't all try it. The stickler...ing. Yeah." He makes up his own word with a wiggle of his fingers, flippant, and still with that arm slung around K'del like they're the bestest of buddies already. "Tongues, huh. Stamina. I'll remember that. And hey," he slants a sly look over at the bronzerider, "don't think it hurts if you've got a big--knot." He'll even pull his arm back so he can nudge K'del with an elbow instead. K'del's face tilts to allow him to meet Gr'kaif's gaze, his brows raising in a distinctly dubious kind of way. "Is there?" Way to sound enthused. "Suppose you'd know more about this than me, maybe." For all of the greenrider's flippancy, K'del sounds quite serious, though he struggles to keep a smile in place. He takes the elbow nudge with something close to a grin, and there's obvious amusement for the quip, but what he says is, "If only I had time to make use of it! Though, realistically - haven't been seeking it, too much." For once. "Wouldn't think you'd have to go looking," observes the greenrider. "Expect you'd just come home to naked girls in bed waiting on you or something." But Gr'kaif shrugs, gives K'del another grin, and then lets him go entirely as he steps away from the wall, a few backwards steps. "Think I'm going to go see about trying out those tips of yours," he announces. "I'll be back if they don't work, though!" K'del looks amused, and actually comfortable, finally. He nods - tilting his head towards the greenrider as he says, "And I should get back to some more mundane activities. Nice to have met you, Gr'kaif." Gr'kaif, with a backwards wave, is off then to go trolling for test subjects. Wish him luck! K'del watches him go. Sad, and alone. And then, he, too, departs. |
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