Logs:The Waiting Game
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 11 December, 2012 |
| Who: Jo, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Still in quarantine. Madilla's asleep, and the Glacier wingriders make small-talk in the form of favorite drinks. |
| Where: Ground Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 6, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions |
  |
| Late at night. It's finally dark, has even been dark for awhile now. Vrianth's huddled to one side of the wallow, back to demanding space except for the green's rider who's lodged up against her. Still, perhaps the woman's whisper can bridge the gap between them: "...Jo?" Tacuseth is such an easy one. He's settled on the opposite side of the wallow, making sure Vrianth had that space she was so craving. He aims to please, most times. As for his rider, this night, after the passed couple of days in quarantine, Jo was there lying up against her own dragon, facing where Leova was and looking like she was on the verge of dying from sheer boredom. There's also been an anxiousness about her during this time - as if she had places she really needed to go, and couldn't because she was on lock-down. It's a wonder the ground weyr is still standing! Hearing Leova's voice, the convict rider turns her head just a fraction to the side without breaking her study of the sky, and it's a moment before an answering response is heard: "Yeah." Earlier was cozy. Earlier was curled up sort of kind of together. Earlier is, indeed, not now. Not that Vrianth exudes gratefulness, being currently concerned with her own devices, or issues, or both. Leova, for her part... has tried to stay calm, to stay easygoing, to see this through. Tried. She's a shadow among shadows within whatever starlight manages to reflect inward, except now she's a moving shadow if only to curl tighter under the curve of Vrianth's wing. Very quietly, "Thought I heard... might be nothing." With Tacuseth sending over the occasional image, here and there, about the things he likes to do - flying, mainly, and chasing runners and avians and anything that moves, really - offering up the sort of camaraderie that he (and not his rider) was used to. They were wingmates, after all! "What?" Jo prompts Leova for more, and she could be heard shifting from where she was seated. "Thought ya heard, what?" There was probably few times that Jo had spoken up since being quarantined, seeming to be occupied with looking towards the sky as if in search for something, and had even took up pacing just a bit during the day to calm her nerves. Silence. Then: "Someone sneeze." "Wasn' me," Jo's quick to answer after that brief pause. She has been feeling a little under the weather lately, but it most certainly was not her sneezing! She lets the silence stretch out for a time before she says, "I think we both owe each other a drink, after all this." Wasn't it? Leova doesn't break that silence. Doesn't ask. Only later, at Jo's suggestion, she does let herself laugh. Low. A little dry. A little wistful, maybe. "If you could have any drink in all the world, what would it be." Her voice is quiet, too, not just low in timbre: mustn't wake Madilla. If she's not already. Jo leans her head back against Tacuseth' hide, her eyes dropping from the sky over towards what she could see of her wingrider. "Something that burns," she answers with a warm smile in her husky voice. There's even a purr in her voice, too, in the way she drawls the words. As if the taste was on her tongue right now. "A burn that goes down. Strong. Not picky. It's just gotta move me." Pause. She stays quiet too, so as not to disturb Madilla, her being a quiet rumble to the night. "What's yours?" In the dimness, the bluerider won't see whether Leova glances away in discomfort. Or whether she doesn't: whether those amber eyes stay steady, trained on the other woman who keeps the stars nearer. "'Move you.' I like that." She shrugs, one-shouldered, and that might be enough of a disturbance to show. "Mine? Always have a hard time with that. Right now... right now, though, could use one of Anvori's." There's a little pause, just enough for a breath, or two. "Say, something fruity and cool. Something not on the menu." It is wistful. The convict rider stretches, a silent yawn unseen before she says, "Just know what I like." Jo pauses before she adds, "There's this place close to the mountains. Makes a real good one. Drink all kinds, but, a night like this..." Right. She catches that subtle movement, that shift of a shrug before Leova's words. That little pause. "Anvori." She seems to taste the name. "His was good? I don' think I tried one." "Now I know you don't hit up the Snowasis much," the greenrider's voice low as ever, a little more openly teasing until the next breath, when it diminishes. "Though planning takes some of his time too, and with Via... well, she's safe out a ways, not like Dilla's. I hope this is nothing." She clears her throat. It's a little raspy. "Your place, though. Sounds real nice." If only. There's a pregnant pause, as if Jo wouldn't take that first as a tease at all. Then, "No, I don't," she answers, and there's an added short bout of low laughter. "Got things that seem to keep me busy at night, darlin'." She makes that something of amusement before it fades and she echoes, "Via." Beat. "How old is she?" she asks, her gaze going back to the sky. "She his?" Jo conceals her worry pretty well, though with the silence, it could be mutual understanding of the situation. To the last, though, there's a wry, "We get through this...I can take ya there. A bit seedy, but each mind their own, there." "Anvori's? Nobody else's," Leova's quick to reply, possibly a little too quick. "Two and a half. Never again, I tell you." She stretches her legs out some, bare heels sliding against the stone, and rubs her knees a moment before pulling them back. Vrianth stretches too, if only her long neck, casting ever so faint shadows amid the other shadows on the wall. "And you've got a deal. Prices aren't too dear, either, I'm guessing." If Leova could see her, she'd see Jo nodding to the responses given. "And he is yours?" she probes a bit more with a lifted brow, adding in, "I hear they are a joy." She hears. It could even be a tease from the bluerider. Tacuseth rumbles something quiet when his rider then shifts, fatigue starting to become a friend of hers as her eyes start to drift close to nothing but slits. "Prices are worth the trip alone, to me. Gotta pay for the atmosphere." Which, could be a good or bad thing. Jo's not sounding too ominous. "Gotta get passed this, first. Whatever this is. Don' -feel- serious..." Her voice is thick, indicating that sometime soon, the rider was going to fall asleep right there with the dragons. There's that restless rustle again, and Leova finally leaves it at, "Reckon so." At least she can turn up a smile for that joy, but otherwise, it's just as well that Jo's verging on sleeping, not seeing her staring sightlessly into the dark. It's a while, maybe after Jo's drifted off, that she says, "We'll go, then." Maybe Tacuseth will hear. Maybe he won't. Or Vrianth. But then Vrianth always hears her, even when she doesn't speak. And so she begins the nightly recitation, near-nightly it's been for fifteen Turns and change, even if she does cough once along the way. And then again. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Wed, 12 Dec 2012 20:38:06 GMT.
<
Oh man, I can just feel them goin' stir crazy. D: You can make it, gals!
Leave A Comment