Logs:Unorthodox
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| RL Date: 5 October, 2013 |
| Who: Jo, N'rov, E'ten |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo and N'rov finally meet, and they discuss the current state of their Weyrs. Jo also meets a visiting E'ten catching up with N'rov. |
| Where: Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 12, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, Reesa/Mentions, C'sel/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Ali/Mentions |
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| That Jo arrives in the galleries when she's usually out of the Weyr is probably shocking to some. The tall woman in black leather arrives under the cover of long shadows, hands in her pockets with her face turned towards the sands and that's there on the sands. The bone-white hilt of a knife can be seen attached to her side as she moves, her steps heavy by the boots she wears. Those in the stands are likely given cursory glances, but she doesn't choose to sit just yet. For now, she leans elbows on the railings as she peers over at the clutch, silent and still like a gargoyle. The clutch exists. Some eggs are half-buried, others almost wholly, that little silvery egg made more more noticeable for the darker eggs that circle (ominously?) about it. Vhaeryth, who by now is all but fully oiled, lounges in a gleaming frame around them; he'll get sandy soon enough, from Iesaryth's good graces or his own, but for now he shines. His rider dangles from a spinal ridge, shirtless, to get at the bronze's left flank. He may not notice the woman, but given the long look from brilliantly faceted eyes, Vhaeryth certainly has. There's usually dangerous sense coming off of Jo, and that also extends to her dragon. It's mostly subdued as she stands there, watching from the clutch to a gleaming bronze dragon giving her the Eye. Tacuseth does reach out and mentally touch him with the shifts of shadows on hot winds, introducing himself wordlessly, but for now, nothing more. The bluerider's in the process of pulling her fingers out of her gloves one at a time as her arms drape over the railing, her hard eyes cutting to any that look her way at the stands - and those there seem fine in keeping their distance. But, since she does have Vhaeryth's attention, along with Tacuseth's mental touch, she'll give the bronze an imperceptible nod, right in his direction to interpret with what he will. One can either wait indefinitely or make time. It's the latter that E'ten and Adiulth have done to pay a visit to the High Reaches, the bronzerider's footsteps making their way up the stairs without bothering to disguise his presence. It's only then that he spots the woman ahead of him, and Vhaeryth with N'rov dangling in such a fashion. "Hasn't anyone told you that it's not good to give the candidates ideas of reckless oiling tactics," comes the bemused quip from his direction, already preparing to address Jo with a polite nod. The local blue meets cool, gleaming glass and the struts of steel, allied with a tinge of salt amidst the ocean's rise and rush and fall; with it comes a sense of amused approval, for all that Vhaeryth can't think that Tacuseth /needs/ such a thing. All that mental and physical /looking/, though, gets interrupted at E'ten's arrival and the greeting that comes with it, the bronze rumbling congenially to Adiulth wherever he is even as his rider all but falls off. "E'ten! Hey." It's an easy landing, though, N'rov used to such things, and he only pauses to fasten up the oil canister and grab his shirt before hot-footing it towards the galleries. Vhaeryth, abandoned, makes a show of snapping at his rider's heels: how /dare/ he. E'ten's arrival is duly noted from Jo, the nod being returned in much of the same fashion that it's given. Tacuseth seems to absorb every new feeling from the foreign sent his way, his own amusement in a raw space, tinged with curiosity before Vhaeryth's attention is whisked away. For her part, though, Jo is ever-observant enough to merely watch and listen as N'rov leaves his bronze's side to greet his friend - the woman seeming for the moment more engaged in removing her gloves and eyeing the eggs on occasion than interrupting a reunion. Adiulth has made himself settled, if with something of a smug air about himself as he rumbles a return greeting to Vhaeryth. He's all on visiting manners and yet there's a touch of interest in those dragons that he just doesn't get to see, much less interact with often. E'ten's forward motion is halted in some measure with one step taken and then coming to a halt as he seems content to allow her first statement. The fact that she remains at the railing finds his eyes shifting to N'rov in question for a brief moment before lifting a hand in greeting. "I didn't bring any gifts this time, but we wanted to see how you were doing." There's a hospitable quality to Vhaeryth; Adiulth may make himself at home so far as /he's/ concerned, just not with his queen or his clutch or his sands. Adiulth, Vhaeryth is certain, will understand. As for Tacuseth, Vhaeryth hasn't forgotten, no; he has attention for him too, perceptibly /pleased/ at such curiosity and quite possibly at that amusement too. He sends him, in rapid succession, the pinging of metal against some harper's triangle; the even higher-pitched chime of a finger circling crystal; the unmoving /stillness/ of ore deep as the mountain's bones. As for N'rov, he can't look too different from the last time E'ten saw him, minus the shirt-oil factor: there's the easy smirk that's followed by, "No gifts? Slacker. We're starving. /Starving/, I tell you. Just look at him." Vhaeryth, eminently un-starving. "What's the news from Fort?" What /is/ different is a certain energetic relaxation, if such a thing is possible. But he's followed the other Fortian's look to Jo, and he drops his voice (albeit probably not enough) to admit cheerfully, "No idea who she is. Checking her out? She looks a little dangerous for you." Tacuseth is nowhere in sight in comparison, but when N'rov is there and she's stuffing her gloves into an inner pocket of her jacket, then she's turning her head steal a studying look on E'ten. Adiulth may feel the faint touch of one foreign blue, too, now - shadows, that mysterious touch of curiosity and something else. She doesn't give a first statement, no, seeming to be more content to eavesdrop on the men - well, until she certainly hears that last from N'rov. In a voice of gravel that's casual, "And here I would've thought Shani would have at least given ya a brief description of me." Now she turns, her back now to the railing as she fully, without apology, studies the both of them. "Ya mean she didn say anythin' about the black leather at least? My charmin' smile? For shame." One corner of her mouth lifts before she nods to them both and adds, "It's Jo, blue Tacuseth's. Y'must be N'rov with that shinin' dragon back there. And yer....Adiulth's?" This, to E'ten, elbows draping behind her. Adiulth doesn't seem to want to encroach anywhere except the ledges overhead so that he can take a look at these eggs. New, in their own way. The touch of the resident blue to these skies is met with an earthy scent attached to his mental tone, not quite silent. Far from it, given the activity of footsteps along the edges. E'ten, on the other hand, snorts with a roll of his eyes upwards at that suggestion. "Not likely. I'm avoiding that at the moment." Meaning his departure from Fort. "Adiulth won a green flight recently," he notes softly, not knowing if they're overheard or caring. Being spotted and properly identified, he nods with hints of a smile. "You would be correct. Well met, Jo." Only so many people are allowed that diminutive, though admittedly it's not as though they're in that woman's presence; N'rov's got a slow smile and a little too /much/ surprise on those olive features when at last she introduces herself. "Maybe a thing or two," he drawls like he'd just stepped out of Southern Boll. "Although it's said you could get even more charming if you tried. Jo. Of Tacuseth. But it's probably just as well you aren't right now, for everyone's safety." And for all that his clutchmate had given his own greetings, "Meet my friend, my /good/ friend E'ten," something about that emphasized adjective suggesting character as well as quality. And while he's at it, they're all riders of male dragons around here after all, "Whose was it? The green that Adiulth got lucky with, I mean. Pardon. 'With whom he proved his prowess.'" Tacuseth is content to greet Adiulth, his mental touch lingering faintly in much the same study as his rider's own study. "I'm not much in charm these days," Jo answers that as if she's really being too humble with a slight shrug, "but ya flatter, Fort. That sort of thing just might make us friends after all." Now she turns to regard E'ten once introductions are being made, a brow lifting at him on mention of a greenflight. "Hard to avoid, aren' they?" she gives idly, though, by her tone, she likely is an eager participant. "Well met, E'ten. Not everyday I run into riders from that way." "Laurienth." As if that's the entire explanation in and of itself without need of elaboration. With a twitch of his lips, E'ten doesn't snort again but does dip his head in agreement with growing amusement. "Not when you get little warning, no. But you are right in that we don't get to visit here as often as we'd like. Though, it's finally settling down at Fort, more or less. Not that it's entirely dull but... it's not as it was a few months ago." "Don't know as I'd call it /flattery/," N'rov flatters with another of those slow grins, and with that steps figuratively back, though that tone might pique his interest. Not that stepping back lasts long, because then, "/Laurienth?/" and he outright guffaws, aiming to clap E'ten on the shoulder. "Watch out that you don't wind up weyrmated. /Laurienth/, yeah? And you can still walk?" To Jo, "Do you know Ebeny? She used to live here. She was his," their, "assistant weyrlingmaster, believe it or not." There's easy but short laughter for N'rov answer to Jo before she remarks to E'ten, "Well, the same can be said for us Reachians. I think since I've Impressed, I've only been to Fort all of 'bout one time, and that was sometime after I was tapped. Guess we all got much to occupy our plates lately." The name of the green dragon does flare a look of recognition in the bluerider's gaze as she regards them both idly, the teasing for E'ten getting a brief smirk from her before answering the question with an incline of her head. "I remember her tryin' to make an honest cook outta me before I Impressed, one time. Haven' seen her in ages since, though. How she been? Heard when she left here for Fort, but I haven' had the time to pop over." While the memory maybe faint, there's an idle fondness for the memory of long ago heard in her voice. E'ten notes dryly with a wince of one shoulder - the one that was just clapped. "I think Reesa would want that before anyone else. Which, is another matter all together. Adiulth has yet to Khiabeth, for all that she hasn't gone up lately. And careful with that hand. The flight was rough. I think Laurienth just likes the chaos that comes from them." Answered with his attention focusing back onto Jo, he relaxes his shoulders a touch more as both thumbs hook into his belt loops. "She's been well. More so with this latest bunch of weyrlings doing more and more since the cavein months ago. Since you know her.. it might not hurt to pay a visit to say hello." "An /honest cook/." N'rov looks Jo over like he's trying to see that, trying to imagine that, then mutters one word to E'ten: "Emmy." It's soon followed by a somewhat sour, "Of course she would," right after their wingmate's name, and then he's eyeing E'ten in his turn as though he expects the other bronzerider to be missing limbs. It's half as afterthought that he adds regarding visits, "What he said. I wouldn't ask after C'sel, though," in case Jo remembers the greenrider's onetime weyrmate from High Reaches too. There's a grin for E'ten when he answers on Ebeny, and Jo nods his way at the suggestion a few times. "Think I just might," she states, openly giving it some consideration. "Should be interestin', if she remembers me." Of course she notices that look from N'rov on her comment involving honest cooks, a brow lifting his way before she quips, "What, I don' have honest cook written all over me?" She looks momentarily serious before she snorts in amusement and adds, "Nah, she tried, anyway. I commend her for it. I didn' grow up doin' such things, when yer the only female in a family of men." A tomboyish-looking one at that, if looks are any indication. "Don' think we ever talked about C'sel, though. We weren' that close." "True." In reference to N'rov's statement, E'ten finally gestures to the sands with one hand towards the ledges. "And as much as I'd like to continue, I have Adiulth asking me if I can get closer to the railings for another look at the eggs. Is that alright? Not that either of us would step on the sands. We have that much sense at least," he notes, bemusement following his comments with a turn of his head to Jo. "And it'll give the two of you time to catch up aside from my news of who's flying who. And who I'm avoiding." Even if it meant his impromptu visit. "Not really," N'rov has to admit to Jo. "I'd say, 'I'll warn you if I see a little sneaking up behind you with some ink,' but it probably wouldn't show on your leathers, so there's a wise move there." As for E'ten's question, "Quite all right. Go ahead. Look and look, and if you see fit to vocalize your admiration, I'm sure sire and dam," and sire, "would be pleased." Likely N'rov will seek him out after a while to catch up on non-flight wing news, but in the meantime, the bronzerider turns back to Jo. "Catching up, he says." "They are quite a sight, darlin'," Jo remarks of the clutch when E'ten expresses a need to see the clutch more. "Enjoy the show." She turns to N'rov then, chuckling on getting ink on her precious leathers as she says, "If I catch one whiff of ink on my leathers, someone's getting' tied to a chair." Like with most things, any statement from Jo can be seen as suggestive. Even when it's not. "I'll accept blood, though," she goes on to say. "Blood can be washed off." Once E'ten's out of earshot though, "Shani seems much happier than I've seen her in a while, since ya've been here." "You like the smell of ink that much?" N'rov inquires with a smirk, quite as though Jo would choose to be tied up to that chair herself. "Good to know about the blood, though. You know, in case I run across anyone with a surplus." But as she continues, he turns, glancing at the shirt in his hand half as though he'd forgotten about it before draping it over the rail and then curving his hands around that top rail, too. He nods once, as thanks, and this time it isn't just joking around. "She speaks well of you, you must know that. Enough that what she doesn't say, that says something too." "Ha," Jo drops on that first with a chin-dropped look. "I rather like the smell of blood more. I suppose that's fuckin' weird to say to someone ya've just met, though." Not that she's worried about appearances, oh no. On Aishani, her words more sober now, "We've come a long way, she and I," she says with a nod. "S'not anythin' I wouldn' do for that girl. The same could be said of you, too, ya know," she notes on the last thing he says. "She says little, which says a lot to me. That's a good thing to have. Someone ya can trust. It's always in short supply in these fucked up times." Nodding towards the sands now, "Nice clutch, by the way. This is the first time I've gotten to see them since." "Someone who doesn't even happen to be bleeding at the time," N'rov notes. "So far, anyway," and that smile of his slides into a smirk all over again, like it just can't help itself. He doesn't pretend to misunderstand that there's nothing she wouldn't do for him either; rather, of that good thing to have, "Damn right it is." He looks back at the other rider, and though he says, "Thanks, glad to have good numbers," it's mostly a preface to, "Sorry to hear about what went down with your Weyrleader." He doesn't emphasize any one particular word, certainly not the pronoun. "Ahhh, what need do I have in stabbin' ya?" Jo is all smiles, which, it might be a tad disturbing. "Ya keep Shani happy. That makes ya good in my books, darlin'." She's nodding too, on numbers and everything, though it all pauses on mention of Z'ian. There's a subtle shift before her gaze draws away, back to the clutch on the sands as she smoothes hands on the edges of her jacket. She grunts, though, which could be something, and maybe she seems to be taking the mentioning of the former Weyrleader more seriously than most others since there's no other answer for a good while. Then, "Yeah," she gives in forces casualness, the nod slightly more mechanical than not. "Me too. He'll recover. Us Reachians are tough fuckers." Gruff in that last delivery. It probably should have been that tad disturbing, but N'rov seemed more appreciative than anything; then again, look at who he sleeps with. Now, though, he doesn't jump in ahead of that answer any. He, too, nods. "He'd better," he says. "First attacking weyrwomen, now this. Heard he's a man to make things happen. Any word on catching whoever did it?" "I heard about the attacks on yer weyrwomen in Fort," Jo nods to that, frowning slightly. "Seems like, the at least this sort of trouble ain' just us then. I hope they're recoverin' well." As for Z'ian, her answer doesn't come right away, but when it does and she looks his way - more of her composure in place now - "None, as far as I know," she gives in slight frustration. "Could've been an accident, and nothin' more, but I dunno. Perhaps he'll shed better light on it all once he's better. I've been checkin' on him everyday." Lips pressing into a thin line, "He is," she says on his character now, not hiding the touch of fondness. "He does. He will again. He ain' gotta worry, for now though, 'bout all that. Just needs to rest. Leave the makin' things happen to me." "And on the eggs. /And/," but N'rov stops himself there, jaw tightening. He's got a short nod for what she hadn't heard, a short not-quite-laugh for, "I'd bet you'd make them happen, too. Reminds me: we're glad some of your wing's been keeping tabs on things, in case. You'd think eggs, if anything, wouldn't be bothered. But no." He looks past the rail again, checking on Vhaeryth, who's gotten himself sands-dusted again. Of course. "Imagine what it must have been like, forty-odd eggs out of just one queen, they say." "I try," Jo gives grimly, "though, I don't think most of the Weyr would approve of my methods if I was really given rein like Z'ian was. My ways are bit more....unorthodox." She grins then and nods on her wing, there being a certain level of pride being felt for Glacier in her tone as she says, "With Taikrin at the helm, it's expected, darlin'. She's resourceful, that one. And, I can't imagine forty eggs on the sands, period. Not sure if even with the two clutches on the sands once, that both together even totaled that." Eyes seek N'rov out, then the bronze briefly before she adds, "Ever considered stayin' here in the Reaches? Or is Fort too strong in yer blood like the Reaches is in mine?" Loyalty and all. For unorthodox, all N'rov says is, "I'm not surprised you two get along." Though it's a compliment the way he says it, he doesn't ask questions, at least not about that. "You mean, the brown-sired clutches? Not by a long shot. Maybe it made it easier for the queens to get along, though." At her question, he finally looks away from his dragon, a good long look; he whistles regretfully. "If I only had a mark for everyone who's asked me that lately, or even hinted. No, I won't tell you I haven't considered it, but don't look for it to happen. If anyone else asks, I never considered it at all." "Others would say otherwise," Jo remarks on the first, lips quirking into some private sort of smile. "I agree on the queens though, and their clutches. I've always found it odd the timin' of a queen's risin'. The odds of both queens goin' up are low, but..." It happens, evidently. Still, it's what N'rov says last that draws the bluerider's full attention, her interest piqued by his words - not put off from them. "Loyalty, then," she will surmise, her gaze studying him more. "Loyalty can be one jealous mistress. I would know about that. Understandable. Perhaps dragons make the distance much closer." There's slight hope, even, in her voice. "At least, yer here, for now," she says now, easily. "Happened at Fort, but that was before my time. Elaruth still has the scars." N'rov's got a slow nod for what she says about loyalty, though he doesn't elaborate. Instead, "A whole lot closer." If that might help her and a different bronzerider, he doesn't voice the parallel either. He does agree, "For now. Let me know when you're done examining my profile? I need to go fetch some snow. Some nice, clean, non-yellow snow. Or really, snow that's not any other color than white. I'm pretty picky, snow-wise." Jo could try to analyze him all night as if she's got nothing else to do. N'rov says the last on profiles and snow, and the bluerider finally drops the intensity, laughing. "I get that way," could be her apology, at least. There's that. "I should be goin', though. My day's far from over. Still," and she straightens up, thrusting out a hand for him to shake, "it's pretty golden, finally meetin' ya," she says. "Don' let it be the only time. I'll give Fort a look-see sometime, n'see Ebeny. Don' let me keep ya, darlin'." N'rov's got an easy grip when he turns to Jo, meeting and matching hers without attempting to crush her hand. "You too, lady. I know you know what I look like now, you can track me down. But I won't tell Ebeny who's coming for her," especially in case she doesn't. His grin is just as easy. "And I heard we were supposed to have a drink. Next time." With that, the rider grabs his shirt and heads for the exit, slipping it over his head along the way; he'll have to venture out into the cold to get his snow, especially with nothing fresh having fallen today, but then it's /snowball time/. Setting a bad example for the candidates, indeed! |
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