Logs:Workout Woes
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| RL Date: 4 September, 2014 |
| Who: Alida, G'laer, Ilicaeth, Teisyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Today's Regularly Scheduled Workout is brought to you by the letter proddy. |
| Where: Workout Room and Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 9, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: J'taryn/Mentions, Jaecar "Farsights"/Mentions, Oliwer/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| Workout Room, High Reaches Weyr This larger sub-cavern - located not far from a tunnel accessing the outside - has an arching ceiling and smooth-hewn walls to better facilitate both safer workouts and better circulation for the Weyr's residents, if the outside weather is inclement. Various implements are stationed in ordered symmetry about the cavern, including free weights, punching bags, and many others. Along the glow-lit walls are pegs for holding clothing, and large mats hang from sturdier braces, allowing for softer falls, while large covered bins and lockers hold smaller necessities, such as boxing gloves, jump ropes, and more.
The appointed time comes... And then goes. So much for Alida's being early. G'laer is typically a punctual fellow, but today Alida can just count herself lucky that he showed up at all. His hair is disheveled, sticking this way and that as if not even combed by fingers. His grey shirt is untucked and trousers wrinkled. He's walking backwards as he comes in distracted by something back the way he'd come. Once he turns 'round, he looks visibly puzzled, as if he can't quite remember just why he came. He's late? She's only a little irked at being made to wait, but since this is G'laer, he has good reasons. Right? The 'mess' of the greenrider who walking in backwards finally receives Alida's full attention after his motion attracts green eyes from boxing, her first moments of glimpsing him spent merely looking...the following ones outright staring. Then staring with moderately-arched brows. Blink. After a few moments, she strips off those gloves, tosses them in one open bin near the wall nearby, and pads over on light feet towards the man. When close enough to speak low and yet be heard, the bluie clips off a dry, "Must've been a shell uv'a night. Should'a invited me ta tie one on with ya." In her eyes, he's either wickedly hung-over, or still drunk. It's when the bluerider approaches, which he doesn't notice until entirely too late to be normal, that he remembers. "Oh right. Work-out. That's why I'm here." Then G'laer is pursing his lips and his brow is wrinkling. "No, no. What I did last night was definitely a two-person affair. And so good." Yay, getting laid! Then he wanders past her, not the least bit cautious as is his usual state. "Whatcha wanna do?" He asks over his shoulder. Maybe he got stoned and then got laid? Alida's peering some more at G'laer, then smirking broadly, the woman murmuring to him, "Lucky you. I wanna try some uv' those herbs uv yers one time. Heard about that shit while I was at Pars." Stepping back over onto the mat (with the greenrider hopefully following), the blonde with doubly-looped, braided hair notes casually, "I wanna' get the finer points uv' those extra wrestling moves y' showed me a couple months ago. Need ta better be able ta counter any uv that crap fast if it gets laid on me." Smirk. "I'm not always necessarily free ta gouge out eyes 'r crush a windpipe. She understands that really big men still tend to have the advantage on even a strong female like her in body weight and overall muscle mass, and she wants a way to wrestle back in knowledgeable, non-lethal fashion before she might ever get close to being overcome. "Sure, if you want." G'laer agrees in a manner that's entirely blase. He goes on his own way for a moment or two, and then seems to realizes she's not following and ranges back toward her, almost like a canine out for a leash-less walk. "Not sure it's the same stuff you heard about at Pars. Gran's recipe is--" He shrugs. "Gran's." He stops when he faces her on the mat, and-- if she wants to avoid possible inadvertent injury, she'll have to remind G'laer he's still wearing his ring and belt, two items he usually is very good about stripping out of once the action starts. "What do you want to start with?" Nevermind that he's not looking at her, that he's looking at everything else, that he seems like she could suckerpunch him at any moment and lay him out flat. This is more than a hangover, and indeed, not even a little bit of a hangover. She can tell he's 'off' in some fashion - it's not a hangover, so perhaps it's the dope G'laer's been puffing - his forgetfulness inspiring Alida to note with some dark humo, "Ring, belt, off." More quietly as he nears, "How fuckin' high are you?" Snigger. This is training, so no sucker punches...this time. Instead, the bluerider takes a defensive stance, and murmurs to her buddy, "Let's start with a typical, burly brawler with a shitty attitude, bar fight experience, an' some gym training." That's his assumed role. "Go fer a grapple an' lift, then a toss to the ground ta get on top uv' me...take it slow, so I c'n see yer fine moves." Smirk. "Look at my own counters, see if anything I do might leave me vulnerable ta' an overbear move." G'laer snorts, reaching down for the belt buckle now that he's been reminded. "This isn't what high looks like." What a preposterous idea. He yanks the belt free and lets it dangle from his hand a moment. "This is proddy. We're grounded til she flies." Matter of fact. Then the ring gets popped off and put with surprising care for Proddy G'laer onto the prong of the buckle and secured into place lest it get lost. Then he's pulling his shirt off and tossing the pair of items off to the side. It's hardly unusual for him to go shirtless during training; less fabric to get caught in maneuvers and cooler too. Then he's stretching a little. Even Proddy G'laer knows the value of stretching in senseless injury prevention. He follows it up with cracking knuckles and popping his neck; that's the kind of thing a burly brawler with a shitty attitude would do, right? "Alright, cupcake, let's go." She did say shitty attitude. Except his sneer is really more of a grin as he steps into the request series of movements. It's really good that she said slow because Proddy G'laer is a little bit Lazy, so fast might not be an option just now anyway. She's not seen anyone in detail while they were high, so Alida's assumption that G'laer is 'flying his own kite' was legitimate, if ultimately incorrect. With the greenrider's assurance of his (more like Teisyth's, actually) proddiness comes a 'look' from the bluerider, one without her usual stink-eye attached. The bluie actually appears more surprised, curious, and a bit wary, her incisive gaze subconsciously flicking from his face to that pleasant expanse of bared chest...then quickly looking away. Ahem. Cupcake?? It's pretty weird coming from a flat-face like him, and it's only the requested slowness of his brawler's moves that keeps her from being tossed to the mat out of sheer inattention. Soon enough, however, the blonde's mentally backhanding herself for that damnable lapse, her visage now firmer, determined as her hands, feet, legs...her whole body move to provide the usual wrestling counters to the man's own moves...in slow mo. It's likely that G'laer didn't notice the look, because his face is pretty readable just now, if cheerily blank as they go through the motions. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Once the set are done, "That was good." Apparently he didn't notice the bit where he almost had her on her back. His eyes pull with a distinctly flighty way about them to the movement of a shiny dumbbell as the other man in the room moves them. Shiny. After a moment his attention returns. "Now what?" Okay...he's just not himself in a large way, right now, and when they're done enacting the moves, Alida merely nods once, and then places her fists upon hips, staring at the taller guard for a moment. After choosing her words mentally, the blonde comments low, "Okay, just fer'get this, t'day. Yer all over the place...lucky I got you ta' pay attention ta those moves at all." She sounds irritated, but not to extremes. Sigh. "Now I get ta be dissatisfied, since what was gonna be the high point uv my day turned inta' a minor disappointment." Well, he asked. G'laer looks at her a moment, his expression sort of whimsical. Then his hands are finding his own hips, mimicking her pose. "Well, I think it's obvious that I chose today to have my dragon get all hot and bothered just to disappoint you." The greenrider rolls his eyes, hands dropping to his sides. "If this is the high point of your day, you should get laid." It's off-handed; it was his after all. To his first words and that mimicking pose, Alida flips G'laer the casual bird as she breaks her own stance, wrinkling her nose up a little, then noting only a hint caustically, "Are you gonna honestly tell me ya don't ever enjoy doin' this? Doin' what comes natural ta' people like us?" Wrestling around, looking for newer and better ways to thump on people...feeling the swell of fire within, feeding the burn while also firmly controlling it, expressing it. For once, perhaps, the blonde doesn't blush over words of sex, instead crossing her arms loosely over her chest, and muttering low, "Like I c'n just Between ta some unknown point directly over the ship while it's out ta sea." Eyeroll. She'll see you one of those, greenrider, since 'lida's so damn good at them. The words come easily (thanks proddy!) and are delivered simply. "I am a violent man by unhappy circumstance. I am good at what I do because I am thorough, methodical, and have, by chance, the physical gift for it. I could've lived my whole life making salves and tinctures and teas and never longed for blood on my hands." G'laer shifts to reach for his shirt. "If your lay is so inaccessible, get a different one. It's only matters who you lay if you're taken or unreasonably picky. Grab a person and get your rocks off. Take a long trip between to avoid the consequences." Easy, right? Well then, she now knows just what kind of 'fighter' lurks beneath G'laer's often flat surface, and the admission makes the blonde blink once, and just stand there, peering at him. If she were younger and less self-controlled, the woman might have blushed at her supposition about the man's reasons being akin to her own. As it is, Alida can only recover in silence, though when the greenie speaks so bluntly about the bluerider's lack' of physical companionship, she trips off a rapid fire, "Is that what you would do if ya didn' have a weyrmate? Just grab the nearest person and..." Get his rocks off. She's still standing there, arms-crossed, staring at G'laer. G'laer's busy with the shirt and in this state might not notice the peering as out of the ordinary even so, but he's turning back, not bothering to tuck the shirt or do much of anything with it really now that it's on his body. "If physical training were the highlight of my day? Sure. Why not. It just so happens that I live a very rich and colorful life behind closed doors. Well, not actual doors," he manages to not run that series of thoughts down after the quick correction, "So sex isn't the only thing I look forward to, and really, thanks to all my days with the guard, days without boredom are enough to get me excited. But if training was what I had to look forward to and I didn't have a weyrmate, why not? Though I'd not like to beget more unwanted children, because mine are a pain in the ass already," the ones in the caverns that hate him, "So I'd probably choose to grab a male someone. It's the damnedest thing, try as we might, Oli still isn't knocked up. And neither am I, for that matter." He grins. It's a joke. Rolling his eyes, chuckling at the intensity of lust in his rider - which she conceals as usual - Ilicaeth rolls off in exasperated, yet casually-raspy baritone, « Sweet Faranth, woman; will you just fuck 'im?! Or do I need ta chase 'er ta finally make it happen? » (Ilicaeth to Alida) The more she stares - even in small irritation - the more Alida finds out that G'laer is kind-of delicious-looking, especially when proddy. It takes her a few moments to realize she's not only peering at the greenrider like he's some taste-tempting morsel fit for her platter, but that she's also entertaining primitive thoughts about a weyrmated man... And while he talks of sex, jokes with her, the blonde's quickly pivoting about on a heel to face away from her companion to hide her raging blush...though she does hunch up just a little, shamed by the things taking place within her brain. The workout cavern is too deep within the rock to make what's outside easily hearable, but even down the curved tunnel, people inside might just be able to catch Ilicaeth's sudden bugle of bright laughter, at his rider's expense. "SHUT UP!" Alida suddenly barks out in fuming fashion at her lifemate, lifting a fist on the air towards the tunnel...which makes the two people in here (besides herself and G'laer) look at the back of her head for a moment, and then shrug before they get on with their own exercises. Everyone know that's life in a Weyr: apparently talking to yourself. G'laer has been looking at Alida in turn, though his eyes do distractedly dart away and back at random intervals, and he was thusly looking at her when she turned away, "You're blushing." He observes helpfully, an amused sort of smile. "You're--" Then the words and he's raising brows, less offended than curious. "Want me to go?" Because even if the others might perceive that Alida's just talking to herself, to the greenrider it seems likely enough that she was talking to him. Maybe he didn't catch the bugle or simply didn't place it as Ilicaeth's. "So what..." the bluerider grumbles out over her shoulder, working to keep her voice from becoming high-pitched as she forces her unruly emotions into some semblance of order. G'laer's question evinces a tight, "Wasn't talkin' ta you..." the blonde then muttering a dark, "Fuckin' blue gas bag" towards the tunnel. Glare. Once Alida's felt the blush leave her face, she pivots back around to face the greenie... and yet again has to suppress her reactions when she gets another eyeful of her contemporary. Ahem. It's easier staring at one of his eyebrows, so that's what she does, that feature affording the bluie the appearance of looking right into his eyes while she's really not. "It's a public gym..." she murmurs only a hint breathily, finally turning away to pace off the mat, towards where she lobbed her gear. Still snarky, Ilicaeth flips a casual middle finger at 'lida. « Up yers. » (Ilicaeth to Alida) Apparently, G'laer has nothing to answer the 'what.' His eyes follow toward the time and he "Ahh"s softly. Then his blue gaze is tracking the woman toward her things, which reminds him. Belt! Ring! So he follows and bends to pick those items up and sets about putting them back on. "So why don't you?" He asks, plain enough. He's following her? Confused, Alida doesn't dare look over at G'laer again just yet, the woman sitting down on the bench and tugging her socks back on with a kind of grim determination. And then comes the greenrider's 'innocent' inquiry, which - after her 'rousing' communication with Ilicaeth - sounds like a total come-on when mixing with the blue's mental comment...making her almost color deeply again, though her green eyes flick upward, stare into blues for a few seconds. It takes the blonde some more moments to extract her 'filthy' emotions from her dragon's pointed urging, and once done, her gaze falls quickly to her boots upon the floor, hands swiping one up to then try and shove on to a foot. Muttered very quietly, touchily, "Only met a half-handfulla' guys at the Weyr I'd be interested in." Picky-picky. "They're all...taken." "Women?" G'laer suggest then, as he clicks the belt buckle in place, apparently oblivious to Alida's inner struggles, and quite possibly (though can it really be so?) oblivious to her interest. To be fair, it's not like Teisyth observes interest with any great acumen on the average. "I'm even choosier about women..." the bluerider mutters softly while attempting to lace up her boot, a faint flush touching her upper neck as the subject of the conversation remains quite personal. Almost a squeak, though she works to control the 'under her breath' comment: "I generally prefer men." For a holder like her, it's a big step, admitting she enjoys the company of her own gender. The greenrider is silent. No, the greenrider is waiting. Once her boots are laced, he's reaching to try to snag her under the elbow and then direct her up and out, "Come on. We're going to find you a good lay." Then G'laer decides that's too much to promise and corrects, "Well, a lay. The rest is what you make of it." He's quite cheerful about the whole thing. Playing wingman! The second boot goes on more easily than the first, given Alida can now focus better after tamping down her urges and her heightened consciousness of them, the bluerider then giving off a sudden, startled bit of a low squawk of sound when G'laer urges her along with those choice words. Almost stumbling as she both moves and balks, the woman hisses urgently, a little angrily up to the greenie, "I don' want 'just a lay!" Stare. "I... I need ta be friends first... 'r at least good acquaintances!" GHEEZE, G'laer! That's when the fact that he isn't quite as oblivious as all things appear becomes quite obvious. Because that's when he turns without warning to press her bodily against the wall of the tunnel they'd just entered. All that apparently appealing flesh with just the millimeters of fabric between them? Pressing her to the wall, and G'laer's voice is low, "Are you sure you don't want just a lay?" What the...? It's a good thing they're buddies, and that Alida shows a decent level of basic trust in G'laer, or she might just react in quite the 'negative' fashion. As it is, the blonde tightens up - reflexively readying her body for battle - and then the greenrider goes and says that. Instantly, all those incredibly heady thoughts explode back into her brain, and make her knees wobble like the most callow of teens, green eyes widening as they stare hugely into the man's blues. Anyone could see it in her gaze, so obvious is her want, and the bluerider almost almost answers G'laer back with a flaming kiss...her face suddenly so close to his that he can easily smell the faint wildflower scent of something on her, the klah on her breath. And then - with a massive gasp - one hand that was starting to curl around the man's waist now slaps upon his chest between them, holding them just a moment apart from an explosion. Her voice breathy, shuddering with want, yet tight with self-control, the woman huffs a low, intense, "Yer taken." Shiver. Eyes that went heavily lidded now snap open again, stare urgently, conflictedly, perhaps a bit angrily into blue, the racing pulse within her throat visible as her heart bounds a mile a minute. "Yer TAKEN, damnit!" Shudder. "I ain't gonna' be the weyr-wrecker..." Gasp. "Can't...lose a friendship..." Groan. "Even if I want you so fuckin' bad I c'n taste it." By this time, her hand on his chest has fisted up into the other guard's shirt, balled like iron in a clench that she dare not let up, for fear of something bad happening. Did he hear her? Despite the hand, he leans more of his weight against her until the only space between them is that which her clenched fist creates. But G'laer's head is next to hers not in front of any longer, the low rumble of his voice preparing to speak clear from their closeness. They might be his last words as he says, "That's why I didn't mean me." And just as abruptly he's pulling away with the intent of regaining his grip on her bicep and pulling her along before she has the time to get her head on straight, "C'mon, we're going to find you a hot piece of ass." Still. Cheerful. Evidently the point of that exercise was to point out to her just how bad she needs it. "Bastard!" is groan-growled out when he's pulling away with that answer, her fist opening to let him go, though Ailda's sorely tempted for a second to pop him one in the snot box for teasing her like this. "I don't want just a piece uv ass, you dip shit.." is growled out in flagrant upset as the bluerider practically yanks on his hand to remove it from her suddenly clenched-up bicep. "I don't fuck people I barely know!" Grrrr! "Well, if you want to keep wishing for people you can't have, that's your choice," G'laer releases her arm, "I was just trying to help." Then a thought occurs to him, "I could help you find a boyfriend. One that doesn't go to sea." Because G'laer's secret talent is almost certainly matchmaking. Staring at him now with more irate irritation than lust (thank the stars!), Alida affixes a fervid stare at G'laer, then rolls her eyes. "You... could find me..." She can't help it: there's a loud, ribald SNORK of darkest, bitter humor let off. "What the shell makes you an authority on just what rows my fuckin' boat?" If he hasn't noticed before, the blonde has some pretty stringent standards. "Because, darlin'," G'laer grins at her unapologetically, "I am what rows your fuckin' boat." Who better? This time offers his hand. "Shall we stop all this protesting nonsense and go?" Damnit, he's right. He does indeed 'row her boat,' and the realization of G'laer also realizing such is reason for another - if smaller - blush to scoot over Alida's cheeks, though her aspect remains irritated. For one more moment, the blonde protests all of this with a dark LOOK to her buddy - GRRR!, goddamnit! - and then she grabs on to his hand, and practically leads him out of the tunnel...even if he's the one who had to ultimately point them in the proper direction. Muttered dourly along their way, "If you fuck this up..." What; she'll off him? Or perhaps something far worse. "Yeah, yeah," G'laer dismisses whatever threat she doesn't manage to say. Evidently, he doesn't plan to fuck up. It might be that one would expect him to lead her to Snowasis, after all, isn't that part of what bars are for? But instead, they wind up in the living cavern, with food and drink and a table for four, two of the seats unoccupied. Perhaps it's even easy to think the greenrider has forgotten their purpose entirely as he finishes sopping up the last of his sausage gravy with a biscuit. But then he says, without any lead up, "So, see anyone whose looks strike your fancy?" Beat. "Besides me." The latter comes with a cheeky grin. Evidently, she's going to have to live her lapse down for the rest of the-- well, maybe until Teisyth flies! What with it being breakfast time, there's plenty of people in and out and lingering in the large cavern. Just... what. the. fuck. That's the look in Alida's intense green eyes - though she keeps her expression mostly schtum - as G'laer escorts them to breakfast at a small table. Her own chow consists of fluffy scrambled eggs, sausages, plus gravy and biscuits, like the man's own. And don't forget the klah and an apple. As the woman eats while her elbows rest on the very edge of the tabletop, listens to her unlikely match-maker, the heel of one hand - still holding a bitten-into biscuit - bumps firmly against her forehead, a loud, breathy sigh of long-suffering irritation let out. Lifting her head, settling her hand down to better be able to stare at her tablemate, the bluie mutters, "Seriously? You intend ta invite someone I like the looks uv over ta eat with us, and then see if we're compatible...and then tell us ta have at it if we are." Already, there's intimations of displeasure on her face, in her voice. She's got him figured out. "Assumptions." G'laer chides, waggling his just-licked-clean index finger at her. "Just answer the question." The greenrider reaches for his drink and sips, looking around, waiting for her to direct his attention. Still looking a little sour - and rather wary - Alida forces her features to adopt a bland expression, the blonde then sending her vert gaze out on a circuitous route as she eats. It's the look of a bored person blithely taking in the activity around them as they tend to the even more boring task of nourishing themself. In other words: typical, and likely to blend in. After a long play of seconds (and eating) go by, the bluie murmurs low to her table mate, "At our 9; in line; Igen knot; about 6'3"; blonde; mid 'r late 20's; light tan." It sounds so clipped, so flat, so...Guard: much like an all-points bulletin. There's still a warning behind her green eyes when they affix back to G'laer's blues: do not embarrass me. G'laer snorts directly at the silent warning and without another word to her, he's up and moving toward the indicated man. His approach is easy, friendly even, full of smiles. There's soon laughter shared between the pair. Apparently, a Proddy G'laer is a Congenial G'laer. The conversation goes on and, barring interruption, the greenrider seems to quite forget his initial purpose, walking with grin, in step with the Igenite out to the bowl some fifteen minutes later. What the shell is he doing over there? Alida becomes less reticent and surly, more flummoxed and curious as the seconds become minutes...into multiple minutes. Her food finished, tray now lofted, carried over to deposit in the bins, the blonde just peers in surprise as G'laer...leads the hottie from Igen away, outside. For a moment, the cautious blonde feels as if she might be being led, set-up...but since this is likely not a life-threatening situation, she shoves the notion aside, and proceeds to walk out on their tails, hanging behind enough to make her presence some yards behind seem like merest coincidence. Alida does so well with her nonchalant trailing that neither the Igenite whom G'laer apparently escorts to the foreigner's dragon nor Proddy G'laer himself notice her doing so. After some minutes, the greenrider is clasping wrists with the other man and heading for where Teisyth has touched down nearby, giving furtive glances toward the dragons most immediately near her. He turns and calls back to the other man, "Just follow on," and then he's climbing up onto Teisyth's neck and she couldn't be up up and away fast enough, even with the other dragon following. The climb is up and up and up and to Teisyth's ledge. What they do there... Alida can use her imagination! SunnuvaBITCH! Is G'laer screwing that other guy after she turned him down? And going behind his own weyrmate's back?! She wants to follow them right up there, but conflicting thoughts keep her rooted to the spot, the irked bluerider prodding Ilicaeth to inquire of Teisyth, « Is G'laer fuckin' that guy? And why'd 'e leave Alida behind after sayin' 'ed' help her? » As ever, when Teisyth is proddy, it's hard to find her mind. Slipperier than her lifemate on a good day. But her physical presence there in the bowl and then trackable up to her ledge certainly makes it easier. Still, the usually gregarious green is skittish and entirely uncomfortable when Ilicaeth touches her mind, shrinking back from the exchange. Add to that that his words confuse her, and it makes a fluttery, « What? » come as answer. Then there must be some conference, « He's laughing. I don't know what that means. But he says-- » She pauses because sometimes a Proddy G'laer is not even easy for his lifemate to read. « He got distracted, and forgot, he said. » And. « She can come up if she likes. » Although this makes Teisyth even more perturbed. « He...forgot. » That's all Ilicaeth responds to his lifemate, the blue sounding rather irked that anyone would forget his fiery Alida like she was some simple object. When this assertion reaches the woman's brain, she too is rather pissed-off, first hurling a primo flying finger up to the greenrider's ledge, then bellowing out in that general direction, "Fuck YOU!" before she storms off towards where llicaeth will soon wing down to meet her, then fly them off to Ista to wallow in the warmth and fruity drinks. Give the roused blonde a little time, and she'll calm the fuck down again, realize just how ditzy G'laer is in this proddy 'mood...' but the woman won't forget today. Not in a hundred Turns. |
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