NorCon MUSH - User contributions [en]

Bones

2014-07-29T21:34:18Z

Barnabas: Relationships

{{HrwProfile
|picture=BonesBig.jpg
|name= Barnabas (Bones)
|position= Gardener
|craft= N/A
|birthplace= Saluda
|mother= Josaphine
|father= Unknown
|siblings= N/A
|children= N/A
|friends= N/A
|playedby= Rob Zombie
|livejournal= N/A}}

== Description ==
A mess of hair and ink, the grungy man stands at a tall 6'4. Unkempt brown hair hangs down past his shoulders in a wavy mess, framing and in part overlapping the edges of his face. Brow is heavily pronounced over sunken, burnt umber eyes, casting a shadow across them in all but the harshest of light. Bushy and uneven facial hair covers his mouth, chin, and upper lip. Broad shoulders slouch, rarely supporting his head up to the full potential of his height. Thick arms are worked to size by hard labor, painted with all manner of grimly themed and scar stained tattoos. Chest is burly down to tapered waist, broadening out again to dense thighs that carry him in his casual yet unsettling shuffle.

== WYSK ==
*Originally from Saluda, a tiny hold on Nerat Peninsula.

*Bones arrived at High Reaches Weyr on Day 23, Month 1, Turn 30 having hitched a ride on dragon back.

*All of his arms and some of his chest are covered in tattoos. They feature a variety of skulls, tentacles, nightmarish creatures both real and mythical, and other creepy/threatening imagery. Some of them are muddy and harder to make out than others due to past infection, scarring, and dull needles in unsteady hands.

*Voice is rough and harsh, even more so when he's excited and happy (think Beetlejuice).

*Hates politics. Distrusts the dragon-oriented system of Weyr governance. Has general problems with authority all around.

*Ex-convict, having served ten years in the mines for murder. He is not shy or ashamed of this.

== History ==
Barnabas (or Bones to his friends) was born in Saluda on the Nerat Penninsula, the son of a alcoholic fisherman and prostitute. With dad out of the picture from day one, his loving mother did her best balancing work and child-rearing, but from a young age the boy learned to fend for himself during the long hours spent alone. Be it genetic predisposition or blind fate, he got his first job at age twelve aboard a small fishing boat, quickly proving his worth with a strong back and penchant for dirty jokes.

As he grew, he quickly found himself spending more time at sea than on land, finding work on bigger and busier boats, but always making a little time to return to his mother and give her a portion of his pay. When she died, he found little reason to stay in the small hold of Saluda, and changed careers from fishing, to merchant work. The ship ran a regular route between Half-Circle SeaHold and and Igen SeaHold, carrying spices and foodstuffs, earning a meager living that saw him with just enough marks to waste in many a tavern. Again, thanks to genetic predisposition or blind fate, he started to develop quite a taste for whiskey.

It was a very ordinary night of heavy drinking alongside the rest of the crew that would shake him out of what would have been a very routine life. A scuffle broke out between the second mate and an angry civilian, and it quickly spread to a full out bar room brawl. In the ensuing chaos, Bones battered a man unconscious, but struck him a few (dozen) too many times on the way down. The man perished later that night. Bones was left by his crew to take the blame for the entire incident, and was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and hard labor in the Telgar mines. He swore off alcohol from that day forward.

He did his time without incident, earning his reputation among fellow inmates and guards as "the friendliest murderer in the mines". After his release, he was desperate to make up for time lost mining in the dark, yearning for a new life in new surroundings. Rather than look for more merchant work, he took to traveling as far away from Saluda as begging and borrowing could take him, eventually finding his way northwest to High Reaches Weyr, near the end of civilization.

== Relationships ==
*'''[[Azaylia]]''': "Real sweetheart through and through. Gettin' better at standing up for herself too."

*'''[[H'kon]]''': "Just another politico who uses words like ''duty'' and ''right'' to justify bein' a jerkward 'bout what he wants. Least he ain't underhanded."

*'''[[I'kris]]''': "I get the feeling nobody got you. Didn't try to get you. I got you kid. Just wish I could'a said goodbye."

*'''[[Taikrin]]''': "Maybe putting Taikrin in charge of the ''entire'' weyr wasn't a good idea? Whatever, she's still alright in my book. "

*'''[[Leova]]''': "I think she's got ice for blood and gearwork in her head. Friendly and cold all at once. Weird."

*'''[[Jo]]''': "Gotta watch yourself with the bad girls. Is the bod worth gettin' shanked over? Probably."

*'''[[Aishani]]''': "Brieli's Aishani now? Bah, next thing she'll reveal she's a runnerbeast in a human suit. Nothing's changed, and that's not a compliment."

*'''[[K'del]]''': "Man, that guy always finds himself in charge don't he? Well there's sure worse options out there. "

== Soundtrack ==
Oddly enough in sort of a chronological order...

[http://youtu.be/OlwRNCnsbUg George Thorogood - Bad to the Bone]

[http://youtu.be/wwzkVXduNc0 Alice in Chains - Them Bones]

[http://youtu.be/qGyPuey-1Jw Irish Rovers - Drunken Sailor]

[http://youtu.be/jPaGE24vpio Apocalyptica - Nothing Else Matters]

[http://youtu.be/WccfbPQNMbg Andrew W.K - Party Hard]

== D&D Character ==
As per [http://www.easydamus.com/character.html this]:

''Chaotic Good Human Barbarian'''

''Alignment:''
Chaotic Good- A chaotic good character acts as his conscience directs him with little regard for what others expect of him. He makes his own way, but he's kind and benevolent. He believes in goodness and right but has little use for laws and regulations. He hates it when people try to intimidate others and tell them what to do. He follows his own moral compass, which, although good, may not agree with that of society. Chaotic good is the best alignment you can be because it combines a good heart with a free spirit. However, chaotic good can be a dangerous alignment when it disrupts the order of society and punishes those who do well for themselves.

''Race:''
Humans are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

''Class:''
Barbarians- Barbarians are brave, even reckless, and their warrior skills make them well suited to adventure. Instead of training and discipline, barbarians have a powerful rage that makes them stronger, tougher, and better able to withstand attacks. They only have the energy for a few such displays per day, but it is usually sufficient. Constant exposure to danger has also given barbarians a sort of 'sixth sense,' the preternatural ability to sense danger and dodge attacks, and their running stamina is legendary.

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[Category:Greater_Pern]]
[[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]
[[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]
[[Category:Convicts]]
[[Category:Residents]]
[[Category:Inactive_Characters]]

Logs:Getting Close

2014-07-24T01:31:32Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{Log |who=A'rist, Barnabas, |what=Bones stumbles in on A'rist alone at the bathing pools. They discuss Lythronath, and companionship. |where=Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr..."

{{Log
|who=A'rist, Barnabas,
|what=Bones stumbles in on A'rist alone at the bathing pools. They discuss Lythronath, and companionship.
|where=Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr
|when=Day 2, Month 5, Turn 35
|gamedate=2014.07.23
|quote="Ohhh, you're Lythronath's rider? How... ''mysterious''."
|weather=
|mentions=Azaylia
|ooc=
|icons-new=
|icons=barnabas GratuitousBeef.jpg, a'rist strange.jpg
|log='''Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr'''

''Omnipresent clouds of steam slink across the tops of three naturally warm pools, set into the floor of this kidney-shaped cavern. Near the entrance the ceiling is high and polished, gleaming with little mineral specks as it sweeps downward into increasingly ragged, uneven steps. The foremost of the pools is squared off with wide steps leading down into the water and has faucets for bringing in cooler water from a rain-catching cistern. Primarily used for laundry, there's an almost constant film of suds along its surface until the circulating current clears it at the end of the day. Four sinks line the nearest wall and various tubs stored beneath allow for the washing of delicates. Laundry bags can be dropped off in the bins near the door and clean, folded laundry is stacked in rows of tall cubbies for easy pickup.''

''The bend in the cavern leads to a rougher-hewn part of the chamber where the two circular bathing pools welcome those in need of a wash. Towels and washcloths are kept in neat stacks on shelves along the wall, along with sacks of sweetsand and a few bars of precious soap. Stone benches provide a place for sitting to remove shoes and clothing, while a row of gleaming brass hooks stand above, ready to hold clothes and robes.''
-----

A'rist's is often a life of blood and gore, of stains that don't scrub out, of brutal reality. But the baths, late at night, aren't anything of the sort. The overly-drunken bronzerider and overly-opportunistic greenrider have taken their leave, and what's left is something special and rare: steam lazily ascending in a cavern, quiet but for the sounds of a drudge dealing with some laundry around the bend, tubs swirling all the refuse of A'rist's day-to-day away in space of clean calm. He takes advantage as best he can, submerged up to his chin, eyes closed. Serenity now.

The wet slap of heavy feet on stone is the beginning, soon partnered with a set of low growls and groans that echo a bit off the walls of the cavern. The disturbance comes into light from around the corner, rubbing at his neck with one hand while the other stretches high above his head. Dirty, hairy, nude: Bones. "Oh. Hi." The realization that he isn't alone as usual dawns on him as he makes eye contact with the floating head. "Ain't usually nobody here." At that hour anyway, but he makes at least a small effort to stop his tired groaning as he steps into the water to soak away the sweat and potting soil of the day. "We met before?"

A'rist opens one eye, first. Then comes the other, once he's already given the big man a once-over. Lightly floating limbs are brought back under some bit of control, though the young rider doesn't straighten up any more than is required to bring his chin above the surface. "I know." His eyes half-close, leaving A'rist staring through slits at the newcomer. "That's why it's a good time." In response to the question: "I don't know your name." Almost nitpicking. Maybe he's seen Bones around.

Half washing and half pondering, Bones brings a hand up to his head to scratch at it in between the braided and unbraided sections of his wild hair. "Yeah, it's the best time. 'Course now I might add or subtract an hour to it knowing somebody else has figured that out." A smile grows for the stranger, big white teeth on display. "I swear I seen you before though. You uhh, one of Azaylia's guys?" He doesn't wait for the answer before moving to introduce himself, wading through the water to be a bit closer to A'rist. "I'm Bones."

"One of-" he sits up a bit straighter, as much because of Bones' approach as the continued conversation, water only covering his shoulders, now, his neck poking out. "I've been around there," he starts again, eyes opening wider again, face placed to memory. "That's where I've seen you, huh." A'rist nods, one slightly pruny hand coming to scratch idly at the back of his head, where water is dripping down his neck. "A'rist." More ominously, "Lythronath's."

Bones gets just close enough to extend an arm for a handshake, his palms still freshly calloused from working through the night. "Yeah, I think that's where we might have spotted eachother. I'm asleep on her couch a lot. She's good people." The smile fades ever so slightly at the mention of a dragon name, though it's returned swiftly. "You're the one in charge of that beast, eh? Yikes."

A'rist offers his own in return, also callused, but notably smaller than Bones'. Still, he can do a firm handshake. "She gives me tea on her couch a lot," is said with a strange little twist of his mouth, a smile, though it's not quite amusement showing there. "Guess so," he confirms, an easy shrug bringing both of his arms back, so he can rest his elbows up on the edge of the pool. It means that now the top of his chest is out of the water, too. "Makes it so everyone knows who I am though."

Bones settles in against the edge of the pool, but then gives a look around as if he's forgotten something. With a soft sigh, he goes ahead and pulls himself up out of the water to head towards one of the shelves, fetching a bar of soap. "Yeah but is that uhhh notoriety, or..." he pauses to dip back in, dropping down to send ripples across the water with how much he quickly displaces "Infamy, eh? Hehe."

A'rist's eyes only track Bones' progress until he's got the trajectory mostly figured out. Then, he's glancing back toward the caverns. No one else seems to be coming, and that, at least, seems to satisfy him enough to settle back down, and close his eyes. "All kinds of things like that. There's not lots of people who ''get'' Lythronath. And even the ones who do sort of..." Another shrug, one that, in his elbow-propped position, makes him bob a little.

Giving a soft chuckle as he begins to lather himself up, Bones nods at A'rist a few times. "Now me? I don't much care for dragons. They scare the shit out of me. But I ''do'' get not bein' understood." Slowly standing up in the water, Bones takes the opportunity to begin scrubbing everything above the surface. Before long, he looks very much like a sudsy snowman. "It ain't so bad. Just means the folks who ''are'' close to you? Well, y'can probably trust 'em. Probably." Thoroughly scrubbed, Bones decides to dip back into the water to rinse. "Not that you were askin' for my opinion on nothin'. Ha! Sorry, comes with gettin' older. I gotta spit wisdom at everybody a seven younger'n me."

"You probably shouldn't meet my dragon," decides A'rist. "Especially with a name like 'Bones'. He'd probably think it was funny. Hahahaha. To do something." All said, deadpan, in the same steady rhythm. But once it's been spoken and has a second to sit out there, there's that quirk at the corner of his lips again. "Sure. If you got any folks real close." But he's tilted his head to stare at that older man's braids and not-braids. "At least you don't ''look'' like those old uncles sitting around the caverns." Smirk.

Bones says, "Don't intend to, 'less I gotta." Bones laughs before dunking his head under the water, emerging without as much white soap in his hair and beard. "You've got a bronze dragon, right? Way I understand it, no matter how scary your monster is, you're gonna have some people wanna work their way in to your good graces just on account of your big boy's color." The big man puts one of his oversized hands up to his cheek, and bats his eyes a few times before adopting the closest thing to falsetto his scratchy voice can manage. "Ohhh, you're Lythronath's rider? How... ''mysterious''." He fires an air kiss A'rist's way before cracking, another hearty laugh leaving him. "Hahaha! And yeah, I guess I ain't your typical old man yet.""

A'rist opens his mouth as if to comment on that soap - but doesn't, not when Bones is speaking. "There's some," the bronzerider allows, midway through his grimace at that kiss. "None look quite like that..." and fingers flick toward the big man, "but that's not really ''close'' is it? That's just..." and there's a gesture down his body and a quick thrust at the water. Then another shrug, lounging back against the edge of the pool once again.

"None look quite like that? Hehe, yeah, they can't all be as pretty as me." Bones gives a second dunk of his head before drifting back down into the water for a bit of a relaxing soak. "And that's ''kinda'' close. About as close as most folk seem to care to get around here. Some of these people are as cold as the weather." With a half-walk, half-swim, Bones drifts back to the edge near A'rist. "But yeah I see your point. Bah, y'just gotta find some folk that don't intimidate easy that's all."

"Or as tall," A'rist decides as Bones starts to move. "I think it's hard, being really close to anyone," comes once that move is accomplished, and after the young man has had some time to reflect, "sometimes, when half of everyone's got the one dragon they're really close to. Maybe sometimes it's not about being intimidated. Maybe sometimes it's just that some of you is sort of... all chewed up and busy, you know?" The blink that goes with that is slow, sleepy as much as pensive.

Bones has to scratch his head again, trying to wrap his head around the sensation of having a dragon in his brain. It's something he gives up on with a shake of his head. "Maybe you can't quite get as close to another person as you can to your dragon. But that don't mean you can't get close at all." With a playful smile, Bones tucks in closer to A'rist, pointing a finger at him. "Hey, here's an idea. You don't seem like an asshole. How about I buy you a drink sometime? We can shoot the shit in a place without so much echoing. And nudity."

"Maybe," A'rist allows, though it's not said with high confidence. "It's hard to explain." A'rist's eyes cross, just a little bit, when he looks straight on at that pointed finger. He's still looking when he starts to nod, and it's a definite effort to turn his attentions away, check out the cavern again. "Sometimes. Sounds good." It's his own hands, brought up before his face, that he takes a look at next. Very pruny. "I guess I can let you have the baths to yourself for a while, huh. Before the early morning shift starts moving around."

With a few nods, Bones agrees. "We'll probably bump into eachother again right? And this time, we'll know eachother's names, ha!" Drifting back towards where he left the bar of soap, he begins to lather up his hands again. "And thanks. I was about to scrub up my undercarriage. It gets a little weird goin' about that with an audience. I'll start with my legs to give you a head start!" There's a playfulness to his tone, though it's clear he's not entirely kidding.

"Probably," agrees A'rist, already turning to brace his palms on the edge of the bath, and hoisting himself out with a quick push. He doesn't look back once, from going to towel off, to dressing, to even calling, "Later," as he leaves.

}}
{{Categories}}

Logs:What Do You Look Like?

2014-06-21T00:42:04Z

Barnabas:

{{ Log
| who = Valenros, Barnabas
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = A grumpy Valenros meets a jovial Bones. They talk weyrfolk.
| when = Day 12, Month 1, Turn 35
| gamedate = 2014.06.19
| quote = "Y'get used to the dragons and the self-importance pretty quick."
| weather =
| categories = 
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = valenros bored.png, barnabas spirit.jpg
| log = '''Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr'''
''The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.''

''Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.''
----

It's cold outside, alright. Cold and sunny, the weather perfect for all types of wintry festivities. Like snowball fights, ice fishing, or sledding. But anyone in the Snowasis today isn't at all interested in what's going on outside. Toasty, is the best way to describe the atmosphere within the cavern, and also how one might interpret Valenros's expression. He is hunched over a table, elbow on the wood, while he idly draws phantom circles and squares on the tabletop. Somewhere to the left of his elbow there's a mug of something warm and strong. At the bar, the bartender is wiping down the counter and singing a bawdry ditty, all warm baritone and off-key perfection.

Bones comes in offering hearty slaps to his own exposed arms, forcing bloodflow back up to the skin by giving himself a sequence of stings. "Woo! Nippy!" Loudly announced to nobody and everybody all at once. The bartender continues on undaunted by Bones' entrance, even as the big man approaches the bar itself with a few slaps at his cheeks to warm them as he had his arms. Doing his best not to speak over the singing, he mimics the act of drinking for the tender, who gives a nod and returns with a mug of the only thing that the gardener ever drank. Klah. "Hey, sing the one about the uhh, the holdbred farmer and his runnerbeasts again? That one always makes me giggle like a little girl."

The bartender keeps right on singing, louder even - perhaps a little tipsily, but hey, who's counting how many drinks he's had today? Valenros groans and puts his head in his hands. "Why.." he grumbles "are you ENCOURAGING him!?" His bloodshot eyes lift from his palms, his eyes narrowing on the newcomer, his mouth twisted with irritation. "Earlier he was breaking glasses. He's completely foxed. Completely. As if he needs someone to tell him to keep screeching at the rest of us," the holder grumbles, releasing his glare on Barnabas. He takes his glass of whatever-it-is and swallows a mouthful, before slamming the mug back down and resuming his idle finger-drawing on the tabletop.

The smile Bones had aimed at the bartender fades as he turns to the source of the complaint, eyeing the stranger with a curiously raised eyebrow and parted lips. After only a second of silence, the big grin comes back out, and Bones approaches the table with a few swift paces. "You..." he begins, pausing to grab the top of a chair and giving a little spin so he can sit backwards at Valenros' table. "...Picked an awful strange place to be if you've got an aversion to drunk folk, ha!" His mug is set at the table so that he can lazily droop both of his arms over the back of the chair, his whole body slouched forward. "What's your name, kid?"

Drunks annoyed by other drunks, that's something new, or not. "Valenros," the younger man says, drawing out the last syllable an unnaturally long time. He sits up abruptly, regarding Barnabas across the table with a bit of apprehension. "Who are you?" A more appropriate question might be 'why are you sitting at my table?' but he either doesn't care or is too drunk to care. "It's usually not so.." He's cut short by the bartender hitting a high note, forcing a wince out of the holder. "..noisy. Can't even think with all that racket. Can't understand these damn weyrfolk." His head drops to his hands again, buried there for longer than may seem necessary. "Cheers," he mumbles finally, making a hasty grab for his drink.

Bones grins through everything, giving the simple answer for what could have been a more complicated question. "Bones. The Gardener." When that high note is hit, he can't help but narrow his eyes a little as his eardrums are momentarily assaulted. Somebody from across the bar does their job for them by yelling out for the bartender to shut up. Bones doesn't seem to notice any of it as he lifts up his mug to tap it in against the side of Valenros' own. "Weyrfolk eh?" He takes a drink of his klah, then lets his tongue snake free to lick his mustache clean in one not so subtle swipe. "Not from around here then?"

Valenros watches the gardener over the rim of his glass, his gaze contemplative now, though he still has the overall look of someone inebriated. "A gardner? You don't.. look.." He flounders about for a word, compressing his lips before he utters at last, "..like one." Yelling just fuels his dislikes and makes him hunker down in his seat, a frown etching into his face. "No, thankfully. They're a strange breed. I'm from Winter Ridge Hold, Tillek area. What about you? You don't look like you belong here either. Or," brief pause as he eyes Bones, "a Hold." Tattoos and dreads and all that.

The smile plastered across the unlikely gardener's face opens up enough for a laugh to spill out. "Hahaha! Don't look like a gardener ''or'' a holder eh?" Both of his palms go to the back of his head, sitting up a little taller in his seat to show himself off. The muscled, grinning inkbeast looks Valenros up and down as best he can given the table in the way. "You look exactly like a holder. So tell me, honestly. What do ''I'' look like?"

"Of course I look like a holder. I am one," Valenros says quite plainly. "But you.." He continues to frown, dark eyebrows knitting together. "..you look like one of those exiles I keep hearing people talk about. What I can only imagine an exile of any sort would look like." There's a quick beat before he leans forward, his upper torso above the table. "Where does one even /get/ markings like those? They're certainly.. ah.. unique." He's wise enough to bury his face in his mug this time, slowly sipping whatever poison he chose for the day.

Bones unfolds his arms from behind his thick skull and reaches for his klah, taking a more reasonable sip this time so that his tongue doesn't have to snake out and snatch up what his facial hair catches. "Exile?" Looking up into the corner of his vision, he ponders it for a few moments before giving a shrug and a smile. "Close! Real close! You could say I was a uhhh, open water merchant turned... involuntary mine worker." There was a wink for the admitted holder, as if the titles were too subtle to get without a non-verbal hint attatched. "The ink's from all over. If you know the right kind of scum, y'can always find ''somebody'' to shove some needles into 'ya. Ha!"

That last answer draws a bit of a revolted look from Valenros. "That sounds disgusting. I'm not sure I would want to.. ah.. do.. that.. but I'm sure it was.." He falls into an uncomfortable silence, staring at some of that ink on the gardener's arms. "What are you doing here.. now?" In this bar, in this Weyr, or both? It's a loaded question, perhaps more profound than he even intended. He leans back then, letting his hands drop into his lap.

Scratching at his beard, there was a little bit of time taken to ponder the depth of the question and just how much of it to answer. "Sometimes it's nice to have a good change of scenery. Y'know, to see how much of a place you bring with you. To see how much of you is you." Bones actually takes a moment to look up at the top of his vision, eyes darting back and forth to double check if his words made any sense. Ultimately, he decides they do with a satisfied nod. "Don't worry kid. Y'get used to the dragons and the self-importance pretty quick. Just remember that underneath, ain't nobody that much differant no matter where you go. 'Least that's been my experience.

Well, well, enlightening indeed. Valenros looks like he's giving all of that some thought, his brown eyes downcast. That's a short-lived emotion, his frown returning as he gives Bones the good ole side eye. "I can't say I agree. I prefer holders to these.. people." He gathers up his glass and his youthful disillusions, giving the gardener one last look. "I guess it was nice to meet you. Uh.. safe travels to wherever you find yourself going.." He's already retreating when his hand lifts in a weak attempt of a polite goodbye.

"Hey, I ain't tryin to convert you to anything. I'm just sayin..." As Valenros stands, so too does Bones, the height difference forcing his gaze a bit downwards to keep up eye contact. "... the booze ain't gonna make this place any more comfy. Might as well try and trick yourself into having some fun, Ha!" With one hand bringing more klah to his lips, the other waves back at the retreating holder. "Yup. Safe travels 'Ros." And with that, he's back to the bar, already flagging down the bartender for another klah, and another song.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:What Do You Look Like?

2014-06-21T00:22:51Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Valenros, Barnabas | where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr | what = A grumpy Valenros meets a jovial Bones. They talk weyrfolk. | when = Day 12, Month 1, Turn 35..."

{{ Log
| who = Valenros, Barnabas
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = A grumpy Valenros meets a jovial Bones. They talk weyrfolk.
| when = Day 12, Month 1, Turn 35
| gamedate = 2014.06.19
| quote = "Picked an awful strange place to be if you've got an aversion to drunk folk..."
| weather =
| categories = 
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = valenros bored.png, barnabas spirit.jpg
| log = '''Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr'''
''The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.''

''Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.''
----

It's cold outside, alright. Cold and sunny, the weather perfect for all types of wintry festivities. Like snowball fights, ice fishing, or sledding. But anyone in the Snowasis today isn't at all interested in what's going on outside. Toasty, is the best way to describe the atmosphere within the cavern, and also how one might interpret Valenros's expression. He is hunched over a table, elbow on the wood, while he idly draws phantom circles and squares on the tabletop. Somewhere to the left of his elbow there's a mug of something warm and strong. At the bar, the bartender is wiping down the counter and singing a bawdry ditty, all warm baritone and off-key perfection.

Bones comes in offering hearty slaps to his own exposed arms, forcing bloodflow back up to the skin by giving himself a sequence of stings. "Woo! Nippy!" Loudly announced to nobody and everybody all at once. The bartender continues on undaunted by Bones' entrance, even as the big man approaches the bar itself with a few slaps at his cheeks to warm them as he had his arms. Doing his best not to speak over the singing, he mimics the act of drinking for the tender, who gives a nod and returns with a mug of the only thing that the gardener ever drank. Klah. "Hey, sing the one about the uhh, the holdbred farmer and his runnerbeasts again? That one always makes me giggle like a little girl."

The bartender keeps right on singing, louder even - perhaps a little tipsily, but hey, who's counting how many drinks he's had today? Valenros groans and puts his head in his hands. "Why.." he grumbles "are you ENCOURAGING him!?" His bloodshot eyes lift from his palms, his eyes narrowing on the newcomer, his mouth twisted with irritation. "Earlier he was breaking glasses. He's completely foxed. Completely. As if he needs someone to tell him to keep screeching at the rest of us," the holder grumbles, releasing his glare on Barnabas. He takes his glass of whatever-it-is and swallows a mouthful, before slamming the mug back down and resuming his idle finger-drawing on the tabletop.

The smile Bones had aimed at the bartender fades as he turns to the source of the complaint, eyeing the stranger with a curiously raised eyebrow and parted lips. After only a second of silence, the big grin comes back out, and Bones approaches the table with a few swift paces. "You..." he begins, pausing to grab the top of a chair and giving a little spin so he can sit backwards at Valenros' table. "...Picked an awful strange place to be if you've got an aversion to drunk folk, ha!" His mug is set at the table so that he can lazily droop both of his arms over the back of the chair, his whole body slouched forward. "What's your name, kid?"

Drunks annoyed by other drunks, that's something new, or not. "Valenros," the younger man says, drawing out the last syllable an unnaturally long time. He sits up abruptly, regarding Barnabas across the table with a bit of apprehension. "Who are you?" A more appropriate question might be 'why are you sitting at my table?' but he either doesn't care or is too drunk to care. "It's usually not so.." He's cut short by the bartender hitting a high note, forcing a wince out of the holder. "..noisy. Can't even think with all that racket. Can't understand these damn weyrfolk." His head drops to his hands again, buried there for longer than may seem necessary. "Cheers," he mumbles finally, making a hasty grab for his drink.

Bones grins through everything, giving the simple answer for what could have been a more complicated question. "Bones. The Gardener." When that high note is hit, he can't help but narrow his eyes a little as his eardrums are momentarily assaulted. Somebody from across the bar does their job for them by yelling out for the bartender to shut up. Bones doesn't seem to notice any of it as he lifts up his mug to tap it in against the side of Valenros' own. "Weyrfolk eh?" He takes a drink of his klah, then lets his tongue snake free to lick his mustache clean in one not so subtle swipe. "Not from around here then?"

Valenros watches the gardener over the rim of his glass, his gaze contemplative now, though he still has the overall look of someone inebriated. "A gardner? You don't.. look.." He flounders about for a word, compressing his lips before he utters at last, "..like one." Yelling just fuels his dislikes and makes him hunker down in his seat, a frown etching into his face. "No, thankfully. They're a strange breed. I'm from Winter Ridge Hold, Tillek area. What about you? You don't look like you belong here either. Or," brief pause as he eyes Bones, "a Hold." Tattoos and dreads and all that.

The smile plastered across the unlikely gardener's face opens up enough for a laugh to spill out. "Hahaha! Don't look like a gardener ''or'' a holder eh?" Both of his palms go to the back of his head, sitting up a little taller in his seat to show himself off. The muscled, grinning inkbeast looks Valenros up and down as best he can given the table in the way. "You look exactly like a holder. So tell me, honestly. What do ''I'' look like?"

"Of course I look like a holder. I am one," Valenros says quite plainly. "But you.." He continues to frown, dark eyebrows knitting together. "..you look like one of those exiles I keep hearing people talk about. What I can only imagine an exile of any sort would look like." There's a quick beat before he leans forward, his upper torso above the table. "Where does one even /get/ markings like those? They're certainly.. ah.. unique." He's wise enough to bury his face in his mug this time, slowly sipping whatever poison he chose for the day.

Bones unfolds his arms from behind his thick skull and reaches for his klah, taking a more reasonable sip this time so that his tongue doesn't have to snake out and snatch up what his facial hair catches. "Exile?" Looking up into the corner of his vision, he ponders it for a few moments before giving a shrug and a smile. "Close! Real close! You could say I was a uhhh, open water merchant turned... involuntary mine worker." There was a wink for the admitted holder, as if the titles were too subtle to get without a non-verbal hint attatched. "The ink's from all over. If you know the right kind of scum, y'can always find ''somebody'' to shove some needles into 'ya. Ha!"

That last answer draws a bit of a revolted look from Valenros. "That sounds disgusting. I'm not sure I would want to.. ah.. do.. that.. but I'm sure it was.." He falls into an uncomfortable silence, staring at some of that ink on the gardener's arms. "What are you doing here.. now?" In this bar, in this Weyr, or both? It's a loaded question, perhaps more profound than he even intended. He leans back then, letting his hands drop into his lap.

Scratching at his beard, there was a little bit of time taken to ponder the depth of the question and just how much of it to answer. "Sometimes it's nice to have a good change of scenery. Y'know, to see how much of a place you bring with you. To see how much of you is you." Bones actually takes a moment to look up at the top of his vision, eyes darting back and forth to double check if his words made any sense. Ultimately, he decides they do with a satisfied nod. "Don't worry kid. Y'get used to the dragons and the self-importance pretty quick. Just remember that underneath, ain't nobody that much differant no matter where you go. 'Least that's been my experience.

Well, well, enlightening indeed. Valenros looks like he's giving all of that some thought, his brown eyes downcast. That's a short-lived emotion, his frown returning as he gives Bones the good ole side eye. "I can't say I agree. I prefer holders to these.. people." He gathers up his glass and his youthful disillusions, giving the gardener one last look. "I guess it was nice to meet you. Uh.. safe travels to wherever you find yourself going.." He's already retreating when his hand lifts in a weak attempt of a polite goodbye.

"Hey, I ain't tryin to convert you to anything. I'm just sayin..." As Valenros stands, so too does Bones, the height difference forcing his gaze a bit downwards to keep up eye contact. "... the booze ain't gonna make this place any more comfy. Might as well try and trick yourself into having some fun, Ha!" With one hand bringing more klah to his lips, the other waves back at the retreating holder. "Yup. Safe travels 'Ros." And with that, he's back to the bar, already flagging down the bartender for another klah, and another song.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Indecent Proposals

2013-05-26T23:31:00Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Hana, Barnabas | where = Azaylia's and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr | what = Hana comes to tidy up Azaylia's weyr, and finds a self-deprecating pile of ..."

{{ Log
| who = Hana, Barnabas
| where = Azaylia's and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Hana comes to tidy up Azaylia's weyr, and finds a self-deprecating pile of garbage on her couch.
| when = Day 17, Month 11, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.05.25
| quote = "Your father was a wherry, and your mother smelt of Bendan-grapes?"
| weather =
| categories = General, Divided Leadership
| mentions = Azaylia
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas badhairday.jpg
| log =
'''Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr'''

''Accessed via a narrow staircase from the Weyrleader's Complex, or from the broad, sunny ledge beyond, this weyr was clearly designed to be for one of the weyr's junior queens. Spacious, but not extravagant, it boasts a well-sized outer room, narrowing in front the well-sized dragon couch and ledge beyond. Much of this main room has been turned over to a couch and several chairs, which circle the hearth and the blue rug set down in front of it. There's a low table here, too, set in the middle of that rug. A tack-cupboard stands tidily behind the couch, keeping out of sight a rider's paraphernalia.''

''Three low steps lead up onto a peculiar little landing, just large enough for the brand new desk and set of shelves that have been placed there. Here, too, there are definite pointers to the lived-in state of the weyr: the desk could in no way be described as tidy.''

''Behind the desk, a narrow passage leads in an inner set of chambers, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area. A decent-sized bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter. There's a nightstand on either side, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf to hold toiletries.''

''Unusually, the walls, ceiling and floor of this weyr have all been whitewashed thickly, covering the natural stone. The hearth is brand new, too, as are most of the built-in fittings, as though they have recently needed to be replaced.''
----

Early evening finds Hana ducking into Azaylia's weyr, the ledge thankfully rather empty of a certain warrior queen. Not that she cringes and hides anymore, but... well, there is still a certain nervousness around such a large figure of a lady. Ducking into the white-wash interior, the young woman calls out quietly, "Azaylia?" before moving towards the desk and beyond that, the sleeping caverns, eyes sweeping the area for certain things.

Bones' usual overbearing presence is muted enough to not notice thanks entirely to his slumber in Azaylia's couch, masked further by the heavy layers of fur he's tucked over himself in a makeshift caccoon. It's not unusual for Azaylia to have visitors, but more often than not Azaylia is actually there to greet them, and this time something in his subconscious tips him off that a guest is going unmet. "She's... ntherffle..." an attempt to speak before his lips and vocal chords are ready has him mumbling, but he finds his voice on the second attempt, pushing himself up to a sitting position on the couch. "She's.. not here right now."

Hana checks herself, and blinks at the coccooned one, before shaking her head, "Oh, I didn't mean to wake you up," she offers, a touch distressed, before adding, "I was actually just trying to make sure I wasn't going to be in her way, while cleaning up a bit. Making sure there were no platters or tea things left out." After all, vtols in the weyrwoman's weyr is never a good thing. Or, really, anyone's weyr.

"... you're the ma-" there's a sudden interruption in his question, his body demanding he take a deep yawn before he's even aware he needs one. When it's done, he gives another grumble for the side effects of sudden conciousness. "Mmph. You're the maid?" He closes his eyes and smiles, giving his cheeks a few light taps to get some feeling into his face. "Don't suppose givin' my shoulders a rub is in your list'a duties to Azaylia, is it? I mean, I'm kinda her... official bodyguard." The grin that grows on his face makes it clear as a joke.

"Not at all - I'm Hana," the ex-holder replies with a grin as she shakes her head - and stacking a plate and a cup in her hands. "A shoulder rub? Alas, I've no talents there, although, I have heard that R'co is rather skilled in that direction," she admits before putting the dishes off to the side and looking about for more. "I do have some nibbles I was planning to put out for snacking later, you could probably sneak off of. As, ah, part of your official duties as tastetest...er, bodyguard, that is. Bones, right?" Random insertion, there, as she tries to make sure she recalls names correctly.

"Hana..." he repeats as he hangs his head, long hair cascading around every corner of his head like some sort of dirty weeping willow. Despite his eyes aimed to the floor and his elbows resting on his knees, he continues the conversation. "I remember you, you stopped by the greenhouse one time I think. Lookin' for a flower." There's another yawn now, though a shorter one. "Mmph, I'll get R'co to give me a good rubdown, if that's his thing. In the meantime, I'll steal some of them snacks." Not quite enough energy to continue the facade of it being his official capacity to eat Azaylia's food.

There's a quiet chuckle as Hana swishes her way back to the entrance of the weyr - detouring to at gather up the dishes she's found. There's some switching going on. Snacks and plate coming out of a basket, dirty dishes going in, and after a couple of minutes - returning to the weyr with said munchies. "Meatrolls, veggies rolls, bread and cheese. Any preferences?" she asks over her shoulder as she moves the platter to the desk, a cloth keeping vtols and such from landing on anything.

Barnabas takes the time Hana spends with her duties to free himself of his groginess, his chest swelling up with the deep breath that he exhales quick to help him push up off his knees and to his full height. The first order of business is to whip his hair out of his face, and the second is to find his vest that he's left on the floor and pull it back on. All of this is done just in time for Hana to walk in with a plate, and drift past him with an array of delicious treats. "Are you some kind of fucking angel?" He follows after her towards the desk, his pace slow and thudding.

"Well, I don't like to hover, so I try to make sure all the bases are covered. So, ah... no?" Just prepared. Possibly perfect in every way, but mostly prepared. "I take it you'd like a bit of each then?" she asks over her shoulder at the now dressed man, a grin lurking about, before adding. "I didn't bring any tea, alas. That's usually best fresh, or seeped cold - something I don't much care for during the colder months."

Taking his place alongside Hana, Bones is sure to keep enough space between the two so that he can put his hands on his hips without jabbing her with an elbow. "Azaylia usually hits the meat and cheese first, so I'm gonna start on the veggies. I just got over a 'bout of sickness anyway, s'probably good for me right?" At that, he glances over at Hana with a smile, head angled down to meet her eyes despite the full foot of difference in height.

Hana looks up, with a bit of a sympathetic smile, "Not feeling well is always a good reason to eat veggies - and drink tea. I hope it was nothing serious?" As opposed to her own being hungover. Not that she says. Ahem. Moving away from that thought, she looks back down and hms at the choices, before finding a couple of rolls. "I believe these are the rolls filled with veggies. Lightly cooked, with some extra crunch. Often, my favorite when I am snackish. And clucker soup when I'm feeling ill. Are you sure you shouldn't still be in bed?" she asks, turning to motion to the rolls suggested, freely welcome to be parted with her bounty.

"Depends on what you meam by serious. I mean, I'm alive ain't I?" He dips down at the waist to snatch up a veggie roll between thumb and forefinger, the size of his hands affording him control with such a dainty grip. "But it was one of them nasty bugs where for a few days, I wasn't so sure I wanted to be. Just sweatin' and achey and... blech. No good." With that, he chomps into the food, and gives an immediate groan of satisfaction. "Marry me?" Now the elbow that lightly digs into her side is fully intentional.

Hana doesn't snort. Really. That /wasn't/ a snort. "Well, as proposals go, that's the best one I've ever gotten." Not that she says yes - and that elbow's arm gets a swat. "You want to ask the cook that - I just handle the pick up and delivery." There is, however, a wince at the description of the bug, before she shakes her head. "I hate it when those go around. Everyone ends up ill, and often grumpty to boot."

"Really? ''That's'' the best one you've gotten?" He continues munching down the food with slow rolls of his jaw, but turns in place to lean back against Azaylia's desk. "Then I hope it's the ''only'' one you've ever gotten. I didn't even get down on a knee, or drag your ass out to the top of a mountain, or nothin'." In just a few more wide-mouthed chomps, that first snack is gone, and Bones is reaching down for the next one. "Tell you what, how 'bout I practice a more times on the cook, then I'll come back up here and give you a real solid one. Then y'can say you've turned down the best proposal of your whole life, hehe!"

"It doesn't involved my parents, so yes. The best one I've gotten." The words are rather dry, in contrast to the grin Hana sports, before she has to laugh, and shake her head. "In that case, I expect a mountaintop. And it's Ilsa you are wanting to be practicing on." There is a pause as she rearranges some of the rolls to make it look less like some have been snitched. Then, teasing, "Of course, asking then means you might get an answer you don't expect!"

"Ilsa, Ilsa..." he can't recall meeting an Ilsa, though his times in the kitchens are very singularly focused. Food. "Ha! Y'can set your sights way higher than an ugly slab'a meat like me. If I'm endin' up with anybody, it's probably gonna be somebody with at least few burns and missin' teeth." Disrupting her rearrangement, Bones moves to snatch at least one with some meat in it, for contrast from the two previous selections. "You're a pretty piece though, you'll do fine if you start huntin'." Not the sweetest of compliments, but a genuine one.

Hana twitches - literally twitches - at the thought. "No hunting, thank you very much. At least not for a good couple of turns. Why burns and missing teeth? I'm sure if you were to lurk about the kitchens, singing the praises of some of the food, you'd at least find someone somewhat friendly," she points out with a grin. Because that is a safer topic.

Recoiling just a little bit at the visible twitch, Bones otherwise makes no mention of her clear aversion to the traditional dating scene. "Yeah, you're right, I could probably snag someone' pretty. It's just my sense of humor to bag on myself." Finally, after the two veggies and a meat, Bones leaves the rest for Azaylia's return. "Because if I don't check my own ego, then who will eh?" There's a little push at her shoulder, as he tries to pick something of a fight. "C'mon. Insult me real quick. Take me down a peg."

Hana goes blank. Totally, and absolutely blank - and the push doesn't help. "Ah.... ah... what?" There is some blinking, before finally - and somewhat at a loss, "Your father was a wherry, and your mother smelt of Bendan-grapes?"

Bones' own grin falters at Hana's inability to find anything offensive to say, and for a time he's just left to blink at what she came up with. "There ain't a cruel bone in your body, is there?" His gaze goes from appraising to friendly very quick. "Which is why you're so damn good for Azaylia. She could use the sweetness, what with all that's goin' on lately. I don't exactly ''know'' what's going on, but it I can tell the politics are gettin' rough on her.”

"Ah.... sorry?" Hana offers, actually sort of meaning it, before grinning. "I won't say /that/ - I just don't see any point in being mean. Or, well, insulting anyone. But I'm glad to hear that I'm actually helping her, and not just being indulged. I.. don't know much on the side of the politics myself, but I think it can be safely said that... it doesn't seem to be helping things much." There is a grimace, more worried than distasteful. "Seems to be worrying more people than not." Her fingers fidget with the cloth that goes back over the platter a bit, smoothing here, tugging there.

"I really, ''really'' try not to worry about the politics. I just make sure that the people near and dear to me hold up strong, y'know?" He pushes himself up off his reclining position at the desk, and gives his arms a high stretch, the bottom of his vest lifting up over his fuzzy belly button until he lowers his shoulders back down. "But I can't deny I see the effects. Folk I thought were good and true gettin' all twisted up when they get a taste for some bullshit title." He takes a deep breath on that one. "Anyway, I'm gonna get my ass down to the greenhouse and start fixin' up what I let go to shit when I was sick. Puttin' in some good work'll get my mind off of this scary stuff. Y'know, like marriage?" Now the grin comes back.

Hana twitches once, then impishly sticks out her tongue. "It's not nice poking at someone's phobia," she scolds, before stepping away from the table. "But yes, there is plenty of work to be done. I'm glad you are feeling better, Bones. Don't over-do it!" And then she's off like she so commonly goes; skirts a'swishing and a basket picked up and carried off.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Lakeside Catchup

2013-05-22T00:44:40Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Z'ian, Barnabas | where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr | what = Bones and Z'ian have a friendly chat | when = Day 3, Month 11, Turn 31 | gamedate = 2013.05.21..."

{{ Log
| who = Z'ian, Barnabas
| where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones and Z'ian have a friendly chat
| when = Day 3, Month 11, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.05.21
| quote = "I did have a meeting of my dragon cult arranged around noon so we could sacrifice some herdbeasts to the skies."
| weather =
| categories = General, Divided Leadership, Re-Return of the Vijays
| mentions = Aishani, Taikrin, Azaylia, Jo
| ooc =
| icons = z'ian zian19.png, barnabas badhairday.jpg
| log = '''Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr'''

''The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.''

''A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.''
----

With Rukbat hanging lower and lower as time passes, Bones steps across the sandy shores with heavy thumps of his boots, stopping once in a while to pluck up a sandy stone and twirl it a few times 'round in his fingers and then chuck it idly into the water. The wind has him occasionally rubbing at his bare arms to warm them from weather he's clearly beginning to find uncomfortable, a nagging discomfort that he finds more worthy of attention than the hair flying into his face.

This place has the worst sort of seasons. Z'ian finds himself wearing his heavier jacket more and more often again, but tonight it's just warm enough to get away from that thing. He too is wandering along the short of the lake, this time from the opposite direction. He's even performing a similiar action, picking up rocks and then sending them out towards the water. However he's actively trying to skip them, meeting with some success along the way.

It's with one of those downward glances to look at the rocks that Bones spots the untied laces of his sand-caked boot. By the time he's done binding it tightly back together and is back to his feet, the silhouette in the distance becomes more clear; Tall, male, and familiar. Z'ian? He smiles preemptively before the view becomes clear for either of them, but to spare the awkwardness of a long slow approach he picks up steam and jogs himself towards the bronzerider. "Hey Z'ian!" Called from a distance where he has no reason to truly shout, he moves in to wrap an arm around his friend's shoulders in a sort of side-hug. "Politics ain't killed you yet, eh buddy? How you been?"

Ha! Got it. Z'ian manages a decent couple of skips before the stone sinks to the bottom of the lake. It's really pretty impressive the look of boyish delight that generates just from being able to accomplish that. The sound of his name picks up his attention and he turns his head, "Hey! Bones!" He lifts a hand to wave at the other man and moves closer in his direction. The question makes him laugh and he shakes his head. "Not yet. Not unless someone poisons one of my meals or suffocates me for existing. How've you been?" He asks, exchanging the side-hug right back and turning, falling into step next to him.

Bones gives a few pats at the middle of Z'ian's back before entirely unwrapping his arm from around his shoulders, the breach of personal space concluded with a shove of four fingers into each of his pockets. "I'd be more worried that the stress of dealin' with Aishani is gonna send you willingly off a cliff face, Ha!" A stone that'd normally be plucked up and sent out into the lake is instead kicked idly by the big man, but the sand keeps it from tumbling too far up ahead. "Course, Tsanth'd probably snatch you out the air or whatever. And me? Man I caught myself one of them wicked bugs. Been sick for what felt like sevens. All kinds of weird colored liquids comin' outta me."

"She isn't so bad. It's the daily encounters with Taikrin that I think are going to turn all my hair grey early." Z'ian dips his head down to roughly point at some spots that he swears he saw a few of them the other day. "Probably, damn dragon doesn't know when it's okay to let a man suicide or not. He'd probably want to keep me company." He grins ruefully, looking Bones over when he mentions he was sick. "You know, I was thinking that you were looking more trim recently. I just thought you'd decided to go on some kind of diet. I hear eating just carrots is all the rage these days."

Bones tugs one of his hands free from his pocket to wrap it around one of his biceps as best he can, judging one of the few parts of him that vanity insists should ''not'' be more trim. It's that vanity that saves him from falling in to discussing politics deeper, at least temporarily. "MMph, maybe a few pounds sweated out from the fever. I'll get my strength back, just need to keep my food down for a few weeks. ''Good'' food." Not carrots. "How's Jo?" It hasn't been all ''that'' long since the ex-con has seen her, but Bones assumes that Z'ian's kept closer touch.

"For a few weeks? Probably want to focus on the next couple of days. If you've been so sick is great for you to be wandering around out here in the cold?" Z'ian asks, concern beginning to climb somewhat. "Without something to cover your arms. And- Who's been taking care of the greenhouse when you're not in it?" Really. How does the world turn without Bones around. He quirks one eyebrow upwards, questioning. "She's fine. You know Jo, it would take a real rattle for that woman to be anything other than doing well. The rest of us." The bronzerider with his problems and the gardener with his random wasting illness.

"Actually, I was takin' care of the greenhouse ''while'' I was sick. That's probably why it lasted so long. I'd trudge myself in half-alive and make sure most of my plants at least stayed in as good'a shape as me." He looks out to the water and smiles. "Which ain't all that good but..." he trails off, deciding to move to the next topic of conversation. "Actually, I was fixin' on tryin' to get me a swim, but summer slipped by real fast. This autum wind is rough. I still want to get some quick strokes in but... for some reason I'm just stickin' to the shore with my vest still on."

Z'ian winces for that. Going into work when you're oozing different colored liquids does not sound like a good time. "At least they're still alive? More or less?" He suggests consolingly. The next topic comes up and the bronzerider hops onto it with ease. "It does do that here, gone in a flash. I usually keep swimming up until the first snowfall. Which we haven't seen yet, so I'm thinking of going in tomorrow." He smiles crookedly, "You won't adjust to the water if you just stand on the edge of the shore. If you're really feeling better you should just jump on in."

"They're all alive, just a little more brown in some spots than they should be." Salvageable, with plenty of tender loving care. "As for swimming..." The left side of his face scrunches up in sort of a contemplative half-wince. "I think maybe my body's tellin' me it ain't ready yet. Maybe I'll join you tomarrow, eh? We can see who's quicker in the water." Nothing like competition to help push one to getting their exercise.

"I'm sure they're looking forward to your return." The plants that is. Well and probably those other people that visit the greenhouse on a regular basis. Slightly disappointed he looks out over the water. "I guess that's fair. I wouldn't want you to get worse off than you've been. Tomorrow." He grins crookedly, stretching his arms over his head as they continue to stroll along the shore. He kicks an errant stone out of his way. "You're probably faster, given the whole being a sailor thing. I'm just a guy that likes to jump into the water."

"Of course I'm faster. You think I'd challenge you at somethin' you had a shot at winning?" It's his turn to grin, one of his big pearly-white toothy ones that seems to stretch across his whole face. "Meetcha here about noon or something? Or do you got like... some kinda dragon leader thing you gotta get to around then?"

"I think you'd challenge me at something you ''thought'' I didn't have a shot at winning." Z'ian replies back easily, reaching out to shove at Bones' arm. "Well, I did have a meeting of my dragon cult arranged around noon so we could sacrifice some herdbeasts to the skies. But, I can find a way to get out of that and be here." He jokes, flashing the other man a smile.

"Really? Heardbeasts this time? What's wrong, you run out of blonde virgins again?" He gives a hearty laugh at his own joke, but the laughter is shared for Z'ian's humor as well. There's a bit of drift to the his walk at the shove to his arm, but once his balance is caught, he returns to walk alongside. "Seriously though, I almost bought it for a second. Don't play with my ignorance too much, or one of these days I'm gonna drag a carcasse into Azaylia's weyr thinkin' I'm paying her proper goldrider tribute or some such nonsense."

"This is a ''weyr.'' How many blonde virgins do you think we really have?" Z'ian asks with a short, loud laugh. "I haven't seen any." There's more laughter when he mentions bringing the dead carcass into Azaylia's weyr. "I think she would be rightly disgusted if you did that. Though Hraedhyth would probably appreciate the snack. The dragon can eat." Seriously. She's huge.

“Hrae is a ''monster'', that's for damn sure.” Intended as a compliment in both size and ferocity. “To be honest? She scares the shit out of me. Everytime we lock eyes she's just got this look like... whoa! Y'know? Just, bam, I see you there man meat, and you ain't nothin.” He does his best to fill in the gaps with hand gestures and expressions where words fail him. “But she purrs like a kitty cat for Azaylia, so whatever.”

"Golds almost always are. They're so much bigger than the bronzes, even. But Hraedhyth is something else, she's even got Tsanth somewhat tense these days." Not that his dragon is all that big and dramatic like some of the other beasts at the weyr, but still. "I have a hard time imagining that. I'm going to have to take your word for it.' Z'ian grins crookedly at that, shoving his hands deeply into the pockets of his pants.

A particularly nasty bout of wind whips some of Bones' dreads into his face, and though he doesn't vocally acknowledge the change to his vision, his steps slow for a moment or two as he gives a quick jerk of his neck to toss them back behind his head. "I think I oughta get back someplace warm, before my case of the sniffles comes back something feirce." He stands a bit straighter to look around and get a sense of where on the lakeshore they were in relation to a cavern entrance, having been a bit wrapped up in conversation to keep track before. "I'll see you tomarrow, right champ?"

Z'ian pauses when the other man does, glancing back in the direction of the bowl himself. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. I don't want to beat you tomorrow just because you're sick." He teases, tipping his head. "And yes, be ready to get your ass handed to you." There's another of his grins and when Bones starts off, he begins in the opposite direction. Going who knows where, really.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Old Dogs and New Tricks

2013-04-25T05:45:59Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Barnabas, C'wlin | where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr | what = C'wlin and Barnabas talk music, and changes in lifestyle | when = Day 9, Month 8, Turn 31 | ga..."

{{ Log
| who = Barnabas, C'wlin
| where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
| what = C'wlin and Barnabas talk music, and changes in lifestyle
| when = Day 9, Month 8, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.04.24
| quote = "Dragonriding is not something that comes natural."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas subtle concern.jpg, c'wlin.jpg
| log =
Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr(#2203RJ)
A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora.

Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.

Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath.

----

Late afternoon sees Rukbat fallen to the western sky, the orange-yellow rays of the late-day sun casts warmth through the windows of the greenhouse. Though it's not the most ideal place to find time alone, it is a place that the young bronzerider has sought out. No dragon, no straps, not weyrling duties; nay, he's positioned himself out of the way, firmly set upon a stone bench of sorts, with his stringed instrument in hand. Fingers flow effortlessly over the strings, the time away from his studies not affecting the base knowledge of how to string notes together. It's a soft melody; easy and relaxing this calm, late-afternoon summer day.

"D'ya know Taetra's Last Biscuit?" Emerging from the foliage is the resident gardener, clutching a straightrazor to his neck in what at first seems a self-threatening manor, untill the repeated scraping of stubborn stubble reveals him to be dry shaving his late afternoon away. "Or how about uhh... oh! The Whore's Dirge? I love that one!" While initially his questions are unexplained, he starts to hum and reveal what it is he's after. Song requests. Judging from the grimness of his growly voice, he's singing the tune of the latter.

"A strange man," C'wlin's music did not jangle to a stop -- he's too well trained for ''that'' -- but does come to a softly abrupt end at the appearance of Barnabas, "to be wielding such a blade 'round the treacherous plants." A sparkle glints in icy eyes, hints of amusement in the uplift of the corners of his lips and the slight uptick of pale 'brows. "Though I do know..." After a moment's pause, a jaunty tune follows that is similar to what Barnabas requests, though skewed as songs do when they have regional sisters. "... the Whore's Succulent Twin." Snakeish, the grin that curves 'pon the entitled boy's expression, mischief teasing in otherwise proper and cool eyes. "I know many more, though none that you ask." For now, the music flows to a halt as conversation reigns supreme.

Bones' lower lip juts out as he looks upwards at nothing in particular, considering this Succulent variation of his old favorite. He gives a simultaneous nod and shrug of the shoulders, accepting it as a suitable version. "I was just messing around." As if he could do anything but. "Didn't expect you to know 'em. They're old sailor songs, got just the right rythm to do boring ass ship work with." He lifts his chin high to scrap off the last of resilient neck hair, even a man as resilient as he forced to give a wince at how uncomfortable the process is. "You want somethin' from the greenouse in particular, or just thinkin' my plants make a good audience for your tunes? Ha!"

"I've ears to hear a song a-plenty," C'wlin comments, idle-look towards Barnabas (''up'' at Barnabas) coming from beneath pale lashes. "And I've an ear to remember. A tendency the harpers thought would serve me well in the craft, and that it did." Contemplation sneaks across his demeanor, brief, before attention once more settles upon the gardener. "I figure the plants can't talk and I've a need to practice at what I'm truly good at. Do you think they'd complain?" The plants, that is. Or he could mean the weyrlingmasters. A toss up!

Wiping his blade across the side of his thigh, Bones then folds it up with a flick of the wrist and slips it down into his boot as he answeres C'wlin. "Well I don't know much about proper music, but yours sounds damn good to me." With razor secured, he lifts himself back up to his full height and then some, stretching his arms up above his head, his lower back giving a few audible crackling sounds as it straightens out. "Whatcha mean by what you're ''truly'' good at, eh? Sounds like either you're real damn proud of the tunes, or down on yourself someplace else." With stretch completed, he scratches at his belly. "Hopin' it's just the first one?"

"I thank you," C'wlin demurs, though it's patently false, given the way the boy seems to ''know'' of his own, shall we say, talent. An answer is not immediately forthcoming to Barnabas' query, but neither is it summarily rejected without answer. After a bit, and a few test strums of the lute, the bronzerider says, "Talent, I suppose, comes to me for music and writing." He grabs the instrument by it's neck and balances the end on his thigh, staring at it while he speaks, "Dragonriding is not something that comes natural, is all. I am, I should say, not at all talented with the making of straps." Lips thin, press together. The boy is obviously not used to not being good at something he's put a mind to.

"Hmmm." Bones ponders C'wlin's words with a nod. "Well, you seem like a bright kid, so I probably ain't gonna drop any knowledge on ya that you ain't pondered on your own." there's a pause in his thoughts as he takes a seat next to C'wlin, lounging his long arms behind the stone bench and leaning back, legs kicked out in front of him. "But usin' myself as example, I went from working on a boat in the high heat, to growin' plants on a frozen mountain. I'm damn lucky I didn't just kill off every one of these little green bastards my first day! Hehe." Joke aside, he has a point, and he moves to dig it out. "Point is, I'm sure you're doin' way better than you think you are. You're just comparin' it to your music there, which ain't fair, eh?"

While verbal acknowledgment is not quick to follow Barnabas' helpful words, C'wlin ''is'' listening, given the sneaky side-glances given upwards to the man's large presence until he sits down to a more ''respectable'' height. Oh the trials of being a short male. Finally, silence gives birth to the mulled thoughts of contemplation, as the boy slowly twirls the instrument upon his thigh. "You speak the truth." Not quite grudging, but not quite gracious either. Here is a boy, on the cusp of manhood, who does not ''want'' to feel the slight weight of scant age in the lack of wisdom proven by one who's older. "Music is." Pause. "Was my life. It is something new now, but --" Here words are broken again, full weight of icy gaze settled upon the gardener to ask, seemingly at odds with the broken statement, "Was it difficult to change?"

"Yup." No drama or trepidation in the acknowledgment. "Real hard. ''Real'' hard, kid. Of course I've heard it said that anything worth doin' tends to be that way." He pauses for a moment, and scoffs. "Pfft. That's somebody else's words, not mine. I prefer the easy way." There's a smile aimed C'wlin's way at the admission. "But hey, it ain't like you gotta stop doin' what you did before. Just because the dragon's moved ''in'', he ain't kickin' your music ''out''. You'll get the hang of this weyrling stuff, and when y'do? Y'can be dragonrider ''and'' music man, right?" He gives a few solid pats to the middle of C'wlin's shoulders in reassurance.

The few solid pats to the middle of C'wlin's shoulders has the boy almost caving forward until the muscles spring to action, halting the forward movement. Wryly, he glances to the gardener. "It's worth it," now it is as if ''he'' is convincing the gardener, "I just hate not being able to make a damn pair of straps." However, where there's a will, there's a way and what one might not excel in, bribery always works. Or, rather, purchasing the skills of another. "I prefer the easy way too," again the wry look surfaces, ''almost'' softening the bratty expression that holds the norm of C'wlin's looks. "Tell me, which do you love more? The gardening or the seamanship?"

Bones seizes the opportunity to talk about himself once again, though not entirely for selfish reasons. Getting C'wlin's mind off of his weyrling duties seems a good idea. "They both have their good parts. The gardening is nice and even, y'know? No big surprises, no danger, no competition..." he pauses as he ponders the old days of working on the water, and after a few seconds of silence, he gives a chuckle. "Being on the water got excitin' though. Hehe." After his moments of thought, he turns his head to C'wlin with a grin. "You find yourself a good catch, a good haul, and you live like a king for sevens. You lose one, things run dry, and you're suckin' on boot leather for a snack."

A light, dry chuckle escapes as C'wlin listens to Barnabas' anecdote. "I bet that boot leather tasted divine enough when a little imagination was applied." His mind, definitely, is turned from his own continued building blocks of weyrlinghood -- not something to excel at in one fell swoop of life's paintbrush. "The seas would have provided a juicy breeding grounds for an epic poem," the bronzerider comments, this time with a lopsided sort of smile which takes the sharpness off his spoiled features. "Live like a king for sevens. I like that, ol' Bones." Sly comes the look now, the boy having heard a well-known nickname, but for all it's familiarity to the weyr at large does not keep the expression from yon face. "How many times did you revel in riches? Or did you suck the old leather from your boots more often than riches?"

"To be honest?" He debates how much truth to offer the youngster, but holds nothing back. "I was drunk most of the time, don't remember too well. I'm guessin' it was more leather than luxury." He unwraps his heavy arms from around the back of the bench, and pushes his palms to his knees to help him lift his bulky frame up back to standing. "But speakin' of tasty treats, I'm damn close to starvin'. I'm gonna go see if I can't get myself some chow before I put in a night's work." He heads towards the greenhouse entrance, but pauses not too far away to glance back over his shoulder at C'wlin. "Hey, you don't gotta be good at everything. Just keep movin' forward, right?" He gives a little chuckle as he continues onward. "Or maybe you ''should'' be workin' harder on things. We old dudes like to think we know everything, don't we? Ha!" It's as he leaves that he gives his final greeting. "Take care of yourself C'wlin."

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Bones

2013-04-25T00:58:40Z

Barnabas:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=BonesBig.jpg
|name= Barnabas (Bones)
|position= Gardener
|craft= N/A
|birthplace= Saluda
|mother= Josaphine
|father= Unknown
|siblings= N/A
|children= N/A
|friends= N/A
|playedby= Rob Zombie
|livejournal= N/A}}

== Description ==
A mess of hair and ink, the grungy man stands at a tall 6'4. Unkempt brown hair hangs down past his shoulders in a wavy mess, framing and in part overlapping the edges of his face. Brow is heavily pronounced over sunken, burnt umber eyes, casting a shadow across them in all but the harshest of light. Bushy and uneven facial hair covers his mouth, chin, and upper lip. Broad shoulders slouch, rarely supporting his head up to the full potential of his height. Thick arms are worked to size by hard labor, painted with all manner of grimly themed and scar stained tattoos. Chest is burly down to tapered waist, broadening out again to dense thighs that carry him in his casual yet unsettling shuffle.

== WYSK ==
*Originally from Saluda, a tiny hold on Nerat Peninsula.

*Bones arrived at High Reaches Weyr on Day 23, Month 1, Turn 30 having hitched a ride on dragon back.

*All of his arms and some of his chest are covered in tattoos. They feature a variety of skulls, tentacles, nightmarish creatures both real and mythical, and other creepy/threatening imagery. Some of them are muddy and harder to make out than others due to past infection, scarring, and dull needles in unsteady hands.

*Voice is rough and harsh, even more so when he's excited and happy (think Beetlejuice).

*Hates politics. Distrusts the dragon-oriented system of Weyr governance. Has general problems with authority all around.

*Ex-convict, having served ten years in the mines for murder. He is not shy or ashamed of this.

== History ==
Barnabas (or Bones to his friends) was born in Saluda on the Nerat Penninsula, the son of a alcoholic fisherman and prostitute. With dad out of the picture from day one, his loving mother did her best balancing work and child-rearing, but from a young age the boy learned to fend for himself during the long hours spent alone. Be it genetic predisposition or blind fate, he got his first job at age twelve aboard a small fishing boat, quickly proving his worth with a strong back and penchant for dirty jokes.

As he grew, he quickly found himself spending more time at sea than on land, finding work on bigger and busier boats, but always making a little time to return to his mother and give her a portion of his pay. When she died, he found little reason to stay in the small hold of Saluda, and changed careers from fishing, to merchant work. The ship ran a regular route between Half-Circle SeaHold and and Igen SeaHold, carrying spices and foodstuffs, earning a meager living that saw him with just enough marks to waste in many a tavern. Again, thanks to genetic predisposition or blind fate, he started to develop quite a taste for whiskey.

It was a very ordinary night of heavy drinking alongside the rest of the crew that would shake him out of what would have been a very routine life. A scuffle broke out between the second mate and an angry civilian, and it quickly spread to a full out bar room brawl. In the ensuing chaos, Bones battered a man unconscious, but struck him a few (dozen) too many times on the way down. The man perished later that night. Bones was left by his crew to take the blame for the entire incident, and was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and hard labor in the Telgar mines. He swore off alcohol from that day forward.

He did his time without incident, earning his reputation among fellow inmates and guards as "the friendliest murderer in the mines". After his release, he was desperate to make up for time lost mining in the dark, yearning for a new life in new surroundings. Rather than look for more merchant work, he took to traveling as far away from Saluda as begging and borrowing could take him, eventually finding his way northwest to High Reaches Weyr, near the end of civilization.

== Relationships ==
*'''[[Azaylia]]''': "Real sweetheart through and through. Maybe too nice for her own good? I'll keep her safe."

*'''[[H'kon]]''': "Just another politico who uses words like ''duty'' and ''right'' to justify bein' a jerkward 'bout what he wants. Least he ain't underhanded."

*'''[[I'kris]]''': "I get the feeling nobody got you. Didn't try to get you. I got you kid. Just wish I could'a said goodbye."

*'''[[Taikrin]]''': "Whoa, Tai's in charge now? Are we sure that's a good idea? Eh, why not? Long live Weyrlord Taikrin!"

*'''[[Leova]]''': "I think she's got ice for blood and gearwork in her head. Friendly and cold all at once. Weird."

*'''[[Jo]]''': "Gotta watch yourself with the bad girls. Is the bod worth gettin' shanked over? Probably."

*'''[[Aishani]]''': "Brieli's Aishani now? Bah, next thing she'll reveal she's a runnerbeast in a human suit. Nothing's changed, and that's not a compliment."

*'''[[Z'ian]]''': "Nice guy, good sense'a humor too. Not a package y'often see in a dude so handsome. Gotta be ''some'' weird baggage in there somewhere."

*'''[[Vienne]]''': "Twitchy little girly girl? I like her! Can't help but feel she needs a little boost of confidence though"

*'''[[N'ky]]''': "For his own sake, I hope his libido chills out before it gets him in some trouble with the wrong kinda people. Y'know, like me, Ha!"

*'''[[Mave]]''': "She's like a chick version of me at that age. Which o'course makes me real worried for the future. She's brighter'n I was, she'll be okay I bet."

*'''[[K'zin]]''': " "Like his buddy N'ky, he's way too caught up in the ins and outs of gettin' some. He'll probably grow out if it, but into what?"

*'''[[K'del]]''': "Your heart's in the right place, but stuff's outta your hands now. Take your vacation time and pick up a hobby. You'll be healthier for it."

*'''[[Liv]]''': "Got along with her real quick for somebody seemin' so normal. Maybe I'll get her liquored up and see what spills out, hehe."

== Soundtrack ==
Oddly enough in sort of a chronological order...

[http://youtu.be/OlwRNCnsbUg George Thorogood - Bad to the Bone]

[http://youtu.be/wwzkVXduNc0 Alice in Chains - Them Bones]

[http://youtu.be/qGyPuey-1Jw Irish Rovers - Drunken Sailor]

[http://youtu.be/jPaGE24vpio Apocalyptica - Nothing Else Matters]

[http://youtu.be/WccfbPQNMbg Andrew W.K - Party Hard]

== D&D Character ==
As per [http://www.easydamus.com/character.html this]:

''Chaotic Good Human Barbarian'''

''Alignment:''
Chaotic Good- A chaotic good character acts as his conscience directs him with little regard for what others expect of him. He makes his own way, but he's kind and benevolent. He believes in goodness and right but has little use for laws and regulations. He hates it when people try to intimidate others and tell them what to do. He follows his own moral compass, which, although good, may not agree with that of society. Chaotic good is the best alignment you can be because it combines a good heart with a free spirit. However, chaotic good can be a dangerous alignment when it disrupts the order of society and punishes those who do well for themselves.

''Race:''
Humans are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

''Class:''
Barbarians- Barbarians are brave, even reckless, and their warrior skills make them well suited to adventure. Instead of training and discipline, barbarians have a powerful rage that makes them stronger, tougher, and better able to withstand attacks. They only have the energy for a few such displays per day, but it is usually sufficient. Constant exposure to danger has also given barbarians a sort of 'sixth sense,' the preternatural ability to sense danger and dodge attacks, and their running stamina is legendary.

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Convicts]]

Logs:Serving your Time

2013-04-10T20:14:28Z

Barnabas:

{{ Log
| who = K'zin, Barnabas
| where = Lakeshore
| what = Bones catches up with K'zin, where they talk about his restrictions, and his sexy.
| when = Day 20, Month 6, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.04.09[[Media:Example.ogg]]
| quote = "Hey, Bones. Do you think I'm sexy?"
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Mave, Telavi, Azaylia, N'ky, Quinlys
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas cleaned.jpg, k'zin dashing.jpg
| log =
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs)
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

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.
----

With weyrling dragons in the barracks, there are some days when the work is never done. Tonight, it's because Rasavyth is in need of a bath and K'zin is evidently in need of supervision. The supervising dragon flies above as the weyrling pair make their way onto the beach, towel over one shoulder and bucket of supplies in hand. Rasavyth has some kind of dark grime marring a large section of his side. It's been a seven since the accident here that landed the weyrlings in the infirmary, and K'zin's nose is still discolored from the healing break. With Rukbat having set, the night is growing chillier, and that fact hastens the bronze pair on their way to the waters.

The lake is still and quiet under the glow of Belior and Timor, a fact which has Bones giving a soft sigh of discontent as he plucks a stone from the sands and gives it an underhanded toss a few feet out. Not all bodies of water are built the same, and a lake is boring compared to a true sea. The soft plunk is at first the only real sound to hear, but soon the stepping of a weyrling and his dragon grow from the distance, and Bones turns to spot the damaged duo not all too far away. With a mischevous smirk, he trudges over the sands to make greeting. "Waki!" Barked from distance enough way that the shout is necessity, to get his attention.

"Hey!" The greeting comes before K'zin's head has turned enough to find the speaker. "Bones!" comes the recognition, an easy smile for the gardener given as greeting. He glances skyward as the dragon circles and lands by the lake shore. His look towards the babysitter is dubious. "I suppose it would be very rude of me if I didn't greet you properly." This is said rather too loud for what is necessary, and clearly meant to sound out the reasoning why he's got to delay the here and back again trip to wash his lifemate who slithers into the water. Whatever it is he has on him, he wants it ''off''. "How are you, Bones?" K'zin queries as he pads towards the bigger man.

Bones' smile has a touch more wickedness to it than usual, at least at first, but closing the gap to K'zin has it softening out, and then briefly vanishing entirely. "Yeesh, I was gonna give you shit for mouthin' off at Azaylia, but looks like somethin' meaner got to you before I could. What happened to your face, kid?" There's a glance for the other dragon, but Bones doesn't think much of it before turning back to K'zin. "And why are you talkin' funny?"

"You heard about that?" K'zin queries, his expression abruptly ashamed. It goes beyond sheepishness, for sure. "Yeah. I was an ass." He confirms with a sigh. "I'm fixing it. I turned myself into Quinlys, as Zay pointed out I ought, for the rules I was breaking, so now I can't go anywhere alone. I was just explaining loudly enough why I needed to stop to talk to you instead of just jumping to the task at hand." To explain the funny speech. He does glance towards his lifemate and then the older dragon. "Mind if I scrub him while we talk?" He doesn't yet explain what worse thing found its way to his face.

"Turned yourself in?" Judging from the look on his face, it seems the very concept has the ex-convict confused, but quickly the scrunched expression evens out to a smile, and Bones gives a playful shove to K'zin's shoulder. "You little goody goody! Ha!" The mockery isn't genuine, and if tone isn't enough, Bones moves to clarify with words. "You seriously just copped to it when you coulda squeaked by? Good on you, dude. That takes big brass ones." His hands go back into his pockets after the touch of roughhousing. "Scrub all you want. Just tell me 'bout your face."

The shove sends K'zin stepping a couple feet, but at least he doesn't trip over himself in the process, "Goody goody, I wish. Zay would probably like me better if I was." He sighs, "I can't even take credit for that. Somewhere in all the feet tasting with Zay I lost track of whether she was going to tell on me or not, so I felt like I was going to have to, but then Mave told me that breaking the rules was disrespecting everyone I cared about, and-- well, the way she said it, it made sense. She has a way with words, you know? You know her, right? Mave?" His bucket and towel gets left on the beach, taking the soapsand with him into the water and he gets to scrubbing. "It's not as exciting as it looks," He calls, voice lifted just enough to make for comfortable conversation. "Telavi's head is pretty hard. She fell on top of me when she was trying to stop the dragons from getting hurt."

It's with the story, and it's tone of regret, that Bones loses his jubilant expression and hardens up a touch. "Yeah I know Mave. Smart, proud. Sometimes a little too much of the proud to maintain the smarts, heh." K'zin may move into the water, but Bones sticks to shore, giving his arms a rub as the air gets colder around them. "Damn, you're right, that don't sound as excitin' as I was hopin' for. C'mon man I'm always way behind on the gossip, y'missed a big opportunity to make it sound badass." There's the fun in him again. "Well regardless of who it was who put you on the path, you're the fella that decided to take the steps down it, right? You deserve some of the credit you're givin' to Mave."

"Well, I was ''kind of'' a badass." K'zin says after another moment's hesitation. "Tela stepped in the middle of Rasavyth and Solith while they were play fighting, and slipping on a spilled jar of oil. So-- I dunno. She kind of said I was a hero. But only when no one else was listening." He gives a shrug of his shoulders that's difficult to see as he scrubs hurriedly. "I'm going to try to do better. Zay said she was proud of me when she thought I was following the rules. Maybe I can make her and Quinlys and the rest of them proud for real." This is more a muse to himself than to the larger man. "Hey, Bones. Do you think I'm sexy?" The question comes out of nowhere. "'Cause I didn't think I was, but then Tela said it was ''unsexy'' that I talk with ''you'', but that must mean she thought I was sexy at some point, mustn't it?"

The story is told with unfamiliar names, but Bones is certain enough he gets the gist of it to smile and nod his way through the tale of heroics, all set to compliment the young rider untill questions are brought up. Surprising questions. "Are you... " The beginning to a question that's not finished, as Bones needs a moment to close his eyes and pinch at the bridge of his nose. "First of all, I'm the last dude you wanna chat with for advice on the ladies. Azaylia's 'bout the only one I feel I've got half a handle on. And second of all..." A sigh of defeat is given before Bones ponders the other part of the question, taking a moment to size K'zin up objectively. "Y'ain't bad? Hard to tell. Stick out your backside and pout your lips for me, then we'll talk. Ha!"

That last has K'zin laughing. "I didn't really mean-" He manages after a minute as Rasavyth starts rinsing and K'zin is wading back to shore, swim shorts dripping. "I'm really sort of impressed. It takes a lot of caverns cred to impact another guy's game when you're not even there." He towels off as he asks, "How's Zay doing? Any advice for apologizing ''this time''? I already made her a quill and brought her a bouquet of branches for when I kissed Mave during candidacy."

"What can I say? I'm a memorable guy, for better or for worse eh?" There's a double raise of his eyebrows at his own self-praise, even as he wonders to himself how he might track down this Telavi character later. "As for Azaylia? She's doin' alright I guess, just busy lately. And as for apologizing?" Again, a pause to ponder the question, this time with a little scratch at his chin. "Hmmm. Y'know, she's swamped something feirce lately, so if you were wantin' to apologize? Just do it casual I s'pose. Y'know, if you catch her 'round or somethin'."

"S'a good thing." K'zin decides, grinning. "I'd choose an evening with a drink in Snowaisis with you before I'd take a night of a girl talking about tonguing boobs and then walking away, leaving me confused. I think I like it better when women are straight forward." Beat. "Shit. I probably shouldn't have mentioned that. Don't get me in trouble with her for saying--" There's a blush in his cheeks. There's Rasavyth to distract him though, shaking off as exits the water, politely avoiding spraying the pair of them. "Casual. Right. Okay. Have you met Ras?" He queries as the slender bronze approaches, eyes whirling curiously as they regard the big man. He stops just shy of the men and rumbles his own greeting.

"Tonguing..." he mouths, trying to wrap his mind around just what brought on such randomness. The lack of context is briefly bewildering. "Right, straight forward. Like Mave. Who you kissed." A hand is brought to his eyes now, trying to squeeze out the mental image of the girl locking lips with K'zin. He didn't need his brain that deep in anyone's business. "No! No I have not!" A lifesaver is tossed to him in the form of a dragon named Ras, who he greets with an exuberant smile. "This the one that puts my face in your brain, eh?"

K'zin, as confusing as he is confused. The reference to Mave being the type of girl he likes makes him laugh again, "Yes. But no. Not ''Mave''. She wants to just be friends. And N'ky likes her anyway, so I couldn't like her if I wanted to." As if bro rules can rule emotion. "Anyway, I'm going to try to focus on not girls. I mean, anything other than girls." He hurries to correct his first statement that might be easily misconstrued as something ''entirely'' different. "Yep. This is him. The dragon's head stays back a respectable distance but comes level with the gardener's then sort of snakes back and forth to get a good look at it from all angles. This has K'zin giving a snort. "Apparently, now I can see your face in three-dimensions instead of just from the angle I remember it. He-- wants to know if you'll make some faces for him." This, at least is innocent enough.

What starts as a smile for the little dragon grows a bit more curious at it's inspection, eyes briefly glancing to K'zin just as the explanation comes for why Rasavyth is so interested. "Make some faces?" That has him grinning again. "Alrighty then, let's see what we got." Bones starts with a personal favorite, anger. Upper lip peels over his top teeth and brow tightens up with the top of his nose, looking not unlike a snarling dog ready to bite. He holds it for a moment before he gives an exagerrated sadness, with lower lip jutting out in a pout as his brow pinches upwards in the middle. The third is simply pure goof, pinkies going to the corners of his lips to pull them out of the way of his clenched teeth while his eyes cross in the middle.

It's a whole lot of watching. K'zin is watching Rasavyth who is watching Bones who is watching Rasavyth. Bronze and rider are both interested in what they watch. Then K'zin breaks into an abrupt laugh. "''Apparently,'' I'm going to see a lot more of you." He shakes his head looking at the gardener. "You know pretty soon, I'll be seeing so much of you, I'm going to think we're the best of friends." There's a rumble from the older dragon on the beach. K'zin's eyes don't bother going to the babysitter, but to Ras and he gives a little nod. "Time to get back to the barracks. Maybe when I'm done proving I can be trusted we can get ''a'' drink in Snowaisis again. By the time however long it takes is over, I'm sure I'll need one." The towel is tossed back over his shoulder, and bucket is taken up again, readying to depart.

"I did I say I was memorable right? Hehe." He fires a wink at Rasavyth as a facial farewell, then turns back to K'zin. "When you're done serving your time kid, the drinks are on me, how 'bout that?" A thick arm reaches out again, but instead of the playful shove this time there's a few pats to the shoulder in reassurance. "Take care of yourself alright? And see to it that nose of yours heals up. Azaylia'd be heartbroken if you came by her way lookin' any less pretty."

"Heartbroken?" K'zin sounds concerned. He ''is'' a bit dense, selectively so. (Though not of his own selecting.) He blinks, "Alright. I'll-- well, I'll wait to apologize 'til it's healed up a bit better then." Rasavyth lets a low croon leave his throat, a warm sound that is likely the dragon's thanks for Bones' indulgence. "I'll take care if you take care." K'zin answers back. "Or try to at any rate. You can see how successful I am with that." A hand vaguely indicates the nose, and then with a wave of the bucket, he, his dragon, and his babysitter are heading back in the direction of the barracks.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Serving your Time

2013-04-10T19:59:05Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = K'zin, Barnabas | where = Lakeshore | what = Bones catches up with K'zin, where they talk about his restrictions, and his sexy. | when = Day 20, Month 6, Turn 3..."

{{ Log
| who = K'zin, Barnabas
| where = Lakeshore
| what = Bones catches up with K'zin, where they talk about his restrictions, and his sexy.
| when = Day 20, Month 6, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.04.09[[Media:Example.ogg]]
| quote = "Hey, Bones. Do you think I'm sexy?"
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Mave, Telavi, Azaylia, N'ky, Quinlys
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas cleaned.jpg, k'zin dashing.jpg
| log =
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs)
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

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.
----

With weyrling dragons in the barracks, there are some days when the work is never done. Tonight, it's because Rasavyth is in need of a bath and K'zin is evidently in need of supervision. The supervising dragon flies above as the weyrling pair make their way onto the beach, towel over one shoulder and bucket of supplies in hand. Rasavyth has some kind of dark grime marring a large section of his side. It's been a seven since the accident here that landed the weyrlings in the infirmary, and K'zin's nose is still discolored from the healing break. With Rukbat having set, the night is growing chillier, and that fact hastens the bronze pair on their way to the waters.

The lake is still and quiet under the glow of Belior and Timor, a fact which has Bones giving a soft sigh of discontent as he plucks a stone from the sands and gives it an underhanded toss a few feet out. Not all bodies of water are built the same, and a lake is boring compared to a true sea. The soft plunk is at first the only real sound to hear, but soon the stepping of a weyrling and his dragon grow from the distance, and Bones turns to spot the damaged duo not all too far away. With a mischevous smirk, he trudges over the sands to make greeting. "Waki!" Barked from distance enough way that the shout is necessity, to get his attention.

"Hey!" The greeting comes before K'zin's head has turned enough to find the speaker. "Bones!" comes the recognition, an easy smile for the gardener given as greeting. He glances skyward as the dragon circles and lands by the lake shore. His look towards the babysitter is dubious. "I suppose it would be very rude of me if I didn't greet you properly." This is said rather too loud for what is necessary, and clearly meant to sound out the reasoning why he's got to delay the here and back again trip to wash his lifemate who slithers into the water. Whatever it is he has on him, he wants it ''off''. "How are you, Bones?" K'zin queries as he pads towards the bigger man.

Bones' smile has a touch more wickedness to it than usual, at least at first, but closing the gap to K'zin has it softening out, and then briefly vanishing entirely. "Yeesh, I was gonna give you shit for mouthin' off at Azaylia, but looks like somethin' meaner got to you before I could. What happened to your face, kid?" There's a glance for the other dragon, but Bones doesn't think much of it before turning back to K'zin. "And why are you talkin' funny?"

"You heard about that?" K'zin queries, his expression abruptly ashamed. It goes beyond sheepishness, for sure. "Yeah. I was an ass." He confirms with a sigh. "I'm fixing it. I turned myself into Quinlys, as Zay pointed out I ought, for the rules I was breaking, so now I can't go anywhere alone. I was just explaining loudly enough why I needed to stop to talk to you instead of just jumping to the task at hand." To explain the funny speech. He does glance towards his lifemate and then the older dragon. "Mind if I scrub him while we talk?" He doesn't yet explain what worse thing found its way to his face.

The shove sends K'zin stepping a couple feet, but at least he doesn't trip over himself in the process, "Goody goody, I wish. Zay would probably like me better if I was." He sighs, "I can't even take credit for that. Somewhere in all the feet tasting with Zay I lost track of whether she was going to tell on me or not, so I felt like I was going to have to, but then Mave told me that breaking the rules was disrespecting everyone I cared about, and-- well, the way she said it, it made sense. She has a way with words, you know? You know her, right? Mave?" His bucket and towel gets left on the beach, taking the soapsand with him into the water and he gets to scrubbing. "It's not as exciting as it looks," He calls, voice lifted just enough to make for comfortable conversation. "Telavi's head is pretty hard. She fell on top of me when she was trying to stop the dragons from getting hurt."

It's with the story, and it's tone of regret, that Bones loses his jubilant expression and hardens up a touch. "Yeah I know Mave. Smart, proud. Sometimes a little too much of the proud to maintain the smarts, heh." K'zin may move into the water, but Bones sticks to shore, giving his arms a rub as the air gets colder around them. "Damn, you're right, that don't sound as excitin' as I was hopin' for. C'mon man I'm always way behind on the gossip, y'missed a big opportunity to make it sound badass." There's the fun in him again. "Well regardless of who it was who put you on the path, you're the fella that decided to take the steps down it, right? You deserve some of the credit you're givin' to Mave."

"Well, I was ''kind of'' a badass." K'zin says after another moment's hesitation. "Tela stepped in the middle of Rasavyth and Solith while they were play fighting, and slipping on a spilled jar of oil. So-- I dunno. She kind of said I was a hero. But only when no one else was listening." He gives a shrug of his shoulders that's difficult to see as he scrubs hurriedly. "I'm going to try to do better. Zay said she was proud of me when she thought I was following the rules. Maybe I can make her and Quinlys and the rest of them proud for real." This is more a muse to himself than to the larger man. "Hey, Bones. Do you think I'm sexy?" The question comes out of nowhere. "'Cause I didn't think I was, but then Tela said it was ''unsexy'' that I talk with ''you'', but that must mean she thought I was sexy at some point, mustn't it?"

The story is told with unfamiliar names, but Bones is certain enough he gets the gist of it to smile and nod his way through the tale of heroics, all set to compliment the young rider untill questions are brought up. Surprising questions. "Are you... " The beginning to a question that's not finished, as Bones needs a moment to close his eyes and pinch at the bridge of his nose. "First of all, I'm the last dude you wanna chat with for advice on the ladies. Azaylia's 'bout the only one I feel I've got half a handle on. And second of all..." A sigh of defeat is given before Bones ponders the other part of the question, taking a moment to size K'zin up objectively. "Y'ain't bad? Hard to tell. Stick out your backside and pout your lips for me, then we'll talk. Ha!"

That last has K'zin laughing. "I didn't really mean-" He manages after a minute as Rasavyth starts rinsing and K'zin is wading back to shore, swim shorts dripping. "I'm really sort of impressed. It takes a lot of caverns cred to impact another guy's game when you're not even there." He towels off as he asks, "How's Zay doing? Any advice for apologizing ''this time''? I already made her a quill and brought her a bouquet of branches for when I kissed Mave during candidacy."

"What can I say? I'm a memorable guy, for better or for worse eh?" There's a double raise of his eyebrows at his own self-praise, even as he wonders to himself how he might track down this Telavi character later. "As for Azaylia? She's doin' alright I guess, just busy lately. And as for apologizing?" Again, a pause to ponder the question, this time with a little scratch at his chin. "Hmmm. Y'know, she's swamped something feirce lately, so if you were wantin' to apologize? Just do it casual I s'pose. Y'know, if you catch her 'round or somethin'."

"S'a good thing." K'zin decides, grinning. "I'd choose an evening with a drink in Snowaisis with you before I'd take a night of a girl talking about tonguing boobs and then walking away, leaving me confused. I think I like it better when women are straight forward." Beat. "Shit. I probably shouldn't have mentioned that. Don't get me in trouble with her for saying--" There's a blush in his cheeks. There's Rasavyth to distract him though, shaking off as exits the water, politely avoiding spraying the pair of them. "Casual. Right. Okay. Have you met Ras?" He queries as the slender bronze approaches, eyes whirling curiously as they regard the big man. He stops just shy of the men and rumbles his own greeting.

"Tonguing..." he mouths, trying to wrap his mind around just what brought on such randomness. The lack of context is briefly bewildering. "Right, straight forward. Like Mave. Who you kissed." A hand is brought to his eyes now, trying to squeeze out the mental image of the girl locking lips with K'zin. He didn't need his brain that deep in anyone's business. "No! No I have not!" A lifesaver is tossed to him in the form of a dragon named Ras, who he greets with an exuberant smile. "This the one that puts my face in your brain, eh?"

K'zin, as confusing as he is confused. The reference to Mave being the type of girl he likes makes him laugh again, "Yes. But no. Not ''Mave''. She wants to just be friends. And N'ky likes her anyway, so I couldn't like her if I wanted to." As if bro rules can rule emotion. "Anyway, I'm going to try to focus on not girls. I mean, anything other than girls." He hurries to correct his first statement that might be easily misconstrued as something ''entirely'' different. "Yep. This is him. The dragon's head stays back a respectable distance but comes level with the gardener's then sort of snakes back and forth to get a good look at it from all angles. This has K'zin giving a snort. "Apparently, now I can see your face in three-dimensions instead of just from the angle I remember it. He-- wants to know if you'll make some faces for him." This, at least is innocent enough.

What starts as a smile for the little dragon grows a bit more curious at it's inspection, eyes briefly glancing to K'zin just as the explanation comes for why Rasavyth is so interested. "Make some faces?" That has him grinning again. "Alrighty then, let's see what we got." Bones starts with a personal favorite, anger. Upper lip peels over his top teeth and brow tightens up with the top of his nose, looking not unlike a snarling dog ready to bite. He holds it for a moment before he gives an exagerrated sadness, with lower lip jutting out in a pout as his brow pinches upwards in the middle. The third is simply pure goof, pinkies going to the corners of his lips to pull them out of the way of his clenched teeth while his eyes cross in the middle.

It's a whole lot of watching. K'zin is watching Rasavyth who is watching Bones who is watching Rasavyth. Bronze and rider are both interested in what they watch. Then K'zin breaks into an abrupt laugh. "''Apparently,'' I'm going to see a lot more of you." He shakes his head looking at the gardener. "You know pretty soon, I'll be seeing so much of you, I'm going to think we're the best of friends." There's a rumble from the older dragon on the beach. K'zin's eyes don't bother going to the babysitter, but to Ras and he gives a little nod. "Time to get back to the barracks. Maybe when I'm done proving I can be trusted we can get ''a'' drink in Snowaisis again. By the time however long it takes is over, I'm sure I'll need one." The towel is tossed back over his shoulder, and bucket is taken up again, readying to depart.

"I did I say I was memorable right? Hehe." He fires a wink at Rasavyth as a facial farewell, then turns back to K'zin. "When you're done serving your time kid, the drinks are on me, how 'bout that?" A thick arm reaches out again, but instead of the playful shove this time there's a few pats to the shoulder in reassurance. "Take care of yourself alright? And see to it that nose of yours heals up. Azaylia'd be heartbroken if you came by her way lookin' any less pretty."

"Heartbroken?" K'zin sounds concerned. He ''is'' a bit dense, selectively so. (Though not of his own selecting.) He blinks, "Alright. I'll-- well, I'll wait to apologize 'til it's healed up a bit better then." Rasavyth lets a low croon leave his throat, a warm sound that is likely the dragon's thanks for Bones' indulgence. "I'll take care if you take care." K'zin answers back. "Or try to at any rate. You can see how successful I am with that." A hand vaguely indicates the nose, and then with a wave of the bucket, he, his dragon, and his babysitter are heading back in the direction of the barracks.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Honoring Obligations

2013-04-03T20:51:38Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = N'ky, Barnabas | where = Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr | what = Bones and N'ky catch up after keeping a safe distance from one another. They should probabl..."

{{ Log
| who = N'ky, Barnabas
| where = Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones and N'ky catch up after keeping a safe distance from one another. They should probably keep doing that.
| when = Day 2, Month 6, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.04.13
| quote = "Callie comes first."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = n'ky playful.jpg, barnabas cleaned.jpg
| log =
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.

Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air.
----
It's quite possibly the best day that High Reaches has seen so far in the new turn: warm sun, blue skies, a delicate breeze fluttering through the bowl - a promise that summer really ''does'' exist, and is just around the corner. Soaking up the sunny day is one green weyrling pair in particular; N'ky and Cailluneth are towards the lake end of the feeding grounds, the green lying on the ground with her keen eyes fixed on the herdbeasts, while N'ky sits contemplatively on a rock, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin cupped in his hand.

A day without the pile of dead animals that the gardener calls a coat is a day worth exploring parts of the bowl unseen, and so it's with a smile that Bones wanders from his usual lakeshore path towards the meatfactory of the feeding grounds. That's when the smell hits him. Blood, trampled muddy earth, and of course plenty of beast feces. Even in the open air of the bowl it's a powerful wall of funk that more sensative nostrils need to adjust to, and it's in that moment of pause that there's notice of a familiar profile sitting on a rock. Well, that's certainly a more pleasent alternative. "Nicky!" The pre-weyrling name is shouted with a cupped hand as Bones makes his approach.

Cailluneth's head whips around to watch Bones, eyes whirling with curious green. She flexes her wings, then her paws, digging her claws feline-like into the earth before her before she settles and returns to watching those animals that will, undoubtedly, be her lunch soon enough. She's bigger than they are now, if only by length - and, lengthwise, she's now longer than N'ky is tall. The sound of his former name has the weyrling looking up, though of course he can't help but know who the voice belongs to. "Hello, sir," he replies with shy enthusiasm, a blush already colouring his cheeks as he smiles crookedly. "H-have you, um, met Cailluneth?" He ''knows'' the two haven't met since he's purposely not gone near the greenhouse in the past two months.

Bones approaches Cailluneth as one would approach any foreign wild animal, hands in pockets and slowly so as to appear as unthreatening as possible. He knows little of dragons. "You kiddin'? Course I know Calli. Me and her hang out all the time!" There's no sarcasm in his tone, but the absurdity of it alone should make it clear as comedy. "Congratulations, by the way. On the whole... y'know." One hand is tugged free, and he points to the small green. "What's she like?"

There's no danger from the tubby green, who is far more interested in the herdbeasts. N'ky slips down off his rock and grins hugely at Bones, stepping around Cailluneth to stand in front of the man with a look of absolute pride about hi. He reaches for his dragon's nearest headknob, tracing fingers along its length before scritching at the base. "How d-dare she sneak off behind my back," he teases in return. "Thanks, Bones. She's... oh, ''Faranth''. She's my ''world''. My ''heart''. She's everything amazing and even then that's not enough - she's... p-perfection." And she's maybe good enough to ease his stutter a bit too, as the teen's certainly tripping over fewer words. "How have ''you'' been? I'm, um, sorry I h-haven't... I c-couldn't come by, not with her, and... um..." He trails into awkward silence, hoping a smile might make up for what he's struggling to say.

There's a moment where Bones' smile fades at N'ky's heartfelt explanation of the green, the sudden intensity of his love radiating off of the greenrider and surprising Bones. "Whoa. Sounds intense." He scratches the back of his neck and looks at Cailluneth with a raised eyebrow. Really, all that for this little lizard? He can't help but chuckle. Dragonriders man, dragonriders. "Me?" He has to stop and ponder it, wanting to give a genuine answer. "Good, actually!" The stumbling and silence are familiar to Bones, and so he moves to fill it as he always does. "Hey, don't you worry. I get it. Y'got a responsibility to your dragon right?" A heavy hand reaches out to pat N'ky a few times on the shoulder. "Ain't my first time bein' a bad influence! Ha!"

"It is k-kinda intense, but in the best way." N'ky grins fondly at his lifemate, a smile that he turns to the gardener when he's patted on the shoulder. "I'm g-glad you're keeping well, sir." He returns the shoulder-pat with a far more resitant touch to the man's forearm, grinning shly as he does it. The weyrling is about to say something when he's interrupted by Cailluneth growling and getting to her feet, wings - all 11 feet plus of the span of them - flaring out wide as she bugles loudly to a blue descending from the skies above to make his kill. N'ky cringes, eyes closed as he suddenly breathes heavier, more staggered; the sort of breaths taken when trying not to throw up. His fingers, still lingering on Bones' forearm, tighten there briefly - just long enough for him to realise what he's doing before he pulls his hand away with an apologetic little wave.

That look of partial confusion returns at the sudden cry from the green, and the reaction it puts into N'ky, eyes darting down to the grip at his forearm. When it's all over with, the smile comes back, though a touch smaller. "Like I said, sounds intense. Heh." His tone belies a touch of concern. "You okay? Seems like Callie got you a little messed up there."

N'ky swallows hard, possibly even hard enough for it to be heard, before he turns his head and spits. Cailluneth's wings are tucked back to her sides by now, but she paces restlessly back and forth in between the pens, where the blue is enjoying his meal, and where N'ky stands with Bones. The weyrling teen draws a deep breath, then gives the gardener a tiny shake of his head - a dismissive sort of shake. "F-fine." Only the sudden chalkiness of his complexion and the dampness to his eyes suggests otherwise. "She's just keen. She, um, l-likes to share... ''taste''. H-have you ever had a mouthful of blood, sir?" The way he says it suggests he knows what the answer is; N'ky turns his head and spits again, this time rubbing the back of his fist over his mouth.

There's a small wince as Bones gets a better understanding of the mental link, and imagines somebody magically putting blood in his mouth. "Yeah, I have." There's no need for further explanation, and mostly Bones just looks sympathetic. "So... that's it then? Y'just gotta suffer through whatever she shares with you even if it's all nasty?" Now the glance for the green is a touch annoyed.

A gentle shrug of N'ky's shoulders answers that question well enough. "I... g-guess so? But she's still a baby, sir - she might grow out of it. And, um, I might grow used to it." Though the frown that tugs down the corners of his mouth says the latter's not quite so likely. "Everything else is j-just ''amazing'' though, sir. I can put up with this one thing, um, f-for her sake, and it's just b-because she's ''excited''... she'll g-get to kill this month though, so I'm ''hoping'' it'll ease up a bit."

Bones gives an exaggerated exhale through parted lips, his cheeks puffing out in the process. He's not without empathy, and he has it in spades for N'ky. "I'd be worried if you start to ''get used'' to having blood in your mouth, kid. I mean I like my meat rare but there's limits eh?" He'd give a playful shove to N'ky if not for the sudden weakness the greenrider wears on his face, and he decides to keep his mitts to himself.

"It's alright, though," N'ky says with a reassuring nod to the older man, giving him a gentle elbowing. "It's just that it's r-really ''sudden'' when she does it, and it's like I c-can, um, f-feel it like..." He takes a deep breath as his frown deepens, then he shrugs it off. "Back h-home, I watched a c-couple of times when they would, um, s-slaughter the ovines or caprines, t-to eat, y'know?" A finger's drawn across his neck, mimicking death by bleeding out. "And, um, the blood f-from ''that''..." He trails off, eyes going glassy. "It reminds me of that." Cailluneth raises up on her hind legs, calling out to the blue again; this time she gets a response, which seems to excite her more.

"Well, I guess-" He's cut off me Cailluneth's cry, his shoulders bunching up just a little at the sudden shriek. When it concludes, Bones recovers smoothly. "Well I guess this is just kinda normal for dragonriders right? Dealing with having another voice in your head? I mean you say it's awesome, every dragonrider says it's awesome, but... man." He moves to rub the back of his neck as he looks out to the blue, then down at Cailluneth. "I'm bettin' I couldn't handle it." A pause for self-reflection before turning back up to N'ky with a smile. "So how's that feel eh? Knowin' y'got the mental fortitude that an old man like me can't muster eh? Y'think you're better than me, dragonrider? Y'wanna throw down y'little bitch?" His grin widens, and now he'll put his palms to N'ky's chest in a gentle push.

N'ky glances at Cailluneth, concentrating for a moment, before he turns his attention back to Bones."O-oh, sir, she's... she's not quite a ''voice''. Cailluneth doesn't speak so much. She... suggests, I guess is the best word for it? It's h-hard to describe, but, um, she sees everything as ''colours''. Even scents - even ''you''. You're..." His eyes close as he connects to the green, before he nods in confirmation. "S-sort of... ''loamy''. Like the earth in the greenhouse. It's a g-good colour, sir." And then he's being pushed! That surprises N'ky even if it is gentle, but once he's got himself together he reaches up to push the gardener back - maybe a ''little'' stronger, but no less playful. Whether or not he's better isn't commented on; N'ky just bites down on his lip and grins silly-like for being bold enough to actually push Bones,

Bones shifts one of his legs back at the impact to his chest, just enough force to it to throw him slightly off balance out of sheer surprise. Did N'ky just push him? Blushing, stuttering, lip-biting N'ky? "You just pushed me!" He calls attention to it with a grin. "Is Callie putting a little backbone in you all of a sudden?" His stance returns to normal, and he slips his hands back into his pockets. "Hehe, I like it."

"N-no-one's called her Callie before," N'ky grins, this time prodding a finger against Bones' chest; there's more where that push came from! "I've always h-had a little, um, b-backbone, sir... I just keep it to myself." He shrugs good-naturedly, slipping his hands into his pockets and taking a step towards the gardener. "Um, s-sir? D-did you know th-that, um, a g-greenrider comes with, um, c-certain... obligations?"

"I think it suits her." Bones glances over at Cailluneth with a smile, but has his attention brought back with a finger at his chest, just in time for N'ky to close a bit of the distance. "Yeah? What kinda obligations are those?" He's curious, though speaking in a bit of a softer tone thanks to the new proximity.

"Um... o-obligations th-that I'd... I-I'd like you t-to maybe, um, h-help me fulfil." N'ky sounds more like his old self as he's gripped by nerves. His cheeks flush darkly and he drops his gaze to his toes, while Cailluneth sidles up to his side and snorts a breath at Bones. She then leans in to press her muzzle to him, breathing his scent deeply. "F-Faranth, sir, I'm g-going to have to go... sh-she's... Cailluneth's h-hungry, sit." But he doesn't turn away ''just'' yet; lingering, perhaps, for Bones's response.

Bones takes note of N'ky's slow transition back into the shy creature he was the last time they had spoke, but stays dense to the details. "You'd like... ''me''?" A blink, then another. What exactly was Bones good for? He remains sadly uncertain. "Well kid, just ask me plain and sweet and I'll be happy to help." It's Cailluneth's sudden curiosity that leaves Bones even more confused than he was before. "When you gotta go you gotta go. But you know where to find me. Y'know, when you've got the time, eh?" And when his corrupting influence is less of a concern.

"I-I'll come find you," N'ky promises, reaching out to curl fingers gently around Bones' upper arm. They trail softly down rather than lifting straight off, while the green weyrling looks hopeful that it might go a little way to helping the man understand what he was asking for. "N-not now though, sir, sh-she's... she's too young. B-but later... i-if you could - if you'd ''like'' to... I-I would... um..." Flustered doesn't even begin to describe it, and N'ky bites down on his lip, looking away at the pens. "It's n-not really a good time f-for me to be, um, ''thinking'' about it."

The smile starts innocent enough, but as N'ky reaches, and the touch lingers, Bones rather suddenly gets a better idea of what N'ky is talking about. "Oh... ''oh!''" Is that what a green rider is obligated to do? He needs to get friendly with more greenriders then. "Don't worry. I get it. Don't wanna make it harder for you." There's a pause, and Bones' smile tightens up as he thinks on the double meaning. "Callie comes first." With that last affirmation, Bones glances over his shoulder back to the lakeshore, giving a small smile to himself. "I think I'm gonna try and get a swim in while the weather's still good. You take care of yourself Nicky." One last smile for the future greenrider, as he says his goodbyes with one more playful shove at N'ky's shoulder, then heads on his way.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:The Root of the Problem

2013-03-26T06:26:52Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Z'ian, Barnabas | where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr | what = Z'ian and Bones catch up on things political and personal, and tackle a pesky greenhouse chore...."

{{ Log
| who = Z'ian, Barnabas
| where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Z'ian and Bones catch up on things political and personal, and tackle a pesky greenhouse chore.
| when = Day 3, Month 5, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.03.25
| quote = "Everything is complicated."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Jo, Aishani, N'ky, Mave, K'zin
| ooc =
| icons = z'ian front.png, barnabas cleaned.jpg
| log =
Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora.

Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.

Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath.
----

"You stupid... mothertonguing... peice of garbage!" With boot pressed to the edge of a pot nearly the size of the man himself, Bones stubbornly tugs at the base of a rotted tree, it's roots clinging fast into the dirt below. "You're already dead, why are you fighting me so much!" His forearms strain with vascularity as he grits his teeth and tries again, making little progress in lifting it from it's pot. With an exasperated exhale, he surrenders, shoulders slumped and dirty hands hanging loose at his sides. "Alright, you win." He claps his hands free of lingering filth, and goes to collect a sharp trowel.

Why in the world Z'ian is hanging around the greenhouse is a mystery that will never be solved. But here he is. The bronzerider pokes his head out from around one of the plants and then steps out. While Bones is off collecting the trowel, he's examining the pot. Walking around it he gives a kick there, then another here and then another on the other side. Some of the dirt begins to break away from the side. Glancing over his shoulder to see if the gardener is back yet, he turns to the dead tree again and grabs it around the trunk. With a grunt, he tries to twist the whole thing to pull it away from the sides of the pot. Partial success. When the larger man eventually returns, "I loosened it up for you."

"Pfft, more like ''I'' loostened it for ''you'' y'fairy! Almost right away, chores are abandoned in favor of addressing Z'ian, the big man tossing the trowel into the pot and sauntering right up to Z'ian. "Where you been? Too busy being the new ''weyrlord'' to visit a friend?" He's all grins as he throws his arms around the bronzerider in a firm hug, slapping a few pats to his back in the process. "When're you planning on putting your boot to Taikrin's ass and appointing Jo as the new Weyrwoman? Ha!" Rumors as juicy as this even reach Bones' ears.

Z'ian laughs when the gardener throws his arms around him and he bear hugs the larger man back the best he can. Even if he doesn't quite have the physical strength to match. When the break away he sits on the edge of the stubborn pot. He laughs, ducking his head at the rib. "I was out of the weyr helping my family. Came back to find out I was the Weyrleader. Don't you hate when that happens?" The bronzerider jokes back easily, it's safe to that here with Bones in the greenhouse. A luxury he's likely not afforded outside amongst the others. "Tomorrow, you know. I figure by now the Weyr probably won't even notice they've got a new set of Weyrleaders again. Plus, Jo is sexy as hell. They'll be distracted."

More laughter from Bones as Z'ian plays right along with the theoretical mutiny, arms crossing over his chest as he ponders the details. "And then I'll be the new Wingmaster of Boreal. Sounds good to me!" More titles for Bones to misremember, showcasing his true knack for politics. "Course, no disrespect to the lady, sexy as she is. Seein' her so close to the top of the food chain in this weyr makes me nervous, hehe." His comment is good natured, but truthful.

"Perfect. I'll even let you borrow my dragon now and then to do the drills. He won't notice the difference anyway." That's probably not completely accurate, but Z'ian grins broadly along with it. Bones may not know or care for all the details, but that hardly seems to get under the bronzerider's skin at all. "Yeah, Jo is something of the opportunist. She'd likely take the Weyr for everything it had and run with it, right?"

"Ha! And then when you fuck up, Boreal will announce me the new Weyrlord, and the cycle continue eh?" Bones hunkers down to sit back on a nearby bench, crossing his legs and sliding his hands to the back of his head. "Same shit, differant day. And as for Jo? Well..." He gives this one some thought, clearly. "... I'unno. Love the girl to death, but hearin' bout her standin' with Shani gave me the heebie jeebies." He's still smiling, but he looks to the floor for a moment as he tries to recall the sensation, and then looks up to Z'ian. "Is it just me? It's just me, ain't it. Hehe."

"Exactly. And the indecisive occupants of 'Reaches will work on building up your successor. So on and so forth. Damn tricky people." Z'ian leans his elbows onto his knees. The crooked grin on his face would indicate he feels much the same way Bones does on that sentiment. "Jo and Aishani?" He sighs then and shakes his head. "I was fucking angry that night with her. All I could think was that damn crowd was going to turn on them both, with Jo in between it all." It takes a moment for him to push back the residual irritation once more. "It's not just you, a lot of people feel the same. Everything is complicated."

With real issues popping up, and politics rearing their ugly head, Bones' smile fades further, and he's forced to give a sigh. "I really try not to think about this shit. I mean it don't really effect me none at all. I'm the gardener, what's a change of leadership gonna do differant for our supply of flowers eh?" There's a push at the top of his thighs as he stands up and makes his way over to Z'ian. "None if it really matters much if y'think on it. Life's too short for any one group of assholes to do damage that the next group can't patch up. Least that's been my experience."

"You sure? What happens if someone comes in here and tells you to rip out all your flowers? Replace them with just potatoes?" Z'ian gestures around with one hand, indicating everything around them. "I think that's what it feels like to a lot of us. That this whole thing is ripping out all the flowers. But now I'm starting to get way too deep and metaphysical or some shit." The bronzerider remains there on the pot, watching Bones as he moves around. "You're right, there's a sense to that in a way." He has to admit to that. "We can talk about something else though? Like what the fuck you've been doing without me around to make your life interesting?"

There's a brief moment to ponder the greenhouse being turned into a potato farm, and even just a moment of such a dystopian vision has Bones' face scrunching up in a disgusted wince. If there's any truth to the analogy, Bones now understands the gravity of the situation. "Well, honestly? I've been up to my neck in teenagers." The fingers come out as he lists them. "Mave, this lower caverns girl. She wants me to teach her how to fight. K'zin, new weyrling, is having real problems with his dragon fillin' his head with dirty thoughts. N'ky is..." Should he put it gently? It's too entertaining not to. "N'ky wants my dick."

Z'ian listens to that rundown with an arching of his eyebrows. Eventually he just laughs and hangs his head, "Shit man. Have you thought about locking the door to keep them all out? I've never been good with teenagers. Congratulations on your new unclehood with them or should it be condolences?" As for the subject of the weyrling that wants his dick, he's giving a shake of his head. "I have a ten turn rule for situations like that it. It curbs the rate of young impressionable women from thinking we're weyrmated and camping out on my ledge."

Now the laughter returns, Bones crossing over towards Z'ian and giving him a pat on the shoulder. "For some reason they think because I'm old, that means my advice is good. Poor bastards." Now, his arms cross over his chest as he looks down into the pot, pondering something with a scratch to his temple with a curved index finger. "Ten turns eh?" With N'ky, it was closer to twenty. "What about you eh? What's going on with you 'sides gettin' nominated."

"No, I refuse to believe that you're old. But that means that I'm old too and I'm not ready to be old. I don't even have grey hair yet. We're both at the height of you know, our awesome manhood." Z'ian gestures between them, pushing his elbows off of his knees. "Have you actually been giving them any good advice?" He wonders before laughing again. "Me? Besides having my wing try to destroy my career, uh well. Lets see... We lost my father, but life moves on. I mean, my personal life is going well, if complicated. Honestly, things could be better but they could be a lot worse."

"I'm trying to steer 'em right, but let's be be honest. It's me we're talkin' bout." The grin at his self-depricating humor, drops entirely at mention of Z'ian's father. "Aww fuck, dude. Sorry for your loss man. Seriously." The vague outlines of Z'ian's life do little to perk him up. "Sounds like you've got way too much on your mind." Bones suddenly reaches into the pot to grab the trowel he tossed in earlier, and decides to free it from the pot entirely. "Wanna help me with this sucker?" The plant, still stubbornly in it's place. "I figure with four arms we could do the deed easy."

It won't help at all if the bronzerider continues to sit there on the pot like that, will it? "Don't worry about it, no apologies needed. It's more upsetting for my mother than it is for me." Z'ian gives the whole situation a casual brush off, as if he's already forgetting about the touchy subject himself. "And that's why I'm here spending my evening with a good friend. And ''not'' in the living cavern with a bunch of likely crazy people." He grins and turns to the plant, wrapping his hands around the trunk. "Sure. Let me know when you want me to start pulling. We'll get this bitch out."

"Sure. With me. Not crazy people." Bones reaches down to grip hard at the spots on the trunk where Z'ian's hands aren't, able to wrap around it's middle but only just so. "Alright, on the count of three. But like, ''on'' three, not that stupid thing where people say on three but they mean on four. Got it?" He lowers himself down with his knees, readying himself for a solid grip. "One, two, ''THREE!''"

There's probably some irony to the not crazy people thing. "Yeah on three- What? What's on four?" There's a pause and then Z'ian is shaking his head, no really. He's got this. He's got your back or something. Bending at the knees also, he pulls on time with Bones. Not at two and not at four but on the three like he's supposed to be doing. Yanking back the tree doesn't seem to be budging, but then it does. It's difficult to tell at first but soon it's slipping out, faster and then ''whoosh''. The plant comes completely out of the pot and the bronzerider at least, staggers backwards from the displaced force.

The suddeness of the tree giving at their combined strength has Bones struggling with physics, and he lets go of the tree just to try and untether himself from Z'ian who might still be clutching on. The leafless, pre-pruned collection of trunk and short dead branches turns out had quite the hold in the soil, the collection of roots ripped free more than impressive and spraying dirt all over the floor. Despite Bones ending up on his ass, he seems overjoyed at a job well done. "Haha! Nice one!"

Z'ian ends up still on his feet, but landing with his back against some sort of potted bush behind him. He disentangles himself from it as quickly as he can, plucking a thorn or two out of his jacket. Regardless of having plantlife and dirt attached to him, the rider grins broadly and laughs. "I can't imagine how that thing died with all those roots it has there. Damn."

"Yeah well..." There's a pause as he grunts his way up to his feet, once again clapping his hands free of dirt, and putting his hands at his waist as he looks down at an empty pot and the dead tree on the floor beside it. "Now that it's out of the way, I replace it with something fresh. Something better." He turns to Z'ian. "If I had to dig all this out with the trowel and shovel, it woulda probably taken an hour or more. Which means you just saved me a damn heap'a time." There's a pause as he brainstorms how to properly thank Z'ian for his effort. "Which means I got time to waste. How about we kick back at the Snowasis, and I buy you a drink or two eh?"

"Can you replace it with something that's not nearly as big next time?" Z'ian asks, eyeballing the remains of the tree that's now on the ground. He brushes some dirt off of his pants. He grins again at the mention of going to get a drink. "That sounds like a great fucking idea. Lets go." Sufficiently clean of dirt, he pulls his jacket tighter around him. He'll be ready to leave once Bones is.

Glancing out from behind the safety of greenhouse glass, the heavy rain makes him think twice about heading out in his usual sleeveless number, and he moves to find his pelt cloak. "C'mon big guy." Only slightly ironic, considering Bones is larger of the two. "Let's go get you fucked up. You've earned a night of fun." Furs are thrown up over his shoulders, and just like that the two are ready to head out.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Helping Hands

2013-03-25T09:06:37Z

Barnabas:

{{ Log
| who = Barnabas, K'zin
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = K'zin confess his troubles with weyrlinghood to Bones. Bones offers advice, and an outlet.
| when = Day 29, Month 4, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.03.24
| quote = "Have you tried smacking his nose or something? It works for dogs."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Azaylia, Mave, Madilla
| ooc =
| icons = k'zin listening.jpg, barnabas subtle concern.jpg
| log =
'''Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.'''
----

The snowasis is lively this night, the cacophony of loud conversations and laughter creating a rowdy party atmosphere. The bartenders struggle to keep the drinks flowing, the bar crowded with people snapping fingers and raising hands trying to get their attention for the next round of drinks to drag off to their tables. Finding a spot to be alone at is near impossible, and so Bones has found himself entertaining a table of rough-looking riders by showing off a bit of blade skill. His knife is jabbed quickly into the wood of the table between his wide-splayed fingers, the speed especially impressive to the group of drunks with him.

The secret to breaking rules and not getting caught is acting like you know what you're doing and doing it in the right place and time. This might just be the latter of those two things, and K'zin isn't half bad at the former. He's a familiar face in Snowaisis, and dressed in regular clothes instead of a weyrling uniform, beer in hand, he looks like just another 'Reaches resident enjoying the night. He's not exactly lively, and this is one of the only ''tells'' that he's up to no good, or at least, not ''being good''. After picking up his latest mug, the route back to where he'd been sitting takes him near the table where Bones is performing his daring acts of-- well, daring! K'zin can't help but pause to peer between shoulders and watch.

Bones' tongue sticks from between his lips as he focuses on picking up speed, the small blade darting around the table at a pace that has the table caught in a silent tension. Finally, after one last flurry of quick jabs, he stabs the blade into the table with enough force to leave it sticking upright, the finish earning him several pats to the back and a sudden burst of laughter and cheer. "Ha! Alright fellas, that's it for me tonight. Enjoy your drinks eh?" There's mild protest for him to stay, which he ignores as he tries to make his way towards the bar, the crowds making it difficult.

K'zin's expression is as impressed as some of the others faces are sporting around the table as the display reaches its conclusion. When the big man starts moving towards the bar, the former Smith uses a shoulder to help make a gap for him, herding the other patrons aside. "That kind of entertainment should keep you drinking free all night. Have one on me?" He offers, moving to fall in step with the gardener to head back toward the bar.

There's a pause in Bones' step at the familiar voice, eyes catching where it came from, and a smile soon following. "Hey, Waki!" He throws an arm over the weyrling's shoulders, more than encouraging the two to move together towards the bar. "Congratulations on getting one of them dragons eh? You'll be a rider soon." The two moving together are force enough to wedge their way up to a spot at the bar, where Bones finally unwraps K'zin. "Tell you what, you buy me my klah, and I'll get you some shots eh? Hehe!"

There's something to be said for two bodies moving as one. In this case, it's that it's much easier to make headway in a crowded room. K'zin's expression for the congratulations isn't exactly the most cheerful, but that might be easily missed in the moving, and by the time the gardener is offering shot, the young man is grinning again. "I think I might be trying my luck with just the beer. But when I finish this one, you can get me another if you like." Space isn't readily available at the bar, but the bartenders are fast and so enough room for two opens up after a brief wait. K'zin's hand is used to flag down a bartender and order that klah for the big man. "How's life on the other side?" The side without dragons invading your thoughts in most waking moments. "Things back to normal since Hatching?"

With K'zin ordering klah for Bones, bones reluctantly orders a beer instead of shots for K'zin, and the two are left to chat as bartender slips away to get them their order. "Hey, I barely even noticed that there ''was'' a hatching kid. That's the best part about being a gardener, you get to keep out of the way." A few heavy pats come to K'zin's back before Bones digs into his pocket to dig out a handkerchief, he starts to wrap it around his other hand. At first there's no rhyme or reason as to why, but a bit of crimson seeps through the cloth. He'd cut himself, unseen to the crowded table he'd left behind.

"You know, if you feel like ''trading'', I've got this shiny, stupidly smart dragon you could have. I'm not so good with nurturing growing things, but I think I could figure it out faster with the plants than the dragon." K'zin offers sounding half serious. The sigh that follows is more telling that the lad is struggling in this transition than his words, though isn't it said that jokes often grow from the seed of truth? He shakes his brown haired head a bit, his hair chopped to his chin rather than hanging down his back. Truthfully, it doesn't look too terribly different from the front, but for those used to seeing the runner's tail hanging, it's certainly a change. "Is that why you became a gardener? Or is it just one of the perks?" The weyrling didn't accept the shots, but he makes short work of his beer, ready for the next before it arrives.

Bones' finishes bandaging up his self-wounded hand, tying a quick knot around the nicked ring finger without letting it interrupt the flow of conversation. "No thanks kid. Havin' somebody share my head don't seem worth it. I mean sure, y'get some recognition and a nice weyr for it, but I'm plenty popular as is. Plus, Zee's still letting me crash on her couch, so it's like I already got a weyr. Kinda." The drinks arive, and Bones lifts his mug of klah slightly towards K'zin, aiming for a bit of contact in a silent cheers. "You havin' second thoughts eh? What's the matter, your dragon an asshole or something? Ha!"

The cut wasn't lost on K'zin - not entirely. A glance is given to the bandaging job, "Ought to let Healer Madilla take a look at that later, make sure it doesn't get infected or anything." His comment is fairly off-handed, but the way K'zin says the healer's name holds school-boy admiration, like there's no hurt she couldn't fix. "You're more popular than you know. My dragon likes to--" The weyrling pauses, drawing his mug back from the clunky-clink with Bones' trying to find the right words. "The way we would accompany words with a smile, or frown, he likes to use other people's expressions to do the same thing, in my head. He pulls them out of my memories and uses them. You're one of his favorites. He likes to tell dirty jokes, and you're just about the only one that's ever made any dirty jokes to me." Ah, youthful innocence. "I'm glad, though, that you're staying with Azaylia. I've been worried about her since the Hatching Feast, and haven't had enough time to see-- well, how she is." Beat. "Is she... okay?" He chews his lip a moment, "I wouldn't call my dragon an asshole. But he's not what I expected, to be sure. Not sure what I ''did'' expect though." So, what else is there to say? Nothing. So drink! And he does.

"Ehhh..." Bones lifts up his injured hand, giving a face that combines the properties of a smirk and a wince together. "I'll wait to see how it closes up before I drag a real healer into things." His lips are pursed over his mug to blow across it's surface, knowing it's tendency to be too hot to drink for the first few seconds. He can't hide his growing smile at learning of Rasavyth's tendencies for mimicry, even as he continues to cool his klah. "Really now? Your dragon's into dirty jokes? Ha! You're gonna start seein' my face with every pair of tits now, that's horrifying! Hahaha!" His laugh turns a few nearby heads, but with the snowasis being as loud as it is, he blends in fairly well. "And yeah, Azaylia's holding up okay. She's just real swamped with work. She's takin' a break to spend some time with her family in uhh... Kerun. Yeah, Kerun."

K'zin's shoulders rise and fall in a 'suit yourself' shrug to the talk of Healers. "My dragon ''loves'' dirty jokes." The weyrling replies emphatically. "You know how everyone was all concerned before Hatching about us candidates thinking about things we won't be able to do for months? My dragon made dirty jokes and inappropriate comments to me when he was two days old." Beat. "And you have no idea how disappointed he is that I don't have any first-hand experience with some of the subjects. I swear he stripped all my memories down and listened to conversations I wasn't even aware I heard to get some of his grasp and material on the subject." He lifts his beer and then drops it away again suddenly to add: "What's worse is that he knows everything I know, so he's always ''helpfully'' showing me sketches of women I've drawn at the ''worst'' possible moment. I finally got a few minutes with Azaylia when she came to meet the dragons, and the dragon thinks all these things that--" A blush touches K'zin's cheeks then, "Well, made me have a problem that would've been far less embarrassing if I wasn't a weyrling and if Azaylia hadn't been standing there with N'ky ''and'' Alida ''and'' their dragons. So I wouldn't call him an asshole, but maybe he qualifies sometimes."

Bones isn't without his empathy, and K'zin's confessions are met with a slightly less intense smile, a sign that he's taking the frustrations seriously. "So basically, dude's puttin' filth into your brain when you're just trying to be a normal guy, eh?" Bones finally takes a sip of his klah, his lips smacking when he's done. "Have you tried smacking his nose or something? It works for dogs." Bones' grin clarifies his suggestion as a joke. "Honestly? It don't sound ''that'' bad. I mean if the worst he's doin' is givin' you awkward hard-ons in front of Azaylia? That's no big deal. Zee ain't a stranger to buldges, if you know what I'm sayin'." Another sip of his klah follows, this one deeper thanks to it cooling. "Just sounds like you gotta suffer bein' a teenager for a while longer. Once you can actually get some, shouldn't be as big a problem, right?"

A single brow cocks up and then falls as K'zin's lips shift from side to side in a slight purse, considering the big man's words. "Well, that's not ''all'' he's doing. The rest-- well, it's just more than I can even find words for. Don't get me wrong, I love the jokes. It's just the timing." Beat. "He didn't actually think he was doing anything wrong. He thought I should be showing Azaylia that I was um-- willing and eager?" He shakes his head. "For all that he's a little adult dragon in a lot of ways, there's still some things he needs to learn, I guess. It's sort of confusing." Sort of. Ha. "Bones, do you think there's anything I could be doing to help Zee? I don't know her well enough to know what she needs right now, add to that being a weyrling with a dragon who barely needs me, I'm going a bit out of my brain feeling so helpless. Do ''you'' need help with anything?" Either he's feeling particularly altruistic, or he really is feeling useless.

"Willing and eager works for Zee." There's a wink added to that one, his advice meant to imply an understanding of the girl, but hopefully not firsthand knowledge. Without the finer details of Rasavyth's mischief, Bones's advice falls short. "And relax kid. You're a weyrling, from what I understand it bein' useless is part of the program until your weird dragonling and you get a feel for one another, eh?" There's a few pats to K'zin's back, meant to be encouraging. "Just let her know that you care about her eh? I mean that you ''really'' care. Don't make it all sappy-like, because then it just sounds like you're tryin' to sweet talk your way between her legs."

There's a small, grateful smile for the reassurance provided on the woman front. The fact that Bones might have first hand knowledge doesn't seem to cross the poor boy's innocent mind. Probably for the best that he remain oblivious, if the world will be so kind. "Won't she know I'm not trying to sweet talk my way between her legs since I can't even go near her lips without Hraedhyth probably thinking of squishing me out of worry for what a kiss would do to her baby? Mine's one of hers." He reaches to rub the back of his neck. "I really-- I just need an occupation. Besides learning to be a dragonrider. I mean, I spend time with him. But sometimes, he likes to be awake and alone. All the others -- they like to be with their riders ''all the time''. Like, right now, he's just hanging out. In his couch. Thinking about ''things'' that give me a headache." Hence the mind-numbing beer, which he finishes off. "Are you sure you don't have some project or another that I could help with? I don't have enough time to do a whole Smithing project. But I could maybe, you know, dig in the dirt?" His concept of what a gardener does is apparently quite poor.

As K'zin continues down his path of woes, Bones re-secures an arm across his shoulders, hoping the weight of him is at least a bit of lazy comfort. "Right right, you're not allowed to do fuckin' anything fun as a weyrling..." Bones uses his free hand to take a few more sips of klah, setting it down on the bar between thoughts spoken outloud. "I guess if you're lookin' for distractions..." Bones pauses, actually giving thought to the proposal. With some of his time already promised to Mave, does he have time to teach K'zin how to not kill his plants? "... sure, I bet I can find you some stuff to do. I'll wear you out somethin' good, hehe."

K'zin's smile of gratitude is larger this time, a little freer, if by promising the lad purpose the gardener has taken some weight away. That's the thing about people who like to work with their hands. Take them and put them in a situation where their hands become idle and they'll thank any man who asks an honest day's work of them. The relief on his face is short-lived, however. There's no ''far-away'' look that some riders get when a lifemate interrupts, his brows simply furrow, and then lips purse. "Much as I'd prefer to stay, Rasavyth-" He speaks the name for the first time in their chat, "-has an itch. I'm required." He swallows the last gulp of the beer, and reaches a hand up to grasp the hand of the arm around his shoulders, squeezing it briefly in thanks before slipping out from under the arm. "I'll take you up on the offer of shots some other time. You know, once I'm allowed to have some fun." He smirks, expression in clear agreement with Bones' assessment of the fun quota permitted to weyrlings. He's quickly headed on his way: at least he can't be accused of not being a dutiful weyrling, just a confused, mildly frustrated one.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Helping Hands

2013-03-25T08:03:37Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Barnabas, K'zin | where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr | what = K'zin confess his troubles with weyrlinghood to Bones. Bones offers advice, and an outlet. | when..."

{{ Log
| who = Barnabas, K'zin
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = K'zin confess his troubles with weyrlinghood to Bones. Bones offers advice, and an outlet.
| when = Day 29, Month 4, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.03.24
| quote = "Have you tried smacking his nose or something? It works for dogs."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Azaylia, Mave, Madilla
| ooc =
| icons = k'zin listening.jpg, barnabas subtle concern.jpg
| log =
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.

The snowasis is lively this night, the cacophony of loud conversations and laughter creating a rowdy party atmosphere. The bartenders struggle to keep the drinks flowing, the bar crowded with people snapping fingers and raising hands trying to get their attention for the next round of drinks to drag off to their tables. Finding a spot to be alone at is near impossible, and so Bones has found himself entertaining a table of rough-looking riders by showing off a bit of blade skill. His knife is jabbed quickly into the wood of the table between his wide-splayed fingers, the speed especially impressive to the group of drunks with him.

The secret to breaking rules and not getting caught is acting like you know what you're doing and doing it in the right place and time. This might just be the latter of those two things, and K'zin isn't half bad at the former. He's a familiar face in Snowaisis, and dressed in regular clothes instead of a weyrling uniform, beer in hand, he looks like just another 'Reaches resident enjoying the night. He's not exactly lively, and this is one of the only ''tells'' that he's up to no good, or at least, not ''being good''. After picking up his latest mug, the route back to where he'd been sitting takes him near the table where Bones is performing his daring acts of-- well, daring! K'zin can't help but pause to peer between shoulders and watch.

Bones' tongue sticks from between his lips as he focuses on picking up speed, the small blade darting around the table at a pace that has the table caught in a silent tension. Finally, after one last flurry of quick jabs, he stabs the blade into the table with enough force to leave it sticking upright, the finish earning him several pats to the back and a sudden burst of laughter and cheer. "Ha! Alright fellas, that's it for me tonight. Enjoy your drinks eh?" There's mild protest for him to stay, which he ignores as he tries to make his way towards the bar, the crowds making it difficult.

K'zin's expression is as impressed as some of the others faces are sporting around the table as the display reaches its conclusion. When the big man starts moving towards the bar, the former Smith uses a shoulder to help make a gap for him, herding the other patrons aside. "That kind of entertainment should keep you drinking free all night. Have one on me?" He offers, moving to fall in step with the gardener to head back toward the bar.

There's a pause in Bones' step at the familiar voice, eyes catching where it came from, and a smile soon following. "Hey, Waki!" He throws an arm over the weyrling's shoulders, more than encouraging the two to move together towards the bar. "Congratulations on getting one of them dragons eh? You'll be a rider soon." The two moving together are force enough to wedge their way up to a spot at the bar, where Bones finally unwraps K'zin. "Tell you what, you buy me my klah, and I'll get you some shots eh? Hehe!"

There's something to be said for two bodies moving as one. In this case, it's that it's much easier to make headway in a crowded room. K'zin's expression for the congratulations isn't exactly the most cheerful, but that might be easily missed in the moving, and by the time the gardener is offering shot, the young man is grinning again. "I think I might be trying my luck with just the beer. But when I finish this one, you can get me another if you like." Space isn't readily available at the bar, but the bartenders are fast and so enough room for two opens up after a brief wait. K'zin's hand is used to flag down a bartender and order that klah for the big man. "How's life on the other side?" The side without dragons invading your thoughts in most waking moments. "Things back to normal since Hatching?"

With K'zin ordering klah for Bones, bones reluctantly orders a beer instead of shots for K'zin, and the two are left to chat as bartender slips away to get them their order. "Hey, I barely even noticed that there ''was'' a hatching kid. That's the best part about being a gardener, you get to keep out of the way." A few heavy pats come to K'zin's back before Bones digs into his pocket to dig out a handkerchief, he starts to wrap it around his other hand. At first there's no rhyme or reason as to why, but a bit of crimson seeps through the cloth. He'd cut himself, unseen to the crowded table he'd left behind.

"You know, if you feel like ''trading'', I've got this shiny, stupidly smart dragon you could have. I'm not so good with nurturing growing things, but I think I could figure it out faster with the plants than the dragon." K'zin offers sounding half serious. The sigh that follows is more telling that the lad is struggling in this transition than his words, though isn't it said that jokes often grow from the seed of truth? He shakes his brown haired head a bit, his hair chopped to his chin rather than hanging down his back. Truthfully, it doesn't look too terribly different from the front, but for those used to seeing the runner's tail hanging, it's certainly a change. "Is that why you became a gardener? Or is it just one of the perks?" The weyrling didn't accept the shots, but he makes short work of his beer, ready for the next before it arrives.

Bones' finishes bandaging up his self-wounded hand, tying a quick knot around the nicked ring finger without letting it interrupt the flow of conversation. "No thanks kid. Havin' somebody share my head don't seem worth it. I mean sure, y'get some recognition and a nice weyr for it, but I'm plenty popular as is. Plus, Zee's still letting me crash on her couch, so it's like I already got a weyr. Kinda." The drinks arive, and Bones lifts his mug of klah slightly towards K'zin, aiming for a bit of contact in a silent cheers. "You havin' second thoughts eh? What's the matter, your dragon an asshole or something? Ha!"

The cut wasn't lost on K'zin - not entirely. A glance is given to the bandaging job, "Ought to let Healer Madilla take a look at that later, make sure it doesn't get infected or anything." His comment is fairly off-handed, but the way K'zin says the healer's name holds school-boy admiration, like there's no hurt she couldn't fix. "You're more popular than you know. My dragon likes to--" The weyrling pauses, drawing his mug back from the clunky-clink with Bones' trying to find the right words. "The way we would accompany words with a smile, or frown, he likes to use other people's expressions to do the same thing, in my head. He pulls them out of my memories and uses them. You're one of his favorites. He likes to tell dirty jokes, and you're just about the only one that's ever made any dirty jokes to me." Ah, youthful innocence. "I'm glad, though, that you're staying with Azaylia. I've been worried about her since the Hatching Feast, and haven't had enough time to see-- well, how she is." Beat. "Is she... okay?" He chews his lip a moment, "I wouldn't call my dragon an asshole. But he's not what I expected, to be sure. Not sure what I ''did'' expect though." So, what else is there to say? Nothing. So drink! And he does.

"Ehhh..." Bones lifts up his injured hand, giving a face that combines the properties of a smirk and a wince together. "I'll wait to see how it closes up before I drag a real healer into things." His lips are pursed over his mug to blow across it's surface, knowing it's tendency to be too hot to drink for the first few seconds. He can't hide his growing smile at learning of Rasavyth's tendencies for mimicry, even as he continues to cool his klah. "Really now? Your dragon's into dirty jokes? Ha! You're gonna start seein' my face with every pair of tits now, that's horrifying! Hahaha!" His laugh turns a few nearby heads, but with the snowasis being as loud as it is, he blends in fairly well. "And yeah, Azaylia's holding up okay. She's just real swamped with work. She's takin' a break to spend some time with her family in uhh... Kerun. Yeah, Kerun."

K'zin's shoulders rise and fall in a 'suit yourself' shrug to the talk of Healers. "My dragon ''loves'' dirty jokes." The weyrling replies emphatically. "You know how everyone was all concerned before Hatching about us candidates thinking about things we won't be able to do for months? My dragon made dirty jokes and inappropriate comments to me when he was two days old." Beat. "And you have no idea how disappointed he is that I don't have any first-hand experience with some of the subjects. I swear he stripped all my memories down and listened to conversations I wasn't even aware I heard to get some of his grasp and material on the subject." He lifts his beer and then drops it away again suddenly to add: "What's worse is that he knows everything I know, so he's always ''helpfully'' showing me sketches of women I've drawn at the ''worst'' possible moment. I finally got a few minutes with Azaylia when she came to meet the dragons, and the dragon thinks all these things that--" A blush touches K'zin's cheeks then, "Well, made me have a problem that would've been far less embarrassing if I wasn't a weyrling and if Azaylia hadn't been standing there with N'ky ''and'' Alida ''and'' their dragons. So I wouldn't call him an asshole, but maybe he qualifies sometimes."

Bones isn't without his empathy, and K'zin's confessions are met with a slightly less intense smile, a sign that he's taking the frustrations seriously. "So basically, dude's puttin' filth into your brain when you're just trying to be a normal guy, eh?" Bones finally takes a sip of his klah, his lips smacking when he's done. "Have you tried smacking his nose or something? It works for dogs." Bones' grin clarifies his suggestion as a joke. "Honestly? It don't sound ''that'' bad. I mean if the worst he's doin' is givin' you awkward hard-ons in front of Azaylia? That's no big deal. Zee ain't a stranger to buldges, if you know what I'm sayin'." Another sip of his klah follows, this one deeper thanks to it cooling. "Just sounds like you gotta suffer bein' a teenager for a while longer. Once you can actually get some, shouldn't be as big a problem, right?"

A single brow cocks up and then falls as K'zin's lips shift from side to side in a slight purse, considering the big man's words. "Well, that's not ''all'' he's doing. The rest-- well, it's just more than I can even find words for. Don't get me wrong, I love the jokes. It's just the timing." Beat. "He didn't actually think he was doing anything wrong. He thought I should be showing Azaylia that I was um-- willing and eager?" He shakes his head. "For all that he's a little adult dragon in a lot of ways, there's still some things he needs to learn, I guess. It's sort of confusing." Sort of. Ha. "Bones, do you think there's anything I could be doing to help Zee? I don't know her well enough to know what she needs right now, add to that being a weyrling with a dragon who barely needs me, I'm going a bit out of my brain feeling so helpless. Do ''you'' need help with anything?" Either he's feeling particularly altruistic, or he really is feeling useless.

"Willing and eager works for Zee." There's a wink added to that one, his advice meant to imply an understanding of the girl, but hopefully not firsthand knowledge. Without the finer details of Rasavyth's mischief, Bones's advice falls short. "And relax kid. You're a weyrling, from what I understand it bein' useless is part of the program until your weird dragonling and you get a feel for one another, eh?" There's a few pats to K'zin's back, meant to be encouraging. "Just let her know that you care about her eh? I mean that you ''really'' care. Don't make it all sappy-like, because then it just sounds like you're tryin' to sweet talk your way between her legs."

There's a small, grateful smile for the reassurance provided on the woman front. The fact that Bones might have first hand knowledge doesn't seem to cross the poor boy's innocent mind. Probably for the best that he remain oblivious, if the world will be so kind. "Won't she know I'm not trying to sweet talk my way between her legs since I can't even go near her lips without Hraedhyth probably thinking of squishing me out of worry for what a kiss would do to her baby? Mine's one of hers." He reaches to rub the back of his neck. "I really-- I just need an occupation. Besides learning to be a dragonrider. I mean, I spend time with him. But sometimes, he likes to be awake and alone. All the others -- they like to be with their riders ''all the time''. Like, right now, he's just hanging out. In his couch. Thinking about ''things'' that give me a headache." Hence the mind-numbing beer, which he finishes off. "Are you sure you don't have some project or another that I could help with? I don't have enough time to do a whole Smithing project. But I could maybe, you know, dig in the dirt?" His concept of what a gardener does is apparently quite poor.

As K'zin continues down his path of woes, Bones re-secures an arm across his shoulders, hoping the weight of him is at least a bit of lazy comfort. "Right right, you're not allowed to do fuckin' anything fun as a weyrling..." Bones uses his free hand to take a few more sips of klah, setting it down on the bar between thoughts spoken outloud. "I guess if you're lookin' for distractions..." Bones pauses, actually giving thought to the proposal. With some of his time already promised to Mave, does he have time to teach K'zin how to not kill his plants? "... sure, I bet I can find you some stuff to do. I'll wear you out somethin' good, hehe."

K'zin's smile of gratitude is larger this time, a little freer, if by promising the lad purpose the gardener has taken some weight away. That's the thing about people who like to work with their hands. Take them and put them in a situation where their hands become idle and they'll thank any man who asks an honest day's work of them. The relief on his face is short-lived, however. There's no ''far-away'' look that some riders get when a lifemate interrupts, his brows simply furrow, and then lips purse. "Much as I'd prefer to stay, Rasavyth-" He speaks the name for the first time in their chat, "-has an itch. I'm required." He swallows the last gulp of the beer, and reaches a hand up to grasp the hand of the arm around his shoulders, squeezing it briefly in thanks before slipping out from under the arm. "I'll take you up on the offer of shots some other time. You know, once I'm allowed to have some fun." He smirks, expression in clear agreement with Bones' assessment of the fun quota permitted to weyrlings. He's quickly headed on his way: at least he can't be accused of not being a dutiful weyrling, just a confused, mildly frustrated one.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Smooth with the Ladies

2013-03-23T04:49:21Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Vienne, Barnabas | where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr | what = Bones bumps into Vienne at the snowasis. He spills her klah, and they talk relationships. | whe..."

{{ Log
| who = Vienne, Barnabas
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones bumps into Vienne at the snowasis. He spills her klah, and they talk relationships.
| when = Day 22, Month 4, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.03.22
| quote = "Is the the only requirement you have? That a girl be hot?"
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Jo, Z'ian
| ooc =
| icons = vienne arms.png, barnabas blackandwhite.jpg
| log =
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
----

For many people, it's a rather nice day outside and so while there's traffic in the Snowasis, it seems that most patrons are gravitating toward sitting on the patio to enjoy a bit of fresh air. Such may not be the case with Vienne, who has a chilled look about her as she waits by the bar for her drink. Her cheeks are flushed and her tan wool coat is still buttoned up with her shoulders slightly hunched like she's trying to keep all the warmth in. She hasn't taken a seat, though, she just stands, shifting idly and rubbing her pink hands together.

Bones' entrance is so carefree there's not even a paused step as he enters the snowasis. With long strides and a clear objective, he beelines himself towards the bar, and entirely on accident ends alongside Vienne. He doesn't recognize the hunched figure next to him, eyes searching for the bartender. "Klah for me good buddy?" As if Bones ever ordered anything else.

Vienne is easy to overlook, quite literally in this case -- just a wee little woman all the way down toward the floor. Bones, however, is not and she glances sideways up at the wild man, a smile pulling wryly askew. "I guess the ladies are safe today?" she teases lightly. There was some conversation a while back about how he was having trouble with his game when not liquored up. Though, well, considering the easy smile, there isn't much weight behind her comment just now. And meanwhile, her own klah is delivered and she reaches forward to wrap her eager hands around the hot mug.

At first, the whiff of upcoming klah throws Bones off. Fastest service he's ever gotten, maybe they're finally getting over that whole fighting incident? But no, the klah goes right into the hands of Vienne, who he gives his trademark smile to in greeting. "Vee! Didn't recognize ya with the coat on. How's it goin?" He gives a few pats to the middle of her back like she's an old bar room buddy.

Bar-room-pats from Bones are probably a little heavy, and so the poor little bluerider does take a forward step to keep her balance, though that does nothing to keep her klah from spilling on the counter. If it weren't such a fresh mug, the spill itself would be the only problem, but hot klah on cold hands turns her laughing smile into a quick hiss of gasp as she hurries to set the mug back down, hand hanging uselessly and dripping. "Napkin?" she calls to the bartender, who is already off at the other end to work on Bone's order.

Bones' face turns to horror promptly, and his eyes dart around to try and find something to dry off her hands with. The quick glances uncover nothing. "Awww shit. Shit, shit, shit. I'm sorry Vee. Lemme just. Uhh..." he promptly turns sideways towards the girl. "Use my pant leg. They're clean I promise." Clean, but stained, likely from previous klah spills. "I don't mind, seriously."

Vienne shakes her wet hand limply, trying to let the drips stay on the counter. At least the hot klah cools quickly. But for Bones' flustered reply, she just smiles gently, saying, "No, no, it's okay," as he frets. And then his brilliant idea to use his pant leg comes up and she blinks aside at him, eyes dropping to his pants and back up again. "Then your pants will be all sticky," apparently liking sweetner in her klah. Plus she's probably not to eager to give him a public thigh rubbing. Thankfully the bartender is coming back with Bones' mug and a napkin for the bluerider.

"Better me than you!" In regards to sticky, but she politely declines, and Bones is left to sigh in guilt as she cleans herself up. "Sorry Vee, I.. I'm a damn oaf sometimes. At least lemme pay for your klah or somethin?" He takes his own mug without even looking to it, his focus still on Vienne, face still twisted in concern. "Or if you want, I could letcha spill some on me? Y'know, fair trade?" Despite the joke, he doesn't seem amused at himself. A rarity.

Vienne is partway through wiping her hand clean when she looks aside to see Bones lacking his usual humor in favor of concern. Which is just no good at all. She lifts her clean hand to his arm, like the lay of her fingers might be able to shake him out of his worry, and smiles up at him. "Really, it's okay. It's just klah. Look, I'm not burned or anything." She holds up her messy hand to show him, napkin clutched in its grasp. It's pink now, but it was pink before too.

Looks in silence for a time, trying to ensure Vienne's words are as truthful as they are placating. She's not burnt, and so he gives a sigh and a small smile. "Well I still feel bad, but if you say you're good, then alright." He takes his first sip of his own klah, the heat preventing him from taking more than a few drops. He seems to find even that much satisfying. "MMph. So, how you doin' Vee. How's your sex life?" If he's not invading personal space in one way, he seems to find another. Though it's with a grin that he moves to excuse himself right away. "Hehe, just funnin' ya. Y'can spare me the description of your many ''many'' studs hm?"

No, it will take more than a little spilled klah to get Vienne down. And since Bones seems to be mollified, she turns back to trying to clean up her mug and the ring puddled beneath it. "Don't feel bad. I spill things all the time," she tries to insist, whether it's true or not. As for his new way to invade her personal space, the little bluerider lets out a bright, anxious laugh. "Oh, there's only one stud and I ride him every day," she answers rather saucily, her smile blithely cheeky as she tilts it sideways up at Bones. "But I'm afraid it doesn't actually count as a sex life. How about you? Are the ladies being nice to you?"

There's an actual touch of excitement in him as she mentions the riding of studs, expectantly waiting for more details on the mysterious man. But then, he gets it, and rolls his eyes at his own thickness. "Actually... yeah, kinda." Another sip of his klah, this one with a bit deeper as the drink manages to cool. "Mmm, but a gentleman never tells eh?" There's a pause, and he sets down his klah. "What am I talkin' bout? I ain't a gentle nothin'. Yeah, Jo finally jumped me proper. She's wicked."

His enthusaism wins another laugh, easier now. "I'm sorry to disappoint. I'm just... not that exciting." Vienne's lips tuck in between her teeth, biting some shyness into her smile. But then Bones has been so much more succesful than her, it seems, and her eyebrows lift with interest as she gestures with her mug for them to move away from the bar, perhaps find a table. There's maybe a little hiccup of a pause when the wild man realizes he isn't gentle. "Jo?" she asks, though it's hardly news that Bones had his eye on the leather-clad woman. "Jo and you, Jo and Z'ian..." She just smiles for all of that. "Everything you'd hoped?" And now she finally does take a sip of her klah.

Silently nodding at her motion with a mug, Bones is more than willing to follow to whatever nook she chooses, probably a more appropriate place to discuss such intimate escapades. "Everything I'd hoped? Hey, a man like me's got quite the imagination, ain't no way to fit every hope into one night, ha!" He motions with his mug to allow her the choice of seat at the table she picks out for them, and then sinks down into the opposite one. "And I think Z'ian's more of her uhh, I'unno how to put it. Main guy?" He scratches his head trying to think of any other way to put it. "That's just a hunch though."

Vienne might wear another slightly bashful smile for the topic, but she also laughs readily as they settle in at a table. "I guess that's true. When you think about someone... it's... impossible for it all to happen at once, in one night." She doesn't blush or anything, but her gaze does drop down to her mug as her lips press together. "Do you mind? About Z'ian?" she asks, peeking up again and not quite looking comfortably outside of the too-personal zone until she lifts her drink for another mouthful. Talking about ''his'' too-personal details doesn't seem to bother her all that much.

"Mind what about Z'ian?" He actually doesn't understand the question at first, needing another sip of the klah before it hits. "Y'mean about Jo maybe havin' a favorite? Nah! I mean if they get weyrmated or whatever, then I might feel a little weird. Because you gotta at least think on it for a few minutes 'bout why she'd choose one over the other?" He stumbles through questions of self worth with another sip of klah, really digging into his beverage now that it's cooled off. "But it wouldn't exactly sting somethin' deep. I mean have you walked around this damn weyr? Like every girl I talk at is hot! I mean ''hoooooot''! It's stupid!"

She nods him through the meaning of her question, confirming and encouraging. But the answer makes Vienne head tip to the side as she regards the wild man. "You've mentioned that before. What does he have that you don't - comparing yourself." She doesn't seem to pass any judgement on the idea, just points it out. As for not-stinging, she smiles again. "Is the the only requirement you have? That a girl be hot? Also..." She lifts a hand from around her mug, the light curl of her fingers only half a gesture. "You might want to think of it as talking ''to'' girls instead of talking ''at'' them. There is a difference." Her grin slips wide again, humor in her glance.

"Well he's handsome, and he's a bronzerider..." Honestly, that's about as far as he's pondered when it came to discrepencies between the two, not having gone too far down the path of comparison. "... I'unno, I guess that's about it? Those are the two big things he's got over me. And hey, don't you start framin' me up as some kinda womanizer type there little lady." His accusations are made with a pointed finger, but a big smile, his scolding clearly the teasing type. "I'm just sayin' that with all these pretty ladies? I could probably find at least one more that'd take an interest down the line. Y'know, if Jo were off the table."

Vienne's gaze swings upwards at words like 'handsome' and 'bronzerider', pondering them in a way that is perhaps bigger than how they apply to the men in question. "There are a lot of handsome men around, too. And a lot of bronzeriders. Just like there are a lot of pretty girls." The fall of her glance back to Bones and the shrug that goes with it seems to mean something, but she doesn't appear to be ready to get more specific. Besides, then he's pointing at her and the bluerider laughs brightly again, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Aren't you kind of a womanizer?" She might be teasing him back, but maybe not quite. "I mean, what's the difference?"

"Well I always figured a womanizer was the type to just go after every pretty lady he put eyes on, y'know? Like every day was a huntin' trip?" There's a pause to take the last few drinks of his klah, having already finished it. "If I was a womanizer, wouldn't I be puttin' my hands all over you right now? Whisperin' sweet nothin's and what have you? Ha!" He reaches for his mug of klah again, just in that short time span forgetting that he was done. The hand pauses halfway on it's way towards picking it up, and then stops in realization. "I try and treat everyone the same, cute ass or not, eh? Hehe."

"I guess," Vienne admits with another shrug, a laughing smile. "Well, maybe not me, but someone. Still, I haven't heard you mention any quality aside from cute asses. And that is the kind of thing that a womanizer tends to value. I've never been one myself, so I might not know all the nuances." Her eyebrows jump at that word, like there's something salacious about it. Her own mug is not empty, what with her sips being rather lady like in comparison to Bones', so she continues to drink.

There's an actual fade to Bones' smile now, the discussion continuing the trend of painting him negatively. "So what qualifies as somethin a womanizer wouldn't say then? Pretty eyes?" He leans back in his chair now, draping one arm over the back of it while the other scratches at his cheek. "Because bringin' up a lady's heart and dreams don't make for good idle chit chat."

Vienne is hardly one to miss the fall of Bones' expression and it drops her chin so she can frown. "I don't mean it like that. I don't mean to be hurtful. I..." She pitches forward a bit, like her explanation might want to pour out all at once but thinks better of her approach. "I think when people think of a womanizer, they think of someone who uses women, who doesn't really care about them. And I don't think that's how you are. You mean to... have a little fun with a friend. But so, I guess, the point is, that you aren't just looking for a cute ass. That I think you are painting yourself with the wrong brush." And something about that makes her grin rather suddenly to herself. "And I think you're wrong about hearts and dreams. Though, well, that might get you more interest than you'd like. Less fun, more serious." She smirks for that over the rim of her mug.

"Nah nah, it's okay. I just got a... a thing. About guys like that, guys who don't see women as nothin' but meat." The smile's on it's way back. "But I don't subscribe to the notion that everybody you take to bed has to be, well y'know, hearts and dreams. Hehe." He looks briefly to the side as he finishes scratching his face, and lets his hand fall to his lap. "I ain't ''against'' the idea of somethin' serious."

Vienne's chin tucks down in an abbreviated nod, her grin quiet but warm. "I know," she tells him, as if Bones' admission is anything but a surprise. "And you know I didn't mean to suggest there's anything heartless about you." She lays her forearm on the table, palm up and open and reached for him, like he's supposed to take the hand she offers as an apology.

Bones gazes down at her hand, and his smile closes up in something warmer than his usual toothy grin. Her hand is taken, this time with more care for his strength than the pats that came to her back earlier. "Hey now, no need to apologize because I got all touchy on 'ya. Y'know it's true when I say I don't much care what people think of me." He shakes her hand a few times before releasing it. "But I do care when a friend gets the wrong impression."

It is a mighty little hand in his rough paw, but it gives a squeeze before letting go. "I'm glad we're friends," Vienne tells the wild man, her own smile going wide and toothy while his closes up. "I should go. I've actually been trying to catch Z'ian. It's been almost impossible. We just have opposite schedules, I guess." She swallows down the last of her klah, leaving the empty mug on the table as she slips from her chair to stand. And rounding the table with a few short steps, she attempts to wrap a quick hug around Bones' neck, since she can actually reach it this way. "It's always so nice see you."

Bones manages to circle one of his long arms around her back as she leans in for that hug, adding his own bit of brief squeeze to the friendly embrace. "Tell him Bones says hi? I ain't seen him in a while neither." He stays sitting as she slips away, turning in his seat to watch her leave. "Good to see you too, Vee." With a smile and a wave, she's gone, and he's left to go back to the bar in search of his second and third mugs of klah.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Sweat and Flowers

2013-03-22T05:29:59Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Barnabas, Hana | where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr | what = Hana interrupts Bones' workout, and they talk flowers. | when = Day 19, Month 4, Turn 31 | gamed..."

{{ Log
| who = Barnabas, Hana
| where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Hana interrupts Bones' workout, and they talk flowers.
| when = Day 19, Month 4, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.03.21
| quote = "Wow, can I just have your voice in my head?"
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Azaylia, N'ky
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas GratuitousBeef.jpg
| log =
Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora.

Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.

Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath.
----

Grunting. A normal sound for Bones in almost any activity, but especially pronounced during times like this. Workout time. Drenched in sweat, he hangs upside-down from a crossbeam more meant to hang plants from than give true structural support. With knees hooked over the top of it and ankles crossed, he struggles to slowly raise his torso up time and again, doing crunches with the added difficulty of gravity holding him down. Judging by the small puddle of drippings beneath him, he's been at it for a while.

There have only been a couple of times that Hana has made her way to the greenhouses. Somehow or another, she's managed to miss the resident gardener... and no-one has mentioned him to her. Therefore, there is no sneaking in, but a simple stepping in, and a shawl removed and placed on a bench. The grunting, on the other hand, has her taking a turn towards the crossbeam and stepping into view even as she calls out, ".. hello?" Because, of course, grunting in the greenhouse has to be taken gracefully.

With Hana's gentle greeting, the workout suddenly comes to an end, one last grunt of defeat coming midway through the crunching motion. The big man suddenly goes as limp as his hanging dreads, letting his long arms succumb to gravity as opposed to the tucked position behind his head they were in before. Shirtless, but thankfully still in work pants, Bones continues to drip a few more drips of mansweat down to the floor as he sucks down air in big, fast breaths. "Hi." Comes simple greeting to the new face, his smile a little weak in exhaustion. "I'm the..." A pause comes for a few more deep breaths. "... gardener."

Hana comes to a stop, and just... blinks for a moment. It is, after all, not every day she finds a shirtless man hanging from the rafters in the greenhouse. Still, where thought process may falter, beaten-in manners prevail. "Hello, Gardener. I'm Hana - it is a pleasure to meet you. Should you be hanging upside down like that?" The last bit is said right after the first part, even as she comes closer - and off to the side, in case the removal from the crossbeams spreads out a bit.

"Well..." he starts, trying to make that one last crunch required to move up and grab the beam, so that he has something to hold onto as he unhooks his legs. His abs are too sore from overuse, and he doesn't quite make it, accepting defeat with a sudden droop once more. Just a little more time to rest, then. "Nice to meetcha, Hana. You worried about the beam, or me?" Spoken in regards to her question about what should or shouldn't be done. He probably doesn't have an answer even if she clarifies. "Wait a second. Hana? Lady Izzy's girl? From the hold, right?"

"Yes," Hana replies with a bit of an impish grin - or frown, depending on which way you are looking. There is a tilt of the head, then a nod, "I was in her service until the Hatching," she confirms, "And High Reaches Hold, born and bred."

"Azaylia's told me 'bout you!" There's genuine excitement in his voice, enough to make him attempt a dismount once again. "She told me 'bout your teatime and-" He lifts himself up and manages to get his hands on the crossbeam, but as he uncrosses his ankles his abdominals suddenly give out, and he drops down with such force that the grip of his sweaty palms fails, and he hits the floor with a wet smack, flat on his back. For a few seconds, there's silence. "Ohhhhh yeah. That hurt. Yup. That hurt."

On the other hand, it gets Hana moving again as she hurries over, "Can you move your toes? Oh, wait, or are you not supposed to move your toes. I never did take any of the healer classes," Hana burbles before distracting herself and maybe the bearded one, "And Lady Azaylia is a lovely companion, with or without tea - do you need a hand up?" she ends with, offering her hands.

He takes Hana's advice, and lifts his head up to look down at his booted feet, ensuring that he can move them around. "Yeah, I'm fine. Hehe." He rests his palms on his belly and looks up at her with a smile. "No no, you best be pulling those hands back. I'll just be slicking up your palms something awful before I yank you down with me." He gives a small groan as he props himself up on his elbows, the rest of him still laid out on the floor. "Zee told me I shouldn't be around for your teaparty. Now I see why. You're classy as fuck."

"Well, if you're sure.." Hana allows, before stepping back to the give the man some room. "I... ah, thank you? Though really, I would hate to have turned away any tea-lovers from such a setting." Even if said person is Barnabas. Speaking of which, ".. I've met so many people - I'm certain you have been mentioned, but I cannot for the life of me, remember your name, sir." A polite fiction, though one offered with an apologetic smile.

From elbows to a full sit is an effort worthy of another small grunt, one that makes Bones wince briefly, but otherwise doesn't interrupt his steady smile. "Bones. Call me Bones." He rubs the back of his head, testing whether or not his impact had left any damage there. "N'ky mentioned you too. Surprised it took us this long to meet up, considerin' the acquaintances we got in common."

Hana grins and shakes her head, "Well, it has taken a couple of days for me to get settled - and things aren't all quite where they need to be yet. But you are correct - why, I've been here a couple of times, but only ran into Lady Azaylia. I guess the timing just wasn't correct. I do have to say, however - I love how everything is green here - and that you've managed such a variety of flowers."

"Well, thanks! A man likes to hear his work is appreciated, eh? Hehe." With a sigh, Bones comes to terms with the unfortunate realization that he needs to stand up, and so with no small effort he manages to tuck his legs underneath him and push himself up to his feet. "Woo. Now I know why my record was my record, know what I mean?" He gives a few pats to his stomach, and them immediately regrets touching it with a visible wince. "MMph. Err, so, you a fan of flowers then?"

"Well," Hana starts as she backs up again to give the man more room - given, he is about a foot taller than she is, "I like to use them in braids - or to bright a room. Now that spring is finally coming about, the rooms will have a nice airing out, and won't feel so closed in." Being an utter stranger to working out just to work out, there is a slight frown of concern at the wince, before her expression smooths out. "It is a shame one can't make a pot of tea down here. It wouldn't help warm one up, but it is always a relaxing ritual to enjoy."

Bones' lower lip falls just enough so that his mouth could be called open, looking at Hana curiously after her brief talk of tea. The curiosity gives way to a sudden smile. "Wow, can I just have your voice in my head? You weren't even really sayin' nothing, and suddenly I'm all relaxed. Ha!" He trudges over towards a nearby bench with tired, heavy steps. There, a frayed old towel waits for him, which he picks up and starts using to dry himself of sweat. "What's your favorite color?"

"That may be exhaustion hitting you. That whole upside down thing looked quite tiring," Hana points out, before offering a quick grin (belatedly), "Either that, or it just means I talk too much. Favorite colors? Hm.. It's hard to say. Just about anything in the blue and green range, mostly," she admits before finding another bench to sit on, the one her shawl was left at.

"Yeah, it's tiring. That's why it works." His answer is matter of fact, and a touch distracted, looking down to the floor as he towels off. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers and tosses the towel up over his shoulder. "Skobeloff Bells!" He turns to her with a grin, then motions with his hand. "Cmon, I got just the flower for you. They're over here."

"Sko... pardon me?" Hana has to ask, before getting back to her feet. "I don't think I have ever heard of such a flower - admittedly, I don't know much about actually growing them, as much as picking them." Still and all, off she'll follow, curiousity being a strong draw.

It's not a long walk, just a round a bend or two, that a pot is tucked in between two much larger plants, almost as if it's hiding behind it's big-brother trees. Bones tugs it free and holds it out to Hana, where a long vertical stem grows big star-shaped flowers in deep blue-green. "They're also called Binge Bells or Binge Blossoms, because they grow near rivers and needs lots'a water. Honestly? I think people just call em that because nobody knows that Skobeloff is a color. Hehe!"

Absently, "I'm not even sure I could say it, much less realize it was a color..." Hana admits even as she lifts up a hand to lightly touch the edge of one stalk. "They are lovely... do they all share the same stem?" she asks without the bother of looking up. Despite that, there is an edge of laughter and delight running under the words, before she shakes her head, "How did I miss this lovely?"

Continuing to hold out the pot with only one hand, he smiles as he uses the other to scratch at his goatee. "That's probably my fault. I only got so much shelf space, and kinda forgot about this little dude." Bones looks down at the flower for a moment, watching her fingers grace it's surface. "You want him?"

Oh yes. That truth is naked enough. However, her fingers twitch just slightly, before lowering her hand, "Unfortunately, the dorm which I stay in has so little light - I couldn't possibly take care of him in that setting." She shakes her head, sending a couple of tendrils dancing with the movement, "No... best he stays here. Even hidden, he still would get /much/ better care than I could provide."

Bones looks genuinely disappointed at her refusal, but accepts her words as truth even while frowning. The look doesn't last long, as his face brightens at a new found possibility. "Tell you what. You can come back and check him out whenever you feel like, and in the meantime?" Bones carefully plucks one of the flowers from it's stem, and sets the pot down at his feet. "Y'can just take one of his blossoms eh? He won't mind." Bones moves to try and plant the plucked flower into Hana's hair, but stops awkwardly on his way. "I don't really know how to... do the thing with the..." he trails off, and settles for just handing the flower towards her. "Hehe, there you go."

Hana tilts her head slightly, but then offers a bit of a smile at the acknowledgement of ignorance, "It is a trick - luckily, I have a lot of practice." She did, after all, steals some blossoms for Zay's hair once, and Izzy's as well! Fingers lift up to tuck the blossom to the side of her bun, using the beaded string to fasten it into place, before breaking out into another full smile. "Perfect! And I will be certain to visit as duties and time allows." And even better - she can't be blamed for killing the poor plant, if she's not responsible for him. Win-win!

"Hehe, I'll leave the the beauty to the beautiful people." He fires a wink at her, a playful gesture free of flirtation. "And next time you swing around, I gotta try and find you a plant that can make it in the dark. Maybe a fern or.. moss, or something, eh?"

"... if it grows in the darkness, and I wake up to find myself its new bed, I might become rather worried," Hana teases, before offering a curtsey. "But honestly - I thank you for the thought - and at some point, we shall have to have tea together. Agreed?"

"Tea eh?" He scratches at his stomach now, no longer wincing as he ponders her invitation. "Yeah, sure. Can't say I ever been invited to tea before. Sounds... good." It honestly does, and that fact somewhat surprises him. "I'll make sure to wear a shirt, hehe."

There is a moment of disconcertion - there are teas to be had without shirts? But the sound of honestry rings true, and so another full smile is given. "Good! I'll see you then," she promises, then with a swish of skirts - and a pause to gather up her shawl, and off Hana goes. Bedecked in her new blossom, and with plots of having tea with the gardener.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:It's a Small Weyr

2013-03-21T09:55:30Z

Barnabas:

{{ Log
| who = Jo, Barnabas
| where = Sheltered Lakeside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones is looking for a place to practice some old moves, and finds a partner in Jo.
| when = Day 19, Month 4, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2103.03.20
| quote = "Let's not ruin a perfectly good fist fight talkin' politics."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Mave, Aishani, Azaylia
| ooc =
| icons = jo fighter.jpg, barnabas Grumpybones.jpg
| log =

Sheltered Lakeside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
The far side of the lake gets much less foot traffic - there's less grass, due to the poorer soil, and the bed of the lake is muddy and not at all as nice to walk in. But a small stand of four willow trees with long branches hanging low and swinging in the breeze provides some relief from the sun during the heat of the day. A pair of small curved benches sit underneath the trees. The ground rises up sharply towards the northwest end of the lakeside, and the waterfall that feeds the lake thunders downwards there, foaming the water and creating a fine mist in the air that distorts the light.

It's a decent, but foggy night, making the view hard to see from this vantage point of the ledge. Tacuseth and his black leathered rider is here, looking like they had just arrived from somewhere else since Jo is in the process of slipping gloves from her fingers and pulling those eye goggles up from her eyes. The nicked and scratch dragon is keeping watching with a little bronze firelizard settling on top of his head, equally looking into the fog as if they could see where a human couldn't.

Tacuseth turns his head at the sudden, man-sized bump into his blue flank, then dragon sending an eye over his way. He can see you... The sudden movement does disrupt poor Mime, having the firelizard shriek and flutter off to likely land somewhere that the fog conceals from view. The commotion is what brings Jo to attention, having paused in taking off her helmet before the familiar gruff voice reaches her ear before he himself does. "That's Mime," she says on the firelizard, perhaps thinking the dragon doesn't much introduction as she drops her helmet to the bench and shucks her gloves and her goggles into them before turning. "Such a damn, foggy night," she drawls her greeting, her chuckle warm and inviting as she approaches him and slides hands up his chest. "Hey," she says back now that she's within close proximity, her hair flying a little wild from the helmet as fingers claw into his clothes. "What ya doin' out here in this night?"

Bones rounds the edge of dragon flank and makes his steps towards Jo, met halfway by a pair of needy hands at his chest. She's met with a somewhat lecherous grin, and a half step that has his front pressing into hers. "Y'sure know how to make a fella feel welcome, donctha?" He lazily wraps his arms around her waist, hooking his wrists behind her tailbone. "I was lookin' for a place that nobody'd be. Figures that's exactly the kinda spot you'd be lookin' for too." He ducks down, and steals a brief but wet little kiss from her lips.

"Don' I always?" Jo asks that with a small lift of her chin to making Bones feel welcome. "I at least left ya in one piece, that last time. Be thankful and welcomed in that." But then, he expected her aggressive nature. It's not something she's ever hidden. She settles against his arms about her waist, taking in his reason for being here with quiet laughter. "I seem attracted to places less traveled," seems to be her excuse, meeting that kiss and returning it before it's broken. "I just got back in," she says now, head tilting a little to meet his gaze. "Yer gonna have to share this place, then. Since we think with like-minds." That almost sounds naughty. It probably does sound naughty, knowing her.

Bones unhooks his wrists from around her, and takes a playful squeeze of her hips through her leathers before parting and walking over towards Tacuseth. "Left me in one piece?" Her dragon is met with an outstretched hand, the big man just stroking at one his legs. "You mean you were going easy on me? Ha!" He's speaking up at Tacuseth, even though the words are meant for his rider. "And actually, I met a little lady who's fixin' on learnin' the finer art of fist fighting. Wanted to find a remote spot with plenty'a space. I'm uhh, outta practice, let's say."

Those fingers dig briefly into Bones' clothing, likely to remind the man when he squeezes her hips and lets her go. Jo releases him from her claws and settles hands to her hips as he watches him with her dragon; and meanwhile, Tacuseth is giving the gardener a long enough study now, especially his hand reaching for him. Snorting, "He remembers ya bein' the furry one in the fog," she says suddenly, sending the blue a look, though the memory is a true one. "And, I was hardly goin' easy on ya, darlin'. I was just makin' sure I didn' break anythin', hip or otherwise. Don' wanna put ya in the infirmary due to over-exertion." Teeth flash with her cavalier words, and when he brings up his reason for being there, there's a wry, "Ya don' say? Must be a small Weyr cuz I'm settin' up some lessons on how to fight dirty with a little lady myself. Thought ya put those days all behind ya."

Patting lightly at Tacuseth's side, he parts with the beast and turns back to Jo, addressing her continued flirtation with a grin. "Next time, you better damn well ''try'' and break my hips, and I'll return the favor." There's a bit of a grunge to his tone, a touch of dissapointment in her at underestimating him, but he drops it as his next favorite topic comes to light. Fighting. "Y'didn't happen to focus on teaching her the finer arts of the jab, didja?"

With Tacuseth's wings fluttering just a little, "Ya make it ''so'' easy to rile ya, doncha, darlin'?" Jo's voice is soothing, almost a purr as she steps towards Bones. "I'll keep that particular in mind." Pause. "And I'll make sure yer into the infirmary, first thing afterwards," she adds, a touch wry. "As for me, I'm unbreakable, baby." And she's cocky, too, but the convict rider loves a challenge. On the topic of fighting, there's a little shrug as she then steps towards her blue, answering with a brief, "Maybe. If it's the same one we're talkin' about. If it's the same one that took my lesson and swung a few times on me after my generosity. And scuffed my leathers." Brow lifting now as she turns to face Bones, "Is it Mave?" she asks now, deadpan, and the amused look on her face suggests she can already guess the answer.

Now there's laughter from the gardener, her boasting entertaining as well as enticing. "Hahaha, unbreakable are we? Alright then, challenge accepted, freak." He heads out towards slightly more open space, a good distance from Jo and Tacuseth both, and pinches the fabric of his pants at the top of both thighs. The material is tugged up in one quick little motion so that he can widen his stance and bring his fists up to his chin, aiming himself towards nothing in particular as he throws a few jabs of his own. He's quick for his size, but the sheer weight of him is evident in the motion, slowing him down. After the first few experimental punches, he gives a small sigh and turns to Jo. An admission of his rust. "Yup, that's the one. I ain't seen you fight but uhh, somehow I figured by just the ay she was throwin' that you might have had a hand in her technique."

"Better stake out a cot," Jo quips on challenges, not one to quit while she's ahead. "It's good to be responsible that way." With laughter, she tracks him with her gaze, watching Bones as he gets into position of his stance and throw a couple of jabs. Arms come to a fold across her chest and passes a briefly sardonic glance towards her blue before she drawls out, "What ya tryin' to say, Bones? That I throw like a girl?" and she moves away from her dragon and drops her arms, her stance more like something in a fighting ring than anything proper before she executes a few sharp jabs herself. She straightens up and cracks her knuckles before she says, "Yeah. She wanted to learn, though, she came at me pretty surly when I last saw her. Showed her the jab and how to properly throw one, but she was far more interested in stickin' it to me than learnin' it proper. Took wearin' her down to get her to fess up on what I'd done to displease her." There's a flicker of a shadow in her gaze, along with that brief frown before she shoots a glance his way. "So yer teachin' her, too, eh?"

"Nah, I'm saying you throw like a Jo." It's his turn to cross his own arms as he watches Jo throw, and immediately points out her rear leg. "Ha! See, right there. You put your rear leg further back to put more power into your jab." He claps his hands once, and then points that finger back to her face. "That's just like you. You won't even half-ass somethin' that by design is ''supposed'' to be half-assed." He repositions himself in a proper boxing stance, and then throws a series of jabs while moving circles around an imaginary opponent. "And yeah, I'm teachin' her. I was thinkin..." he speaks between strikes. "Girl the size of Mave... ought to focus more on quickness." Something that Bones clearly doesn't have too much of himself, judging by his motions. Still, it's clear he understands the principles.

"I'm in the ring every so often," Jo admits to what some of her time outside the Weyr is spent when Bones point out her rear leg. "If it's not fuckin', it's good to blow off some steam after a day." She and Tacuseth watch him then as he positions himself and moves around, a light in her dark eyes as it's evident this is something that is of interest to the bluerider. When he speaks about Mave, there's a firm nod to that in open agreement. "Make sense," she puts in words, walking around so she can see him move at different angles. Eyes take in his stance, his footwork. "She stays small the way she is, she could pull it off. I'm quick, but not ''that''. Focus more on the power. She curses like she's one of yer sailors, ya know." Of course he does, and she doesn't even look all that surprised that he and Mave know each other.

There's some nodding to Jo as they discuss the finer points of fighting. "Really? You fight on the regular?" He scratches at his cheek as he stares blankly at her, clearly pondering something to ask. "Do you need some kinda... membership, or password or something?" He's interested, but not so hypnotized by the idea of getting back into combat that he doesn't recall a part of conversation that at the time he forgot to bring up. It surfaces now. "And what'd you do to get Mave so worked up? She's fiesty, but don't seem the angry type."

"Doubt it," Jo answers on passwords, though there's some uncertainty flickering through her gaze. "Depends on the place. Used to do it a whole lot more then than I do now, though. Tryin' to find ways to keep a bit more around the Weyr, so folks like ''you'' don' forget what I look like." She adds that bit in a tease, but the talk of Mave and what happens dampens that smile a bit to something tart. "Well, ahh," she starts off, running a hand through her hair as she looks away into the fog. "She was pretty pissed I stood beside the Weyrwoman at the hatchin' party. Aishani. Guess she was defendin' their honors," and she doesn't look to be specifying, and she glances at Bones now. "I mean, we're ''golden'' now. After we talked about it. Girl's a bit scared is all. 'Bout what all that could mean."

"Ahhh, Brieli eh?" He speaks the name with a smirk, gearing up for a few more practice jabs, but pausing before he delivers them. The smirk drops, and he corrects. "Err, Aishani. Whatever." This time, he keeps his legs a little wider out as he throws his jabs, trying out Jo's style. "I can understand. I hate that chick too." There's no anger in his tone, and in fact he's smiling as he experiments with some ducking and weaving, rotating around on his hips. "But I ain't holdin' nobody's associates against 'em." He stands back up to his full height, and stretches his arms up above his head, rolling his shoulders a few times to stretch them out. "You wanna spar a bit, unbreakable?"

Snorting, "I would hope not," Jo counters, on Bones holding associations against them, especially since she seems not to be changing hers. "I'm not even goin' to ask why ya do. Likely has somethin' to do with yer roomie, hm?" There's easiness from her, either way, with the both of them batting for each Weyrwoman. Then he asks what he does and she's laughing, shaking her head to him as she remarks, "Fine, but yer washin' my back in the bathin' caverns afterwards. I should make ya wash my clothes, too." She approaches him then until she's facing him, wiry compared to broad muscular, exuding an air of confidence like she really believed she was every inch of unbreakable that she boasts.

"Yup, it's mostly about my girl Zee" He admits as he lifts up his fists to a fighting stance, already pawing slowly out towards Jo's face. Easy to dodge for anyone with experience. "But it ain't all about her." His smile drops as he actually tries to focus on his movement. A pair of slow hooks with his left are aimed for her head and body. "Oh man I suck." The punches have proper form to them, but it's clear he's having to actively remember the motions as opposed to taking to them naturally.

Jo has her stance up the moment Bones advances on her, her eyes alert along with every inch of her body for any surprise moves. "I imagine she's still not takin' the news well, then?" she asks after Azaylia as she ducks back from the first shot-out. "And if it ain', then what?" Those slow hooks she dodges, slapping an arm out to block them each time. Those aimed for her head, she moves back, then she aims a hit towards his left shoulder that is meant to be blocked. If not, it might hurt like a bitch. Might.

Bones' blocking isn't up to snuff, and the strike to his shoulder lands flush. It sends him back a pace and a half, but his face doesn't flinch. "Damn, that's a bruise in the morning." An admission of damage caused as he taps his knuckles together in front of him and steps forward again. "Maybe I should tell Mave that I won most my fights when the other dude tired himself out on my face eh? Hehe." He scoots in, trying to tangle with her up close, and possibly land a few short little hits to her leathered midsection. "Let's not ruin a perfectly good fist fight talkin' politics eh?" Whether the punches land or not, he aims to take a few steps back and create space once more, so that he can pause his focus long enough to smile at Jo. "Move to my left. I can't hit anything movin' to my left." It's not because he's afraid of damaging her. He's aiming to improve himself.

The hit connects and Jo huffs out a wry, "I've got somethin' to numb it up in my weyr." All hits can be healed according to her. Those short little hits do land to her hard midsection with her twisting this way and that to lessen the blow before she's aiming one for his own midsection as she tries to move to his unguarded sides. "Fair enough," she answers on politics, tossing out a few easy-to-block hits before she tries to knock on his right shoulder this time. It's a bait-and-switch move, though the convict rider doesn't look to be trying to win. Not ''too'' much. She dances to his left when he asks, though she quips, "About to pull a move on me that'll have me in bed for days, Bones?" Because she looks ready. Of course, Tacuseth and a hidden bronze firelizard is looking on through all of this.

"Don't worry about hurtin' me." He says in a low, gruff voice. It's almost prophetic, as his defense is lax. The shots to his midsection land, but again he gives no sign that they have any effect. He's already admitted that that's no indication as to whether or not they actually do damage. Her other strikes, the easy to block ones, have her knuckles smacking into the meat of his heavy arms as he rolls just barely out of the way. The shoulder strike lands true though, and he backs up another pace again at the impact. "If I wanted you in bed for days, I'd just ask." There's a grin at that one. "Hit me harder. I don't got the fire yet." Whatever 'the fire' is, is left vague, but he's earnest in his request. "I ain't lettin' you leave till I've seen all you got, little girl."

"Promises, promises," Jo quips right back on beds and their timeframes, but Bones wants it harder, and so it seems the shoulder hits were only warning shots. "'M'serious about ya washin' my back afterwards," she warns. "And ya call me 'little' again, I'll make sure ya ain' leavin' till ya feelin' the flames of the south, darlin'." That's all she gives until play-shots were over from her, her hits sharper and quicker than before while trying to anticipate his moves. They'll probably go back and forth like this all night, with her throwing out just a few more to his, before they both finally retire to the bathing caverns with further, engaging discussions on fighting techniques.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:It's a Small Weyr

2013-03-21T09:54:38Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Jo, Barnabas | where = Sheltered Lakeside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr | what = Bones is looking for a place to practice his moves, and finds a partner in Jo. | wh..."

{{ Log
| who = Jo, Barnabas
| where = Sheltered Lakeside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones is looking for a place to practice his moves, and finds a partner in Jo.
| when = Day 19, Month 4, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2103.03.20
| quote = "Let's not ruin a perfectly good fist fight talkin' politics."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Mave, Aishani, Azaylia
| ooc =
| icons = jo fighter.jpg, barnabas Grumpybones.jpg
| log =

Sheltered Lakeside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
The far side of the lake gets much less foot traffic - there's less grass, due to the poorer soil, and the bed of the lake is muddy and not at all as nice to walk in. But a small stand of four willow trees with long branches hanging low and swinging in the breeze provides some relief from the sun during the heat of the day. A pair of small curved benches sit underneath the trees. The ground rises up sharply towards the northwest end of the lakeside, and the waterfall that feeds the lake thunders downwards there, foaming the water and creating a fine mist in the air that distorts the light.

It's a decent, but foggy night, making the view hard to see from this vantage point of the ledge. Tacuseth and his black leathered rider is here, looking like they had just arrived from somewhere else since Jo is in the process of slipping gloves from her fingers and pulling those eye goggles up from her eyes. The nicked and scratch dragon is keeping watching with a little bronze firelizard settling on top of his head, equally looking into the fog as if they could see where a human couldn't.

Tacuseth turns his head at the sudden, man-sized bump into his blue flank, then dragon sending an eye over his way. He can see you... The sudden movement does disrupt poor Mime, having the firelizard shriek and flutter off to likely land somewhere that the fog conceals from view. The commotion is what brings Jo to attention, having paused in taking off her helmet before the familiar gruff voice reaches her ear before he himself does. "That's Mime," she says on the firelizard, perhaps thinking the dragon doesn't much introduction as she drops her helmet to the bench and shucks her gloves and her goggles into them before turning. "Such a damn, foggy night," she drawls her greeting, her chuckle warm and inviting as she approaches him and slides hands up his chest. "Hey," she says back now that she's within close proximity, her hair flying a little wild from the helmet as fingers claw into his clothes. "What ya doin' out here in this night?"

Bones rounds the edge of dragon flank and makes his steps towards Jo, met halfway by a pair of needy hands at his chest. She's met with a somewhat lecherous grin, and a half step that has his front pressing into hers. "Y'sure know how to make a fella feel welcome, donctha?" He lazily wraps his arms around her waist, hooking his wrists behind her tailbone. "I was lookin' for a place that nobody'd be. Figures that's exactly the kinda spot you'd be lookin' for too." He ducks down, and steals a brief but wet little kiss from her lips.

"Don' I always?" Jo asks that with a small lift of her chin to making Bones feel welcome. "I at least left ya in one piece, that last time. Be thankful and welcomed in that." But then, he expected her aggressive nature. It's not something she's ever hidden. She settles against his arms about her waist, taking in his reason for being here with quiet laughter. "I seem attracted to places less traveled," seems to be her excuse, meeting that kiss and returning it before it's broken. "I just got back in," she says now, head tilting a little to meet his gaze. "Yer gonna have to share this place, then. Since we think with like-minds." That almost sounds naughty. It probably does sound naughty, knowing her.

Bones unhooks his wrists from around her, and takes a playful squeeze of her hips through her leathers before parting and walking over towards Tacuseth. "Left me in one piece?" Her dragon is met with an outstretched hand, the big man just stroking at one his legs. "You mean you were going easy on me? Ha!" He's speaking up at Tacuseth, even though the words are meant for his rider. "And actually, I met a little lady who's fixin' on learnin' the finer art of fist fighting. Wanted to find a remote spot with plenty'a space. I'm uhh, outta practice, let's say."

Those fingers dig briefly into Bones' clothing, likely to remind the man when he squeezes her hips and lets her go. Jo releases him from her claws and settles hands to her hips as he watches him with her dragon; and meanwhile, Tacuseth is giving the gardener a long enough study now, especially his hand reaching for him. Snorting, "He remembers ya bein' the furry one in the fog," she says suddenly, sending the blue a look, though the memory is a true one. "And, I was hardly goin' easy on ya, darlin'. I was just makin' sure I didn' break anythin', hip or otherwise. Don' wanna put ya in the infirmary due to over-exertion." Teeth flash with her cavalier words, and when he brings up his reason for being there, there's a wry, "Ya don' say? Must be a small Weyr cuz I'm settin' up some lessons on how to fight dirty with a little lady myself. Thought ya put those days all behind ya."

Patting lightly at Tacuseth's side, he parts with the beast and turns back to Jo, addressing her continued flirtation with a grin. "Next time, you better damn well ''try'' and break my hips, and I'll return the favor." There's a bit of a grunge to his tone, a touch of dissapointment in her at underestimating him, but he drops it as his next favorite topic comes to light. Fighting. "Y'didn't happen to focus on teaching her the finer arts of the jab, didja?"

With Tacuseth's wings fluttering just a little, "Ya make it ''so'' easy to rile ya, doncha, darlin'?" Jo's voice is soothing, almost a purr as she steps towards Bones. "I'll keep that particular in mind." Pause. "And I'll make sure yer into the infirmary, first thing afterwards," she adds, a touch wry. "As for me, I'm unbreakable, baby." And she's cocky, too, but the convict rider loves a challenge. On the topic of fighting, there's a little shrug as she then steps towards her blue, answering with a brief, "Maybe. If it's the same one we're talkin' about. If it's the same one that took my lesson and swung a few times on me after my generosity. And scuffed my leathers." Brow lifting now as she turns to face Bones, "Is it Mave?" she asks now, deadpan, and the amused look on her face suggests she can already guess the answer.

Now there's laughter from the gardener, her boasting entertaining as well as enticing. "Hahaha, unbreakable are we? Alright then, challenge accepted, freak." He heads out towards slightly more open space, a good distance from Jo and Tacuseth both, and pinches the fabric of his pants at the top of both thighs. The material is tugged up in one quick little motion so that he can widen his stance and bring his fists up to his chin, aiming himself towards nothing in particular as he throws a few jabs of his own. He's quick for his size, but the sheer weight of him is evident in the motion, slowing him down. After the first few experimental punches, he gives a small sigh and turns to Jo. An admission of his rust. "Yup, that's the one. I ain't seen you fight but uhh, somehow I figured by just the ay she was throwin' that you might have had a hand in her technique."

"Better stake out a cot," Jo quips on challenges, not one to quit while she's ahead. "It's good to be responsible that way." With laughter, she tracks him with her gaze, watching Bones as he gets into position of his stance and throw a couple of jabs. Arms come to a fold across her chest and passes a briefly sardonic glance towards her blue before she drawls out, "What ya tryin' to say, Bones? That I throw like a girl?" and she moves away from her dragon and drops her arms, her stance more like something in a fighting ring than anything proper before she executes a few sharp jabs herself. She straightens up and cracks her knuckles before she says, "Yeah. She wanted to learn, though, she came at me pretty surly when I last saw her. Showed her the jab and how to properly throw one, but she was far more interested in stickin' it to me than learnin' it proper. Took wearin' her down to get her to fess up on what I'd done to displease her." There's a flicker of a shadow in her gaze, along with that brief frown before she shoots a glance his way. "So yer teachin' her, too, eh?"

"Nah, I'm saying you throw like a Jo." It's his turn to cross his own arms as he watches Jo throw, and immediately points out her rear leg. "Ha! See, right there. You put your rear leg further back to put more power into your jab." He claps his hands once, and then points that finger back to her face. "That's just like you. You won't even half-ass somethin' that by design is ''supposed'' to be half-assed." He repositions himself in a proper boxing stance, and then throws a series of jabs while moving circles around an imaginary opponent. "And yeah, I'm teachin' her. I was thinkin..." he speaks between strikes. "Girl the size of Mave... ought to focus more on quickness." Something that Bones clearly doesn't have too much of himself, judging by his motions. Still, it's clear he understands the principles.

"I'm in the ring every so often," Jo admits to what some of her time outside the Weyr is spent when Bones point out her rear leg. "If it's not fuckin', it's good to blow off some steam after a day." She and Tacuseth watch him then as he positions himself and moves around, a light in her dark eyes as it's evident this is something that is of interest to the bluerider. When he speaks about Mave, there's a firm nod to that in open agreement. "Make sense," she puts in words, walking around so she can see him move at different angles. Eyes take in his stance, his footwork. "She stays small the way she is, she could pull it off. I'm quick, but not ''that''. Focus more on the power. She curses like she's one of yer sailors, ya know." Of course he does, and she doesn't even look all that surprised that he and Mave know each other.

There's some nodding to Jo as they discuss the finer points of fighting. "Really? You fight on the regular?" He scratches at his cheek as he stares blankly at her, clearly pondering something to ask. "Do you need some kinda... membership, or password or something?" He's interested, but not so hypnotized by the idea of getting back into combat that he doesn't recall a part of conversation that at the time he forgot to bring up. It surfaces now. "And what'd you do to get Mave so worked up? She's fiesty, but don't seem the angry type."

"Doubt it," Jo answers on passwords, though there's some uncertainty flickering through her gaze. "Depends on the place. Used to do it a whole lot more then than I do now, though. Tryin' to find ways to keep a bit more around the Weyr, so folks like ''you'' don' forget what I look like." She adds that bit in a tease, but the talk of Mave and what happens dampens that smile a bit to something tart. "Well, ahh," she starts off, running a hand through her hair as she looks away into the fog. "She was pretty pissed I stood beside the Weyrwoman at the hatchin' party. Aishani. Guess she was defendin' their honors," and she doesn't look to be specifying, and she glances at Bones now. "I mean, we're ''golden'' now. After we talked about it. Girl's a bit scared is all. 'Bout what all that could mean."

"Ahhh, Brieli eh?" He speaks the name with a smirk, gearing up for a few more practice jabs, but pausing before he delivers them. The smirk drops, and he corrects. "Err, Aishani. Whatever." This time, he keeps his legs a little wider out as he throws his jabs, trying out Jo's style. "I can understand. I hate that chick too." There's no anger in his tone, and in fact he's smiling as he experiments with some ducking and weaving, rotating around on his hips. "But I ain't holdin' nobody's associates against 'em." He stands back up to his full height, and stretches his arms up above his head, rolling his shoulders a few times to stretch them out. "You wanna spar a bit, unbreakable?"

Snorting, "I would hope not," Jo counters, on Bones holding associations against them, especially since she seems not to be changing hers. "I'm not even goin' to ask why ya do. Likely has somethin' to do with yer roomie, hm?" There's easiness from her, either way, with the both of them batting for each Weyrwoman. Then he asks what he does and she's laughing, shaking her head to him as she remarks, "Fine, but yer washin' my back in the bathin' caverns afterwards. I should make ya wash my clothes, too." She approaches him then until she's facing him, wiry compared to broad muscular, exuding an air of confidence like she really believed she was every inch of unbreakable that she boasts.

"Yup, it's mostly about my girl Zee" He admits as he lifts up his fists to a fighting stance, already pawing slowly out towards Jo's face. Easy to dodge for anyone with experience. "But it ain't all about her." His smile drops as he actually tries to focus on his movement. A pair of slow hooks with his left are aimed for her head and body. "Oh man I suck." The punches have proper form to them, but it's clear he's having to actively remember the motions as opposed to taking to them naturally.

Jo has her stance up the moment Bones advances on her, her eyes alert along with every inch of her body for any surprise moves. "I imagine she's still not takin' the news well, then?" she asks after Azaylia as she ducks back from the first shot-out. "And if it ain', then what?" Those slow hooks she dodges, slapping an arm out to block them each time. Those aimed for her head, she moves back, then she aims a hit towards his left shoulder that is meant to be blocked. If not, it might hurt like a bitch. Might.

Bones' blocking isn't up to snuff, and the strike to his shoulder lands flush. It sends him back a pace and a half, but his face doesn't flinch. "Damn, that's a bruise in the morning." An admission of damage caused as he taps his knuckles together in front of him and steps forward again. "Maybe I should tell Mave that I won most my fights when the other dude tired himself out on my face eh? Hehe." He scoots in, trying to tangle with her up close, and possibly land a few short little hits to her leathered midsection. "Let's not ruin a perfectly good fist fight talkin' politics eh?" Whether the punches land or not, he aims to take a few steps back and create space once more, so that he can pause his focus long enough to smile at Jo. "Move to my left. I can't hit anything movin' to my left." It's not because he's afraid of damaging her. He's aiming to improve himself.

The hit connects and Jo huffs out a wry, "I've got somethin' to numb it up in my weyr." All hits can be healed according to her. Those short little hits do land to her hard midsection with her twisting this way and that to lessen the blow before she's aiming one for his own midsection as she tries to move to his unguarded sides. "Fair enough," she answers on politics, tossing out a few easy-to-block hits before she tries to knock on his right shoulder this time. It's a bait-and-switch move, though the convict rider doesn't look to be trying to win. Not ''too'' much. She dances to his left when he asks, though she quips, "About to pull a move on me that'll have me in bed for days, Bones?" Because she looks ready. Of course, Tacuseth and a hidden bronze firelizard is looking on through all of this.

"Don't worry about hurtin' me." He says in a low, gruff voice. It's almost prophetic, as his defense is lax. The shots to his midsection land, but again he gives no sign that they have any effect. He's already admitted that that's no indication as to whether or not they actually do damage. Her other strikes, the easy to block ones, have her knuckles smacking into the meat of his heavy arms as he rolls just barely out of the way. The shoulder strike lands true though, and he backs up another pace again at the impact. "If I wanted you in bed for days, I'd just ask." There's a grin at that one. "Hit me harder. I don't got the fire yet." Whatever 'the fire' is, is left vague, but he's earnest in his request. "I ain't lettin' you leave till I've seen all you got, little girl."

"Promises, promises," Jo quips right back on beds and their timeframes, but Bones wants it harder, and so it seems the shoulder hits were only warning shots. "'M'serious about ya washin' my back afterwards," she warns. "And ya call me 'little' again, I'll make sure ya ain' leavin' till ya feelin' the flames of the south, darlin'." That's all she gives until play-shots were over from her, her hits sharper and quicker than before while trying to anticipate his moves. They'll probably go back and forth like this all night, with her throwing out just a few more to his, before they both finally retire to the bathing caverns with further, engaging discussions on fighting techniques.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

File:Icon barnabas GratuitousBeef.jpg

2013-03-21T05:28:17Z

Barnabas:

Logs talk:Bros, Before Hatching

2013-03-20T23:52:16Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Bros, Before Hatching]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Wed, 20 Mar 2013 23:52:16 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-20T23:52:16Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
Awww poor Nicky. Sorry Bones is so confusing! He only means to help! =)
</comment>

Logs:An Adult's Advice

2013-03-20T23:15:06Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Mave, Barnabas | where = Lakeshore, High Reaches Weyr | what = Bones stumbles on Mave practicing her pugilism, and adds his own input. | when = Day 13, Month 4,..."

{{ Log
| who = Mave, Barnabas
| where = Lakeshore, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones stumbles on Mave practicing her pugilism, and adds his own input.
| when = Day 13, Month 4, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.03.19
| quote = "Stay loosey goosey, yah? Looooosey Goooosey."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = mave punk.jpg, barnabas blackandwhite.jpg
| log =
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

----

Since the day's managed to stave off rainfall, despite cloudy temptations, people are out in the bowl and Mave has staked out a portion of the lake shore. The bandana that's been meant for play before now keeps her hair off her forehead and the runner's tail from whipping too much at her face. Legs in a determinedly balanced stance, fingers curled tight, she throws out a punch, punishing the air in front of her, before twisting on a heel to repeat. Twist, repeat. Twist, repeat. Going in a circle, like some kind of ridiculous dance, there on the sand that gets crushed beneath her in whirling circular patterns broken by the swinging of her weight through the punch. Intermittently, at no discernible rhythm, she switches to the other arm, throwing both fists impartially.

With far less purposeful motion in him than Mave, Bones' idle walk on the sand is a lazy thing that has him ocasionally plucking up rocks he deems flat enough to skip across the water's surface. After finding a suitable little hunk, he tosses it out with all the subtelty of a hurricane, and it kerplunks so sharply into the water that he might as well have thrown it straight down. "Damnit all.." is his mumble as he saunters on, eyes aimed downward to try and find the next one. He'd get the hang of it eventually, right? As he rounds a particularly heavy boulder and spots Mave in the distance. Was she... dancing? No, something he was much more familiar with. He'd approach with a hand making a cone shape at his lips. "AHOOOOY!"

"Hu-- !" as the shout catches Mave off-guard, leaving her lurching forward in her next faltering punch. She staggers several steps forward in the sand, ruining the perfect circular impression she'd been creating. Balance caught, it's not long before the culprit is found, bandana keeping her hair from bouncing too far as she throws her gaze around till the gardener's spotted. Mirroring his conical amplifier, her response: "Oy! Avast, and come about!" Lowering her hands, further practice punching is refrained from, fists only addressing her hips as she stands and awaits the large man.

There's an awkward smile for her response, one that has him looking to the sands for a second or two. "Have not heard ''that'' in a while, hehe." The moment of reflection ends the moment his words do, inked arms crossing over broad chest as he makes his way to the edge of the circle. "So, s'this a new dance routine yer workin' on to impress the boys or...?" A knowing grin punctuates the joke at her expense.

"A hardy har har." Lofty faux-laughter answers him, Mave's tiny moment of self-consciousness dropping the hands from her hips. Lifting one arm, she wraps it across her chest, bracing the other around it till she can pull, stretching all out along her shoulder. "The boys Impressed quite fine on their own." Rather indistinguishable between whether she realizes the wordplay or not; she's swiftly enough distracted crinkling her nose in investigation at him. "I was... punching. The air. But now that you're here, I think I'll just punch you." Firming her feet, she tosses a feinted fist at him, coming up short of those tattooed arms. While her eyes are briefly taken by the ink, her voice carries on, "How about it, huh? Then you won't have to be worried about deckin' me when I come into the greenhouse." Because that's all the difference that stands between them, yes.

With the benefit of proximity, Bones can observe one of her punches firsthand, and he leans back a bit as the small strike slices it's way through the air right towards him. "Whoa, go easy on me eh kiddo? Heheh." His arms unclasp, and he pinches one of her fists between thumb and forefinger, his own hands wide enough to make that an easy task. "Y'could power right through a boulder with these monsters couldn't yah? Ha! Who toldja how to throw like that?" For all his condescension, he seemed impressed enough to be earnest in his question.

Mave's mouth opens to respond, then snaps shut on a sudden thought. "I... don't think I should tell you," Rather than fear, her hesitation births from revelation; a little intelligence sparks in her eye. "In fact," loosening the fist, she waves flat palms in front of him -- wax on, wax off, "Forget you even saw that. I want to see how ''you'd'' teach me to throw a punch. Assuming I know absolutely nothing, which is... really not that far from the truth." Squaring her shoulders, she regains her ready stance, eyeing him expectantly... then abruptly shifting out of her ready stance and attempting to look unaware.

Bones' curiosity as to where she's getting her hitting lessons would have to go unsated, as the prospect of adding his own advice sounds like, well, fun. "You want ''my'' way? Well lesson one would be..." He pauses on that, scratching the back of his head as he trys to think of precisely how the Bones system of fighting would go, if written down in a book. "Learn to drink enough so that all the nerve endings in your face are dead before the fight starts. That always worked for me, Ha!" Despite the joke, he slowly lifts his arms up in a fighting stance, both of his fists rising up in front of his face, tucked just underneath his chin. "Do this."

While adjusting to Bones' offered stance, Mave tosses her head. "I think I could drink like you." Bland, barely thought-out fact; almost, really, fond as she considers. But narrow focus on mimicking him poses a barrier to further talking. Weaseling her feet into the sand more securely, she tests her hands both ways, left out first, then right, the left again, and ending on that. Because of the switching, the outside hand ends up a little higher than Bones' example.

"Really? Because no you fuckin' can't." He drops his own hands now to give a brisk walk around her, inspecting her own form. "And you shouldn't, neither. Unless yer wantin' yer voice to sound like mine eh? Ha!" He gives a quick pat at one of her legs. "Bring this leg in a bit. A wide stance'll give you more power but you ain't got no power 'cuz you're what, like eighty pounds? Keep your feet under your shoulders and you'll be able to move quicker. For your size, you ain't lookin' to flatten nobody in one hit, you wanna sting em till y'can get something heavy to hit em with. When you get bigger, well.. then you can be that thing."

Watching Bones circle her gives Mave's eyes a somewhat dizzied look but, blinking down after, the indicated leg adjusts obediently. Feeling this new distance, she sidles her weight back and forth to become familiar. "Quicker," she echoes studiously, "Quicker. Sting 'em." The second's said with more frown, as she tries to pluck further meaning out of the phrase by merely saying it. "But if I don't weigh nothing, then wouldn't picking up something heavy slow me down?" Eyebrows lift, skeptical, as to her ever being ''that thing'', but she falls into casualness-- hazy with concentration as she looks over her figure again to check feet against shoulders-- to blithely mention, "I guess you're right, though..." Of the drinking, perhaps, due to the hint of challenge in the brusque way she brushes it off, hinting to a loss.

"Well yeah it'll slow you down, but I'm just thinkin' worst case scenerio here kid Y'see..." He circles back around to her front as he talks, and pauses to give her a little more advice with a grip at at her shoulders, giving her a slow rock back and forth. "Stay loosey goosey, yah? Looooosey Goooosey. Don't stay tight. You'll get tired real fast if you stay tight." After hopefully sillying her out of stiffness, he stands back tall. "What was I talkin' bout? Oh, right, worst cases. See, worse case is you'll hafta fight off a dude like me. Dude ain't got no pain in him left to feel. That happens? All the speed and sting in the world wont help, you gotta put 'em down. Fightin' don't gotta be fancy kid. Get him in the throat, or the eye. Then, you grab a bottle, a chair, anything. You put him on the ''ground''. And you don't take time to gloat neither, you get your ass out before his boys show up. You hear me kid?" There's a touch of protectiveness in his tone towards the end.

Initially she sways exaggeratedly under his rocking but eventually Mave takes it to heart, shaking her shoulders of her own volition to clear any lingering tension, though after that there's surely not any. "Gloatin's for jerks," snapped out, then followed by, "I hear ya, I hear ya," so he knows she takes him seriously, though quickly brushed off with a few nods; she must have missed any subtlety to his gruff voice. "Y'know, you've only got some more months left, to call me 'kid'." After saying, the looseness is tested out with bouncing, sidling from side to side, her head bobbing, and a soft pretend punch off to the left. Ducking is felt out next, her body dropping more like a rock than anything fluid, and she rights like off a spring, all the while muttering the mantra, "Throat, eye... bottle, chair, throat, eye."

"What, you don't like kid? I think it's endearing!" He chuckles as he watches her do her ducks and dives. "Was plannin' on it till at least another ten turns or so. If I'm around that long. Now, uhh s'more basics. People'll say you wanna keep your eyes on your guy. That's garbage. You wanna keep your ''nose'' on 'em. Aimin' your whole head front is the best way to avoid damage, specially if you keep your hands up like your 'sposed to." To illustrate, he takes a gentle hold of Mave's wrists, and ensures they're right in the spot they need to be. "If you're real fast, y'can drop your hands a little. Bait big slow fuckers like me thinkin' they got a clean shot. Then? You sting em and dodge at the same time. They'll whiff, and come out the other end with a busted nose they didn't even see get tagged. You gettin' all this?"

"I'll be sixteen," chides Mave factually, "I'll be an adult." She rapidly blinks to the incoming instructions, like her round head's heating up as she processes and her eyelids hurry to fan off the brain. Eyebrows drop, measuring him steadily to figure out that keeping her nose on a person is not meant ''literally''. Luckily, she refrains from head-butting him as his wrists are taken. Tensing, she chides herself back into loosey-goosey while letting him arrange her hands. When he lets go, she drops them like he's saying, then raises them, then positions them somewhat halfway with a frown tucked into the corner of her mouth. "So... I want to-- let you think that you can hit my face. I noticed that, when I punch, I fall forward really easily cause it's like... I'm throwing myself into it. So that's what I want to make them do and then that's a good time to-- ?" she wallops the air brutally.

"Kid, I'm thirty... thirty-six turns old." He has to pause to think about it, his age not actually coming up in conversation all too often. "And I ain't even what ''I'd'' call an adult, not by the grander stretch'a the definition." At her attempts at trying out her hand dropping, he snatches up her wrists and brings her hands up once more, returning them to her chin. "Don't drop your hands, that's for later. Advanced stuff. And in all honesty here? I'm probably forgettin' the most important rule of fightin' there is." He gives a sigh and runs his hand back through his hair, while the other goes to his hip.

"So should I be calling ''you'' kid?" With an eyebrow lifted in bait, her voice straight, Mave's either deadpanning or honest-- most likely the former. The eyebrow relaxes slowly, and that's the only part of her. Since Bones said not to drop her hands, they stay right exactly where he positioned them, with her knees in the stance, tentatively prepared. Hovering there takes control, but she works at it, diligently refusing to be at rest. Mouth mulls, alone, over the answer, with even her eyes remaining steady until she pronounces, "Don't?" She offers as rapid-fire response, followed by, "Stomp on their toe and then run really fast?"

"The most important thing to know about fighting? All these lessons? Friggen useless." He clearly hates to admit it as he looks up from the sands to the girl, wearing with a sheepish smile, hand still at the back of his head. "Truth is this. If you're angry enough to throw that first shot, or that first shot is flyin' at you outta nowhere? S'already too late. Instinct's gonna take over, and you won't even have time to dig into the part of your head that's got all this. Y'gotta retrain your instincts, and for that? You need somebody tryin' to hit ya." He stands tall after the admission that his advice is futile is delivered, hands going into his pockets. "Which ain't gonna be me, by the by. But if it makes y'feel better, y'can call me champ or sport or somethin? Kid's ''your'' name, after all."

"Fear and-- anger, right?" Testing by Mave, before she nibbles on her lip. Under this admonishment, her carefully held stance begins to fade, losing a touch of its form. "Couldn't you just..." searching in her head is obvious by the distracted way her eyes float to the side, symbolizing digging deep behind them. Fingers lose shape and she scratches at one wrist. "Jump out at me every once in a while?" Squinting an eye, she knows she's stretching. Hands finally flag substantially, lowering to about her chest as her shoulders loosen. "Actually, I really prefer people's names." She shrugs with one newly relaxed. "That's why I harped on you first time we meet."

"I'll tell you what, ''Maaaave!''" He stretches out her name, robbed of the precious nickname she seemed to dislike so thoroughly. "If you wanna learn to fight? Like, for real? Just... I'unno, stop by the greenhouse more often. We could find out a way to trigger your instincts, without puttin' you in any real danger. Well, y'know, less real than an actual fight anyway." He reaches forward to pinch at the fabric of her bandana, and playfully tug it down in front of her eyes. "Hehe. Oh and by the by, the reason you're losin' your ground when you throw them jabs out? Y'aint shufflin' your feet proper under you. Take a short step with your front leg, and then bring the back one up after it's landed proper."

A nod. Another nod. Then Mave pauses, tugging her mouth up into a tight squint in one corner before popping her lips out, "You just invited me into the greenhouse." Words: marked. There's no more taking them back now, she states as though witnessing in front of a harper. All ruined by the sudden blindness involved, when she bats at his hands ineffectually and the bandana droops drastically over her eyes. "S-short step," she repeats chirpily, stuttering to pay upmost attention while also occupied with trying to soothe the bandana back up over her forehead. As her eyes reappear, they blink to find him. "Where... umm." Hands fall, "Where did you learn to fight, Bones?"

Despite being the one with his eyes open, Bones is the one left to blink a few times at Mave's observation, and he cracks a bigger smile than the one he already had plastered on. "Yeah, s'pose I did. Just don't sneaking in anymore alright? Lemme know when you're in, so I don't turn around a corner too fast with a sickle and take an eye on accident." His arms lift up and he wraps his hands around the back of his neck, showing off a bit of the usually unseen ink on the inside of his arms. "Y'know, around." He chuckles, knowing that probably wasn't enough to satisfy her. "Wasn't much else to learn on the open water, once you got the knots and navigation down."

"No more sneaking in," and she flashes him a mighty salute to be absolutely clear. Mave's eyes wander unabashedly over any previously unseen ink. "Huh," is all she adds to his admittance, having little more insight than that-- or generally agreeing. Licking her lips, fists form a couple more absent times before she lets it rest, sticking them into jacket pockets. "Y'know, I figured out what I'm gonna get inked on me. When I stop growing."

Finding a perfect flat stone right by his boot, Bones bends down to pull it free of sand and shake it a few times before making the attempt at another throw. "Yeah, what's that?" Her choice of ink that is, the question asked just before he tosses it free out into the water. Another chunking, harsh, and most importantly singular splash signifies his failure. He droops a little in defeat. He'll never learn to skip stones.

Half a snort makes it out of Mave at his attempt, "Maybe I'll teach you how to do ''that'' next time." Then she stretches her neck to both sides, cracking it. Her arms sling around behind her as she back-steps, "As for the ink... well... You'll just have to find it. When comes time." Shrugging a most innocent shrug, she twists on her heels and starts loitering off the beach towards the bowl proper, glancing over her shoulder just to shout, "Smooth sailin'!"

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Bones

2013-03-18T04:05:17Z

Barnabas: /* Relationships */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=BonesBig.jpg
|name= Barnabas (Bones)
|position= Gardener
|craft= N/A
|birthplace= Saluda
|mother= Josaphine
|father= Unknown
|siblings= N/A
|children= N/A
|friends= N/A
|playedby= Rob Zombie
|livejournal= N/A}}

== Description ==
A mess of hair and ink, the grungy man stands at a tall 6'4. Unkempt brown hair hangs down past his shoulders in a wavy mess, framing and in part overlapping the edges of his face. Brow is heavily pronounced over sunken, burnt umber eyes, casting a shadow across them in all but the harshest of light. Bushy and uneven facial hair covers his mouth, chin, and upper lip. Broad shoulders slouch, rarely supporting his head up to the full potential of his height. Thick arms are worked to size by hard labor, painted with all manner of grimly themed and scar stained tattoos. Chest is burly down to tapered waist, broadening out again to dense thighs that carry him in his casual yet unsettling shuffle.

== WYSK ==
*Originally from Saluda, a tiny hold on Nerat Peninsula.

*Bones arrived at High Reaches Weyr on Day 23, Month 1, Turn 30 having hitched a ride on dragon back.

*All of his arms and some of his chest are covered in tattoos. They feature a variety of skulls, tentacles, nightmarish creatures both real and mythical, and other creepy/threatening imagery. Some of them are muddy and harder to make out than others due to past infection, scarring, and dull needles in unsteady hands.

*Voice is rough and harsh, even more so when he's excited and happy (think Beetlejuice).

*Hates politics. Distrusts the dragon-oriented system of Weyr governance. Has general problems with authority all around.

*Ex-convict, having served ten years in the mines for murder. He is not shy or ashamed of this.

== History ==
Barnabas (or Bones to his friends) was born in Saluda on the Nerat Penninsula, the son of a alcoholic fisherman and prostitute. With dad out of the picture from day one, his loving mother did her best balancing work and child-rearing, but from a young age the boy learned to fend for himself during the long hours spent alone. Be it genetic predisposition or blind fate, he got his first job at age twelve aboard a small fishing boat, quickly proving his worth with a strong back and penchant for dirty jokes.

As he grew, he quickly found himself spending more time at sea than on land, finding work on bigger and busier boats, but always making a little time to return to his mother and give her a portion of his pay. When she died, he found little reason to stay in the small hold of Saluda, and changed careers from fishing, to merchant work. The ship ran a regular route between Half-Circle SeaHold and and Igen SeaHold, carrying spices and foodstuffs, earning a meager living that saw him with just enough marks to waste in many a tavern. Again, thanks to genetic predisposition or blind fate, he started to develop quite a taste for whiskey.

It was a very ordinary night of heavy drinking alongside the rest of the crew that would shake him out of what would have been a very routine life. A scuffle broke out between the second mate and an angry civilian, and it quickly spread to a full out bar room brawl. In the ensuing chaos, Bones battered a man unconscious, but struck him a few (dozen) too many times on the way down. The man perished later that night. Bones was left by his crew to take the blame for the entire incident, and was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and hard labor in the Telgar mines. He swore off alcohol from that day forward.

He did his time without incident, earning his reputation among fellow inmates and guards as "the friendliest murderer in the mines". After his release, he was desperate to make up for time lost mining in the dark, yearning for a new life in new surroundings. Rather than look for more merchant work, he took to traveling as far away from Saluda as begging and borrowing could take him, eventually finding his way northwest to High Reaches Weyr, near the end of civilization.

== Relationships ==
*'''[[Azaylia]]''': "Real sweetheart through and through. Maybe too nice for her own good? I'll keep her safe."

*'''[[H'kon]]''': "Just another politico who uses words like ''duty'' and ''right'' to justify bein' a jerkward 'bout what he wants. Least he ain't underhanded."

*'''[[I'kris]]''': "I get the feeling nobody got you. Didn't try to get you. I got you kid. Just wish I could'a said goodbye."

*'''[[Taikrin]]''': "Whoa, Tai's in charge now? Are we sure that's a good idea? Eh, why not? Long live Weyrlord Taikrin!"

*'''[[Leova]]''': "I think she's got ice for blood and gearwork in her head. Friendly and cold all at once. Weird."

*'''[[Jo]]''': "Gotta watch yourself with the bad girls. Is the bod worth gettin' shanked over? Probably."

*'''[[Aishani]]''': "Brieli's Aishani now? Bah, next thing she'll reveal she's a runnerbeast in a human suit. Nothing's changed, and that's not a compliment."

*'''[[Z'ian]]''': "Nice guy, good sense'a humor too. Not a package y'often see in a dude so handsome. Gotta be ''some'' weird baggage in there somewhere."

*'''[[Vienne]]''': "Twitchy little girly girl? I like her! Can't help but feel she needs a little boost of confidence though"

*'''[[N'ky]]''': "For his own sake, I hope his libido chills out before it gets him in some trouble with the wrong kinda people. Y'know, like me, Ha!"

*'''[[Mave]]''': "She's like a chick version of me at that age. Which o'course makes me real worried for the future. She's brighter'n I was, she'll be okay I bet."

*'''[[K'zin]]''': " "Like his buddy N'ky, he's way too caught up in the ins and outs of gettin' some. He'll probably grow out if it, but into what?"

*'''[[K'del]]''': "Your heart's in the right place, but stuff's outta your hands now. Take your vacation time and pick up a hobby. You'll be healthier for it."

*'''[[Liv]]''': "Got along with her real quick for somebody seemin' so normal. Maybe I'll get her liquored up and see what spills out, hehe."

== Soundtrack ==
Oddly enough in sort of a chronological order...

[http://youtu.be/OlwRNCnsbUg George Thorogood - Bad to the Bone]

[http://youtu.be/wwzkVXduNc0 Alice in Chains - Them Bones]

[http://youtu.be/qGyPuey-1Jw Irish Rovers - Drunken Sailor]

[http://youtu.be/jPaGE24vpio Apocalyptica - Nothing Else Matters]

[http://youtu.be/WccfbPQNMbg Andrew W.K - Party Hard]

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Convicts]]

Bones

2013-03-18T03:49:12Z

Barnabas: /* Relationships */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=BonesBig.jpg
|name= Barnabas (Bones)
|position= Gardener
|craft= N/A
|birthplace= Saluda
|mother= Josaphine
|father= Unknown
|siblings= N/A
|children= N/A
|friends= N/A
|playedby= Rob Zombie
|livejournal= N/A}}

== Description ==
A mess of hair and ink, the grungy man stands at a tall 6'4. Unkempt brown hair hangs down past his shoulders in a wavy mess, framing and in part overlapping the edges of his face. Brow is heavily pronounced over sunken, burnt umber eyes, casting a shadow across them in all but the harshest of light. Bushy and uneven facial hair covers his mouth, chin, and upper lip. Broad shoulders slouch, rarely supporting his head up to the full potential of his height. Thick arms are worked to size by hard labor, painted with all manner of grimly themed and scar stained tattoos. Chest is burly down to tapered waist, broadening out again to dense thighs that carry him in his casual yet unsettling shuffle.

== WYSK ==
*Originally from Saluda, a tiny hold on Nerat Peninsula.

*Bones arrived at High Reaches Weyr on Day 23, Month 1, Turn 30 having hitched a ride on dragon back.

*All of his arms and some of his chest are covered in tattoos. They feature a variety of skulls, tentacles, nightmarish creatures both real and mythical, and other creepy/threatening imagery. Some of them are muddy and harder to make out than others due to past infection, scarring, and dull needles in unsteady hands.

*Voice is rough and harsh, even more so when he's excited and happy (think Beetlejuice).

*Hates politics. Distrusts the dragon-oriented system of Weyr governance. Has general problems with authority all around.

*Ex-convict, having served ten years in the mines for murder. He is not shy or ashamed of this.

== History ==
Barnabas (or Bones to his friends) was born in Saluda on the Nerat Penninsula, the son of a alcoholic fisherman and prostitute. With dad out of the picture from day one, his loving mother did her best balancing work and child-rearing, but from a young age the boy learned to fend for himself during the long hours spent alone. Be it genetic predisposition or blind fate, he got his first job at age twelve aboard a small fishing boat, quickly proving his worth with a strong back and penchant for dirty jokes.

As he grew, he quickly found himself spending more time at sea than on land, finding work on bigger and busier boats, but always making a little time to return to his mother and give her a portion of his pay. When she died, he found little reason to stay in the small hold of Saluda, and changed careers from fishing, to merchant work. The ship ran a regular route between Half-Circle SeaHold and and Igen SeaHold, carrying spices and foodstuffs, earning a meager living that saw him with just enough marks to waste in many a tavern. Again, thanks to genetic predisposition or blind fate, he started to develop quite a taste for whiskey.

It was a very ordinary night of heavy drinking alongside the rest of the crew that would shake him out of what would have been a very routine life. A scuffle broke out between the second mate and an angry civilian, and it quickly spread to a full out bar room brawl. In the ensuing chaos, Bones battered a man unconscious, but struck him a few (dozen) too many times on the way down. The man perished later that night. Bones was left by his crew to take the blame for the entire incident, and was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and hard labor in the Telgar mines. He swore off alcohol from that day forward.

He did his time without incident, earning his reputation among fellow inmates and guards as "the friendliest murderer in the mines". After his release, he was desperate to make up for time lost mining in the dark, yearning for a new life in new surroundings. Rather than look for more merchant work, he took to traveling as far away from Saluda as begging and borrowing could take him, eventually finding his way northwest to High Reaches Weyr, near the end of civilization.

== Relationships ==
*'''[[Azaylia]]''': "Real sweetheart through and through. Maybe too nice for her own good? I'll keep her safe."

*'''[[H'kon]]''': "Just another politico who uses words like ''duty'' and ''right'' to justify bein' a jerkward 'bout what he wants. Least he ain't underhanded."

*'''[[I'kris]]''': "I get the feeling nobody got you. Didn't try to get you. I got you kid. Just wish I could'a said goodbye."

*'''[[Taikrin]]''': "Whoa, Tai's in charge now? Are we sure that's a good idea? Eh, why not? Long live Weyrlord Taikrin!"

*'''[[Leova]]''': "I think she's got ice for blood and gearwork in her head. Friendly and cold all at once. Weird."

*'''[[Jo]]''': "Gotta watch yourself with the bad girls. Is the bod worth gettin' shanked over? Probably."

*'''[[Aishani]]''': "Brieli's Aishani now? Bah, next thing she'll reveal she's a runnerbeast in a human suit. She's a schemer through and through."

*'''[[H'vier]]''': "He might be an alright dude if he didn't look at ladies like a dragon looks at a herdbeast. Man, dragon analogies? this place is getting to me."

*'''[[Z'ian]]''': "Nice guy, good sense'a humor too. Not a package y'often see in a dude so handsome. Gotta be SOME weird baggage in there somewhere."

*'''[[Vienne]]''': "Twitchy little girly girl? I like her! She can roll with a good joke even when she's scared yer gonna kill her, ha!"

*'''[[Nicky]]''': "Oh man, I'm real scared what weyr life is gonna do to this kid. I'll try not to mess him up too bad."

*'''[[K'del]]''': "Your heart's in the right place, but stuff's outta your hands now. Take your vacation time and pick up a hobby. You'll be healthier for it."

== Soundtrack ==
Oddly enough in sort of a chronological order...

[http://youtu.be/OlwRNCnsbUg George Thorogood - Bad to the Bone]

[http://youtu.be/wwzkVXduNc0 Alice in Chains - Them Bones]

[http://youtu.be/qGyPuey-1Jw Irish Rovers - Drunken Sailor]

[http://youtu.be/jPaGE24vpio Apocalyptica - Nothing Else Matters]

[http://youtu.be/WccfbPQNMbg Andrew W.K - Party Hard]

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Convicts]]

Logs talk:Plants.

2013-03-18T02:48:06Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Plants.]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 18 Mar 2013 02:47:43 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-18T02:47:43Z" name="Azaylia" signature="[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])">
...Oh ''ho''. I see what you did there. <3 That was cute n' clever. Funny how that works.
</comment>
[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 18 Mar 2013 02:48:06 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-18T02:48:06Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
One independent and harmless, and the other needing specific care but maybe biting you for it.
I'm sure there's some sort of zen proverb in there that I can't dig up. Cool vig!

</comment>

Logs:Special Order

2013-03-18T02:09:32Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Barnabas, Liv | where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr | what = Liv and Bones sort out a business transaction in the greenhouse. | when = Day 7, Month 4, Turn 3..."

{{ Log
| who = Barnabas, Liv
| where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Liv and Bones sort out a business transaction in the greenhouse.
| when = Day 7, Month 4, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.03.17
| quote = "I figured you'd be more interested in the ones with teeth."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Azaylia
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas cleaned.jpg, liv So Small.jpg
| log =
'''Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora.

Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.

Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath.'''

----

Spring brings with it some respite from the harsh weather of winter, although there's still some flurries now and then, today for example. Still, it's nice to be able to come outside and only have a light dusting to shake off when you come in again, versus small snowbanks piled up on your shoulders. Liv is doing just that as she steps into the greenhouse dressed in a light jacket, the lapels of which she jerks twice to rid herself of the flakes that gathered in the short trip she took. She also knocks the heels of her boots against the threshold before coming in all the way so as not to slick up the floor. Her attention immediately travels to a row of greenery, one pot in particular hooking her in. Whatever she actually came in here for, it can afford a small detour.

The greenhouse is as quiet as can be, only the distant sounds of trickling waters distant in it's deeper recesses. The spring waters disrupt the silence, but only add to the tranquility, and taking advantage of the comfortable heat of those waters is Bones, who's using some of the heated spring to wet a cloth and clean his hands of wet potting soil. There was no shortage of plants that needed uprooting, moved from smaller pots to larger in cycle so that new seedlings would always have appropriately sized places to grow. In being the one to make those transfers, a gardener's hands can get quite dirty. "Be with you in a second!" Bones calls out in a promise to the unseen visitor, having picked up on the sounds of heels banged free of snow on the floor. It's a promise he follows up on quickly, giving his hands one last rinse before making his way towards his new guest.

As a guest, Liv is patient. She arches back to catch sight of him when she hears his voice, but since he isn't looking her way she quirks her mouth and goes back to her study of the plant in front of her. When Bones is finished cleaning his hands and approaches, he'll find her bent at the waist, her nose an inch from whatever is growing in there. Only a glimpse of that is available though, because as soon as she realizes he's there she straightens to face him and smiles warmly. "Hello. Is this a bad time? I just thought I would check in."

Bones, wearing his sleeveless dark denim vest and leather cuffs over otherwise bare torso, takes a moment to rub that warm wet cloth across the back of his neck before tossing it idly to the seat of a nearby bench. "Hey, it's Liv!" Spoken as though there was a third party that he'd be announcing her to, even though the two are very much alone. "Never really a bad time for me. Not much I'm doing that can't be held off till later these days." With hands slipping into his pockets, he makes his way over to the plant she was choosing to examine, giving her a quick rundown. "Y'like that one? That's a Red Butte Silkfern. I'unno why they call it Silkfern when it honestly feels more like Satin. Go on, touch." He motions with his head rather than unsheathe his hands.

His announcement earns him a grin, Liv delighting in the enthusiasm since yes, they are the only two people in here. "Your time is just as important as anyone else's. But I'm glad I'm not imposing. Oh, this?" She looks down again to regard the plant that only moments ago she was having a moment with, as if she's never seen it before. "Oh, satin?" With a 'don't mind if I do' attitude, she reaches out her fingers to touch one of those leaves and smiles. "You're right. Maybe 'Satinfern' was already taken," she jokes, still idly rubbing her thumb across the leaf. "My snowblossom is doing quiet well," she reports suddenly, turning her smile on him now.

Bones can't help but smile bigger as she strokes at the fern, a plant that like all the others he saw to the growth of himself. There's a little pride there, and more the mention of her previous gift. "I figured it would, they ain't too much trouble to keep going, but damn, they just make a room feel a little warmer." Figuratively of course. There's only a few seconds of looking at the fern before he suddenly tugs a hand free of his pants and snaps his fingers. "Speakin' of, I got that special order you were lookin' for, hehee!" There's a touch of mischief in his low chuckle, one that sees him move swiftly towards the back, near the more utilitarian tables. "Had to get Azaylia's permission on this one, what with worryin' about upsettin' local ecosystems and whatnot!" If she doesn't follow, he's more than willing to shout out to her from where he is, pulling out a latched wooden box out from behind several small potted trees.

"It does. And it's nice to have something to take care of. Iyniroth hasn't needed me quite like that in some time." Bones's snap and chuckle combined makes her grin again, and all the more for his news. Liv actually doesn't follow him at first because first she wants to give the Silkfern one last little caress, but by the time he's pulling the box out she's there and waiting expectantly. "I didn't realize you had to go through so much trouble, ''thank you''." His effort is worth it to her, who stands there like it's her birthday, her hands in her pockets likely so she won't start clapping them together, until that is she uses them to offer help vaguely in case he means to hand it to her, or otherwise needs help with it. "Is it heavy?"

"It will be!" He skips right past her genuine thank yous to get right to answering her question, walking right up to her with the old oak box, and then unlatching it in front of her. When opened, the tiny little red clay pot is centered in a nest of damp wet rags, the humidity in the box is thicker than even that of the greenhouse, and the leaves on the little plant are wet with thin beads of moisture. "Just a little baby sapling here, but it'll last for years and years. Meet your new Grubsnapper!" The plant itself was only a few inches high, a darker green than most plants. It had a simple thin stem, but no leaves to speak of, only two eerie looking pinkish mouths with interlacing leafy teeth. "It ain't much to look at now, but if you keep it wet and fed, it'll get big enough to feed sandwich meat to! Ha!"

There is something about someone being as excited about something as you are that makes the thing you're both excited about that much more exciting. Liv doesn't know what to do with her hands now that he doesn't need help with the box, and when he opens it she can only clutch them to her heart as she peers in to take a look. "Oh, my. Isn't she sweet. Oh little Grubsnapper." She isn't stupid, there will be a distinct lack of reaching in to play with ''this'' plant, so instead of going that route she turns her wide smile up at Bones and if she hadn't already said thank you, that would have been display enough of her gratitude. "She's beautiful. Thank you."

Grubsnappers aren't male or female by any means, but Bones himself fell victim to gendered pronouns for his plants from time to time, and let Liv decree her plant as anything she chose. "Go on, take it out, it won't bite. So long as you don't shove your fingers in one of the mouths, hehe." The wooden case is opened wider so she could slip her hands in easy to tug out the small pot. "This one's a little more tricky to take care of then your Snowblossom though. Y'gotta keep it's leaves wet, so give it a spritz Like every eight or twelve hours or something. It don't need sun though, in fact puttin' it someplace cool and dark'll do you good. Some place where it might be able to attract some flies or beetles it can munch on. When it gets too big for the pot it's got, just lemme know, and I'll come re-plant 'em for yeah, alright?"

Liv doesn't need a lot of urging, as soon as Bones opens the lid that much more she makes use of the space he gives her to slide her slender hands in and cage them around the pot to lift it out of the box. /Now/ she gives it the same treatment as the other plant, peering at those little pink mouths with sharp, curious eyes. "I think I know just where to put her," she says very evenly, then seems to remember something and lifts her eyebrows at the gardener. "How much do I owe you for doing this for me? I very much doubt I can get by on not telling anyone about your secret nap this time."

"Well, let's see..." He puts a hand on the back of his neck as he ponders a price to set on such a thing, looking down at it as he does a recap. "There was travel time, research time, then time spent looking for a seller..." all of this is easy to say outloud, but there's one small factor that was throwing a wrench in his computations. He has no idea what to charge for his time, nor how much he had really spent. "I'unno, what seems fair to you?" Not a master haggler.

During his out-loud calculating, or pseudo-calculating, Liv watches him steadily with what definitely qualifies as a stare. She's transferred the pot to the crook of her arm where she can cradle it there with one hand placed to steady it. Since he's having a hard time setting a price she takes over for him, and he asked anyway so it works. "Well I'd say easily three marks and a favor to cash in later." She smiles slyly.

Liv's price seems fair to him right away, giving a shrug of his shoulders and a smile. "Yeah, sure, three marks and a favor. Maybe y'can give me a dragon ride somewhere or somethin', I'unno." He's about as nefarious with pricing as he is with favor-currying. "Your little snapper there is delicate, so I wouldn't wanna have you put down a bunch of marks for something that might not even make it up here at high reaches. It's more of a swamp weed, hehe."

"A ride somewhere, certainly. Unless something else comes up that you think I, or we, could help with." She is half of a pair, isn't she. Liv reaches into her jacket pocket for her marks pouch, somehow wrangling that with holding the pot. She also proves to be able to count out three pieces and then re-pocket the pouch, all without even a close call. "Here, for your time," she announces, and proffers the money. "And I'll try to do right by her. But it's your time I'm paying for, even if this doesn't work out, I appreciate that you did it."

Without even glancing down at the money, Bones plucks it from her hands with only a brief tough of his fingers at her palm. "It's no problem Liv. It was actually kinda fun. Y'know, diggin' up books to figure out what'd work for ya? They had these uhh, jug plants too. They just got nasty acid in the bottom and stuff falls in? But I figured you'd be more interested in the ones with teeth, ha!"

Pretty much any time he barks out a laugh like that she grins. And when Liv grins, it changes her a little bit. She lays her hand back down on the pot of the bitey plant again and tries to button the grin down by pressing her lips together. "Good, I'm glad it was fun. I felt bad for asking you to do it after I realized how much you put into it. But if you got something out of it too it makes it better. And you were right, I was, am, more interested in the ones with teeth. Although the ones that don't eat things at all are interesting to me too. Like the Snowblossom." Her smile lingers for a moment more, then fades slightly. "I should probably get going. I have drills. But I wanted to come check in with you. I like being in here."

"Awww, y'gotta leave me so soon, do ya?" The tone is playful, but despite the somewhat sarcastic tone there's an undercurrent of genuine disappointment. "Fair enough, duty calls and all that. But hey, you stop by any time you damn well please eh? Can't help but dig a lady who appreciates her plants." His grin broadens as he digs his hands into his pockets a little deeper. "Keep outta trouble, Liv."

Judging by the look on Liv's face, he isn't the only one who's hiding or maybe not hiding disappointment. Duty does call, whether she likes it or not. Liv's smile returns, bolstered by the invitation for future visits. "I will. Maybe next time I'll bring something, since every time I've been in here so far I've taken something away. We can talk about plants." Which is suggested with sincere enthusiasm. She smiles one more time, gives him a careful little wave so as not to disrupt her cargo, and replies in kind, "You too, Bones. Thank you again." Her exit is an easy one, she's out the same way she came in.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs talk:Head-On

2013-03-10T21:23:42Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Head-On]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Alida/Comments|Alida]] ([[User:Alida|Alida]] ([[User talk:Alida|talk]])) left a comment on Sun, 10 Mar 2013 19:01:41 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-10T19:01:41Z" name="Alida" signature="[[User:Alida|Alida]] ([[User talk:Alida|talk]])">
As Alida would likely respond: *grunt-nod* ^^

</comment>
[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Sun, 10 Mar 2013 21:23:42 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-10T21:23:42Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
Somebody actually listened to Bones' advice? This can't go well!
</comment>

Logs talk:Idle Hands

2013-03-10T21:15:14Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Idle Hands]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Sun, 10 Mar 2013 21:15:14 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-10T21:15:14Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
Oh cmoooon! Just a KISS?! Booooo!

</comment>

Logs talk:Bros before...

2013-03-07T09:54:35Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Bros before...]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[K'del/Comments|K'del]] ([[User:K'del|K'del]] ([[User talk:K'del|talk]])) left a comment on Thu, 07 Mar 2013 00:50:30 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-07T00:50:30Z" name="K'del" signature="[[User:K&#39;del|K&#39;del]] ([[User talk:K&#39;del|talk]])">
That was freakin' adorable. I ''love'' their so very realistic teenage angst. XD
</comment>
[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])) left a comment on Thu, 07 Mar 2013 01:29:45 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-07T01:29:45Z" name="Azaylia" signature="[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])">
You know, fellas, having this conversation while around a bunch of tots? Not the most responsible thing. But... adorable ''and'' hilarious? Yes! Teenage boys. Oi.
</comment>
[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Thu, 07 Mar 2013 02:37:16 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-07T02:37:16Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
Ahahaha, awesome. XD
</comment>
[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Thu, 07 Mar 2013 09:54:35 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-07T09:54:35Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
Hana, the race is on! Who gets Nicky first? 1,2,3.. GO!
</comment>

Logs talk:Heel!

2013-03-06T23:21:17Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Heel!]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[K'del/Comments|K'del]] ([[User:K'del|K'del]] ([[User talk:K'del|talk]])) left a comment on Wed, 06 Mar 2013 19:21:19 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-06T19:21:19Z" name="K'del" signature="[[User:K&#39;del|K&#39;del]] ([[User talk:K&#39;del|talk]])">
Ahahahahaha. I loved this.

Go Azaylia!

But I think I especially like that Bones has a very well-developed code of his own. He did what he thought was right. He'll stand by. <3
</comment>
[[Brieli/Comments|Brieli]] ([[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])) left a comment on Wed, 06 Mar 2013 22:57:55 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-06T22:57:55Z" name="Brieli" signature="[[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])">
She should have kicked him out. That would have been effective, but less cruel. I've learned one thing about recovering alcoholics... and that is: they need their coffee and smokes.
</comment>
[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Wed, 06 Mar 2013 23:21:17 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-06T23:21:17Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
@K'del: His code is well-developed. Doesn't mean it's always right. Personally, I think Bones is overreacting at H'kon. A smidge. =)

@Brieli: Yeah, he's GOTTA have his klah, which just goes to show how angry he is that he'd rather give it up then say sorry.
</comment>

Logs:Physician, Heal Thyself

2013-03-06T05:09:43Z

Barnabas:

{{ Log
| who = Vienne, Barnabas
| where = Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones tries to play mindhealer with Vienne. She's uncomfortable being the focus of conversation.
| when = Day 7, Month 2, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2103.03.05
| quote = "I feel like if I'm talking about me, it's just a distraction."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = H'kon
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas subtle concern.jpg, vienne serious.jpg
| log =
Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
----

It's nearly dinner time, which has the lower caverns caught in their daily flurry as people hurry to finish things up before dinner or start making their way toward the living cavern. It's a time of transition, rush hour, and though the nighthearth is rather in the midst of all that activity it is also largely abandoned. Except for Vienne, who looks like she might have dozed off in her warm seat by the fire, fitting comfortably sideways in the chair with her knees drawn up, ankles crossed and her arms wrapped around herself. Her boots are on the floor, rather than her feet, so maybe some part of this nap was moderately expected.

It's with a heavy sigh and rub of his face that he enters the nighthearth, just looking for a place to retreat from the crowds outside and wait for them to die down. Moving one's way through groups comes with added difficulty for a man of his stature, and the constant vigilance required not to step on toes or turn too quick and accidentally elbow a passerby? Well, it got exhausting quite quick. It's only as he approaches the fire itself that he realizes he's not alone, and gives a quiet grumble at the added inconvenience of needing to stay quiet for the stranger's benefit. "Figures."

Vienne, such a stranger. But whether she was really asleep or just resting her eyes, whether it is Bones' quiet grumble or just his presence that alerts her, the small bluerider opens her eyes. They're hazy as she looks at him, distant and quiet, and there's no friendly little smile to greet him. Just the silent, sleepy blink of her gaze and a hint of confusion.

Hadn't recognized the girl as he sat down, eyes focusing on the flames and mind busy with recent drama. It's only as a bit of stirring happens in his periphreal that he recognizes the mousey girl, and her own smile is returned in the same fashion. "Back to th'land of the livin', Vee?" His voice is quiet without losing it's gravel, almost the sound of distant thunder.

"Bones," she murmurs back as her stare becomes a little clearer, though no more lively. Still, the clarity allows her to see him, the thoughtfulness that lingers around the wild-looking man from whom she has come to expect a certain booming joviality. "What's wrong?" And though it makes no particular sense, Vienne offers her hand out him, even if he isn't actually close enough to take it without getting up.

Giving a blink at the outstretched hand, it's clear it takes the gardener a moment to discern it's purpose. After a shrug, he reaches for her hand and gives it a shake, as if this was their first meeting. "Nice to see you again." That's why she was holding it out, right? "Don't you ever get tired of askin' people that?" A playful smirk follows.

The shake of her hand starts her smiling and his greeting turns that smile into a small breathless laugh. Her hand is light in his, though it grips a little when as he teases her with that question. "Don't you ever get tired of pretending you aren't bothered by things?" It would have worked better if Vienne had started with, "That's why I was napping," but that just isn't the way it goes. Forgive her; she's still waking up. "Come sit by me." Not that he's sitting so far away to begin with.

Bones scoots closer to her at her request, his palms pushing down at the bench just enough to lift his backside, and his hips doing the rest of the work to slide along. "Hey, I ain't pretending. But there's just times you don't feel much like spillin'. Be thankful I'll even admit I ''got'' greivances. Have you met that brownrider H'kon yet? Pfft." There's something just a little angry in that last scoffing sound. A hint as to what's bothering him.

Vienne smiles a bit for all his shifting around, her head never lifting off the back of the chair. At least her hands are back in her own space, tucked between her knees. "You don't have to admit anything. I can just see it." It takes her a full beat before she adds, "Yes, I've met him," even if it does not appear to be something she really had to think about. "He's upset you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Despite the transparency in his mannerisms, it's not some sort of subconcious fishing for more questions. His words are genuine. "How about we talk about you for a change eh? You always jump right into my problems, how about we switch it 'round for once?" He gives a soft shove at her shoulder that's not even really enough to budge her an inch. "What's wrong with ''you''?"

"You brought it up," Vienne points out with a sigh that sounds a little weary. She lets her eyes glance off, watching the flow of foot-traffic beyond the quiet of the hearth for a moment, until the shove at her should brings her attention back to Bones. "There's nothing wrong with me. I just sat here and it was cozy and comfortable and the noise was just right. Not too quiet but not needing any attention either, if that makes sense? And I just... closed my eyes." Her smile is a little more wry, since the eye-closing led to the usual outcome. But with all that done, she draws in a deep breath. "When people ask about me, I never really know what to say."

"... I didn't bring nothin' up." The pause there is for him to double check the authenticity of his words before he speaks them, though he still looks confused at her sigh. "Just said there's worse examples out there for folk that bottle up." Eyes back to the fire, letting out a sigh through his nose. "Maybe that's something that ''is'' wrong with you? Y'know, the not knowin' what to say. Maybe..." there's another pause, as he tries to excercise his own mindhealer skills. "Maybe you fall into asking 'bout other people on account of not feelin' your own self is worth discussin'? Maybe it's a self esteem thing?"

Vienne lets out a quick, short laugh, admission that she may have misunderstood. But she's on the right track now. "Oh, I don't know that bottling is so bad. I'm sure it's not good, either. Some people are just more comfortable sharing than others. Or maybe they just don't have any control over it. I feel that way sometimes. Like I want to say things and I don't know why." She shakes her head, rocking her temple against the back of the chair. "I think people just want to be understood." But her musing drifts off and she smiles at his mindhealering attempt. "I'm a little old for self esteem issues, aren't I? Isn't that for girls of fourteen? I hope I have a bit more perspective than that."

Moving to rub the back of his neck, Bones gives a soft chuckle towards the fire as she elaborates her views. There's another few seconds of silence as he mulls them over in his mind, but his brain is too tired to truly sort it all out. "Alright then, what ''do'' you think it is that makes it hard to talk 'bout yerself?" Hand lingers at his neck, but the head it's attatched to turns to look at her. "Why're other people a comfy topic, but you clam up otherwise?"

"I don't want to get in the way," Vienne says, sounding rather like this is the not the first time she's given it thought. "I want to understand people. I'm interested. I feel like if I'm talking about me, it's just a distraction. And people don't usually like what they hear, if I do." With that thought, she does finally move, slipping a hand from between her knees to help push herself from nestling into the chair. Her socked feet drop toward the floor. "It just makes things awkward."

The soft smile that Bones had for the girl turns a bit south, becoming a blank face and then something close to a downright frown. "So... to sum up." He counts down on his fingers the points she had just made, going slow. "You'll get in the way. You're just a distraction. You just make things awkward. People don't like what they hear about you." All direct quotes. "... but you ain't got no self esteem problem."

Her legs clamp together and both hands back to being wedged between, Vienne just stares at him for a moment, letting his words sink in, letting them slowly furrow her brow. "That makes me sound pitiful," she tells him. "I'm not pifitul. I just don't need to be the center of attention. Certainly not like that." There's a little something stern in her expression. "Do you enjoy the moment when you tell someone about your past and it changes they way they look at you? So that you aren't just you, the man sitting in front of them, but some collection of things that define you in ways you have no control over? In ways that aren't even true, just assumptions and stereotypes?"

"But those are your own words..." is his confused answer at her defensive insistence she wasn't pitiful. Her stern expression sees his eyes open a bit wider and his lips part. What'd he do, dig too deep? "Whoa whoa, slow down there. Sorry, didn' mean to poke in places you didn' want me to." He slowly pushes himself up to his feet, a bit of a groan for his slightly stiff knees and back. Plenty of time put in at the greenhouse that day. "But... assumin' them last few questions weren't the hypothetical kind?" He's clearly wary of delving further into conversation of the sort, so he sums up as quick as he can. "I don't give that much energy on what people think'a me. I just work on likin' myself, and fixin flaws where I find 'em."

Vienne stares at him for his sudden retreat, expression slowly, carefully, softening. Her mouth purses before shifting into a shy, embarrassed smile that takes another moment still to reach her eyes. "I think that's a good thing," she says for his own tactics. "I can't imagine you would need to work very hard. It was nice to talk, Bones." She can see he's taking his leave and she makes no move to delay him.

A deep breath fills his lungs and leaves in a sigh, hopeful that the crowds outside have thinned and he get somewhere else. "Sorry for wakin' you from your nap. Wasn't fixin' to disturb." He puts a gentle hand to her shoulder and offers a smile. "Next time, I'll just do you the favor of complainin' bout my day like usual eh? Hehe." A few pats to her before slipping out of the nighthearth. "Night Vee."

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Physician, Heal Thyself

2013-03-06T01:41:22Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Vienne, Barnabas | where = Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr | what = Bones tries to play mindhealer with Vienne. She's uncomfortable being the focus of conversati..."

{{ Log
| who = Vienne, Barnabas
| where = Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones tries to play mindhealer with Vienne. She's uncomfortable being the focus of conversation.
| when = Day 7, Month 2, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2103.03.05
| quote = "I feel like if I'm talking about me, it's just a distraction."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = H'kon
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas subtle concern.jpg, vienne serious.jpg
| log =
Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
----

It's nearly dinner time, which has the lower caverns caught in their daily flurry as people hurry to finish things up before dinner or start making their way toward the living cavern. It's a time of transition, rush hour, and though the nighthearth is rather in the midst of all that activity it is also largely abandoned. Except for Vienne, who looks like she might have dozed off in her warm seat by the fire, fitting comfortably sideways in the chair with her knees drawn up, ankles crossed and her arms wrapped around herself. Her boots are on the floor, rather than her feet, so maybe some part of this nap was moderately expected.

It's with a heavy sigh and rub of his face that he enters the nighthearth, just looking for a place to retreat from the crowds outside and wait for them to die down. Moving one's way through groups comes with added difficulty for a man of his stature, and the constant vigilance required not to step on toes or turn too quick and accidentally elbow a passerby? Well, it got exhausting quite quick. It's only as he approaches the fire itself that he realizes he's not alone, and gives a quiet grumble at the added inconvenience of needing to stay quiet for the stranger's benefit. "Figures."

Vienne, such a stranger. But whether she was really asleep or just resting her eyes, whether it is Bones' quiet grumble or just his presence that alerts her, the small bluerider opens her eyes. They're hazy as she looks at him, distant and quiet, and there's no friendly little smile to greet him. Just the silent, sleepy blink of her gaze and a hint of confusion.

Hadn't recognized the girl as he sat down, eyes focusing on the flames and mind busy with recent drama. It's only as a bit of stirring happens in his periphreal that he recognizes the mousey girl, and her own smile is returned in the same fashion. "Back to th'land of the livin', Vee?" His voice is quiet without losing it's gravel, almost the sound of distant thunder.

"Bones," she murmurs back as her stare becomes a little clearer, though no more lively. Still, the clarity allows her to see him, the thoughtfulness that lingers around the wild-looking man from whom she has come to expect a certain booming joviality. "What's wrong?" And though it makes no particular sense, Vienne offers her hand out him, even if he isn't actually close enough to take it without getting up.

Giving a blink at the outstretched hand, it's clear it takes the gardener a moment to discern it's purpose. After a shrug, he reaches for her hand and gives it a shake, as if this was their first meeting. "Nice to see you again." That's why she was holding it out, right? "Don't you ever get tired of askin' people that?" A playful smirk follows.

The shake of her hand starts her smiling and his greeting turns that smile into a small breathless laugh. Her hand is light in his, though it grips a little when as he teases her with that question. "Don't you ever get tired of pretending you aren't bothered by things?" It would have worked better if Vienne had started with, "That's why I was napping," but that just isn't the way it goes. Forgive her; she's still waking up. "Come sit by me." Not that he's sitting so far away to begin with.

Bones scoots closer to her at her request, his palms pushing down at the bench just enough to lift his backside, and his hips doing the rest of the work to slide along. "Hey, I ain't pretending. But there's just times you don't feel much like spillin'. Be thankful I'll even admit I ''got'' greivances. Have you met that brownrider H'kon yet? Pfft." There's something just a little angry in that last scoffing sound. A hint as to what's bothering him.

Vienne smiles a bit for all his shifting around, her head never lifting off the back of the chair. At least her hands are back in her own space, tucked between her knees. "You don't have to admit anything. I can just see it." It takes her a full beat before she adds, "Yes, I've met him," even if it does not appear to be something she really had to think about. "He's upset you?"
"I don't wanna talk about it." Despite the transparency in his mannerisms, it's not some sort of subconcious fishing for more questions. His words are genuine. "How about we talk about you for a change eh? You always jump right into my problems, how about we switch it 'round for once?" He gives a soft shove at her shoulder that's not even really enough to budge her an inch. "What's wrong with ''you''?"

"You brought it up," Vienne points out with a sigh that sounds a little weary. She lets her eyes glance off, watching the flow of foot-traffic beyond the quiet of the hearth for a moment, until the shove at her should brings her attention back to Bones. "There's nothing wrong with me. I just sat here and it was cozy and comfortable and the noise was just right. Not too quiet but not needing any attention either, if that makes sense? And I just... closed my eyes." Her smile is a little more wry, since the eye-closing led to the usual outcome. But with all that done, she draws in a deep breath. "When people ask about me, I never really know what to say."

"... I didn't bring nothin' up." The pause there is for him to double check the authenticity of his words before he speaks them, though he still looks confused at her sigh. "Just said there's worse examples out there for folk that bottle up." Eyes back to the fire, letting out a sigh through his nose. "Maybe that's something that ''is'' wrong with you? Y'know, the not knowin' what to say. Maybe..." there's another pause, as he tries to excercise his own mindhealer skills. "Maybe you fall into asking 'bout other people on account of not feelin' your own self is worth discussin'? Maybe it's a self esteem thing?"

Vienne lets out a quick, short laugh, admission that she may have misunderstood. But she's on the right track now. "Oh, I don't know that bottling is so bad. I'm sure it's not good, either. Some people are just more comfortable sharing than others. Or maybe they just don't have any control over it. I feel that way sometimes. Like I want to say things and I don't know why." She shakes her head, rocking her temple against the back of the chair. "I think people just want to be understood." But her musing drifts off and she smiles at his mindhealering attempt. "I'm a little old for self esteem issues, aren't I? Isn't that for girls of fourteen? I hope I have a bit more perspective than that."

Moving to rub the back of his neck, Bones gives a soft chuckle towards the fire as she elaborates her views. There's another few seconds of silence as he mulls them over in his mind, but his brain is too tired to truly sort it all out. "Alright then, what ''do'' you think it is that makes it hard to talk 'bout yerself?" Hand lingers at his neck, but the head it's attatched to turns to look at her. "Why're other people a comfy topic, but you clam up otherwise?"

"I don't want to get in the way," Vienne says, sounding rather like this is the not the first time she's given it thought. "I want to understand people. I'm interested. I feel like if I'm talking about me, it's just a distraction. And people don't usually like what they hear, if I do." With that thought, she does finally move, slipping a hand from between her knees to help push herself from nestling into the chair. Her socked feet drop toward the floor. "It just makes things awkward."

The soft smile that Bones had for the girl turns a bit south, becoming a blank face and then something close to a downright frown. "So... to sum up." He counts down on his fingers the points she had just made, going slow. "You'll get in the way. You're just a distraction. You just make things awkward. People don't like what they hear about you." All direct quotes. "... but you ain't got no self esteem problem."

Her legs clamp together and both hands back to being wedged between, Vienne just stares at him for a moment, letting his words sink in, letting them slowly furrow her brow. "That makes me sound pitiful," she tells him. "I'm not pifitul. I just don't need to be the center of attention. Certainly not like that." There's a little something stern in her expression. "Do you enjoy the moment when you tell someone about your past and it changes they way they look at you? So that you aren't just you, the man sitting in front of them, but some collection of things that define you in ways you have no control over? In ways that aren't even true, just assumptions and stereotypes?"

"But those are your own words..." is his confused answer at her defensive insistence she wasn't pitiful. Her stern expression sees his eyes open a bit wider and his lips part. What'd he do, dig too deep? "Whoa whoa, slow down there. Sorry, didn' mean to poke in places you didn' want me to." He slowly pushes himself up to his feet, a bit of a groan for his slightly stiff knees and back. Plenty of time put in at the greenhouse that day. "But... assumin' them last few questions weren't the hypothetical kind?" He's clearly wary of delving further into conversation of the sort, so he sums up as quick as he can. "I don't give that much energy on what people think'a me. I just work on likin' myself, and fixin flaws where I find 'em."

Vienne stares at him for his sudden retreat, expression slowly, carefully, softening. Her mouth purses before shifting into a shy, embarrassed smile that takes another moment still to reach her eyes. "I think that's a good thing," she says for his own tactics. "I can't imagine you would need to work very hard. It was nice to talk, Bones." She can see he's taking his leave and she makes no move to delay him.

A deep breath fills his lungs and leaves in a sigh, hopeful that the crowds outside have thinned and he get somewhere else. "Sorry for wakin' you from your nap. Wasn't fixin' to disturb." He puts a gentle hand to her shoulder and offers a smile. "Next time, I'll just do you the favor of complainin' bout my day like usual eh? Hehe." A few pats to her before slipping out of the nighthearth. "Night Vee."

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs talk:Glacier Hospitality

2013-03-05T21:33:59Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Glacier Hospitality]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 05 Mar 2013 12:21:46 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-05T12:21:46Z" name="Azaylia" signature="[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])">
*laughs* Of course Jo has to ''officially'' welcome her pretty new wingmate. Liv certainly seems like Glacier's type!
</comment>
[[Brieli/Comments|Brieli]] ([[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 05 Mar 2013 16:10:58 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-05T16:10:58Z" name="Brieli" signature="[[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])">
Jo's just doing her job... ;)
</comment>
[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 05 Mar 2013 21:33:59 GMT.

<comment date="2013-03-05T21:33:59Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
Aww man, if there was ever a time for Bones to be around.
</comment>

Bones

2013-03-04T19:53:49Z

Barnabas: /* WYSK */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=BonesBig.jpg
|name= Barnabas (Bones)
|position= Gardener
|craft= N/A
|birthplace= Saluda
|mother= Josaphine
|father= Unknown
|siblings= N/A
|children= N/A
|friends= N/A
|playedby= Rob Zombie
|livejournal= N/A}}

== Description ==
A mess of hair and ink, the grungy man stands at a tall 6'4. Unkempt brown hair hangs down past his shoulders in a wavy mess, framing and in part overlapping the edges of his face. Brow is heavily pronounced over sunken, burnt umber eyes, casting a shadow across them in all but the harshest of light. Bushy and uneven facial hair covers his mouth, chin, and upper lip. Broad shoulders slouch, rarely supporting his head up to the full potential of his height. Thick arms are worked to size by hard labor, painted with all manner of grimly themed and scar stained tattoos. Chest is burly down to tapered waist, broadening out again to dense thighs that carry him in his casual yet unsettling shuffle.

== WYSK ==
*Originally from Saluda, a tiny hold on Nerat Peninsula.

*Bones arrived at High Reaches Weyr on Day 23, Month 1, Turn 30 having hitched a ride on dragon back.

*All of his arms and some of his chest are covered in tattoos. They feature a variety of skulls, tentacles, nightmarish creatures both real and mythical, and other creepy/threatening imagery. Some of them are muddy and harder to make out than others due to past infection, scarring, and dull needles in unsteady hands.

*Voice is rough and harsh, even more so when he's excited and happy (think Beetlejuice).

*Hates politics. Distrusts the dragon-oriented system of Weyr governance. Has general problems with authority all around.

*Ex-convict, having served ten years in the mines for murder. He is not shy or ashamed of this.

== History ==
Barnabas (or Bones to his friends) was born in Saluda on the Nerat Penninsula, the son of a alcoholic fisherman and prostitute. With dad out of the picture from day one, his loving mother did her best balancing work and child-rearing, but from a young age the boy learned to fend for himself during the long hours spent alone. Be it genetic predisposition or blind fate, he got his first job at age twelve aboard a small fishing boat, quickly proving his worth with a strong back and penchant for dirty jokes.

As he grew, he quickly found himself spending more time at sea than on land, finding work on bigger and busier boats, but always making a little time to return to his mother and give her a portion of his pay. When she died, he found little reason to stay in the small hold of Saluda, and changed careers from fishing, to merchant work. The ship ran a regular route between Half-Circle SeaHold and and Igen SeaHold, carrying spices and foodstuffs, earning a meager living that saw him with just enough marks to waste in many a tavern. Again, thanks to genetic predisposition or blind fate, he started to develop quite a taste for whiskey.

It was a very ordinary night of heavy drinking alongside the rest of the crew that would shake him out of what would have been a very routine life. A scuffle broke out between the second mate and an angry civilian, and it quickly spread to a full out bar room brawl. In the ensuing chaos, Bones battered a man unconscious, but struck him a few (dozen) too many times on the way down. The man perished later that night. Bones was left by his crew to take the blame for the entire incident, and was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and hard labor in the Telgar mines. He swore off alcohol from that day forward.

He did his time without incident, earning his reputation among fellow inmates and guards as "the friendliest murderer in the mines". After his release, he was desperate to make up for time lost mining in the dark, yearning for a new life in new surroundings. Rather than look for more merchant work, he took to traveling as far away from Saluda as begging and borrowing could take him, eventually finding his way northwest to High Reaches Weyr, near the end of civilization.

== Relationships ==
*'''[[Azaylia]]''': "Real sweetheart through and through. Maybe too nice for her own good? I'll keep her safe."

*'''[[H'kon]]''': "Just another politico who uses words like ''duty'' and ''right'' to justify bein' a jerkward 'bout what he wants. Least he ain't underhanded."

*'''[[I'kris]]''': "I get the feeling nobody got you. Didn't try to get you. I got you kid. Just wish I could'a said goodbye."

*'''[[Taikrin]]''': "Whoa, Tai's in charge now? Are we sure that's a good idea? Eh, why not? Long live Weyrlord Taikrin!"

*'''[[Leova]]''': "I think she's got ice for blood and gearwork in her head. Friendly and cold all at once. Weird."

*'''[[Jo]]''': "Gotta watch yourself with the bad girls. Is the bod worth gettin' shanked over? Probably."

*'''[[Brieli]]''': "Chick sure does have everything real figured out for bein' 20 turns young. That was sarcasm, by the way. Brat. "

*'''[[H'vier]]''': "He might be an alright dude if he didn't look at ladies like a dragon looks at a herdbeast. Man, dragon analogies? this place is getting to me."

*'''[[Z'ian]]''': "Nice guy, good sense'a humor too. Not a package y'often see in a dude so handsome. Gotta be SOME weird baggage in there somewhere."

*'''[[Vienne]]''': "Twitchy little girly girl? I like her! She can roll with a good joke even when she's scared yer gonna kill her, ha!"

*'''[[Nicky]]''': "Oh man, I'm real scared what weyr life is gonna do to this kid. I'll try not to mess him up too bad."

*'''[[K'del]]''': "Your heart's in the right place, but stuff's outta your hands now. Take your vacation time and pick up a hobby. You'll be healthier for it."

== Soundtrack ==
Oddly enough in sort of a chronological order...

[http://youtu.be/OlwRNCnsbUg George Thorogood - Bad to the Bone]

[http://youtu.be/wwzkVXduNc0 Alice in Chains - Them Bones]

[http://youtu.be/qGyPuey-1Jw Irish Rovers - Drunken Sailor]

[http://youtu.be/jPaGE24vpio Apocalyptica - Nothing Else Matters]

[http://youtu.be/WccfbPQNMbg Andrew W.K - Party Hard]

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Convicts]]

Bones

2013-03-04T19:47:56Z

Barnabas: /* Relationships */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=BonesBig.jpg
|name= Barnabas (Bones)
|position= Gardener
|craft= N/A
|birthplace= Saluda
|mother= Josaphine
|father= Unknown
|siblings= N/A
|children= N/A
|friends= N/A
|playedby= Rob Zombie
|livejournal= N/A}}

== Description ==
A mess of hair and ink, the grungy man stands at a tall 6'4. Unkempt brown hair hangs down past his shoulders in a wavy mess, framing and in part overlapping the edges of his face. Brow is heavily pronounced over sunken, burnt umber eyes, casting a shadow across them in all but the harshest of light. Bushy and uneven facial hair covers his mouth, chin, and upper lip. Broad shoulders slouch, rarely supporting his head up to the full potential of his height. Thick arms are worked to size by hard labor, painted with all manner of grimly themed and scar stained tattoos. Chest is burly down to tapered waist, broadening out again to dense thighs that carry him in his casual yet unsettling shuffle.

== WYSK ==
*Originally from Saluda, a tiny hold on Nerat Peninsula.

*Bones arrived at High Reaches Weyr on Day 23, Month 1, Turn 30 having hitched a ride on dragon back.

*All of his arms and some of his chest are covered in tattoos. They feature a variety of skulls, tentacles, nightmarish creatures both real and mythical, and other creepy/threatening imagery. Some of them are muddy and harder to make out than others due to past infection, scarring, and dull needles in unsteady hands.

*Voice is rough and harsh, even more so when he's excited and happy (think Beetlejuice).

*Ex-convict, having served ten years in the mines for murder. He is not shy or ashamed of his past.

== History ==
Barnabas (or Bones to his friends) was born in Saluda on the Nerat Penninsula, the son of a alcoholic fisherman and prostitute. With dad out of the picture from day one, his loving mother did her best balancing work and child-rearing, but from a young age the boy learned to fend for himself during the long hours spent alone. Be it genetic predisposition or blind fate, he got his first job at age twelve aboard a small fishing boat, quickly proving his worth with a strong back and penchant for dirty jokes.

As he grew, he quickly found himself spending more time at sea than on land, finding work on bigger and busier boats, but always making a little time to return to his mother and give her a portion of his pay. When she died, he found little reason to stay in the small hold of Saluda, and changed careers from fishing, to merchant work. The ship ran a regular route between Half-Circle SeaHold and and Igen SeaHold, carrying spices and foodstuffs, earning a meager living that saw him with just enough marks to waste in many a tavern. Again, thanks to genetic predisposition or blind fate, he started to develop quite a taste for whiskey.

It was a very ordinary night of heavy drinking alongside the rest of the crew that would shake him out of what would have been a very routine life. A scuffle broke out between the second mate and an angry civilian, and it quickly spread to a full out bar room brawl. In the ensuing chaos, Bones battered a man unconscious, but struck him a few (dozen) too many times on the way down. The man perished later that night. Bones was left by his crew to take the blame for the entire incident, and was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and hard labor in the Telgar mines. He swore off alcohol from that day forward.

He did his time without incident, earning his reputation among fellow inmates and guards as "the friendliest murderer in the mines". After his release, he was desperate to make up for time lost mining in the dark, yearning for a new life in new surroundings. Rather than look for more merchant work, he took to traveling as far away from Saluda as begging and borrowing could take him, eventually finding his way northwest to High Reaches Weyr, near the end of civilization.

== Relationships ==
*'''[[Azaylia]]''': "Real sweetheart through and through. Maybe too nice for her own good? I'll keep her safe."

*'''[[H'kon]]''': "Just another politico who uses words like ''duty'' and ''right'' to justify bein' a jerkward 'bout what he wants. Least he ain't underhanded."

*'''[[I'kris]]''': "I get the feeling nobody got you. Didn't try to get you. I got you kid. Just wish I could'a said goodbye."

*'''[[Taikrin]]''': "Whoa, Tai's in charge now? Are we sure that's a good idea? Eh, why not? Long live Weyrlord Taikrin!"

*'''[[Leova]]''': "I think she's got ice for blood and gearwork in her head. Friendly and cold all at once. Weird."

*'''[[Jo]]''': "Gotta watch yourself with the bad girls. Is the bod worth gettin' shanked over? Probably."

*'''[[Brieli]]''': "Chick sure does have everything real figured out for bein' 20 turns young. That was sarcasm, by the way. Brat. "

*'''[[H'vier]]''': "He might be an alright dude if he didn't look at ladies like a dragon looks at a herdbeast. Man, dragon analogies? this place is getting to me."

*'''[[Z'ian]]''': "Nice guy, good sense'a humor too. Not a package y'often see in a dude so handsome. Gotta be SOME weird baggage in there somewhere."

*'''[[Vienne]]''': "Twitchy little girly girl? I like her! She can roll with a good joke even when she's scared yer gonna kill her, ha!"

*'''[[Nicky]]''': "Oh man, I'm real scared what weyr life is gonna do to this kid. I'll try not to mess him up too bad."

*'''[[K'del]]''': "Your heart's in the right place, but stuff's outta your hands now. Take your vacation time and pick up a hobby. You'll be healthier for it."

== Soundtrack ==
Oddly enough in sort of a chronological order...

[http://youtu.be/OlwRNCnsbUg George Thorogood - Bad to the Bone]

[http://youtu.be/wwzkVXduNc0 Alice in Chains - Them Bones]

[http://youtu.be/qGyPuey-1Jw Irish Rovers - Drunken Sailor]

[http://youtu.be/jPaGE24vpio Apocalyptica - Nothing Else Matters]

[http://youtu.be/WccfbPQNMbg Andrew W.K - Party Hard]

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Convicts]]

Logs:Not Safe

2013-03-01T01:38:17Z

Barnabas:

{{ Log
| who = Barnabas, Jo
| where = Bathing Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones catches Jo in the bathing caverns, nursing cuts from the bloody greenflight. The usual heated flirtations between them come to a head.
| when = Day 9, Month 2, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.02.27
| quote = "S'hard bein' a good man when all your impulses tell you to be bad."
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Leova
| ooc = It's Jo. It's Bones. Expect language and raunchiness.
| icons = barnabas cleaned.jpg, jo bad.jpg
| log = At this time of night, no one really ventures into the bathing cavern, which seems to be the perfect time for one wily bluerider to commandeer it herself. It’s obvious that Jo’s been in here for some time, the woman sitting at one of the two circular pools in full, scarred-up nakedness with its waters still dripping from her. Her dark hair damp and plastered to her head, she seems to be in the process of trying to examine one of newer cuts on her right thigh with a frown, a crumpled towel set beside her along with a small pot of something that looks like a salve. Despite her clearly nursing her little wounds, there doesn’t seem to be any layer of anger or irritability surrounding her. If she’s in pain, barring the pensive frown one really wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at her.

Singing. It's habit now that goes alongside bathing, one of those little rituals that one picks up in life and never realizes it has become a quirk at the core of being. But Bones hasn't entered the waters yet, and so his solo serenade begins with a rough humming, his voice having all the subtlety and grace of a cheese grater. It's an unmistakebly repetitive tune designed for lower registers. A sea shanty. Convinced he's entirely in his solitude, he's disrobing before he even gets to water's edge, and rounds the bend with shirt and vest hanging at one side in a clenched fist, the other with his thumb into the waistband of his pants and sliding them down over the beginnings of a v-shape where hip meets thigh. "... Oh." The form of a woman is recognized before the face assosciated, perhaps because he was busy looking below the neck before the eyes move up. "Hi Jo."

It’s the singing. When the sound hits Jo, she realizes she’s not alone anymore. Most women that are decent would at least attempt to cover themselves before the unmistakable male voice produces a form – grab a towel or something – but the Glacier bluerider is just not wired that way. She straightens from her crouch, keeping very silent as she pauses all activity and listens. And watches. Dark eyes catch the large, familiar man disrobing and she’s not even bothering to call out to him. It’s a place where nakedness is permitted, right? So allow her that voyeur’s smile that’s barely there along with the fact that she’s gratuitously watching him undress. When he finally finds her sitting there, she’s not hiding the fact that she’s not looking at Bones’ face – just like he doesn’t seem to be as well. A light patchwork of old scars are on her body, and the thigh she was examining gets a brief look before she reaches for the salve. “Hey there, Bones,” she returns the greeting with the fondness associated just with him, eyes lifting to his chest then to his face without shame. “What song is that, huh?” she asks off-handedly now as she dips two fingers into the salve.

With fingers frozen in wasteband, there's an obvious pause in him at the situation, face frozen as flashbacks of a teenaged blonde fill his mind. "It's uhhhhh..." He's forgotten the name. "It's the one you sing when you're all in line tuggin' up the mainsail." Already suggestive, Bones? "Drunken Sailor." He wishes he was. Then maybe he wouldn't be so oddly nervous. "So that's what you look like naked." He can't hide the smirk, and so he doesn't try to.

A nervous Bones. Jo can tell, and she’s openly amused now as she sets the pot down and starts to lean over her thigh to apply the salve to one of the newer cuts. “’Tuggin’, huh?” she seems to only echo that word out of what he says about the song, sending him a look. If her eyes drop to those frozen fingers, so be it. To his last though, arms draw away from herself in a brief but bold flourish before she’s back to nursing wounds, saying, “Alas, I’m but one, scarred up woman. Just like her dragon.” It’s all deadpan, despite the answering smirk. “And I’m still the shit. Gonna drop those pants or what?” Yes, she intends to make him all the more nervous with her fly-by-night comments.

Only when Jo mentions it outloud does he realize that his hand his frozen in the waistband of his pants, and actually looks down to spot the odd angle he's stuck himself in. "Maybe?" Pants are still firmly on his hip at one side, but down to the top of his thigh on the other, everything tantalizing just barely out of sight. He makes a decision, tugging the pants back up around his waist, but leaving the cord that keeps them secure untied and hanging down the inside of his legs. "How'd you get cut up so bad? Looks like you lost a scrap to a pack of wherries."

When Bones looks down and only gives the tantalizing bits, Jo can’t help the quiet laughter rumbling from her along with a husky, “Now who’s bein’ a tease?” To throw Bones off-balance, she seems to want to do, her gaze quite greedy before she seems to come to herself and clear her throat. Back to tending cuts. Right. “If those wherries happen to make ya drunk, then yes, I did,” she muses on his last, rubbing that salve on studiously. Looking his way again, “Tacuseth thought it wise to chase a wingmate of ours,” she explains quite casually. “A green, and he caught, so of course, I couldn’ just have her on somethin’ decent like a bed. There was broken glass ''everywhere''.” She even pauses to lean back and show him the marks on that thigh and the knee where glass had cut into her. “Leova’s hand got it pretty bad.” Concern for her wingmate, though there’s probably something more to it than that.

Nervous or not, Bones isn't precisely frightened of Jo, and he walks his way over across the wet stone with his meaty feet slapping down on each step. He's not trying to make a statement with his steps, he's just a large man. "Leova? You serious? I figured her more for some kinda clay creature than flesh and blood." Mind flashes to images of the two together. Hard to picture, but entertaining when possible. "And what about them older ones? Knife fights?"

Jo is watching him intently, the convict rider letting it linger on his ink and the flow of his arm – and if it’s a touch predatory? Well, maybe Bones is used to it by now. His shock at the name earns a wry, “Leova, yeah,” in confirmation. “She’s hardly clay. ''I'' don’ think so. The glass and cuts were all unintentional. I’m sure, we’ll eventually look back on all that and have a good laugh.” Yeah, right. Sounds good, though! Turning to the question, she finishes up what she’s doing and moves to set that leg to dangle back into the water before she answers him. “Lots of tales, some foolhardy, and some hazards of the trade.” She smoothes a hand over her left thigh, revealing the worst scar of the lot on her and adds, “This one. First one I ever got before the mines. Some are knife fights, too, yeah.” Eyes on his ink now, “Bet yers got a lot of tales, too,” she notes, nodding towards him in indication.

Rarely aware of his own scars, his eyes finally peel themself off of Jo's body to look down at his own, three or four noteable ones along his forearms and shoulders, his front mostly free of old dead tissue. "Probably. Don't actually remember where I got most of them." Thanks whiskey! "I remember this one. Got in the way of a fishing line when a yellowfin took bait. Sliced right in." He ran his fingers over his belly, where the thin dusting of hair down his center line tucked it's way down into his trousers. There, admist more regular lines of muscle, was a three or four inch mark of deadened skin.

Her legs idly dangling into the pool, Jo studies the scars Bones points out as he speaks. At least she’s looking like she’s actually listening instead of looking far more inappropriate. For now. “Most of’em from before ya went in?” she asks, and then tacks on a pointed, “And all the ink?” For she’s seeing ones now that have been hidden all this time by clothes, even though her gaze dips towards his waistband even if there’s no flow of ink being hidden there. “Why can’ ya remember? Somethin’ to do with ya not drinkin’, hmm?” Always, eventually, comes back to that between them.

He briefly stands at her side untill realizing that looking straight down at her wasn't going to work too well for conversation. Thankfully the pause he takes before heading over towards brass hooks to hang his still-clutched clothes is short. A moment to take his eyes off of the girl. "Y'look different than I thought. Bigger in some places, smaller in others. Hehe."

While Jo maybe aware when Bones is by her side, she seems to make a show of returning to finishing the cut-nursing she was doing. She keeps idle watch to where he goes while she brings the left leg up and draping over her right so she could examine those cuts there, when his words drift over, the bluerider seems quick to counter with, “Yer image of me has been shattered?” in a seeming tease, a brow lifting his way over her shoulder. “Dunno if I should take that as a compliment. Ya seem nervous,” she observes, openly amused. “Is it ''that'' intimidatin’ to bathe in front of me, Bones?” Her tone is near deadpan, but it could be obvious that she’s openly teasing now as well. She even looks around before she adds, “I ''did'' leave my knives back up in my weyr, in case ya think yer about to get shanked for some reason.”

Bones has to laugh at the girl's teasing, honestly thankful that he's called out for his inhibitions. He was a man who strived to have none, and the first part is always admitting you have a problem. "I ain't disapointed with you." Is the first admission as he turns around and leans back against the wall, betwixt the hooks. "And don't get me wrong, I ain't nervous about the gettin' naked part. Hung like a runner beast." There's a playful wink tossed her way, leaving it ambiguous as to whether he was kidding before he continues and crosses his arms over his chest. "I just don't know how to put moves on a girl I actually like."

Pausing as she presses salved-up fingers to another cut, Bones’ first admission gets a knowing little smirk from Jo along with a blithe, “Not that I was worried about ''that''.” Right. Cocky, little…. His next actually gets her low laughter and a shake of her head, but her look is a bit pointed since the man has yet to even enter a pool since his arrival. But she does say, “Didn’ expect to run into anyone at this time, actually. For some, usually my presence here is….startling,” she finds the word with a brief quirk of her lips. It’s his next that draws a look over her shoulder, and just a dash of surprise. Brows furrowing a bit, “But ya….how ya been gettin’ by if ya haven’?” she has to ask, looking over a man that looks quite capable to her. “I mean, I know yer ain’ the shy type. The things ya say and do and all.”

There's a heavy sigh from him as he tucks both hands against the back of his neck and looks to the floor, still smiling through his frustration. "Man, I hate how much I been talkin' bout my fuckin' ''feelings'' in this stupid weyr." Despite his words, he grins wider at the admission, and gets back on track. "How do I get by? Same way I was fixin' to get by tonight, till I noticed I weren't alone." He pushes up from the wall and walks over towards the pool, actually stepping down into it with pants still on. "And I weren't shy with ladies till after the mines. When I decided I wanted to be a decent guy. Got laid plenty before then." There's motion under the surface as he speaks, and suddenly soaked pants are tugged up above the surface. Thin layer of suds at the top prevents searching eyes from getting too much of a glimpse of the presumably nude man underneath.

“And yet yer still here,” Jo notes on feelings and the Reaches, in pure bratty demeanor, but there’s a possibility that she could mean the ''here'' of right here before her. She doesn’t clarify. She snorts on how Bones gets by, her crass return being, “Well. Don’ let little ole’ me bein’ here stop ya, darlin’. Can’ say I was the cause of any delayed plans.” There’s a crooked grin as she watches him get into the pool with his pants on, which only proves to hitch that smile up even more. To something else said as he releases those soaked pants beside her, eyes studying him, “And yer ''are'' a decent man. Far more decent than me, anyway,” she notes by how he handles his pants and her lack of them at the moment. “At least, that explains why we haven’. Ya got self control for one like ya. I actually admire that.” If she had a drink, she’d be toasting to him. Instead, she’s toasting that small pot of salve as she continues to apply it.

"Thanks for thinkin' I'm decent." He recognizes it as complimentary, and it earns her a warmer smile than usual. "But I don't got as much self control as I'd like. If I did, I'd be offerin' to help apply that gunk you got there. Y'know, without worryin' bout gettin' my hands up to no good." He pauses to dunk his head under the water, wetting his already heavy hair thoroughly enough to have it hang a bit flatter and longer. There's a wipe at his face before he continues from the middle of the pool. "But if I had any less, suppose I'd take you up on your offer of takin' care'a myself right here. Probably hope to get you doin' the same and give me a show. Hehee!"

“If ya didn’ think yer were,” Jo counters on Bones being decent, “we’d be havin’ a very different conversation right now.” Pause. “And, I think ya kinda just told me, sometime back, that yer really liked me.” Brows lift at that. She didn’t miss that when he talked about not knowing how to act. His words on self control gets her laughter as she works, the convict rider sending right back, “Ya ''could'' help me.” Pause. His last seems typical enough for him that she snorts lightly and says, “Now ya know ya shouldn’ challenge me, Bones. Especially when yer self control has ya right out in the middle of the pool.” A tease. She’s not going to stop. Leaning over to glance down into the waters, “I wonder if ya’ll run if I get right into the water with ya,” she muses idly before looking over at him with humor in her piercing eyes. Then, almost soberly, “It’s curious….ya like this. It’s a different side of ya,” she continues her observations like she’s wont to do.

"I do like you. Which is why I'm not trying to fuck you." His eyes dart around the water's edge, briefly remembering why he'd chosen to go to the bathing pools in the first place. To get clean. Thoughts of soapsand leave him immediately at Jo's continued teasing however, and his eyes lock on her. Though not at her face. It's an odd moment that sees him openly leer, yet get comments on seeing this ''different'' side. At least he manages to bring his eyes back up to hers before speaking again. "Now you've painted me quite a few pretty pictures. Should I go over there and help, or let you come in after me?"

That initial actually does get a pause from Jo, seeming to be mulling that over since no response comes right away from her. The faint smile has an odd tilt to it, but after the moment, “Huh. I think I get that. ‘Course,” she brings back her brazen demeanor, letting the genuine moment pass, “now I’m goin’ to think yer just torturin’ me and bein’ all wily to have ''me'' make the move.” Chin drops and she looks at Bones with Bones looking at her. She looks away towards her cuts on that last, and there’s a dangerous tint to tone as she drawls in response, “Which would be safer, ya mean? I promise ya if I get into that pool, yer ain’ goin’ to be safe.” Dark eyes slide his way as she resumes salve application to her leg before adding, “And I’ve already bathed, darlin’.”

"I only know one way to make the first move, and it don't go well with this ''decent'' man you say I am." He slowly swims towards her, the water plenty shallow enough to stand, but deciding to keep himself decent by staying mostly submerged. It doesn't take long to glide through the water and reach for her healing salve. "Before the mines... if I wanted a girl? I just fuckin' grabbed her. If she fought, I let go. If she didn't, well alright then." It's at that line that his eyes dart up to her face, but they tuck back down to ointment that he was taking from her hand. "Then you sober up and realize sometimes the line between fightin' and not wasn't as clear as you thought." He had made his decision, he was going to help her treat her cuts. If she lets him.

Jo remains silent, pausing in her nursing ministrations when Bones reaches the side where she is. When he speaks about the times before the mines, a brow lifts on the man he used to be. At the end of it, when he’s close enough she does wordlessly hold out that little pot towards him, her gaze intent once he takes it from her. Once so, she extends her knee to him, indicating the newer cuts from the flight for him to treat as she finally says, “That’s why ya don’ drink.” Perhaps he had said a reason long before in all the times they’ve hung out, but this seems to hit the most. “Puts things into perspective with ya. The way ya are. The roughness I feel, but the gentleness, too. Ya can be surprised what I can see in people,” she notes, leaning back now that she lets him tend to her, continuing to study him. “What I observe of people. Yer ain’ that guy no more. Decent or no. I know guys like that, beyond here, and they ain’ ''you''.” Then, after a pause, uses her chin to nod towards the salve he holds before she adds a fond, “Thanks.”

"Yeah well..." Bones looks a bit embarrassed, both for admissions of his past and for Jo's reassurance that it was just that. The past. "... I ain't questionin' your judge'a character, but maybe your words wouldn' be so sweet if y'could see half the things I thought 'bout doin with you." He gives a chuckle as he puts one hand up underneath her knee, guiding her to lift it just a bit higher so that he could bring one of his huge hands up underneath tend to her cut. "S'hard bein' a good man when all your impulses tell you to be bad." He keeps her knee lifted as he works a hand towards her inner thigh. "You're gonna have to spread for me darlin'."

Bones’ words would probably send a blush to some women, but Jo’s just not quite that sort of woman. If there’s the faintest detection of a flush, surely it’s the air in the cavern. “And ya think a decent man wouldn’ have dirty thoughts? Have ya seen where we’re livin’, darlin’?” she muses on that pointedly. “They just don’ admit’em. Women, too. Reckon everyone has as many dirty thoughts as the next person, when it comes down to it, and they’re about all kinds of people.” She seems to believe it. She lets him guide her leg, his next getting a short chuckle and a “That’s why I stay bad.” Though she seems to be ''good'' right now, apparently. “Mostly.” Eyes drop towards that hand on her inner thigh and the bluerider drawls to that last, “I do that, we’re goin’ to be in some serious trouble,” she teases, but there’s that underlying heat in her tone to suggest it’s more a warning than a tease. “Yer maybe wantin’ to be decent, but I’m not. That side’s done, anyway.” Perhaps giving the man a chance to save himself, she leans over to pat her knee where cuts can be made out and say, simply, “Safer.”

Bones' face doesn't have the usual big smile he's so known for, his face calm and still, eyes clear and focused. That's the key word. Focus. "If it was just dirty thoughts that wouldn' be an issue babe. There's dirty, and then there's stuff I ponder doin' to ''you''." He follows her safer route, still wading in the water to keep him mostly submerged and low. Non-threatening despite his dark words. He hopes. "Maybe it's just 'cuz you seem the kinda girl can handle that kinda thing. Wonder where I might get that idea hmm?" Finally the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he rubs healing salve across the top of her leg, and finally makes eye contact with her.

With Bones focused, Jo gently kicks that leg out a little to that first, not in the least bit daunted. “I already got an ego, Bones,” she chooses to say to that, chin lifting up as she fits an amused look down on him. “It’s bigger than this whole cavern and then some. Girl like me could get all kinds of curious to those ponderings. Get ya up to my weyr properly and see to these ponderin’s, myself. But,” and there’s a pause, the chuckle low and sultry enough, “I don’ think yer ready for all that yet, darlin’,” she adds, watching him work on her knee and meeting his gaze steadily. “I think ya like us where we are. Out banterin’ and flirtin’. For now.” And as for being the girl that could handle things, excuse her bold, “And I can handle anythin’.” Gesturing at her own body and its scars, “Ain’ much I haven’ gone through. Haven’ done. Like ya, the mines changed me, too.”

"Not ready?" He questions her challenge, then questions if she aimed to have him question. "Maybe it's ''you'' who likes us where we are." His voice is low and quiet, but still rough with it's gravelly edge. "Because you been keepin' your hands as safe as mine." He finishes tending to her leg, and slowly lowers it back down, letting her return to the crossed position she had chosen before. "Safer actually. Least I had the nerve to reach for what I wanted, till y'got done tellin' me to play it safe." Now it's his turn to tease and taunt, and jab at the ego she spoke of. "Maybe you just like gettin' hunted."

So Bones turns the tables on her. Jo lets him lead her leg back down, but her legs aren’t crossing. To all of that, she’s silent, merely returning that challenge in her gaze as she watches his face. The smile that forms is shy of open trouble, of promise before she drawls, “Is that what yer doin’ with me there? Reaching out?” But, oh, it’s the last that does it. The convict rider stares him down before she’s leaning forward and reaching out to grab him by the back of the head to pull him into a rough kiss. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing gentle about ''her'', and when she breaks it, her husky tone rasps out, “Then ''fuck'' safe.” If he doesn’t stop her, she’ll pull him towards her again, and this time there isn’t anything safe about her intentions.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs talk:No Fighting In This Weyr Young Lady!

2013-02-28T00:21:43Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:No Fighting In This Weyr Young Lady!]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 26 Feb 2013 08:47:13 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-26T08:47:13Z" name="Azaylia" signature="[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])">
Taikrin's tongue didn't fall out her mouth for half of that lecture!? (Aka, pot calling the kettle black.) Still, she's getting awfully good at this being bossy thing. ;) Doom.

</comment>
[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Thu, 28 Feb 2013 00:21:43 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-28T00:21:43Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
Bones doesn't like this new Taikrin. Not one bit =(
</comment>

Logs talk:Business

2013-02-27T23:55:34Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Business]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])) left a comment on Wed, 27 Feb 2013 06:45:22 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-27T06:45:22Z" name="Azaylia" signature="[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])">
Even during business, Jo's got one thing on her mind. Interesting to watch characters piece what they can together.
</comment>
[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Wed, 27 Feb 2013 23:55:34 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-27T23:55:34Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
Don't you go bringing Bones into your politics, Jo!

These two really work surprisingly well together though, it's impressive!
</comment>

Logs talk:Temporary Fix

2013-02-27T23:42:36Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Temporary Fix]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Wed, 27 Feb 2013 23:42:36 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-27T23:42:36Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
Stop poaching my flowers!
</comment>

Logs talk:I'm Not Crazy

2013-02-27T23:41:34Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:I'm Not Crazy]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 25 Feb 2013 05:24:53 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-25T05:24:53Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
Okay Rob Thomas. ;D

</comment>
[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 25 Feb 2013 05:42:47 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-25T05:42:47Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
Okay, but seriously that was great.
</comment>
[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 25 Feb 2013 05:43:19 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-25T05:43:19Z" name="Azaylia" signature="[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])">
Not only is the title perfect, but man... poor K'del. And poor Vienne! She just wants to help, but it's hard to do when you don't know all the pieces of the puzzle. <3 Great scene.
</comment>
[[H'kon/Comments|H'kon]] ([[User:H'kon|H'kon]] ([[User talk:H'kon|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 25 Feb 2013 16:14:12 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-25T16:14:12Z" name="H'kon" signature="[[User:H&#39;kon|H&#39;kon]] ([[User talk:H&#39;kon|talk]])">
How Vienne manages to put up with all these men and all their drama baffles me sometimes.
</comment>
[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Wed, 27 Feb 2013 23:41:33 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-27T23:41:33Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
Vienne needs a "psychiatric help 5 cents" booth at this point. The doctor is always in!
</comment>

Logs talk:Offered, Refused. (Twice.)

2013-02-27T23:38:54Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Offered, Refused. (Twice.)]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 25 Feb 2013 05:51:02 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-25T05:51:02Z" name="Azaylia" signature="[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])">
Oooooo. I got goosebumps while reading this. x3c
And Taikrin looking all heroic at the end is just so perfectly... Taikrin. <3
</comment>
[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 25 Feb 2013 06:08:09 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-25T06:08:09Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
I love Taikrin following him and trying to get his attention and him ignoring her. He's so H'kon all the time.
</comment>
[[Ainslee/Comments|Ainslee]] ([[User:Castandcrew|Castandcrew]] ([[User talk:Castandcrew|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 26 Feb 2013 14:08:38 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-26T14:08:38Z" name="Ainslee" signature="[[User:Castandcrew|Castandcrew]] ([[User talk:Castandcrew|talk]])">
The moral high ground of his FACE. I love it. XD
</comment>
[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Wed, 27 Feb 2013 23:38:54 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-27T23:38:54Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
I wish I could pose so damn eloquent and clean in just a few lines like this.

Awesome intensity between these two. H'kon just put up that cold steel wall and Tai is so awesomely sleazy in the best ways.
</comment>

Bones

2013-02-25T22:51:00Z

Barnabas: /* Relationships */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=BonesBig.jpg
|name= Barnabas (Bones)
|position= Gardener
|craft= N/A
|birthplace= Saluda
|mother= Josaphine
|father= Unknown
|siblings= N/A
|children= N/A
|friends= N/A
|playedby= Rob Zombie
|livejournal= N/A}}

== Description ==
A mess of hair and ink, the grungy man stands at a tall 6'4. Unkempt brown hair hangs down past his shoulders in a wavy mess, framing and in part overlapping the edges of his face. Brow is heavily pronounced over sunken, burnt umber eyes, casting a shadow across them in all but the harshest of light. Bushy and uneven facial hair covers his mouth, chin, and upper lip. Broad shoulders slouch, rarely supporting his head up to the full potential of his height. Thick arms are worked to size by hard labor, painted with all manner of grimly themed and scar stained tattoos. Chest is burly down to tapered waist, broadening out again to dense thighs that carry him in his casual yet unsettling shuffle.

== WYSK ==
*Originally from Saluda, a tiny hold on Nerat Peninsula.

*Bones arrived at High Reaches Weyr on Day 23, Month 1, Turn 30 having hitched a ride on dragon back.

*All of his arms and some of his chest are covered in tattoos. They feature a variety of skulls, tentacles, nightmarish creatures both real and mythical, and other creepy/threatening imagery. Some of them are muddy and harder to make out than others due to past infection, scarring, and dull needles in unsteady hands.

*Voice is rough and harsh, even more so when he's excited and happy (think Beetlejuice).

*Ex-convict, having served ten years in the mines for murder. He is not shy or ashamed of his past.

== History ==
Barnabas (or Bones to his friends) was born in Saluda on the Nerat Penninsula, the son of a alcoholic fisherman and prostitute. With dad out of the picture from day one, his loving mother did her best balancing work and child-rearing, but from a young age the boy learned to fend for himself during the long hours spent alone. Be it genetic predisposition or blind fate, he got his first job at age twelve aboard a small fishing boat, quickly proving his worth with a strong back and penchant for dirty jokes.

As he grew, he quickly found himself spending more time at sea than on land, finding work on bigger and busier boats, but always making a little time to return to his mother and give her a portion of his pay. When she died, he found little reason to stay in the small hold of Saluda, and changed careers from fishing, to merchant work. The ship ran a regular route between Half-Circle SeaHold and and Igen SeaHold, carrying spices and foodstuffs, earning a meager living that saw him with just enough marks to waste in many a tavern. Again, thanks to genetic predisposition or blind fate, he started to develop quite a taste for whiskey.

It was a very ordinary night of heavy drinking alongside the rest of the crew that would shake him out of what would have been a very routine life. A scuffle broke out between the second mate and an angry civilian, and it quickly spread to a full out bar room brawl. In the ensuing chaos, Bones battered a man unconscious, but struck him a few (dozen) too many times on the way down. The man perished later that night. Bones was left by his crew to take the blame for the entire incident, and was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and hard labor in the Telgar mines. He swore off alcohol from that day forward.

He did his time without incident, earning his reputation among fellow inmates and guards as "the friendliest murderer in the mines". After his release, he was desperate to make up for time lost mining in the dark, yearning for a new life in new surroundings. Rather than look for more merchant work, he took to traveling as far away from Saluda as begging and borrowing could take him, eventually finding his way northwest to High Reaches Weyr, near the end of civilization.

== Relationships ==
*'''[[Azaylia]]''': "Real sweetheart through and through. Maybe too nice for her own good? I'll keep her safe."

*'''[[H'kon]]''': "Guy's definitely got a stick up his ass. Maybe a few bugs in there too. Seems real solid though. Dependable."

*'''[[I'kris]]''': "I get the feeling nobody got you. Didn't try to get you. I got you kid. Just wish I could'a said goodbye."

*'''[[Taikrin]]''': "Whoa, Tai's in charge now? Are we sure that's a good idea? Eh, why not? Long live Weyrlord Taikrin!"

*'''[[Leova]]''': "I think she's got ice for blood and gearwork in her head. Friendly and cold all at once. Weird."

*'''[[Jo]]''': "Gotta watch yourself with the bad girls. Is the bod worth gettin' shanked over? Probably."

*'''[[Brieli]]''': "Chick sure does have everything real figured out for bein' 20 turns young. That was sarcasm, by the way. Brat. "

*'''[[H'vier]]''': "He might be an alright dude if he didn't look at ladies like a dragon looks at a herdbeast. Man, dragon analogies? this place is getting to me."

*'''[[Z'ian]]''': "Nice guy, good sense'a humor too. Not a package y'often see in a dude so handsome. Gotta be SOME weird baggage in there somewhere."

*'''[[Vienne]]''': "Twitchy little girly girl? I like her! She can roll with a good joke even when she's scared yer gonna kill her, ha!"

*'''[[Nicky]]''': "Oh man, I'm real scared what weyr life is gonna do to this kid. I'll try not to mess him up too bad."

*'''[[K'del]]''': "Your heart's in the right place, but stuff's outta your hands now. Take your vacation time and pick up a hobby. You'll be healthier for it."

== Soundtrack ==
Oddly enough in sort of a chronological order...

[http://youtu.be/OlwRNCnsbUg George Thorogood - Bad to the Bone]

[http://youtu.be/wwzkVXduNc0 Alice in Chains - Them Bones]

[http://youtu.be/qGyPuey-1Jw Irish Rovers - Drunken Sailor]

[http://youtu.be/jPaGE24vpio Apocalyptica - Nothing Else Matters]

[http://youtu.be/WccfbPQNMbg Andrew W.K - Party Hard]

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Convicts]]

Bones

2013-02-25T22:49:51Z

Barnabas: /* Relationships */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=BonesBig.jpg
|name= Barnabas (Bones)
|position= Gardener
|craft= N/A
|birthplace= Saluda
|mother= Josaphine
|father= Unknown
|siblings= N/A
|children= N/A
|friends= N/A
|playedby= Rob Zombie
|livejournal= N/A}}

== Description ==
A mess of hair and ink, the grungy man stands at a tall 6'4. Unkempt brown hair hangs down past his shoulders in a wavy mess, framing and in part overlapping the edges of his face. Brow is heavily pronounced over sunken, burnt umber eyes, casting a shadow across them in all but the harshest of light. Bushy and uneven facial hair covers his mouth, chin, and upper lip. Broad shoulders slouch, rarely supporting his head up to the full potential of his height. Thick arms are worked to size by hard labor, painted with all manner of grimly themed and scar stained tattoos. Chest is burly down to tapered waist, broadening out again to dense thighs that carry him in his casual yet unsettling shuffle.

== WYSK ==
*Originally from Saluda, a tiny hold on Nerat Peninsula.

*Bones arrived at High Reaches Weyr on Day 23, Month 1, Turn 30 having hitched a ride on dragon back.

*All of his arms and some of his chest are covered in tattoos. They feature a variety of skulls, tentacles, nightmarish creatures both real and mythical, and other creepy/threatening imagery. Some of them are muddy and harder to make out than others due to past infection, scarring, and dull needles in unsteady hands.

*Voice is rough and harsh, even more so when he's excited and happy (think Beetlejuice).

*Ex-convict, having served ten years in the mines for murder. He is not shy or ashamed of his past.

== History ==
Barnabas (or Bones to his friends) was born in Saluda on the Nerat Penninsula, the son of a alcoholic fisherman and prostitute. With dad out of the picture from day one, his loving mother did her best balancing work and child-rearing, but from a young age the boy learned to fend for himself during the long hours spent alone. Be it genetic predisposition or blind fate, he got his first job at age twelve aboard a small fishing boat, quickly proving his worth with a strong back and penchant for dirty jokes.

As he grew, he quickly found himself spending more time at sea than on land, finding work on bigger and busier boats, but always making a little time to return to his mother and give her a portion of his pay. When she died, he found little reason to stay in the small hold of Saluda, and changed careers from fishing, to merchant work. The ship ran a regular route between Half-Circle SeaHold and and Igen SeaHold, carrying spices and foodstuffs, earning a meager living that saw him with just enough marks to waste in many a tavern. Again, thanks to genetic predisposition or blind fate, he started to develop quite a taste for whiskey.

It was a very ordinary night of heavy drinking alongside the rest of the crew that would shake him out of what would have been a very routine life. A scuffle broke out between the second mate and an angry civilian, and it quickly spread to a full out bar room brawl. In the ensuing chaos, Bones battered a man unconscious, but struck him a few (dozen) too many times on the way down. The man perished later that night. Bones was left by his crew to take the blame for the entire incident, and was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and hard labor in the Telgar mines. He swore off alcohol from that day forward.

He did his time without incident, earning his reputation among fellow inmates and guards as "the friendliest murderer in the mines". After his release, he was desperate to make up for time lost mining in the dark, yearning for a new life in new surroundings. Rather than look for more merchant work, he took to traveling as far away from Saluda as begging and borrowing could take him, eventually finding his way northwest to High Reaches Weyr, near the end of civilization.

== Relationships ==
*'''[[Azaylia]]''': "Real sweetheart through and through. Maybe too nice for her own good? I'll keep her safe."

*'''[[H'kon]]''': "Guy's definitely got a stick up his ass. Maybe a few bugs in there too. Seems real solid though. Dependable."

*'''[[I'kris]]''': "I get the feeling nobody got you. Didn't try to get you. I got you kid. Just wish I could'a said goodbye."

*'''[[Taikrin]]''': "Whoa, Tai's in charge now? Are we sure that's a good idea? Eh, why not? Long live Weyrlord Taikrin!"

*'''[[Leova]]''': "I think she's got ice for blood and gearwork in her head. Friendly and cold all at once. Weird."

*'''[[Jo]]''': "Gotta watch yourself with the bad girls. Is the bod worth gettin' shanked over? Probably."

*'''[[Brieli]]''': "Chick sure does have everything real figured out for bein' 20 turns young. That was sarcasm, by the way. Brat. "

*'''[[H'vier]]''': "He might be an alright dude if he didn't look at ladies like a dragon looks at a herdbeast. Man, dragon analogies? this place is getting to me."

*'''[[Z'ian]]''': "Nice guy, good sense'a humor too. Not a package y'often see in a dude so handsome. Gotta be SOME weird baggage in there somewhere."

*'''[[Vienne]]''': "Twitchy little girly girl? I like her! She can roll with a good joke even when she's scared yer gonna kill her, ha!"

*'''[[Nicky]]''': "Oh man, I'm real scared what weyr life is gonna do to this kid. I'll try not to mess him up too bad."

*'''[[K'del]''': "Your heart's in the right place, but stuff's outta your hands now. Take your vacation time and pick up a hobby. You'll be healthier for it."

== Soundtrack ==
Oddly enough in sort of a chronological order...

[http://youtu.be/OlwRNCnsbUg George Thorogood - Bad to the Bone]

[http://youtu.be/wwzkVXduNc0 Alice in Chains - Them Bones]

[http://youtu.be/qGyPuey-1Jw Irish Rovers - Drunken Sailor]

[http://youtu.be/jPaGE24vpio Apocalyptica - Nothing Else Matters]

[http://youtu.be/WccfbPQNMbg Andrew W.K - Party Hard]

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Convicts]]

Bones

2013-02-25T21:48:58Z

Barnabas: /* Relationships */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=BonesBig.jpg
|name= Barnabas (Bones)
|position= Gardener
|craft= N/A
|birthplace= Saluda
|mother= Josaphine
|father= Unknown
|siblings= N/A
|children= N/A
|friends= N/A
|playedby= Rob Zombie
|livejournal= N/A}}

== Description ==
A mess of hair and ink, the grungy man stands at a tall 6'4. Unkempt brown hair hangs down past his shoulders in a wavy mess, framing and in part overlapping the edges of his face. Brow is heavily pronounced over sunken, burnt umber eyes, casting a shadow across them in all but the harshest of light. Bushy and uneven facial hair covers his mouth, chin, and upper lip. Broad shoulders slouch, rarely supporting his head up to the full potential of his height. Thick arms are worked to size by hard labor, painted with all manner of grimly themed and scar stained tattoos. Chest is burly down to tapered waist, broadening out again to dense thighs that carry him in his casual yet unsettling shuffle.

== WYSK ==
*Originally from Saluda, a tiny hold on Nerat Peninsula.

*Bones arrived at High Reaches Weyr on Day 23, Month 1, Turn 30 having hitched a ride on dragon back.

*All of his arms and some of his chest are covered in tattoos. They feature a variety of skulls, tentacles, nightmarish creatures both real and mythical, and other creepy/threatening imagery. Some of them are muddy and harder to make out than others due to past infection, scarring, and dull needles in unsteady hands.

*Voice is rough and harsh, even more so when he's excited and happy (think Beetlejuice).

*Ex-convict, having served ten years in the mines for murder. He is not shy or ashamed of his past.

== History ==
Barnabas (or Bones to his friends) was born in Saluda on the Nerat Penninsula, the son of a alcoholic fisherman and prostitute. With dad out of the picture from day one, his loving mother did her best balancing work and child-rearing, but from a young age the boy learned to fend for himself during the long hours spent alone. Be it genetic predisposition or blind fate, he got his first job at age twelve aboard a small fishing boat, quickly proving his worth with a strong back and penchant for dirty jokes.

As he grew, he quickly found himself spending more time at sea than on land, finding work on bigger and busier boats, but always making a little time to return to his mother and give her a portion of his pay. When she died, he found little reason to stay in the small hold of Saluda, and changed careers from fishing, to merchant work. The ship ran a regular route between Half-Circle SeaHold and and Igen SeaHold, carrying spices and foodstuffs, earning a meager living that saw him with just enough marks to waste in many a tavern. Again, thanks to genetic predisposition or blind fate, he started to develop quite a taste for whiskey.

It was a very ordinary night of heavy drinking alongside the rest of the crew that would shake him out of what would have been a very routine life. A scuffle broke out between the second mate and an angry civilian, and it quickly spread to a full out bar room brawl. In the ensuing chaos, Bones battered a man unconscious, but struck him a few (dozen) too many times on the way down. The man perished later that night. Bones was left by his crew to take the blame for the entire incident, and was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and hard labor in the Telgar mines. He swore off alcohol from that day forward.

He did his time without incident, earning his reputation among fellow inmates and guards as "the friendliest murderer in the mines". After his release, he was desperate to make up for time lost mining in the dark, yearning for a new life in new surroundings. Rather than look for more merchant work, he took to traveling as far away from Saluda as begging and borrowing could take him, eventually finding his way northwest to High Reaches Weyr, near the end of civilization.

== Relationships ==
*'''[[Azaylia]]''': "Real sweetheart through and through. Maybe too nice for her own good? I'll keep her safe."

*'''[[H'kon]]''': "Guy's definitely got a stick up his ass. Maybe a few bugs in there too. Seems real solid though. Dependable."

*'''[[I'kris]]''': "I get the feeling nobody got you. Didn't try to get you. I got you kid. Just wish I could'a said goodbye."

*'''[[Taikrin]]''': "Whoa, Tai's in charge now? Are we sure that's a good idea? Eh, why not? Long live Weyrlord Taikrin!"

*'''[[Leova]]''': "I think she's got ice for blood and gearwork in her head. Friendly and cold all at once. Weird."

*'''[[Jo]]''': "Gotta watch yourself with the bad girls. Is the bod worth gettin' shanked over? Probably."

*'''[[Brieli]]''': "Chick sure does have everything real figured out for bein' 20 turns young. That was sarcasm, by the way. Brat. "

*'''[[H'vier]]''': "He might be an alright dude if he didn't look at ladies like a dragon looks at a herdbeast. Man, dragon analogies? this place is getting to me."

*'''[[Z'ian]]''': "Nice guy, good sense'a humor too. Not a package y'often see in a dude so handsome. Gotta be SOME weird baggage in there somewhere."

*'''[[Vienne]]''': "Twitchy little girly girl? I like her! She can roll with a good joke even when she's scared yer gonna kill her, ha!"

*'''[[Nicky]]''': "Oh man, I'm real scared what weyr life is gonna do to this kid. I'll try not to mess him up too bad."

== Soundtrack ==
Oddly enough in sort of a chronological order...

[http://youtu.be/OlwRNCnsbUg George Thorogood - Bad to the Bone]

[http://youtu.be/wwzkVXduNc0 Alice in Chains - Them Bones]

[http://youtu.be/qGyPuey-1Jw Irish Rovers - Drunken Sailor]

[http://youtu.be/jPaGE24vpio Apocalyptica - Nothing Else Matters]

[http://youtu.be/WccfbPQNMbg Andrew W.K - Party Hard]

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Convicts]]

Logs:Gonna Like You

2013-02-24T07:24:52Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Liv, Barnabas | where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr | what = Liv is shopping for plants. Bones makes a good first impression. | when = D25, M1, T31 | gamedate..."

{{ Log
| who = Liv, Barnabas
| where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Liv is shopping for plants. Bones makes a good first impression.
| when = D25, M1, T31
| gamedate = 2013.02.23
| quote = "Do you have one of those plants that eats things?"
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Brieli
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas cleaned.jpg
| log =
Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr(#2203RJ)
A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora.

Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.

Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath.
----

The chill from outside is enough to nudge anyone in to someplace warm, even people who come from Telgar. Liv doesn't seem to be suffering too much from the cold when she arrives but she's rosey in the cheeks and nose like a proper person should be. Her eyes wander the greenhouse while she breathes on her hands to thaw them out; she's a new face, and as most new faces do she wears an attentive, curious expression. She's never seen this, and it's one more place to check off her list of things to check out as a newcomer, so here she is.

Clutching a half-filled cloth sack of floral waste, Bones trudges his way down the length of the greenhouse in combing fashion to check every plant twice-over. Each is cleared of any wilt or disease with a rusty sickle, the oxidized metals tinged a dirty deep red. Shirtless and sweating from the sheer weight of dying foliage he's lugged back and forth through the steamy warmth of his workplace, he rounds the corner to spot the newcomer. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, he's in dire need of a nap or a new mug of klah, not that a fresh transplant would be able to distinguish them as anything but ordinary features of his face. "Hey."

'Startled' is not quite the word for what Liv is when she hears Barnabas's voice, there's a distinct lack of jump or twitch, but she does whirl around quickly as if on the defense for getting caught somewhere she shouldn't be and is tense for a beat after she sees him. Her fault for admiring the flowers. The sight of him alone is enough to involve her in a stare that is a little too long but it all happens in a handful of seconds. "Hi." She relaxes all at once, as easy as flipping a switch. "Are you the gardener?" Although really she puts a little something extra in there that suggests 'The Gardener'.

Bones gives a slow and intentional look to the wicked looking farming tool in his right hand, then slowly his eyes roll over to the sack of leaves and branches in his left. They finally settle in-between, towards his new guest. "No, I'm Weyrwoman Brieli, taking a break from dealing with lower cavernfolk." The handle of the sickle is briefly put in between his teeth, gripped firm there so he can use both hands to tie a knot at the end of the sack. With that task done, he sets it aside, and then reaches up to imbed the sickle into some of the wood of a rafter with a sharp chopping sound. "Yeah, I'm the gardener." With work put aside for the time being, he approaches with a grin and an outstretched hand. It didn't look too sweaty. "Bones. You?"

At first just a suggestion of a smile plays around the edges of Liv's lips like she isn't sure if he's being a playful asshole or just an asshole with the sarcasm, but she settles on the former and presses her lips together for that smile, nodding 'you got me'. "Right. Liv," she replies in kind, taking a step towards him to close the distance and take his hand. Hers is a firm enough grip, though her fingers don't quite make it all the way around his palm. Her eyes scan the length of his bare arm while she's at it, and all of that ink, and she turns a grin up at him. "Something tells me I'm going to like you."

The man's grip is surprisingly easy, though the shake seems to lack the same gentleness. "Hey, don't judge a book by it's cover. I got plenty'a time to piss you off one way or another." Four fingers of each hand slip into the pockets of his low-riding work pants, and he rocks back and forth on his heels as he furthers the conversation. "So what can I do you for? Y'here for somethin' in particular? Flowers for a lucky lover? Some plants to spruce up a dull weyr? Some fresh fruit?"

Liv's hands in like kind find the pockets of her jacket; she isn't /mirroring/ him, but she kind of is. "I think you'd find I'm a lot harder to piss off than you think. Might not be worth it. What do you have in the manner of something I can tend? Something I can keep in my weyr, but something pretty. Flowers just die slowly over time in front of you. It's depressing." She was staring at him, seemingly without the need to blink; still is.

Lifting a hand from his pocket, he wags a finger with a smile as she describes what it is she's looking for. "I think I got just the one. The Balen Snowblossom. C'mon, this way." He turns and gives a motion of his head for her to follow, the motion swift enough to make some of his dreads flail. "It ain't really got flowers in the traditional sense. It just grows these weird white leaf clusters tucked into the normal green. S'why they call it the Snowblossom. They live for-fuckin'-ever. Y'can keep one goin' for turns." He rounds a bend to find a small cluster of the very plants, all in their own separate pots on a high shelf. "They don't serve no purpose other than lookin' good, so I only got a few. Gotta use most of the space for ''useful'' plants."

Enthusiastic but not overly expressive of it, Liv follows along after the inked up gardener and on the way casually scans the plants they pass by. And then she watches him once the greenery becomes boring. Once they come to the Balen Snowblossom she tilts her head and considers it for a long moment while listening to his description. Her final decision? "It's perfect. I'd like one." She pauses before asking him, "Do you have one of those plants that eats things?"

There's a big grin on Bones' face at her decision, reaching up to tug down one of the potted plants. Despite the thick tufts of underarm hair put on display by the motion, there's thankfully no masculine stench at her range. "... eats things." He raises an eyebrow at the stranger, not out of unfamiliarity with the concept of carnivorous plants, but out of curiosity as to what kind of girl would want one. "Y'know those are real hard to take care of." A smirk emerges. "They're fickle about moisture, and diet. If you were willin' to put down some marks, I might be able to get one brought in for ya but uhh, I ain't got none here."

Liv has no comment regarding either a) armpit hair or b) body smells or lack thereof, though it can't be from lack of notice since she's still watching him. "Thank you," she politely tells him for his efforts and frees her hands to accept the Snowblossom, only to relax them when he advises her re: bitey plants. "Oh I see. Probably need somewhere a little more hospitable than a cave? Still, I'm willing to pay, if you could teach me how to take care of one." Pause. "How did you find out so much about plants?"

"Well if you really want that kinda thing..." he still sounds a bit incredulous. "I can get you one in maybe a seven or two. They start small though, so don't go gettin' all excited bout throwin' full size wherries into it." There's a wink and a grin for Liv, up untill she asks him a question nobody else had bothered with up till that point. "Actually, I didn' know dick about 'em when I showed up here. But I just had to step into the greenhouse once and.. I'unno, just fell in love."

She returns his grin though hers is quiet; she's both amused and something else, there's something undefinable in her eyes. He said /something/ right. "Now I know I'm going to like you. Something tells me there's a lot to you to know." Liv smiles again and puts her hands out for the plant if he's so inclined to hand it over. "How much for this one? And any special instructions?"

"Hey now, don't start takin' a shine to me so quick. That leaves me no place t'go but down. Hehe." As he speaks, he reaches down to the loose cord that serves as a belt for his workpants, and seeks to tighten them around his waist. "For the snowblossom? Y'could feed that sucker nothin' but whiskey and it'd survive. But if you want it grow up happy? Give it mug of snow every few days. They like the cold." Bones can't help himself but to yawn big after his explanation, mouth wide enough to envelop Liv's fist. "Mmph. I think I need a little shuteye. Think I might be able to bribe you with a free plant so you don't tell nobody I nap on the job?"

"Okay I take it back. I'm entirely neutral, you could go either way." She cradles the pot of the plant in the crook of her arm, her nose tipped down towards one of the nearest little white clusters. "Mm. Mug of snow. Got it." Liv gives him her full attention once more when he yawns and lifts both eyebrows. "So the circles under your eyes don't lie. Just don't let it get around that I take bribes. Because I do." She gives him one last smile, ducks her head and turns to make her exit and leave him to his well-deserved nap.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs talk:Opportunistic Experiments

2013-02-23T22:13:40Z

Barnabas: Comment provided by Barnabas - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Opportunistic Experiments]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Barnabas/Comments|Barnabas]] ([[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])) left a comment on Sat, 23 Feb 2013 22:13:40 GMT.

<comment date="2013-02-23T22:13:40Z" name="Barnabas" signature="[[User:Barnabas|Barnabas]] ([[User talk:Barnabas|talk]])">
Stop being evil Jo. STOP IT!
</comment>

Logs:Team Azaylia

2013-02-23T01:21:30Z

Barnabas:

{{ Log
| who = Barnabas, K'del
| where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones and K'del come to an understanding.
| when = Day 22, Month 1, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.02.22
| quote = "She's doing fan-fuckin'-tastic, considering how well her ''friends'' been treatin' her."
| weather =
| categories = Divided Leadership
| mentions = Azaylia, Brieli, H'kon, Taikrin
| ooc =
| icons = k'del profile.jpg, barnabas cleaned.jpg
| log = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr

----

A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora.

Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.

Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath.

----

Snow is sticking to the ground outside, but it tends to melt on the roof of the Greenhouse, sending rivulets of water down the glass - and making this space ideal for watching the outside world from a protected, warm distance. Perhaps that's why K'del can be found in here today, his face all but pressed up to the glass as he stares down at the Weyr below. Of course, he's half hidden by greenery, and so quiet that he might not easily be noticed - for now.

"Well well well..." Tone is mocking from square one, Bones having discovered K'del in his quiet reflections. Not that it was easy with how well the bronzerider tucks himself away. "If it isn't the grand and fearless leader himself come to grace my sad little greenhouse?" There might be a bone or two to pick, what with how the gardener crosses his arms in front of his chest, and seems to scowl and smile simultaneously.

K'del turns, at the sound of Bones' footsteps, not to mention those words, one brow lifting in a classic gesture of 'What do you want?'. "If you recall," he points out, moderating his tone until it's low and relatively unexpressive, "I'm no leader of any sort at the moment, nor fool enough to claim myself one. I've no bones to pick with you or yours," he adds, and it would be hard to miss the implication of 'yours'. "In fact, been meaning to talk to you. Make sure Azaylia is holding up."

The pinch at his brow unclenches itself a touch, the true scowl leaving his face, but eyes still narrowed in suspicion. "Not fool enough to claim yourself one ''yet''. I'm suspectin' you'll get there soon enough, and probably step over friends to do it." He takes slow steps towards K'del and unfolds his arms. "Oh and speakin' of. Azaylia? She's doing fan-fuckin'-tastic, considering how well her ''friends'' been treatin' her. Let's go over the list here. Brieli? Hmm, great support there. H'kon? Sure, you can always count on ''that'' guy to be warm and nurturing. And then there's you!" The sarcasm is thick in his tone as he presses his index finger to three outstretched fingers on his opposite hand, counting down the list.

"Me?" K'del's chin lifts as Bones talks, and if he looks discomforted, well, he ''also'' squares his shoulders and keeps his gaze level… except when he winces at the other two names. "I'm doing the best I can… Not my intention to step on her, not ever. ''She's'' my choice in all of this. That's what I want: Azaylia as Weyrwoman, with a proper Weyrleader at her side. Sure, I'd ''like'' it to be me, but as long as it's someone who'll do his best for the Weyr, I'll support him." Beat. "Glad you're defensive of her. '"Glad'' someone is on her side, unreservedly. She needs that."

The gardener's face softens further still as he continues to approach, but it's only for a moment, Bones seeming intent to cling to his anger. "Yeah, I bet you're ''real'' glad that I'm there. Means you don't gotta do shit but sit in a greenhouse and ''want'' things for her. I'm the only damn one at her side. ''I'm'' better fit to be weyrleader than you." Finally, Bones is in striking distance, and he gives a quick push to K'del's chest with one arm, firm enough to send him back a pace or two if no adjustment is made. "And why the ''fuck'' are you being so damn nice!" Yeah! How dare you be kind when he's yelling at you!

K'del lets himself be pushed - and let's be clear on that: he ''lets'' it happen - though it makes no change to his expression, or to the stance he stands in, at least once he's recovered his footing. "There's a lot more to being Weyrleader than standing by your Weyrwoman," he says, but there's a definite note of regret in his tone. "She knows my position. If she doesn't… well. Maybe I have more work to do, in which case I apologise. ''Not'' going to force myself on her, though; she has to make a choice about who she wants with her. And whether she intends to stand up, or-- back away from it all." At least he makes it sound as though he feels genuine affection for the goldrider. "Being nice because I ''am'' nice. Because ultimately, think we're on the same side. Because maybe I deserve a reminder."

There's a deeper hunch to Bones' shoulders, a predatory lean and a baring of teeth that puts him ready to pounce at K'del. It's in that pose that he listens to the words, still and silent throughout bronzerider's explanation. He waits so patiently for K'del to fire back with something, anything that'd give him reason to tear him limb from limb, but it just doesn't come. "You ''are'' nice." Said with equal parts disbelief, and dissapointment. His clenched arms relax and hang. "You stupid... pretty... political..." The angry words are mumbled, Bones frustrated that physical violence couldn't be his outlet.

Poor Bones. K'del seems to feel it, too, and it probably doesn't ''help'' when he offers, then, "You can still hit me, if it'll help. Make me swear never to do anything that'll hurt Azaylia - make me swear to stand by her." He shrugs, watching the other man's reactions with a measured look to his expression, adding, "Not perfect. Pretty sure I've screwed a bunch of stuff up. Not even sure I'm doing the right thing, sometimes, except-- I love this Weyr. In time, Azaylia's going to be an amazing Weyrwoman. Hraedhyth knew that before anyone else, and me? I trust Hraedhyth. Despite her apparent interest in browns like Szadath." His smile, for ''that'', is crooked.

There's ample time for K'del to explain himself, as all of Bones' energy works towards calming himself down from the berseker frenzy that now needed to be pushed back inside. Only after K'del finishes is there any motion in him, and it's a sudden one. A surprisingly proficient right hook is thrown, aimed wide and low to strike K'del in the side of his bicep. Knuckles dig deep into the flesh there, intent on leaving a fist-shaped bruise for days to come. "You're a dick." Bones finally stands tall. Calm. "And you're probably just playin' me with all your talk, but I'm beleivin' you for some stupid reason."

Despite his offer, K'del doesn't seem to have anticipated that blow, and it makes his knees buckle - with his good arm, he grabs for the wall, holding himself up just barely as a litany of curses escape his mouth: fucking ''ow''. He holds his arm close to his chest, for all the good that it will do him, and swallows, hard. "I'm a dick," he agrees, through clenched teeth, pain making it hard to talk clearly. "But I'm not playing. I swear it on Cadejoth's egg: I'll do nothing to pit myself against Azaylia. She's safe from me." He releases the wall, moving his hand to rub at his bicep, wincing. "Fucking ''ow''."

The face is stern for a moment or two, but seeing K'del clutch and curse does slowly soften the gardener's expression. "Sorry, I kinda put my bodyweight into that one." He rubs at his own bicep impulsively. "You're lucky Azaylia told me to leave you be after you made her cry that one time. I was fixin' to do shit to you that woulda got be sent back to the mines for sure. Hehe." The chuckle is quiet, and a little bit nervous. "Y'gotta talk to Azaylia, because everybody's been tellin' her to grow up but ain't nobody tellin' her how. I'm worried she's gonna snap and put a knife in all your damn backs." A smirk lingers at that one. "Not that I won't be laughin' if that day comes. It'd serve you right, far as I'm concerned."

"It's fine," says K'del, letting out a long, whistling breath through his teeth. "Probably deserve it." He looks troubled for the tears, but aside from his mouth opening slightly, makes no reply to it, no defense of himself. Instead, it's that later remark that has him nodding, once. "Maybe it's time to-- I'll try, Bones. Do everything I can to help her. It's--" He breaks off, turning his gaze away from the other hand, and instead, towards the fingers that keep rubbing at his bicep. "Not terribly proud of the way I distanced myself from her. She was right to be angry. But now…" This time, his nod is firmer.

"Just make sure you're helpin' her for the right reasons, y'hear me?" Bones gives a sigh, and rubs the back of his neck. "Build her back up because you care about ''her'', not just your stupid mountain hole." Weyr. Semantics. "Don't care who leads it, just care that Zee don't have her fragile brain broke in the process." An apologetic glance is given to K'del, both for his arm and a little something more. "Don't suppose I'm givin' you enough credit for dealin with your losses as well as you are, either."

K'del actually seems ''more'' awkward as soon as his 'losses' are mentioned, and the way he's dealing with them - enough so that he drops his hand from his arm, and then lowers his arm again, all the more determined, it seems, to look hale and hearty. "If at ''any'' moment, you think I'm doing something for me, something that'll hurt her, you come and yell at me again," he says. "Not saying I'm perfect. Not saying it won't hurt if she ends up Weyrwoman with someone else as her Weyrleader. But I'll ''try''."

"Now you're just trying ''too'' hard to get on my good side." He gives a smile, the earnestness becoming a touch uncomfortable. He tempers it with more threats of violence "But I'll do more than just yell. I'll take your other damn arm. Maybe a leg too." He gives his second push at K'del's chest for the day, this one with no real muscle and all smiles. "Sorry for being an asshole in the beginning there."

K'del lets out a huff of laughter, saying, "Sorry. Next time I'll give you grief." An apology. Because that ''totally'' helps with the niceness! "Arm and a leg. Got it. Gives me definite incentive to behave. No - it's fine. You said what you needed to. Rather you were an asshole, telling me the truth, than an ass-kisser. But I'll hold that punch against you forever, okay? That's my wanking arm, and it's not as though I'm getting any ''real'' action at the moment."

"Well then I'm doin' you a favor. Y'know it feels like a stranger when you use the other hand. Ha!" He moves in and puts an arm around K'del, making sure to approach from the uninjured side. "Now. Enough talk about politics and sad girls. More talk about working out and jerkin' it." Y'know, guy stuff. "You, me, drinks. Right now. Snowasis. Let's go chief."

One moment, two moments, three-- and then K'del cracks up, losing his composure entirely, enough so that it takes him a moment to register Bones' presence, and that arm around him. "Sold," he says. "I'll buy." Watch out, Snowasis: Team Azaylia is on the move.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Knives and Fruit

2013-02-22T12:29:12Z

Barnabas: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Barnabas, Nicky | where = Craft Area, High Reaches Weyr | what = Bones has some work he needs done. He finds a willing candidate in Nicky. | when = D19, M1, T31..."

{{ Log
| who = Barnabas, Nicky
| where = Craft Area, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones has some work he needs done. He finds a willing candidate in Nicky.
| when = D19, M1, T31
| gamedate = 2013.02.21
| quote = "Oh my sweet Faranth, you are ADORABLE!"
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas cleaned.jpg
| log =
Craft Area, High Reaches Weyr
The far southeast corner of the bowl is devoted to crafter use, with a couple of stone buildings built in the open, designed to make use of the fresh air. One is the tannery, always reeking of chemicals and with hides everywhere, stretched out on racks to prepare and dry. The other is the forge, which rings of metal-on-metal and leaks black smoke and heat -- suffocating in summer, but at least somewhat more bearable in the cold, cold winters.

A number of windows with heavy wooden shutters line the wall behind these structures, aimed in such a way so as to avoid the worst of the noise and smells. In between them, a boulder-shaped entranceway leads within. To the west, roughly in the direction of the weyrling area, is a loading dock, while above it all, the glass-walled Greenhouse sits atop a low-positioned ledge.
----
A steady fog lingers around the gardener's head, his warm breath immediately turning to visible myst as he hikes himself over the snowdunes of the bowl. It's not a long trek from his greenhouse to the craft buildings, but trudging over the frozen hills in his heavy furs saps his strength fast. His goal is met with a heavy sigh of releif; the forge, sweet warmth at last. "Sweet merciful crap it's cold out there!" The loud announcement is made to nobody in particular, the big man too busy trying to find a spare hook or table for his coat to see what sort of reaction it might have gotten him.

The forge certainly /is/ warm - warm enough to warrant little more than summer clothing beneath the obligatory protective leather. Nicky wears a heavy tanned apron over his shirt, the rolled-up sleeves of which exposed the small flecked scars that cover his forearms as a reminder of his occupation. The proclamation from Barnabas has him turning around from where he's examining his latest piece of work - a runnershoe in the making - and he dips his head in greeting when it seems no-one else is rushing forward to assist. "B-but the snow is beautiful," he responds with a crooked grin, pushing back his sweat-dampened curls from his forehead; they're wet enough to be plastered to his temple. "Can I, um, h-help you with something, s-sir?"

Bones' coat is left on an unused work table, and he stretches his arms above his head with a deep-throated grunt, revealing the mess of ink and muscle that his sleeveless vest puts on display. He has his back turned to Nicky untill that crack about pretty snow has him turn at the waist, raising a curious eyebrow at the source of the quiet voice. "Yeah, beautiful from behind glass." The grin Bones puts on is somewhat wicked as he reaches into the coat he just shed, and tugs forth a roll-up leather satchel tied with cords around it's middle. "You good with metal, kid?" He starts to untie those cords as makes his approach towards Nicky.

"It b-beats the sun in my opinion, sir." Nicky shrugs good-naturedly. After making sure his workplace is secure, he meanders across to the older man to stand before him with his thumbs tucked into the band of his apron. The answer to the question is given with a nod of his head as he settles his weight, getting comfortable in his long limbs and on his two large feet. "I'm Smith-t-trained, sir, yes. I can work metal. Do you need something f-fixing?"

The cords are finally untied, and satchel is unrolled and laid out on top of a nearby anvil. Tucked in many a sheath are a collection of blades, some practical and some more wicked. Bones reaches for one likely from the greenhouse as opposed to his personal collection, a small set of pruning shears. "Was looking to maybe give a lucky apprentice some practice with some real blades." He squeezes the handle on the shears a few times, making an audible snip snip sound. They're tucked back into the satchel before he pulls out a bowie knife nearly the size of a short sword, running his thumb over it's edge. "Some of my lovelies are getting a little dull."

Nicky's brown eyes go wide when the assortment of sharp things is exposed; they weren't what he was expecting! The shears are eyed thoughtfully, with his head canted slightly to one side. "I'm not an apprentice, sir, n-not an official one, anyway, but I've got a good few t-turns of Smith training under my belt. I-I can certainly have a crack at them, if you'd like me to?" When the shears are replaced by the knife, his eyes open a fraction wider, and his crooked smile takes on a slightly nervous element. "Y-you've got quite a collection."

Looking up from his blade to Nicky, Bones gives a chuckle and sheathes the heavy looking knife back into the satchel. "Hey, if you say you've got smith training that's good enough for me kiddo. Just a few turns on a grinder'll probably see the edges sharp again eh?" With his hands now free, he offers one towards Nicky in request of a shake. "Names' Bones. What's your name, stutters?" That'd be his new nickname if Nicky didn't offer up something else to call him.

The nickname causes Nicky to blush, sending his cheeks crimson with the rosiness they already bear due to the heat of the forge. "N-Nicky." He clasps Bones' hand in his own work-roughened one, holding it with a grip that's firm and has the potential for more strength than he applies. "I can run them on the g-grinder for you, but..." Chewing on his lip and looking over his shoulder, the farrier trainee ponders something on a far worktable. "F-for some of the... the ''nicer'' ones, w-would you let me do it p-properly? W-with a whetstone? It'd take a little longer, but, um... or I can do them on the grinder and then 'stone them for you. Wh-whatever you'd like, sir."

Bones' shakes Nicky's hand with an equal measure of strength, no need to crush the younger's hand in some show of masculine bravado. "Oh my sweet Faranth..." he starts as his smile blooms big. "You are ''ADORABLE''!" Probably not the compliment a seventeen year old smith wants to hear from a man like Bones, but it's clear it's not just condescension. Bones means it. "Take all the time you need Nicky. I'd love to see it done right eh?"

Adorable? Nicky looks taken aback by that, and blushes even deeper as he wrinkles his nose in confusion. "Um. Th-thank you?" He clearly doesn't know what else to say as he holds out his hands, palm-up, and spreads his fingers in a lost sort of gesture as he shrugs his shoulders. His crooked grin flashes a bit of tooth, and he tucks his thumbs back into his apron string. "I-I can work on them between my other duties, sir; m-maybe it'll take a sevenday? I'll d-definitely have some ready for you then, if not all of them. Wh-where would I find you?"

"It's a compliment." Bones feels intent on clarifying Nicky's questioning tone. "You are damn scrumptious." Another compliment, apparently. "Anyhoo! If you wanna take that much time to do a proper job for me, y'can deliver the bad boys at the greenhouse almost anytime. I practically live in the place these days."

Nicky grins coyly at the compliment confirmation, still not /quite/ sure what to do with it - nor with the one that follows, either! He reaches across himself to clasp one forearm in a work-roughened hand, rocking back on his heels and then forward on his toes, before settling flat-footed again. "The g-greenhouse; got it. I've not, um, made it there yet sir, not since c-coming to the Weyr... how do I get there? A-and you're welcome to come by to ch-check on progress too, if you'd like, so you can see h-how I'm doing."

"Come by any time Nicky." Big hands shove themselves into his pockets. "You come by once, and trust me, the snow won't look near as pretty compared to what I'm growin' there." He shoots a glance down at his satchel, briefly debating leaving it in trust to the amateur smith. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell nobody about my collection eh? Not that I do much with it, but no reason to make people nervous."

"Oh - yessir, don't worry, I'll keep quiet." Nicky taps the side of his nose, nodding. "N-no-one keeps tabs on me really but my uncle, sir, s-since he's training me. I'll keep them out of sight for you. May I?" He gestures to the satchel, which he'll roll up and tuck under his arm, if he's allowed to. If not? He'll just leave it, for now. "Wh-what are you growing, sir? Do you have any, um... any fruit?"

There's a glance to his collection of sharp things as Nicky picks it up, but he makes no move to stop the candidate from tucking it away for safekeeping. "The sweetest, freshest fruit you'll ever taste." There's genuine pride in Bones' voice, secure in the knowledge that he's the one responsible for it. "Anyway, I gotta get back to work makin' sure it stays that way uh? Stop by any time and taste my fruit." There's a pause, and a blink. "Oh wow did ''that'' sound like a proposition! Ha!" He tugs a hand free and pats Nicky on the shoulder. "Didn't quite mean it like ''that''"

Meant like that or not, the words make Nicky splutter and choke in surprise, while his face, from neck to ears, floods crimson. He blinks at the older man with eyes wide, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries to figure out how to respond. Perhaps the hand on his shoulder reassures him somewhat, or perhaps it's the deep breath he draws, but he does manage to find his tongue... eventually. And it takes a false start before he's able to speak and actually make ''sense''. "I-I-I.... I-I'll - um, I'll c-come by, s-sir...." Flustered, thy name is Nicky! "Um... sometime. Wi-with some... s-some of your things. When they're done."

Despite the accidental nature of it, Bones' flirtation garners a reaction that sees him laughing to himself at the poor boy's expense. "Relax kid, I ain't gonna eat you." A few more pats at his shoulder before he turns to snatch up his coat. "Just stop by when the knives are done, yeah? We'll work out payment then. Maybe I can convince you to work for fruit." The huge fur monstrosity is thrown over his shoulders once more, and he buckles up to head out towards his place of work. "Later, Nicky!" He exits as he entered, exuberant and energized.

Nicky manages to hold back his stuttering long enough to toss out a breathy 'yessir!' after Barnabas as he leaves - in the middle of which his voice cracks so he ends it a tone higher than he began. That on its own is embarrassing enough for him; on top of what's already got him flushed, the poor teen looks like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him now. With Bones gone, he returns to his workbench, tucks the special package carefully away, and tries to resume his earlier work.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

File:Icon barnabas WTF.jpg

2013-02-21T18:55:52Z

Barnabas:

File:Icon barnabas subtle concern.jpg

2013-02-21T18:52:30Z

Barnabas:

Logs:Plants and Apologies

2013-02-19T01:57:15Z

Barnabas:

{{ Log
| who = Barnabas, Ainslee
| where = Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Bones tracks down a pair of breasts to apologize to their owner.
| when = Day 10, Month 1, Turn 31
| gamedate =2013.02.18
| quote = "How do you know I won't go home and kill it?"
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = H'vier
| ooc =
| icons = ainslee attitude.png, barnabas blackandwhite.jpg
| log =
Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis.

The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day.
----

Hailstorm has already done drills this morning: /early/ morning drills, at that, and long ones, leaving a surfeit of wingriders clambering for food in that awkward mid-afternoon lull between lunch proper and dinner. Ainslee, recently from the baths, rides the tail-end of the rush, sliding into the kitchen itself to beg fresher options than what are displayed outside. She's currently composing herself a rather ridiculously large sandwich, hovering over a end-table obviously set out for kitchen-staff to pluck at: it looks pretty good, too, fresh bread and thin-sliced roast, slathered with a goodly bit of horseradish. She seems to be debating adding yet more roast beef to it. A girl can never have enough meat, right?

"There you are, red!" Voice booms from the exit to the inner cavern in sudden and thankful recognition, the time it took to search for her evident in his tone. If it's not clear on it's own, he'll go ahead and confess it with a voice loud enough to reach her from across the kitchens. "Been lookin' everywhere for you!" He glides his way across the room with big strides afforded to him by his long legs. He's carrying a burlap sack over his shoulder. That can't be good.

Entirely too used to the nickname - it's almost an alias, seriously - the greenrider looks up, mid-press of hearty rye bread on top of the sandwich. Pale eyebrows lift when the owner of the voice turns out to be Barnabas, though. "Oh, have you now?" She picks up the rather large deli-knife situated close to the station, and makes a show of cutting the sandwich in half, because she's witchery like that. With a display of toothy smile, she asks, "What can I do for you, good sir?"

With one hand tightly gripping at the sack, the other reaches forward to try and offer a handshake. It's only as he looks down at his own outstretched palm that he notices her knife, and his hand recoils. Best to get to business before trying that physical contact angle again. "You're more friendly than I was expectin', on account of how we me last. I was the watch-wher at the party?" There's a hint of question at the end there, in case she didn't remember.'

Ainslee doesn't relinquish her grasp on that giant weapon of shining malice, garnished with the faint sheen of roast-beef juices and a faint smear of horseradish sauce, but lifts her hand to tap her index finger, freed from the knife itself, against her chin. It's only frightening because of the complete and utter thoughtful mien she displays, as if she's not really aware of the ten-inch weapon brandished right before her nose. "Brown watch-wher... brown watch-wher... ''Oh!''" At least at this point she drops the hand brandishing the knife. "Oh yes, I remember that. How pleasant it is to see you again!" Her smile seems scarily real: friendly and outgoing. (But dude, she still has that knife... for no visible purpose WHATSOEVER.)

Eyes follow the knife for it's entire journey, wearing the concern for it on his face with parted lips and widened eyes. "How pleasant...?" he begins, but trails off. There's no way she wasn't doing this on purpose, right? "Yeah, well uhh, I been looking for you all day. Askin' people around y'know? I start with your name, but if people don't recognize it, I just tell em I'm tryin' to find me a stacked redhead. Half the people pointed me in your direction, and the other half just sorta shrugged and said ''who isn't'', ha!"

"I am rather new here," Ainslee is quick to reassure. "Not many ''do'' know my name. Or even my face." Her face goes a bit stoic at his... compliment?... before she wags her head in sympathy. Or apparent sympathy? "I'm so sorry it's taken you ''so long'' to find me! Maybe if I'd been wearing a low-cut shirt it would have been easier." SO sympathetic. "You could have stumbled around like a blind man, hands out--" Knife still held, she models the behavior, "--until you stumbled into me!" Is her point made? She evidently considers her words sharp enough, because she stabs the knife point-down in the carving board - earning her a murmur of disapproval from the nearest kitchen staff - and picks up her sandwich halves to plate them, neat as can be. A smile upwards, still so sweet and innocent: "What can I do for you, sir...?" A prompt for a name, perhaps.

Ainslee's mannerisms strike Bones oddly, as he makes clear with his arched eyebrow and half-step back at her mimicry of a blind man. Bones isn't good with subtle, but this display is enough to trigger the search in his mind for potential subtext. "You're still mad 'bout me snatching that mark from your tits." He's a genius. "But that's okay! That's totally why I was hunting you down like I was. I wanted to make good for my crimes, eh?" Smile beams as he takes another half-step back, so that he can open up his burlap sack and reveal what he had inside. Clay pot was about the size of one made for cooking stew for one, in it a healthy level of earth and a thick brown stem that trails up into a miniature tree, the whole package all together maybe a foot and a half tall. "It's a miniature Kindletree. See.." one hand supports the pot underneath, while his free finger points to the line on one of the wide flat leaves where the deep green suddenly transitions to firey red. "They call it that because they start off green, but as they get older the leaves roll over red. Then in like it's last week or two it gets these little white flowers. Normally they're huge but y'can get these little ones if y'breed em that way. I thought it might do as way of apology, eh?"

DING DING, we have a winner! The greenrider seems a little dubious as Barnabas explains that he knows that she's still a little miffed over the whole inappropriate grabbiness. She ''can't'' help but be curious as he unearths the prize, though, leaning forwards - no low-cut shirt today! - to check out this miniature Kindletree. "You got me a tree to apologize?" Her voice is, actually, quite fascinated. "How do you know I won't go home and kill it?" Not out of revenge or anything. "What do I do with it? How often do I need to water it? I don't need to ''feed'' it anything, do I?" The barrage of question ends only when the woman takes a much-belated bite of her sandwich, half-frowning down at the tree in a mix of consternation and admiration. It's a fairly strange expression.

Bones bends down to pick up the burlap sack he had dropped to the floor moments before, careful to keep the tree vertical and still-presented at a height where Ainslee can see it well. "Hey don't worry none! I wouldn' give you homework, ha! Kindletrees are real pretty but got a real short lifespan, so just try and get it enough water so the top layer'a soil there is moist to the touch. And if you forget about it for a day or two? That's no problem either. Should last you a month or two, and look real pretty doin' it." He's back up to his feet, and stuffing as much of the sack into his pocket as he can, the rest left to hang out and dangle. "Y'seemed like you were into fashion and colors and stuff, so I thought the green and red would work for ya. Matches your eyes and your hair, right?" There's a pause as he looks down at the plant, then up to her face. "So if I promise not to touch you again, we good? Hehe."

Ainslee is possibly the most perverse woman ever to walk on Pern. That, and she's has the most extreme mood-swings - but then again, which women aren't, amirite? "Oh." She seems taken aback by Barnabas' thoughtfulness, and rather unlikely to hold a grudge, regardless of her hair color. "Well - thank you, nameless breast-grabber." It's a tease, now, and an honest one rather than the earlier sarcasm: she even goes as far as reaching up, unconcerned about the hair and the tats and the -- Bonesishness -- to pat him on the cheek, like you would an excellent grown-child, perhaps, or an old lover. Maybe it's just a token gesture to make up for the previous, rather /harder/ touch of hand against cheek. "It will look darling in Kalaith's couch, and she's so fond of colorful things. This will entertain her more than I could ever hope to." A mark well-spent, then, -- all things considered.

It isn't untill she coins his nickname that he notices her having fished for his real one, or at least his chosen alias. "Oh! Bones. Name's Bones." His hands go into his pockets, a favorite idle pose but now one with purpose. No risk of him putting them where they weren't supposed to be this way. "It's no problem. If you ever wanna see one of these all grown up? Like, taller'n me? Just stop by the greenhouse sometime. I work there." A shrug of his shoulders follows. "Or don't. It ain't the most glamorous job, diggin' in dirt. Suits me though." He entirely misses the potential for self-deprecating humor in his assessment.

"Well-met, Bones." /This/ time. "Maybe I will." Stop by and see big trees, that is. Something ''clicks'', though-- Bones + greenhouse + dirt, and she cocks her hip, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you the one that tangled with H'vier, a bit ago? Was that before he and Z'ian tried to beat one-another bloody?" Her eyes narrow a bit, thoughtfully rather than annoyed, at his face, as if just staring at those dreadlocks will somehow manifest the answer to her query.

The look on Bones' face instantly tells story of a man who's entirely unused to his antics being points of conversation, or at the very least unused to hearing about it. "I tangled with him before ''and'' after, actually." There's a glance to the ground at his recollection of both scraps, one going his way and the other not. Albeit by design. "I don't even got a problem with the dude really, it just kinda worked out that way. Is he your friend or somethin'?"

Poor Bones. "Oh, really?" Ainslee seems ''entirely'' amused. "I'd probably have let you feel me up for free, if I'd known that," she breezily comments, taking another bite of her sandwich and wincing momentarily for the heat of her horseradish. Spicy! "He's kind of an asshole." Her tone is affectionate, though, for all that. "I guess it works. Thank you, though, Bones. I do appreciate the tree, and-- the sentiment."

"Hehe, yeah, kinda." About H'vier's temperament. "But so am I, so I try not to judge eh?" His eyes glance up and down her frame now, the comment about a free roam of his hands leading him to briefly fantasize about how much such an offer would afford him. Two seconds? Five? He catches himself. "Well, I best be getting back to work before I ruin all the good I done with plants an apologies. Only a matter'a time before I make an ass outta myself, just ask anyone who knows me." A grin spreads across his features. "Enjoy your meal eh?"

A cheeky grin for that obvious once-over; Ainslee isn't a prude, just weird about people touching her without her consent. Like any woman should have reason to be freaked out by /that/, right? Ahem. "Sounds fair enough to me, Bones." Her husky alto is amused. "I will, and please enjoy the rest of -your- day. Maybe not feel someone up, though, maybe?" She even tosses him a wink, the saucy wench, before juggling her plate to one hand and reaching down to purloin her latest (and only) plant, lifting it with little effort to swing perched on a hip. She has one last, quick smile, before turning to disappear further into the kitchen, no doubt heading for the storerooms to find something to put this plant /on/. Another mission for another day!

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />