<noinclude>Comments on [[Logs:Planning Distraction]]
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==T'gar (00:30, 20 December 2015 (PST)) said... ==

Naturally, Asaroth ONLY tells Rat that Dee wants him to be somewhere after the conversation. The fact that she's a weyrwoman from Fort manages to get lost in translation. Because Asaroth can even be an asshole to his rider. Sometimes. XD

Logs:Fair Distractions

{{Log
|who=Quinlys, T'gar
|what=Quinlys takes T'gar weyr-hunting.
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=26
|month=6
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.12.17
|quote="You know you ''could'' just say you're not interested and pull rank on me. I wouldn't hold it against you if you did."
|mentions=V'ros
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon quinlys eyes.jpg, Icon t'gar good.jpg,
|log=It may well have been deliberate that T'gar is ''almost'' (but not quite) the last weyrling to be summonsed by one of the weyrlingmasters for a tour of the available real estate; that it is ''Quinlys'' who has her dragon request Asaroth remain behind after class almost certainly is. The weyrlingmaster lounges up against her blue, shading her eyes against the afternoon sun, and seems quite willing to wait for as long as it takes for the weyrling pair to be ready. Exactly what the purpose of this summons is for is probably obvious, given the way others have been called aside similarily... but Olveraeth has not verbally acknowledged it.

Deliberate or not, T'gar seems to not be worried about the emptying of the barracks as his clutchmates slowly acquired their weyrs. After class, he has a satchel in hand as if he has plans while heading out until the summons came. So he arrives out into the sun, satchel strap over one shoulder as he pause just beyond the door to watch Quinlys in her natural element. "It's about that time, isn't it?" is his greeting, looking up towards the sky as well. "Waiting to take me up yourself?" Indeed, he seems to know what this is about.

"Maybe I'm just not sure I trust you in a weyr on your own," says Quinlys, without shifting her glance towards the weyrling. "Or maybe it was an unsuccessful power play. Who can say?" Not Quinlys, evidently-- or, at least, she's not telling. "Shall we? Pretty sure there's bound to be ''something'' left that isn't completely awful."

"Can you trust me in ''yours'', then?" Rat puts out there, heading towards his waiting dragon with an eyes on his riding straps. Looking back at her, "Power play. Hmm. Who can, indeed." He was ready, though, brows lifting and falling in brisk succession before he answers back, "Best I should have a decent weyr. I'll probably end up hanging at yours otherwise." It's so pleasantly-given, too.

"Oh no," says Quinlys. "Weyrlings are not permitted in my weyr; that's a rule. A person has to have ''some'' space where they can't be interrupted." In whatever it is they might do outside of working hours. She fixes an unreadable glance upon the bronzerider and then, shaking her head, turns her attention towards mounting her blue, giving the signal for take-off, and leading the way up into the sky. Their destination isn't too far up: a medium-sized ledge several levels above the weyrleaders' complex.

<pre>>---< Lofted Dreams Weyr >---------------------------------------------------<
Not so far off from the weyrleaders' complex but several levels high, a
medium-sized ledge juts stonily from the cliff. It's not especially
remarkable, what with the checklist of ''part to land on'' and ''overhang
to sit under when it's raining'', except that the entrance to the weyr is
tall but narrow that requires care with one's wings.

Inside, the weyr itself is also tall but narrow, the wallow a two-story affair
while the living area's made more spacious by the loft installed above it.
While outside it was plain, inside, it's all about the details: the stone
cleverly worked to shape heat and sound into comfort, the built-in benches
smoothly chiseled into a corner where a table might fit, and best of all,
what seems to have been a ship's mast wedged from the loft level to the
floor - a smoothly polished pole, the better to slide down in a hurry for
a literal or metaphorical fire.
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<
</pre>

"I won't be a weyrling forever," is perhaps not the first time Quinlys has heard T'gar say it, the words falling familiar and easy from his mouth as he mounts. Asaroth launches and follows after her blue easily, landing on the appointed ledge. The weyrling studies the non-impressive ledge at length before she dismounts and heads inside as he says, "Are you coming with? Any reccommendations?"

Oh, T'gar. Let Quinlys have her illusions. That's probably why she doesn't comment on the topic, saying nothing further until they've safely landed upon the ledge, and she has swung down. "If you want me to," she says, with a shrug, though she's already taken a few steps after him, even if ''she'' ends up being more inclined to stand in the doorway. "Just look for something you can be comfortable in. Likely, none will be amazing. But-- they have their perks." She is ''not'' going to comment on the perks of that pole.

"Comfortable in," Rat repeats that, slightly amused as he takes in the pole first before the whole of the place. He approaches the pole and flicks a thumb against it before looking her way. "This one ''does'' have its appeal," he admits in indication. "Its ''perk''. Asaroth's not too chuffed about the space, though."

"I'm sure you could... use that very athletically," comments Quinlys with a dry, amused note to her voice, arms crossed beneath her breasts. "But if Asaroth's not happy, it clearly won't do; that's pretty much a given, I think. Can't imagine any rider picking a weyr their dragon didn't like. We'll keep looking, then."

Nodding as he looks back at his watching bronze, "I'm willing to keep this one at the back of my mind," Rat says, giving the place one final sweeping look before settling on Quinlys. "If the others look ''worse'', though..." he heads back out to the ledge. "We'll keep looking." He seems to be watching her more than the weyr, even, as he mounts up.

Dryly: "I'll see what I can come up with that's better, oh master of exacting standards." Quinlys is teasing, though, more than serious, wasting no further time before mounting up and leading the way back into the air. Their next destination is not far from the hatching caverns; not a ''huge'' ledge, but large enough for both dragons if they sit rather than lounge. Barely.

<pre>>---< Winter Warmth Weyr >---------------------------------------------------<
Situated just beside the wide entrance to the hatching caverns, this
oddly-shaped ledge looks as though half of it has been cut away in order
to make room. It's not very big, though the sun hits it at such an angle
in the afternoon as to make it the perfect lounging spot, as long as one
doesn't mind their tail draping off towards the bowl. What it lacks for in
size, it makes up for in position: this is a ledge for the dragon who
wants to see everything, from visitors to the hatching grounds to more
distant activities throughout the bowl.

Inside, there's a hollow depression in the stone large enough for even a small
bronze, with a narrow walkway around it for human occupants to make their
way into the long, narrow cavern of the inner weyr. It's always warm in
here, as though the heat from those next-door hatching grounds have seeped
deep into the walls, staying close so as to keep things toasty in winter,
and occasionally, unbearable in summer.

The inner weyr is a single cavern that extends a long distance back into the
bowl wall, growing steadily narrower as it goes until, at the very back,
the width is only enough for the double-sized bed that has been jammed up
against the wall. There are built-in sconces for glows in the walls,
however, and the ceiling is high enough that it isn't as claustrophobic as
it could be.
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<</pre>

There's laughter from Rat as he settles on Asaroth for Quinlys' tease. "Like ''you'' didn't spend time looking for the right space your first time, Red. Ma'am," is his counter. Once they fly to the next ledge, and once landed, "What," he adds as if the conversation didn't pause, "you chose the first one you came across, did you?" He dismounts then and takes in the ledge and the hollow depression with interest as he notes idly, "I can tell this one's definitely geared more towards a dragon's comfort than a rider's."

"Olly and I knew our weyr the moment we first saw it," Quinlys says, firmly (and whether this is true or not, it's certainly clear that she believes it-- time has made it so). "So there was no point seeing anything else after that. But we," she adds, "went in a group. So you had to be quick, else someone else might claim the one you were after." Again, she trails after the weyrling, allowing him to take the lead in the explorations. More quiet, and less smug, she says, "I knew the rider who used to live here. It's... strange, knowing he's not here anymore."

"What was it about the weyr that drew the both of you?" T'gar's asking as he walks about and takes the place in. He studies where the bed is before something Quinlys says draws his gaze back to her. "Oh yeah? 'Used to'. What happened to him?" he asks her as he moves along the warm walls.

"Stars," is a simple answer, predictable in its own way. Quinlys clarifies after a moment, "There's sort of a tunnel in the ceiling," above her bed, thoug she's clearly not going to comment on ''that'', "So you can see the sky. From Olly's couch, too." Of ''this'' weyr, she's slower to respond, pacing after T'gar in silence before she says, finally, "He died in the plague. Volunteered for the plague wing and... but it's all been cleaned, since then. It wouldn't be on the list if it weren't safe."

"Must be nice," T'gar notes on her revealing about her weyr. "The way Asaroth describes Olveraeth to me, I can see the appeal for you." He lets the silence linger, letting her be the one to break it in regards to the weyr they're standing in. After a lingering moment as he watches her, his gaze lingering on her face, "Sorry for your loss," he says quietly to that, nodding once. When he finally looks back to the weyr at large, "Asaroth likes that he can see much from here," he says soberly. "I'll consider it." He's ready to move on to the next one, the brawny man turning back for the ledge.

"Mm," says the bluerider, failing to actually come up with anything of ''substance'' to add to the conversation-- any of the conversation. She's distracted, silent for long moments after that before she abruptly pulls herself back together: "Right. Consideration is good. A short-list. Let's see what else we can find." Preferably with a less morbid note to it! With that said, she's quick towards the ledge; it might well be ''fleeing'' though no doubt Quinlys would never call it that. Olveraeth takes them further into the bowl: up and up towards a weyr with a pair of stone sentinels to guide them down.

<pre>>---< Sculpted Shadows Weyr >------------------------------------------------<
Turns of sitting out in the sunny open of this claw-marked ledge has bleached
a pair of creepy bone chairs white. They sit to one side, just behind twin
gargoyles, sculpted of stone to look like glowering watchwhers. These two
figures, facing the sun, stand guard over landings and takeoffs from their
vantage point; and at dawn and dusk their rough backs and raises claws
cast long, eerie shapes across the ledge.

Inside is well-lit, well-ventilated, and well-worn. The rock has been smoothed
into dull corners and careful steps that lead only a couple of feet
downward to the living quarters once past the dragon's couch. The rider's
quarters is delineated with a heavy piece of canvas across the open
archway. Behind this makeshift door the area is mostly open, though there
are several wooden shelves fastened to one wall. Chipped and forgotten
cups and bowls rest upon them.

The sleeping alcove is to one side of the room, and while it's not really big
enough for anything more than the bed within it, it does offer one unusual
feature: a small, shuttered window that opens onto the ledge just behind
those stone sculptures.
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<</pre>

With Quinlys falling silent, T'gar does too. He watches her as she flees from the weyr, trailing after her and mounting for the next place shown. Once Asaroth lands at this one with the sentinels, when Rat dismounts the bronze immediately goes to examine first one, then the other. He studies the sentinels as well before he and the bronze look at each other and the weyrling heads on into the inner sanctum of the weyr. Holding open the canvas for Quinlys, "He must've meant a lot to you," he says quietly on the rider, giving the inner weyr his sharp examination with a belated grunt.

Quinlys is silent, still, as they arrive at this new weyr, though she's aware enough to watch the bronze and rider inspect the gargoyles-- and to step past the canvas as it gets held open for her. "He was a friend," she says, after a pause, her mouth twisting. "''Not'' a sexy friend. A former weyrling of mine. One of the ones I just... not that I have favourites." That last is a little too hasty. "It may not have been my training that killed him, but a weyrlingmaster... we always remember. And he died because he stepped up." Beat. "What do you think?"

While Asaroth inspects the sentinels still and Quinlys walks past him, "We all make our choices in the end," T'gar says on training and stepping up. "He was brave. I'm not sure I would've done the same if given the choice, but, you never know, right?" Fingers touch the abandoned cups letting the silence linger between them in his thorough inspection of this weyr before he turns towards the ledge, then looks to the Weyrlingmaster to say, "This one. It'll work for the both of us."

"I don't know what I would have done either," admits Quinlys. "I'm not especially brave, and definitely ''not'' self-sacrificing." There's a trace of her usual smugness in her expression as she says that, a trace that expands and intensifies as she adds, "This one. I did wonder if this might be the one. A creepy ledge for a creepy bronze. I'm pretty sure there was a bed in here, once... one with similar carvings? Maybe it's in stores, now."

"You're brave and self-sacrificing enough to train a bunch of weyrlings that probably have you pulling your own hair out at the end of the day," T'gar answers, letting a grin peter out. "I don't know if I could do what you do, either." Nodding as he looks over the place, hands planting on his hips, "Creepy ledge....I think that's what did it for him," he tells her. "It's not bad in here, either. I'll fix it up nice. Get in a nice bed, a table, some chairs and rugs....you should come by and see it when it's done," he adds, looking her way. "I'll take any and all weyrwarming gifts." So humble.

"Ah," says Quinlys, "but I do what I do for ''me''." Weyrlings and hair-pulling aside. She's content enough to let that topic drop, turning an appraising eye instead towards the rest of the weyr. "''Will'' you now," is amused. "You must think my stipend is rather larger than it is if you think I can afford weyrwarming gifts for each of my charges." The smile she aims back at him is dimpled, amused.

"It's still self-sacrificing, Red-ma'am," Rat tells her, grinning all the more. That he's pleased with his choice in weyr is evident as he looks around, her last drawing short laughter and, "I'll take one after I graduate, if you prefer," is his counter to that when he meets her gaze. "I'm patient. Resilient. Sometimes persistent."

Quinlys' snort is dismissive of the self-sacrificing, and rather more amused for the rest. "Are you now. And quite confident, I think, of your abilities to wear a person down. Even a woman more than a decade your senior." If it hurts to admit her own age, there's no sign of it in Quinlys' expression; she's too busy being smugly amused. "If ''I'' were you, I'd go find a willing lower caverns girl, now that you have a weyr to take her and permission to do so. It'll be more satisfying for everyone."

"I'm not intimidated by your age, Red," T'gar states, facing Quinlys fully. "Ma'am. I can understand if you're intimidated by mine." Pause. "Relief for ''you'', you mean," is what gets said, chased on the steps of her last in an equally smug manner. "As if a fuck from a lower caverns girl would sate me." There's a 'tsk' to come, the sound made by teeth. "You know," he adds idly as he looks towards the cabinets, "you ''could'' just say you're not interested and pull rank on me. I wouldn't hold it against you if you did." The amusement lingers, however.

"I ''could''," agrees Quinlys, all smiles. "But what would the fun be in that?" She straightens, abruptly, then takes half a step towards the exit. "I should leave you to it. I'm sure you have a lot to look after."

With just a hint of a smirk, "So you've just admitted that you're making it a mission to tease and leave me with blue balls," Rat concludes to her answers, the laughter heard in his voice. "Interesting. Thanks for showing me this," he gestures about the weyr. "We should probably get settled in before the day ends, right. I'm sure you've got others to show weyrs to."

She's not poker-faced, because she never is; instead, Quinlys is ''blithe''. "I just happen to enjoy the colour blue," she tells Rat, cheerfully. "Mmm, not many others. But there are other thinsg to take care of, absolutely. Enjoy yourself, weyrling. I'll see you in class tomorrow." She aims a sunny smile over her shoulder-- and then departs.

Quinlys just might have heard the "I bet," following right out to the ledge.
}}

Logs:Dealing In Secrets

2015-12-17T04:10:15Z

Jolie:

{{Log
|who=Farideh, Jo
|what=Farideh and Jo reunite!
|where=Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=24
|month=7
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.12.16
|quote="Bet Drex don' make ya blush like that, right?"
|mentions=Irianke, Drex, Ethran, Jocelyn, R'hin
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon farideh sweet.png, Icon jo bad.jpg
|log=With the weather being decent for the Reaches lately, it might make sense that the storesroom is one place in the Weyr being frequented by the Weyr's folk for the weather change. Among them is Jo, dressed in dark leathers as if she's either just got in or was preparing to depart the Weyr - rummaging through a box of supplies geared toward healers. She's snagged wraps for bruises and is in the process of looking over folded washrags and nearby bathing supplies.

"''That''," in a warm and amused voice, "is an odd assortment," says the goldrider watching from a few feet away, clipboard in hand and her head tipped to the side. "Are you planning to be an amateur healer on the side?" Farideh sashays forward, not masking the amusement that lights her face, and pulls her chin down to stare at the bluerider with an undeterred ''look''. "''Jo''. How are you? I've missed you," might as well be talking about the time of day or K'del's underroos.

At hearing Farideh's familiar voice, Jo turns to look back at her as she picks up another rag with her free hand. "I'm out of this stuff," is her simple answer, as if this is stuff that everyone should be getting. "I don' really like to harass the healers whenever I've gotten into a fit at a bar'n banged my fists up. I'm the do-it-yerself kinda girl." She sets the rag into the little black box she has to the side for collecting before she looks the goldrider over more thoroughly and adds, "Ya missed me, did'ja, Kitten? Ya knew where to come find me. I hear kisses make many a pain go away." Look who's back, maybe? Perhaps that is answer to how she is, too, since she's nodding towards her belly now and is noting aloud, "Looks like ya popped finally."

"I shouldn't be surprised, but-- ''still''? Fighting? Aren't you a big, bad wingsecond by now? It's good to know Mielline isn't curbing your hobbies," Farideh says, still with that laughter imbuing her voice. "''You'' try climbing a dragon when you're as big as a Hold. Perhaps if you'd stay still long enough for me to ''find'' you in walking distance." It's all a tease, but she does look pleased to hear that Jo is doing well given all the events that have happened in the last few months. "I'm gladder about it than you are. Glad to have my body back, glad to be-- more ''me'', again."

Returning to her perusals again, "It's not as often," Jo admits on the bar brawls with a slight shrug as she hunts. "I don' go out'n'bout with my knot on, so, as far as outside this place's concerned, I haven' changed." Hefting a clear and empty bottle as she turns, "Ya know," she notes casually, "if ya want me, ya have only but to have that queen of yers to call on Tac. Pretty sure Drex'll be put out, though, seein' as how I'm the better lover. Is the kid with him? How's he been 'bout all this so far?"

"We wouldn't want your reputation being besmirched by a silly little knot," is clarified with a straight face, even. It's her talk about lovers that has Farideh's cheeks turning pink and her eyebrows knitting. "You're ''horrible''. Still as horrible as I remember, and ''no''. Ethran is in the nursery, where he's supposed to be. Drex is still Drex. Did you expect something different?" That she's being mum about her own feelings might be telling.

"I really appreciate that," Jo answers on her reputation with an equally straight face. "There's folks out there that wouldn' even ''talk'' to me if they see it. I'm glad ya get it." As for her being horrible, "Admit it. Ya missed me bein' ''horrible''. I miss makin' ya blush that pretty lil' color. Bet Drex don' make ya blush like that, right? Don' worry. I won' tell'im." There's a slight smirk to that as she continues her hunt through boxes. "Ethran, huh? Must be a cute kid. What 'bout ''you''?" Yeah, she doesn't miss much at all as she peers at Farideh's face. "Ya can' leave the Weyr?"

"There are advantages to the knot, too. You probably haven't even ''tried'' using it like your calling card," Farideh sighs, her expression full of fake-disappointment. "I ''might'' have, but I'll never admit to that in ''public''. None of it." It's a non-answer, delivered with a delightfully mischievous smile. "Babies change fast they say, but-- he kind of looks like me," which is a given, since she's the ''mom''. "No. Irianke wants to be conservative and give me the time I need to fully recover. I can't blame her, but-- I feel ''fine''. Roszadyth wants to ''fly'', together, as do I."

"Like?" Jo prompts on the uses of her knot. "Granted, some girls respond to me wearin' nothin' but the knot, but..." That lopsided grin only lingers to Farideh's answer that she won't admit in public, ticking off a nod and a, "Reckon there's ''much'' ya won' admit in public. Not just that. Does Drex want another baby?" she suddenly asks then. As to what Irianke says, there's a considering nod to that with a slight frown. "Ya should take advantage of it'n ''rest'', Kitten," she tells her. "Though, once it's all cleared, I believe I owe ya a trip since ya took me out. I won' forget that. Ya didn' have to do all that for me, ya know." It's sincere, even.

"You've ''said'' you aren't interested, ''but'', you could gained exclusivity to certain events. Places a regular rider couldn't go-- places rank gets you ''things'' and ''secrets'' and-- don't you ''deal'' in secrets?" Farideh gives a leisurely shrugs of her shoulder bearing her ''own'' fancy shoulder knot. "Another baby? ''This soon''? I don't know if he does. We haven't talked about it, but if he ''did''-- I'd tell him to take this clipboard and shove it. ''He'' can be pregnant the next time." Less amusedly, with a sullen pout, "I ''know''. Everyone keeps ''saying'', but that doesn't make it any less tedious. It's been more than ''four'' months since I've flown, last." She straightens and sighs, studying the other woman. "I didn't, but I wanted to. You were grieving. You should take care of yourself, even then. What would we do without you?"

Considering all the things listed that she could use her knot for, "I do deal in' secrets," Jo agrees, "but I'm still learnin' how to get around in this brave new world involvin' ranks'n'knots. Give me time, Kitten. Just need to gain some new perspectives." There's laughter on the answers about having another baby as she briefly considers the ceiling as she wonders aloud, "Drex, pregnant. He'd be a cranky one. I can see it now." She drops a few items into her little box before hefting the whole thing to prop against her stomach with both hands. "Shouldn' be much longer now," she says on Farideh being stuck in the Weyr. "I would talk to Irianke again, were I ya." The last draws a sober look from the wingsecond, her head tilting a bit as she studies the goldrider before her. "There'd be another bluerider with a pretty face'n a pretty smile that would be far less reckless'n far more responsible. That's what." In a heavy pause, "Seen a lot of death in my life, darlin'," she tells her grimly. "Even before comin' here. It never gets easier. Ya just gotta recover from it."

"I fully believe that you'll learn it fast. You've yet to disappoint me in and that, and before long you may be schooling ''me'' in-- everything, really." Farideh shifts to the side when Jo grabs the box up, as if anticipating her departure. "I think she was pretty firm about it. Two months and then we'd see. Two months of-- healing, ''bonding'' with Ethran." She loses all semblance of amusement at Jo's implication, and lifts her chin stubbornly. "No. Why do you think you're that easily replaced? I don't like that, not at all, and I'm not that easy to forget people I like."

"Ya have far too much confidence in me, Kitten," Jo notes on her learning it all fast. "But, I've managed to get ''this'' far without Mielline tossin' me out. How are things goin' with the new goldrider one? I reckon havin' her around now could pro'bly lessen some of the workload for ya, right?" And then ''bonding''. Jo snorts her amusement with that as she remarks, "I can' even imagine me gettin' knocked up. Any kid of mine'd be a terror." To Farideh's stubborn last, there's more of a genuine smile to peter out from her before she answers, "Ya see? Ya say sweet things like that'n expect me to behave all proper. Yer lucky my self control's intact these days, gentle Kitten."

"I have the right ''amount'' of confidence-- in you. You're good enough to make wingsecond, and R"hin trusted you, and you get along with Irianke, and--" Farideh could keep talking, but she stops and purses her lips. "Jocelyn is doing well. She has the advantage of having the lower caverns training under her belt from her turns as an assistant headwoman, but she doesn't want to accept the other parts. Dressing the part, looking the part, being a smiling, nodding spokeswoman for the Weyr--" She shrugs, summing up her indifferent thoughts in that single gesture. "Hands to yourself, for now," comes with an ill-restrained smile, "You should visit Jocelyn. I'm interested to hear your opinions on her."

"After his death," Jo says, "she hasn' wanted much to do with me. Surely ya've noticed the lack of...noise, from her weyr." It's stated matter-of-factly, couching veiled undecipherable tones. The knowing grin is there, though, for the hands-off comment, but she answers on Jocelyn, "Is that so? Maybe she'll grow into it when she graduates. Did'ja embrace all of this--" her head moves as if to encompass the Weyr, "--when ya were a weyrlin'? But perhaps, should I run into her, I'll be sure to check her out." Yeah, it sounds suggestive. It ''is'' Jo, but at least it also manages to sound earnest, too. "Maybe now that yer not carryin'," she adds, "I can swing by with some somethin' good to drink. Ya can even have Drex there. I do remember that he's a rum sort of guy."

In stark contrast to her previous expressions, now Farideh appears genuinely surprised to hear that. "Really? Why? I have been a little preoccupied, and I figured-- you'd just learned to be more ''discreet''." She ''would'' think that, wouldn't she!? "Jo," holds warning tones, but only ''light'', "I didn't want the responsibility. I don't mind the other parts, but I'm ''learning'' to just-- accept them. It won't stop. It won't get better." It's a sad vein, but the suggestion of ''drink'' brings about another smile. "I'd like that, as long as you don't start a fight. I've had my furniture broken ''once'', I don't need it to happen again."

"Why?" Jo pauses with a slight furrow of brows and lips thinning in the pause before slowly shaking her head. "Iri holds all her cards close to her chest. Even I couldn' peep a single one o' them. I dunno. Fucked up, somehow. It happens." The warning tones from Farideh earns an angling of the wingsecond towards her so that she could bump her black box against her hip before answering, "Ain' nothin' wrong with holdin' the reins to power, Kitten. Embrace it. Ya might find ya like it. Ya see how good it looks on Iri. It'll ''get'' better. For the weyrlin' one, too. Ya got me in yer corner, anyway if it gets too much." Pause. "I won' start a fight," she vows far too lightly. "I'll be good, 'specially since I know Drex can twist off by a hair. I tend to make love, not war. Let me know when yer free'n I'll stop on by. I could use a break from starin' at reports all night."

"I'm sorry," sounds sincere, at least. "I don't think I ''want'' to embrace it. I don't want-- I can lean on Irianke for now. Irianke is made of tougher stuff than other women. I don't think she's going anywhere anytime soon, and--" Farideh stops, bites her lip, but struggles through a smile, all the same. "I'll send for you, whenever things aren't go--" New? Crazy? Depressing? "It'll take with Drex and call for you, soon. It might just be a ladies' night. I have a couple bottles of Benden I got as gifts, and I haven't had enough of an excuse to drink them." Rearranging her clipboard, she takes a step to the side. "Don't try and slip away before then either."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, darlin'," Jo is easy in saying as she shakes her head again. "Ya might not want to embrace it ''now'', but, someday ya will. I'm sure of it. Ya gotta toughness in ya, too, ya know. Yer still that feisty feline from what I remember when." She steps back now, hoisting her box back up as she nods on plans and the future, the wingsecond grinning. "Got yerself a party," she says to it all, the wink shallow. "We'll set it up. I won' slip away, darlin', though I like ya missin' me. Catch'a around, right?" Well, she can only be good for so long.

The exasperation Farideh exhibits is all for show. "We'll see what the future holds. One day, we'll be old and worn out, and we'll revisit this conversation. I ''doubt'' I'll have much to show, but," she is willing to give the bluerider a beguiling grin regardless. "A party." Nod. "It's set. Clear skies until then." Her nose scrunches up as she steps farther out into the hallway, out of Jo's way.

"My confidence in ''you'' is just as strong as yers in ''me''," is all Jo says with a pointed look. "Clear skies, Kitten. Think of me'n blush that pretty blush." With that, she turns to drop one last thing into her box that she must've missed before she's heading out of the room towards the bowl beyond.
|Categories=General Logs
}}

Logs:Dealing In Secrets

2015-12-17T04:00:54Z

Jolie:

{{Log
|who=Farideh, Jo
|what=Farideh and Jo reunite!
|where=Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=24
|month=7
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.12.16
|quote="Bet Drex don' make ya blush like that, right?"
|mentions=Irianke, Drex, Ethran, Jocelyn, R'hin
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon farideh sweet.png, Icon jo bad.jpg
|log=With the weather being decent for the Reaches lately, it might make sense that the storesroom is one place in the Weyr being frequented by the Weyr's folk for the weather change. Among them is Jo, dressed in dark leathers as if she's either just got in or was preparing to depart the Weyr - rummaging through a box of supplies geared toward healers. She's snagged wraps for bruises and is in the process of looking over folded washrags and nearby bathing supplies.

"''That''," in a warm and amused voice, "is an odd assortment," says the goldrider watching from a few feet away, clipboard in hand and her head tipped to the side. "Are you planning to be an amateur healer on the side?" Farideh sashays forward, not masking the amusement that lights her face, and pulls her chin down to stare at the bluerider with an undeterred ''look''. "''Jo''. How are you? I've missed you," might as well be talking about the time of day or K'del's underroos.

At hearing Farideh's familiar voice, Jo turns to look back at her as she picks up another rag with her free hand. "I'm out of this stuff," is her simple answer, as if this is stuff that everyone should be getting. "I don' really like to harass the healers whenever I've gotten into a fit at a bar'n banged my fists up. I'm the do-it-yerself kinda girl." She sets the rag into the little black box she has to the side for collecting before she looks the goldrider over more thoroughly and adds, "Ya missed me, did'ja, Kitten? Ya knew where to come find me. I hear kisses make many a pain go away." Look who's back, maybe? Perhaps that is answer to how she is, too, since she's nodding towards her belly now and is noting aloud, "Looks like ya popped finally."

"I shouldn't be surprised, but-- ''still''? Fighting? Aren't you a big, bad wingsecond by now? It's good to know Mielline isn't curbing your hobbies," Farideh says, still with that laughter imbuing her voice. "''You'' try climbing a dragon when you're as big as a Hold. Perhaps if you'd stay still long enough for me to ''find'' you in walking distance." It's all a tease, but she does look pleased to hear that Jo is doing well given all the events that have happened in the last few months. "I'm gladder about it than you are. Glad to have my body back, glad to be-- more ''me'', again."

Returning to her perusals again, "It's not as often," Jo admits on the bar brawls with a slight shrug as she hunts. "I don' go out'n'bout with my knot on, so, as far as outside this place's concerned, I haven' changed." Hefting a clear and empty bottle as she turns, "Ya know," she notes casually, "if ya want me, ya have only but to have that queen of yers to call on Tac. Pretty sure Drex'll be put out, though, seein' as how I'm better lover. Is the kid with him? How's he been 'bout all this so far?"

"We wouldn't want your reputation being besmirched by a silly little knot," is clarified with a straight face, even. It's her talk about lovers that has Farideh's cheeks turning pink and her eyebrows knitting. "You're ''horrible''. Still as horrible as I remember, and ''no''. Ethran is in the nursery, where he's supposed to be. Drex is still Drex. Did you expect something different?" That she's being mum about her own feelings might be telling.

"I really appreciate that," Jo answers on her reputation with an equally straight face. "There's folks out there that wouldn' even ''talk'' to me if they see it. I'm glad ya get it." As for her being horrible, "Admit it. Ya missed me bein' ''horrible''. I miss makin' ya blush that pretty lil' color. Bet Drex don' make ya blush like that, right? Don' worry. I won' tell'im." There's a slight smirk to that as she continues her hunt through boxes. "Ethran, huh? Must be a cute kid. What 'bout ''you''?" Yeah, she doesn't miss much at all as she peers at Farideh's face. "Ya can' leave the Weyr?"

"There are advantages to the knot, too. You probably haven't even ''tried'' using it like your calling card," Farideh sighs, her expression full of fake-disappointment. "I ''might'' have, but I'll never admit to that in ''public''. None of it." It's a non-answer, delivered with a delightfully mischievous smile. "Babies change fast they say, but-- he kind of looks like me," which is a given, since she's the ''mom''. "No. Irianke wants to be conservative and give me the time I need to fully recover. I can't blame her, but-- I feel ''fine''. Roszadyth wants to ''fly'', together, as do I."

"Like?" Jo prompts on the uses of her knot. "Granted, some girls respond to me wearin' nothin' but the knot, but..." That lopsided grin only lingers to Farideh's answer that she won't admit in public, ticking off a nod and a, "Reckon there's ''much'' ya won' admit in public. Not just that. Does Drex want another baby?" she suddenly asks then. As to what Irianke says, there's a considering nod to that with a slight frown. "Ya should take advantage of it'n ''rest'', Kitten," she tells her. "Though, once it's all cleared, I believe I owe ya a trip since ya took me out. I won' forget that. Ya didn' have to do all that for me, ya know." It's sincere, even.

"You've ''said'' you aren't interested, ''but'', you could gained exclusivity to certain events. Places a regular rider couldn't go-- places rank gets you ''things'' and ''secrets'' and-- don't you ''deal'' in secrets?" Farideh gives a leisurely shrugs of her shoulder bearing her ''own'' fancy shoulder knot. "Another baby? ''This soon''? I don't know if he does. We haven't talked about it, but if he ''did''-- I'd tell him to take this clipboard and shove it. ''He'' can be pregnant the next time." Less amusedly, with a sullen pout, "I ''know''. Everyone keeps ''saying'', but that doesn't make it any less tedious. It's been more than ''four'' months since I've flown, last." She straightens and sighs, studying the other woman. "I didn't, but I wanted to. You were grieving. You should take care of yourself, even then. What would we do without you?"

Considering all the things listed that she could use her knot for, "I do deal in' secrets," Jo agrees, "but I'm still learnin' how to get around in this brave new world involvin' ranks'n'knots. Give me time, Kitten. Just need to gain some new perspectives." There's laughter on the answers about having another baby as she briefly considers the ceiling as she wonders aloud, "Drex, pregnant. He'd be a cranky one. I can see it now." She drops a few items into her little box before hefting the whole thing to prop against her stomach with both hands. "Shouldn' be much longer now," she says on Farideh being stuck in the Weyr. "I would talk to Irianke again, were I ya." The last draws a sober look from the wingsecond, her head tilting a bit as she studies the goldrider before her. "There'd be another bluerider with a pretty face'n a pretty smile that would be far less reckless'n far more responsible. That's what." In a heavy pause, "Seen a lot of death in my life, darlin'," she tells her grimly. "Even before comin' here. It never gets easier. Ya just gotta recover from it."

"I fully believe that you'll learn it fast. You've yet to disappoint me in and that, and before long you may be schooling ''me'' in-- everything, really." Farideh shifts to the side when Jo grabs the box up, as if anticipating her departure. "I think she was pretty firm about it. Two months and then we'd see. Two months of-- healing, ''bonding'' with Ethran." She loses all semblance of amusement at Jo's implication, and lifts her chin stubbornly. "No. Why do you think you're that easily replaced? I don't like that, not at all, and I'm not that easy to forget people I like."

"Ya have far too much confidence in me, Kitten," Jo notes on her learning it all fast. "But, I've managed to get ''this'' far without Mielline tossin' me out. How are things goin' with the new goldrider one? I reckon havin' her around now could pro'bly lessen some of the workload for ya, right?" And then ''bonding''. Jo snorts her amusement with that as she remarks, "I can' even imagine me gettin' knocked up. Any kid of mine'd be a terror." To Farideh's stubborn last, there's more of a genuine smile to peter out from her before she answers, "Ya see? Ya say sweet things like that'n expect me to behave all proper. Yer lucky my self control's intact these days, gentle Kitten."

"I have the right ''amount'' of confidence-- in you. You're good enough to make wingsecond, and R"hin trusted you, and you get along with Irianke, and--" Farideh could keep talking, but she stops and purses her lips. "Jocelyn is doing well. She has the advantage of having the lower caverns training under her belt from her turns as an assistant headwoman, but she doesn't want to accept the other parts. Dressing the part, looking the part, being a smiling, nodding spokeswoman for the Weyr--" She shrugs, summing up her indifferent thoughts in that single gesture. "Hands to yourself, for now," comes with an ill-restrained smile, "You should visit Jocelyn. I'm interested to hear your opinions on her."

"After his death," Jo says, "she hasn' wanted much to do with me. Surely ya've noticed the lack of...noise, from her weyr." It's stated matter-of-factly, couching veiled undecipherable tones. The knowing grin is there, though, for the hands-off comment, but she answers on Jocelyn, "Is that so? Maybe she'll grow into it when she graduates. Did'ja embrace all of this--" her head moves as if to encompass the Weyr, "--when ya were a weyrlin'? But perhaps, should I run into her, I'll be sure to check her out." Yeah, it sounds suggestive. It ''is'' Jo, but at least it also manages to sound earnest, too. "Maybe now that yer not carryin'," she adds, "I can swing by with some somethin' good to drink. Ya can even have Drex there. I do remember that he's a rum sort of guy."

In stark contrast to her previous expressions, now Farideh appears genuinely surprised to hear that. "Really? Why? I have been a little preoccupied, and I figured-- you'd just learned to be more ''discreet''." She ''would'' think that, wouldn't she!? "Jo," holds warning tones, but only ''light'', "I didn't want the responsibility. I don't mind the other parts, but I'm ''learning'' to just-- accept them. It won't stop. It won't get better." It's a sad vein, but the suggestion of ''drink'' brings about another smile. "I'd like that, as long as you don't start a fight. I've had my furniture broken ''once'', I don't need it to happen again."

"Why?" Jo pauses with a slight furrow of brows and lips thinning in the pause before slowly shaking her head. "Iri holds all her cards close to her chest. Even I couldn' peep a single one o' them. I dunno. Fucked up, somehow. It happens." The warning tones from Farideh earns an angling of the wingsecond towards her so that she could bump her black box against her hip before answering, "Ain' nothin' wrong with holdin' the reins to power, Kitten. Embrace it. Ya might find ya like it. Ya see how good it looks on Iri. It'll ''get'' better. For the weyrlin' one, too. Ya got me in yer corner, anyway if it gets too much." Pause. "I won' start a fight," she vows far too lightly. "I'll be good, 'specially since I know Drex can twist off by a hair. I tend to make love, not war. Let me know when yer free'n I'll stop on by. I could use a break from starin' at reports all night."

"I'm sorry," sounds sincere, at least. "I don't think I ''want'' to embrace it. I don't want-- I can lean on Irianke for now. Irianke is made of tougher stuff than other women. I don't think she's going anywhere anytime soon, and--" Farideh stops, bites her lip, but struggles through a smile, all the same. "I'll send for you, whenever things aren't go--" New? Crazy? Depressing? "It'll take with Drex and call for you, soon. It might just be a ladies' night. I have a couple bottles of Benden I got as gifts, and I haven't had enough of an excuse to drink them." Rearranging her clipboard, she takes a step to the side. "Don't try and slip away before then either."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, darlin'," Jo is easy in saying as she shakes her head again. "Ya might not want to embrace it ''now'', but, someday ya will. I'm sure of it. Ya gotta toughness in ya, too, ya know. Yer still that feisty feline from what I remember when." She steps back now, hoisting her box back up as she nods on plans and the future, the wingsecond grinning. "Got yerself a party," she says to it all, the wink shallow. "We'll set it up. I won' slip away, darlin', though I like ya missin' me. Catch'a around, right?" Well, she can only be good for so long.

The exasperation Farideh exhibits is all for show. "We'll see what the future holds. One day, we'll be old and worn out, and we'll revisit this conversation. I ''doubt'' I'll have much to show, but," she is willing to give the bluerider a beguiling grin regardless. "A party." Nod. "It's set. Clear skies until then." Her nose scrunches up as she steps farther out into the hallway, out of Jo's way.

"My confidence in ''you'' is just as strong as yers in ''me''," is all Jo says with a pointed look. "Clear skies, Kitten. Think of me'n blush that pretty blush." With that, she turns to drop one last thing into her box that she must've missed before she's heading out of the room towards the bowl beyond.
|Categories=General Logs
}}

Logs:The Opportunities That Present Themselves

2015-12-14T01:29:55Z

Jolie:

{{Log
|who=Jo, V'ret,
|what=Jo joints V'ret to warm up his new weyr.
|where=The Women-Watching Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=14
|month=7
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.12.13
|quote=Ambitious bronzeriders don' have a choice in the matter.
|mentions=Farideh, Irianke, Jocelyn, Lys, Mielline, Taikrin, T'gar
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon V'ret sitting.jpg, Icon jo civillized.jpg
|log=Thankfully for any arrivals, Zoth makes no attempt to lounge out there on his brand new ledge. He's taken up a post there, this evening, watchful, one might say looming. Perhaps he's just keeping an eye on the comings and going of the queens and taking notes for the future, for the sake of V'ret's ambitions? Perhaps. He was at least willing to relay the invitation, but he isn't chatty beyond that. Come over, have a drink? V'ret is waiting inside. Bottle on the table, two glasses, deck of cards. The important things in life. Well, perhaps not so much waiting; he's standing on a chair, fiddling with the hooks holding the hanging that covers the entry. No weyrling's weyr is ever going to arrive in perfect repair, right?

It's possible that Jo's been taking her wingsecond duties serious enough that she's been missing in action more often than not. Other than the occasional check up from her bronze fire lizard (if both Zoth and Asaroth had been noticing a fire lizard blinking in and out in their vicinities), the bluerider is at least not around, breathing down the bronze weyrlings' backs. So, when an invitation comes along, Tacuseth sends back to Zoth that they'll be along. The bluepair arrives with no fanfare, landing long enough to drop Jo off before he launches back in the sky and towards the feeding grounds. "Nice place," is her greeting with the hanging in front of her before the entryway - so she must mean the ledge she's on. "Need help?"

"I got it." And indeed he does, climbing down and pulling the hanging back; now it moves properly out of the way. Presumably this is new. "Just a few things a bit quirky, but it's a nice place." Then V'ret is gesturing her in. None of it's remarkable, of course, nothing of shocking beauty and space is surely at a premium, but he's beaming to beat all. "Just moved my stuff up this morning before lunch. And I thought, who better to have over than the most delightful of my cousins." Broad grin.

With the hanging being pulled back, Jo steps back briefly enough to peer into the place before stepping in. "Bet ya never have a big space like ''this'' before," she says as she looks around, nodding her approval. "That places we come from. Yer cousin approves." There's a slight smirk as she turns to face V'ret, pulling free a drawstring bag of contents clinking inside as she hefts it before she tosses it in his direction to catch. "Lil' housewarmin' for ya," is her words for it.

"This will be the first proper night I've ever spent without someone else in the same room, presuming you don't count a few times in the caverns where I managed to stay up until my compatriots were already up and gone." The bag is set on the table without yet inspecting its contents. V'ret turns to the bottle, to pouring, and generously. Not that it's the best whiskey on Pern, but quantity can hopefully make up for the absence of quality.

"How does it feel, this lil' more bit of freedom?" Jo asks now as she moves toward the table where the drinks are set up. "I remember when I got my weyr. One of the best feelin's in the world, darlin'. Barely invited folks over for the first few months 'cause I wanted to indulged the feelin' of bein' in a space where it was just me. Ain' never had that before then." She nods to the cup in thanks.

Once he's taken a seat, V'ret has a sip from his own glass but then turns his attention to emptying the pouch's contents into his hand. Bad form, perhaps, to inspect such a gift, but so what? "I like the space to myself. Even if it's small." Small is precisely what he's used to in his private spaces, but those are precisely that: not even Jo gets to be privy to everything. "But wouldn't want it to be just me, not all the time. Got my eye on a girl. Hoping she'll like it, even if her new place is prettier."

Sitting, "Enough marks to get ya somethin' good," Jo explains the weyrwarming gift with a gesture. "A ridin' jacket. Better straps. Shit, ya can even spend it all on booze'n women if ya wanted. It's yers. Got yer eye on a girl." This last gets repeated with a lift of one brow as she settles back in the chair and takes a full drink. "Space is space, darlin', no matter the size of it. What's this 'bout a girl? Lookin' to be distracted already?" with amusement.

Even despite the explanation, V'ret seems to need to count everything out before he puts all the marks back away. "Thanks. Means a lot to me." Means, it seems like, more than a jacket would, anyway. He tucks the pouch away in his pocket. "She's friends with Jocelyn. And Farideh." Ticking off on his fingers, actually. "And Irianke, I think, or she worked for her, anyway. I figure, if I'm not going to get anywhere with any of them, maybe this is at least... useful. Silver thread, too."

Nodding, "There'll be more where that comes from, when yer ready," is all Jo says on those marks with a grin. Moving on to the girl, she listens in silence, studying the young man before her as he speaks before she takes a drink and briefly sets the cup down. "Not goin' to....yer in no position to fully get anywhere with either of them yet, darlin'. Rat'n ya both. Once yer'n Zoth are free to Between, the world is yers. That means the weyrwomen could be, too. Ya think ya can use this girl 'cause of her connections, or is she a daliance? Or more?" Pause. "I heard ya got Silver Thread, too," she notes, pleased. "I imagine yer takin' a hide from Rat's book in not keepin' off their radar?"

"Okay. Let me re-phrase. I have no interest in sleeping with a woman my mother's age, I have no interest in sleeping with a woman who belongs to a friend of mine, and I would not do Jocelyn with another man's dick." Again, the ticking. But V'ret at least seems amused by the notion. "Whatever happens in a flight might happen in a flight, but if I'm to have influence outside of hoping to be Weyrleader someday, somewhere, I have to make plans for that. Besides. She's pretty." Any other reasoning, he keeps firmly under his nonexistent hat, after he takes another long drink. "Didn't ask for the silver, though. Just happened. I'm only taking advantage of the opportunities that present themselves."

The way V'ret phrases it has Jo laughing out loud. "Ya'll use another man's dick, or yer own if ya wanna be Weyrleader someday," she tells him, trying to keep most of the laughter in and clearly failing. "Ambitious bronzeriders don' have a choice in the matter. Anyway, we'll have to agree to disagree on our Weyrwomen. If only Tac was bronze'n I were a man." She says it as if she would know. As for other women, she snorts on the mystery girl being pretty before she remarks, "It's a trap, darlin'. The pretty ones always are. Well, as long as she don' trap yer attentions too much, who ya trap yer dick in's yer business. How's that bronze of yers? Ain' much of a talker, ain' he? I ain' mad 'bout the silver thread," she tells him as she drinks. "T'gar seems to think this is a ''good'' thing for y'all. I'm willin' to watch'n see."

"If your dragon was a bronze, you probably would have never needed me. Or Rat." There's a slightly disgruntled hint in the last, as though the duplication does not sit particularly well, but V'ret drowns the issue in his drink. "Zoth is well. We talk plenty to each other; I don't think he finds anyone else's company particularly compelling. He'll do a far better job of letting me know if I've let a woman get too much of my attention than anyone, I'm sure. Might turn out to be nothing, anyway. Last pretty girl turned out to be nothing."

"Our uncle would've wanted as many fishin' poles in the water that the lake could handle," Jo counters with a slight smirk. "Just as well. Competition's healthy." Perhaps that's to the disgruntled hint she had detected, the little smile playing on her lips could be any indication. Lightly, "Then there's that Weyrsecond position's no one's managed to land," she adds, leaning back. "A position just as powerful. It's good that Zoth'n ya get along. Gainin' that knot's gonna take teamwork. Rat still struggles with that, I've been told." She drains her cup then and angles it in an aim for a refill as she says on girls, "I've a lot to say on pretty girls, darlin'. Yer the clever sort to not need me tellin' such. I look forward to havin' ya flyin' with us soon. Kait, M'ron'n me."

"You in Snowdrift, Kaitlin and M'ron in Equinox--you intend to keep us spread out?" V'ret is courteous enough to pour again, and generously, and refreshes his own while he's at it. "Weyrsecond seems like a long shot in the short term, but in the long, well. In the meantime, I'm trying to comport myself well enough to make good impressions. Just not so well as to be worth remarking on. Anyway, it's all rather a lot of recordkeeping and meetings, it seems like, at this stage. Can't say being wingsecond would seem terribly appealing if it didn't give me more time with my wingleader."

"Should I get to wingleader, the spreadin' out will change," Jo tells him with a knowing look. Once her cup is filled with a nod of thanks, "I'd like to have all of us in lucrative positions one day," she reveals to him as she drinks. "Meetings. Do ya get in with the Weyrleader? ''Your'' wingleader...." Yeah, she caught that. There's a look of anticipation on her face as she suspends that cup from her lips.

"Not to have had any conversations with him of any significance." V'ret cannot quite manage to sound totally regretful of this. Apparently the sacrifices involved in considering sleeping with attractive women, even if he elects not to attempt it, are different than the sacrifices involved in having to hang around with guys he clearly doesn't consider very interesting. "Anyway. My wingleader, for the month, at least. I suppose it's a bit of nepotism, her asking me, but it's not like I'm not working for it. We just wouldn't have any time together if I didn't." And he's happy under these circumstances to leave the implication of what that time together involves be, accurate or not.

"Just bein' involved'n listenin' to his meetins'," Jo clarifies with a shake of her head. "Did'ja learn anythin'?" Amusement colors her tone on his answer to his wingleader, what more he reveals drawing a wry, "Well, I reckon ya know what yer doin', Ev. I ain' one of those that'll dog yer every step. I have plans for ya. For Rat. So long's ya stay in one piece by graduation." It's said likely to all revealed as she takes a lingering look about his weyr once more. "I still expect to be swimmin' in Benden white, darlin'. Me'n ya."

"You and me," and V'ret raises a toast to this notion. "I'm not intending to graduate in multiple pieces, anyway. Rat, I can't speak to. My dragon keeps his teeth to their intended targets." Point of pride, there. Civilized! "I do have a bath here, but it's nowhere near large enough for swimming purposes. Somehow I think I can do better than that. Just... need a bit of time, that's all." And he smiles. Relaxed, comfortable in a way he certainly wasn't during all those sober months of weyrlinghood.

Jo toasts to that, her smile opening up in a way it hasn't in months. "I have my trust in ya, Ev," she admits with a nod. "It's why I want ya take care of yerself. This silver thread thing might be a good thing after all. Also, I want ya to let me know when Zoth'n ya are cleared for Between. There's a place I wanna take ya to see. It's far, though. I need to make sure yer ain' dyin' on her gettin' there." That she's proud of his progress since Impressing is evident - like a proud mama. She look exasperated when Rat's name is brought up, the wingsecond frowning as she says, "He hasn' been as open to any of us like ''you'' have," she says. "Him, I'm still not sure 'bout. I don' think he'll betray any of us, but, it's obvious to me that he's on his own agenda than our family. That concerns me, but, as long as his agenda doesn' fuck over ours....."

This requires a few moments of thinking, some staring into his glass. "I feel closer to you, now, than I do anyone back home," V'ret admits, but carefully. Always carefully. "But I don't see any reason for interests here not to align with their interests. I don't see any reason why what's good for us shouldn't also be good for them." As to who any such arrangement should be better for, of course, maybe that's an open question, but not one he's going to speak aloud, certainly. "But it all could take a lifetime. Rushing isn't going to get us anywhere."

Listening, Jo lingers on the remaining liquor in her cup, only drinking it down towards the end. "I want y'all to do well here as well as back in Greenfields," she says, seeming to agree. "I ain' blockin' y'all from havin' yer goals. Shit, I have my own apart from what we do here'n there. I don' want y'all to forget yer loyalties as well. If it ain' with us, the sooner we know, the better. Like with what happened with Taikrin'n the family back home. S'all I'm sayin'. Just don' forget us." She lifts her cup to that and takes another drink. Speaking of, though, "Does home know yer here?" she asks now.

"I have... half-siblings, but we were never close. I'm not even sure they'd remember me." V'ret waves off the concern, freshens his drink again, sits back. "My parents are both long gone." In neither case is that true, of course, but it's an old and familiar lie that flows smoothly from the tongue. "This is where I'm supposed to be, not Crom, not Greenfields. They'll have their own lives. If I manage to do really well for myself financially, I'll send something back for them, but not anywhere near there yet."

"Family of the born-with type ''do'' make things complicated," Jo agrees, seeming to take his lie on his parents in stride. "I do believe ya belong here, the way ya were able to take to this place quickly'n I like that yer lookin' at the future. That kind of thinkin' is what I want to cultivate out of us here in the Weyr." Draining her cup, "Someday, we'll talk more of yer plans'n things ya wanna do once yer able to. Have ya been studyin' the wings? Any that stick out for ya that Zoth'n ya might prefer gettin' tapped into?"

This answer takes no thought at all: "I wanted Iceberg. I haven't gotten very far yet with wanting any of the others, now that there's no Iceberg." V'ret even sighs, as he has another drink. "Rest of the wingleaders, I see them giving their reports, you know? But I don't know any of them well enough to have any idea if we'll get on."

Nodding, "With H'vier dyin', I saw Iceberg shuttin' down comin'," Jo says grimly. "With other wings shuttin' down, too. Have ya looked into Glacier? Taikrin ain' all that bad. Mielline in Snowdrift ain' either'n that's not from me bein' biased on both. Then there's Taiga if ya wanna get close to the Weyrleader. Well, somethin' to think 'bout. If I get to wingleader myself, ya know I'll be anglin' for ya, even if yer already in a wing."

"Do you think it's likely? You getting a wing. Not that I mind," V'ret adds hastily, sitting forward now, "just that I don't want to get too settled if it's going to mean moving again." A grin, for that. "I'll be thinking about it, I'm sure, more as I get more time. Tonight, I've still got work to do before bed. But I thought we should have time enough to catch up."

"If it happens at all, I doubt it would be anytime soon," Jo answers on her making wingleader. "Even I'll admit that I've still gotta lot to learn. Didn' realize how much work went into all of it when yer just a wingrider. Might suit ya, too, if yer into the work that comes with it. Somethin' to think 'bout anyway. The path yer on, I've gotta feelin' ya'll get a lot of opportunities yer way." She drains her cup again at the mention of work, the wingsecond getting to her feet as she adds, "I don' wanna keep ya. I'm glad ya called. Now that ya can fly, stop by my weyr sometime. Even in Kait'n M'ron's, they like to have card games in the evenins'. Ya'll let me know if ya need anythin', right?" for she's stepping away from the table and moving back towards the ledge where Tacuseth lands.
|Categories=General Logs
}}

T'gar

2015-12-13T06:39:44Z

Jolie:

{{ProfileTabs
|picture=Rategar-Main.jpg
|mother=Rielle (Renegade)
|father=Tregar (Renegade)
|siblings=Two brothers (unknown to him)
|friends=L'rok
|body==== Description ===
At 6 ft 3, Rat is a tall man of lean muscle. It's a compact build that looks like it has seen its share of grueling labor, from the nose that looks forever broken at an angle to calluses on his hands. He has slate blue eyes, a sharp jaw and usually keeps his chin halfway shaved over. While his nose is what's the most notable thing about him, his build and the commanding way he walks would be the second most notable thing. There's an overall roughness about him - as if he's daring someone to mess with him.

He wears a black woven shirt underneath beaten-down brown coat, torn in some places. His breeches are a dark grey, complimented with matching wherhide boots. He wears no sort of accessories.

== WYSK ==
* Goes by Rat.
* Works in the stables and it seems like he's not a stranger to heavy work.
* Claims he's from Bitra with an accent to boot. Sometimes that accents changes to one from Crom.
* His nose looks like it's been broken many times.
* Has a story for everything. Really.
* Has a face of an asshole. Probably is one.
*''' Inspiration:''' Think of Gossip Girl's '''Chuck Bass''', only more "jock-like" and less richly-made. Don't judge me.

=History=
== "His" story (the story he tells everyone) ==
* He's related to Lord Bitra, distantly.
* Got unfairly kicked out of the smithcrafthall for a crime he didn't commit. The ones that did are still there.
* Has a sweetheart named Rissy located in some minor cothold in Crom. He cheats on her often. What she doesn't know won't hurt her.
* Broke his nose by being oh-so clumsy. It's a quirk of his. You may catch him at it one day.
* Grew up in Bitra working with runners (hence the build). His father owned a stable.
* he's at the Weyr visiting dragonrider friends that hail from Bitra. If you don't believe him, talk to L'rok.
* He knits. He swears the ladies dig it.

== The Real Deal ==
* Born to holdless renegade parents in the Crom area. Has two unknown brothers. Currently has no connection to them.
* Has an aunt on his mother's side that he stayed with growing up. She and her own family live in Crom Hold.
* Was eventually banned from Crom Hold for fighting too much (and his temper), despite his aunt's efforts to overturn it.
* Is known in certain circles to fight regularly in the rings to get by.
* Through fighting, he picked up how to mimic certain accents. Some say his Bitran accent is flawless. He uses his accents as part of his disguise as he moves around the Reaches area.
* Also made a living being a hired thug.
* Served 2 years in the Crom mines for deadly assault with his fists. Banned from the rings under threat of serving a longer sentence.
* Found Greenfields and was taken in by the age of 20, freshly out from the mines. Lanvec decided quickly his talents would have better use serving at High Reaches Weyr a turn later.
* Secured his own ride to High Reaches Weyr through brownrider L'rok - an old Bitran buddy he met turns ago while fighting. It was evidently as a message to Greenfields that he does things ''his'' way, not theirs.
* Currently has only a slight connection to Jo's Greenfields crew. They're aware of each other, but ''wary'' of each other.

= Relationships =

'''Old Family'''

* '''Aunt Kayla:''' "I know you did all you could for me, despite everything. I know you still believe in me. I wish I could be the man you always said you'd see in me. But I'm not him." 

'''New Family'''

* '''Lanvec:''' "I'll call you 'boss', but don't mistake my gratitude for servitude. I ain't like these other bulbs you have running around for you." 
* [[Taikrin]]: "Big, Baddie Taikrin. Heh, yeah, I've heard alllll about you. How the mighty have fallen, eh? I'll make sure I won't make the same mistakes YOU did." 
* [[Jo]]: "Guess you're the one I've gotta kow-tow to around here. Grow a dick first." 

'''Allies'''

* '''L'rok:''' "Old friend from my cage days. Good to see you've made it big. I'm making sure I rise, too." 

'''Fellow Weyrlings'''

*[[Ellerey]]: "We're the only ones whose dragons are....." 
*[[Jocelyn]]: "Frigid. Wonder what a smile on you looks like." 
*[[N'klas]]: "Weyrleader's kid. You're alright with me." 
*[[L'ton]]: "Another bronzerider." 
*[[Lys]]: "Girl hiding love letters on cliffs. What else are you hiding?" 
*[[Pia]]: "Young. Far too bubbly." 
*[[S'rin]]: "You don't rock the boat." 
*[[Silva]]: "Too young." 
*[[Torlynna]]: "Are you as sharp as you appear?" 
*[[V'ret]]: "We made it. Now the real fun begins." 

'''Others'''

*[[H'vier]]: "Sorry you died, man. You seemed alright." 
*[[Edyis]]: "Curious brownrider. Nice." 
*[[Quinlys]]: "Hot redhead. Weyrlingmaster, too? I could be your best student." 
*[[Farideh]]: "Weyrwoman. You're not as prickly as you think you are." 
*[[Faryn]]: "Hot. Wish you hadn't left." 
*[[Jadzia]]: "Hot, nice and can kiss." 
*[[Ulyana]]: "Your dragon...Well, I'm interested in what you've got to say." 

=Logs =

{{NewLogs |name=Rategar}}

=Mentions=
{{#ifexist: Rategar/Mentions | {{:Rategar/Mentions}} | }}

=Icons=
{{Icons}}
|birthplace=Crom Area (Holdless)
|playedby=Luke Rockhold
}}
{{Character-Categories
|Categories=Convicts, High Reaches Area, Crom, High Reaches Weyr, Bitra Hold
}}

Logs talk:Real

2015-12-07T11:07:15Z

Jolie: Comment provided by Jo - via ArticleComments extension

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

==Jo (03:07, 7 December 2015 (PST)) said... ==

Loving this dynamic right here! Awesome, guys~