Difference between revisions of "Logs:Shouldn't"

The day before the turnover festivities has been a busy one, despite sporadic snowfall and increasingly frigid winds. Workers have been diligently setting up the poles needed for the tents, finishing off the fire pits, and setting out any decorations that can withstand the force of the weather. But V'ros, he's not helping. He's been sitting on one of the benches on the garden patio ledge, watching from a distance, huddled within the warm-enough confines of his jacket and other layers. A few riders have seen fit to help, along with their dragon halves, but Zmeyth is no where to be seen and the weyrling looks less than thrilled with just watching the preparations take place. His face is purposefully blank, dark eyes riveted to the movements of the weyrfolk on the far side of the bowl.

One can be sure that Tacuseth's rider is nowhere in the mix of helping out with the festivities, being that those with the lingering shadowed rumors of convictstock would usually be skulking where they belong. The convict rider is out, however, encased in her black leathers with her stringy hair in its usual disarray as she takes a leisurely stroll into the patio ledge with a flask in hand. Jo is studious, at least, in watching the workers at work, and one might notice her gaze lingering on a few backsides or chests. She doesn't seem to be hiding that fact, either. Nope.

His blank stare might lend itself towards suggesting the weyrling is zoned out to the world and lost in his own thoughts; contrary to that, his focus shifts abruptly to the newcomer on the ledge. He seems keenly aware of their differences, or maybe he's always made increasingly uncomfortable by social situations. V'ros scoots back in his seat, drawing his legs - previously sprawled out - close to the bench. Mild anxiety strains his face, causing the rapid darting of his eyes, from the bluerider, back to the tent poles, and then back to Jo.

Something (or someone) amongst the workers get Jo to pause, but then after only a moment the bluerider turns to look for a place to sit....and why not choose the same bench as the one looking uncomfortable since she arrived? She drops paces away from the weyrling, and it's safe to say that she at least is familiar with who the weyrlings were in the Weyr since she greets immediately with, "Aren'cha suppose to be helpin' out or somethin'?"

Giving the bluerider space is a good idea, or V'ros could just be that uncomfortable that he scoots closer to the opposite side. He sits very still, as if trying not to draw attention to himself. "M-ma'am?" he pipes up in response, wide brown eyes seeking out Jo to the side. "We.. Quinlys didn't say we had to. It's.. it's optional." But he looks uncertain of the facts now that the question has been brought up.

Snorting, "Not a ma'am, darlin'," Jo waves that off, "but, I know ya gotta play that game. We all did. Quinlys still runnin' things, huh, errr...?" Yeah, she doesn't really know his name it seems. She lifts a brow his way in askance before adding, "Most folks here enjoy takin' up free labor." As in, questioning the optional part, in her voice.

"V'ros, Zmeyth's," he says quietly, "Quinlys, yeah, she's.. and Telavi and J'vain." He tugs on the front of his wool cap, pulling it lower over his forehead like it could hide his identity from the bluerider. Clearing his throat, he shrugs and stares morosely out at the workers struggling with the turnover decorations. "We're busy.. exercises, drills, deliveries, shadowing." He tries not to look at Jo, but his eyes nervously dart back to her every few seconds.

"V'ros," Jo echoes the name with a nod, leaning back. "Yeah, I know about Tela. J'vain's still around, too? Shit. Guess he's better than I'zech, maybe." Even with him pulling down his wool cap, the convict rider's got a shrewd enough eye that she's keeping right on him. Or through him. Whichever is more uncomfortable for the weyrling. She has no problem staring him down. To his last, though, there's a snort and a, "Yeah, okay, but yer ain' doin' any of that now, are ya? What is yer dragon, a bronze? Brown?" If he has on a shoulderknot, it seems she's not bothering to look at it.

"V'ros," he says, again, in affirmation, but finally turns puzzled eyes and a frown back on the bluerider. "He's.. a brown." It's there, clearly written on his face, that he's confused about why that even matters right now. "I'm just taking.. a break. I have elevator duty soon." He's speaking in a low murmur, back to the cowed version of himself - eyes briefly lift to the cloud-covered sun, then down to the ground, where his boots nudge the snow. "Why aren't you helping?" muttered, almost under his breath, in a somewhat brave, mostly stupid, comment to Jo.

Yeah, it's an obvious thing that Jo's an eccentric one, so even though she asked about his dragon, the only reason she gives for is a, "Huh. Guess that makes sense," with no further explanation. When he asks about her, whether the mutter was intended as a question or not, the bluerider has a too-bright grin on her face as she answers back with, "Oh, me? I help by stayin' outta the way. It's my way of givin' back, see," and with a hand briefly pressing to her chest, she looks quite solemn about it. It might be ruined by the flask she's holding.

"What makes sense?" the weyrling asks, brows knitting; if there is a slight intended in the bluerider's words, he's not caught on yet, but continues to look confused. "You look like..' V'ros flushes instantly and ducks his head into his jacket, shrugging off his original statement. "You are probably capable - enough." He seems to be doubting her questionable 'helping' skills.

"Why a brown would choose ya, darlin'," Jo states in a tone that suggest it's obvious at least to her. "Ya seem the cautious sort. Hesitant." But then she moves on when V'ros comments on her giving back, and the bluerider seems to watch his flushed expression with open interest as he speaks. There's a low rumble of laughter coming from her at the end and the woman flips out a small knife from one of her jacket pockets with one hand in the process. Absently flipping and catching it in the dim light, "Capable," she agrees finally with something said, "but not willin'. Us 'bad rep' types aren' really all that inclined. I help out in other ways, darlin'. It's either that or go back to the sort of task that I'm used to." She even looks solemn about this, of course, seeming to will the weyrling to ask her about those tasks.

Hesitancy, definitely. V'ros takes a moment to mull that over, his brows still pulled together as he thinks. He is only distracted from his introspection when he catches a glint of something sharp out of the corner of his eye - that knife. His skin pales and he shrinks back against the bench, staring openly. "I.. I don't.. okay.. you're not.. you shouldn't.. maybe.." A shaky hand reaches to tug the collar of his jacket higher; more protection from.. stabbings? "Wh.. wh.. what kind of things?"

"Shouldn' what?" Jo is completely oblivious (or at least appears that way) as she plays the flip-and-catch game one-handed. She's even casting a glance about them, looking like for all the world as though this was completely normal behavior. She finally glances the weyrling's way when he asks the last, catching the hilt of the knife midair at the end of it before she answers, "In what ways I help out, or in what sort of things I'm used to?" Tone is innocent. To anyone savvy at picking up on such cues, they could probably tell that she's playing with him - and is not even bothering to hide it.

"N-n-nothing." Unfortunately for this obtuse weyrling, picking up on things isn't his strong suit, and that's how they get into this knife-tossing, weyrling-gaping situation. "B.. both? ..Either? ..no, I.." V'ros looks nervously from the bluerider's face to her hand that's juggling the knife; he's plainly distressed by her behavior, and after a while doesn't bother trying to look at her, just her shiny instrument of pain.

The smile grows, and Jo seems to be letting this tension linger on just a bit longer. Quiet as the weyrling falls deeper, it's when his gaze remains on her flipping knife that she catches it in midair and holds it up. "Not bad, isn' it?" she comments on the things, her tone an easy one. "Got it off some trader. One of my best nicks. I ain' gonna hurt ya, darlin'," she adds the last as if the very thought had just occurred to her, her lopsided grin disarming-looking. "If that's what I wanted, ya'd be hurt by now. Yer a skittish youngun, aren'cha?" As she pockets the knife, she's looking him up and down with open (and maybe even leery) appraisal. "Best ya stay away from me then, eh? I've been known to corrupt the innocents of the Weyr." A wink is given to him then before straightening up into a full body stretch, her shirt riding up to reveal small scars on her tanned skin. "Ya should get yerself a drink to calm those nerves," she adds in his direction in her amusement, stepping back and looking like she was about to depart.

"Ye..yeah." A loud gulp is followed by the weyrling's eyes sliding back up to Jo's face. "O-okay." V'ros openly flinches, leaning to the side when she starts stretching and standing, at contrast to his own words mere moments before. "Yeah.. I'll.. do that.. yeah." He's not taking his eyes off the bluerider ere she changes her mind - and who wouldn't, with the ridiculous way he's hugging the side of the bench and eyeballing Jo.

Jo seems certainly entertained by V'ros's behavior, but it looks like the woman does seem to remember that she has a destination to head on to after all. Hands coming down and slapping her sides as if she had come to some sort of decision, she cast one amused glance in his direction before she turns and starts to head off. In her wake, there's that raspy laugh and a wry, "Keep outta trouble, lil' weyrlin'. Or, I'll be seein' ya." Around, maybe? It's an ominous statement that's never finished since she's gone.