Difference between revisions of "Logs:Things that go bump in the night"

Rasavyth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr What a spectacular weyr! Its large ledge boasts a pair of perfect hollows, room enough for a pair of bronzes, and just inside the entrance are a series of shelves cut into the stone, ideal for displaying small knickknacks and keeping everything organized.

Questionably Painted Weyr

At the back of the weyr the cavern branches into two good-sized back rooms with a double-sided fireplace occupying the wall they share. The weyr even comes already decorated. It has an ornately carved bed and press in both of the rooms; the front area offers a polished rectangular table and six matching chairs, a set-up perfect for entertaining. Rugs are scattered across the floor, their colors bright and cheery to match the walls.

But oh, those walls! Some artistic hand has painted mural on every wall, filled with bright colors and bordered by mixed fruits and vegetables. The mildest murals are filled with exuberant scenes of dancing people, but most of them are of a more... questionable nature. They're certainly not the sort of thing any concerned parent would want their children to see, though they give the weyr a definite party atmosphere.

These days, with the added duties of the Silver Thread program, K'zin doesn't get home until late o'clock. Late o'clock has come and gone and sharding late o'clock has arrived. Sharding late o'clock finds K'zin abed, sprawled across the large bed in one of the bedrooms, a quilt in 'Reaches and bronzen colors hugged to his chest and bunched in such a way that it leaves his toes exposed. It's pretty cozy in here, with the hearth fire still flickering low. So he must not have gone to bed all that long ago, but he's out now. Rasavyth, for his part, is curled up in his couch, snoozing. While rider will certainly remain oblivious until something specific wakes him, Rasavyth is very aware and wakes whenever someone trespasses into his domain.

How did Jo know where K'zin's weyr was located? It's not something she's going to reveal, but the older blue pair is suddenly there on that ledge with Tacuseth sending a blast of hot winds for a greeting. « We're visitin! » There's no questioning, and no invitations needed for them, apparently. Sharding late o'clock is the time Jo tends to make her calls, so her boots are hitting the ledge as she dismounts, still in her full black leathers and riding gear. She at least pauses to dump her goggles and helmet in the attached sack on Tacuseth's side, pulling out dark blue bottle in exchange before she clicks her tongue in greeting towards the young bronze on her way in. She manages to get close to a sleeping weyrling until the walls stop her in her tracks. Questionable murals surround her, the bluerider's expression possibly being described as awe. She's awed. Then, she dumps the bottle on the table, perhaps to wake its occupant up.

Awareness is like the snap of a trap, swift and decisive as the blue's winds sweep into his mind. Some dragons might be grumpy. Rasavyth, even, might be one of those, but this is Tacuseth and that means a much missed friend. Oozy banners flip in the onslaught of wind, already reflecting the blue's mind and a low cheer coming from unseen crowd. « Welcome! » The tenor comes, sounding sleep-rumpled but pleased as he stretches in his hollow before climbing out to rumble a greeting to the blue. « He sleeps. Would she like me to wake him? » It seems to Rasavyth that it would be good manners to be conscious to entertain visitors, but he's willing to entertain the possibility that Tacuseth's Jo might have other ideas, says the sense of the touch, more than the words. The he in question must be a hard sleeper, or perhaps whomever it was that had this weyr last designed it just so that sounds from the huge outer room wouldn't be heard in the two rear bedrooms, or not well.

Bolstering up that cheering crowd, « She likes when they sleep, » Tacuseth sounds amused, is if this is something that they both do often: land on random ledges and startle its sleeping occupants.

As for Jo, once she tears her gaze away from the murals surrounding her, she cases the weyr until she does find its occupant, sans bottle. There's a slight lopsided grin as she just stands there for a moment and watches K'zin in a compromising state before she creeps further into the bedroom and stops right at the foot of the bed. One used to making an entrance - even a late night one - the convict rider steps over to one side of the bed and drops right into to lay prone, right next to him as she shrugs off her jacket and tosses it to the ground. In her tank, revealing scars all along her arms, she waits a good while laying in bed next to him until she suddenly leans over and gives K'zin a good shoulder nudge. Then as loud as she can in order to jar him awake, "Dragon-shit, ya overslept! Yer LATE!!" Her proximity to him in bed is probably just as jarring, too.

« As she likes. » Rasavyth's mental yawn rushes out of him with a ruffle of banners, echoed by a physical one as well. He knows (or at least suspect enough to let this go on) that Tacuseth's wouldn't harm K'zin. While it's true that Rasavyth's connection with K'zin has deepened and strengthened, who doesn't love a good laugh? Certainly not Rasavyth. This has the trademarks of one all over it.

As such, K'zin sleeps on, blissfully unaware of the impending torture. When he becomes aware, the best word to describe his moments of wake is spastic. His movement suddenly up and falling off the side of the bed then on his feet a moment later is notable for it's grace, felinic in nature, but bewildered eyes search for first, what woke him, and second, what was so sharding close His hair flattened and flying in every direction at once. He wears only a pair of black sleeping pants, but naught else. His bare, muscular torso by comparison is relatively blemish-free, though his forearms have their share of old burn marks (surely craft related), but his body has not seen the pain Jo's has. He's not fully upright as he finds his feet, sort of crouched with his arms out to either side, legs spread too wide to be a stable stance. Both of the things he was looking for are found in the same place. "Jo! What the fuck?!" This is demanded, but not in anger just in an emphatic expression of exactly the words he spoke: what the fuck?! Possibly the anger will yet come. His wits might've been left on his pillow when he exited it so abruptly.

The dragons would find this amusing, so Tacuseth is blending the fanfare of a gladiator stadium to Rasavyth's with the soothing undercurrents that suggest that, indeed, his rider wouldn't harm his own. Might as well sit back and enjoy the entertainment! He even goes on to muse « Mine likes yer weyr, » and flicks a quick succession of the images seen around the walls to indicate that in particular. « Tasteful. »

Meanwhile, Jo has the look of entertained anticipation on her face as K'zin is well and truly startled awake. Angry or not, the bluerider burst into laughter, remaining on his bed as he cries out her name. Liberally looking over what's bared and what's not on him, "So ya don' sleep naked," she calmly reaches some sort of conclusion, it having must been an experiment of sorts. "I was half hopin'. Ya never know with bronzeriders. Even the young-seemin' ones. Were ya sleepin' good?" Cuz she's here, visiting! With a gesture towards out of the room, she adds, "Perhaps a wet dream, even? I see the sort of art ya got on yer walls. Wager it rises the heat of any person that comes by to see ya. Intentionally." Unnerve him with her words? Maybe. To make him blush? Definitely.

« Some would not agree. » Rasavyth's tone implies that he might be one of them. « Oh, it's well enough, of course, but the dealings we shall do shall require a subtler degree of taste. » It's not that Rasavyth objects to the murals. No, indeed, his amusement and delight with them is one with his rider's, but he recognizes the usefulness of the space as they progress. « I plan to have him paint something quite clever. Suggestive. That only a keen I will see for what it is. Your Jo will have to visit again once he has. I'm sure she wouldn't miss it. » She must, he gathers from his rider's interaction, have a keen eye for details like that. His amusement flows, though there is a moment where it seems he's a touch sympathetic of his rider's plight and offers the man a calming extension of his ooze.

K'zin is probably helped by that, as he stands, staring, eyes darting before he's able to draw himself up into a normal stance, his face already red, though perhaps not strictly from the embarrassment of what she says. "Never occurred to me I could." His cheeks do turn brighter as he admits this. He's busy though, not paying so much attention to that as to making progress the few steps back to the bed and flopping back down on it, clearly still a little twitchy from the unexpected awakening. "If you like, I can start now." His words are a mixture of grumble and humor. Grumble, because clearly the joke's on him, no matter how he might try to turn it back on her. "I was!" Sleeping good. This is half-wailed, intentionally dramatic. "Oh, Jo, you'll never believe it, but I was dreaming of you." He rolls his eyes. If he had been dreaming of her, it wouldn't have gone like this. "It does provide inspiration." He comments of the art as he snags a pillow to pull over his face, laying on his back. He's not recovered yet. Heart still racing, breath still shallow.

There's the melding of Tacuseth's mind, seeming to understand what Rasavyth explains. « Subtler is good, » this seems to be his opinion more than his rider's. « I try to make my Jo see that subtle is better, but she has too much of her sire in her. » The dragon amused, « I'll bring her back once it's done, but this has inspired her. » What could that possibly mean, the blue doesn't elaborate on.

As for his rider, Jo is perfectly content to claim K'zin's bed for now as she watches his red face. Once he returns to his bed, "Never occurred to ya to sleep naked?" she clarifies with her usual boldness. "And, it's yer weyr. It's not me that will get embarrassed and all flustery by walkin' around naked in front of someone else." She has no modesty, and unlike her dragon, subtlety is usually not her strong suit. Still, she's laughing, the grumble detected only making the successful joke worse. "Oh now. I think yer an easy mark," she drawls, leaning back on a pillow and letting her head rest on her hands. "I might want to keep ya on yer toes, now. At least I didn't straddle ya awake, or worse. Got plenty of other pranks to pull, to learn ya." So this was getting to know him? Her Cheshire cat smile grows when he wails, shaking her head when he speaks of dreaming of her. With a look, "Reality's so much better than the dream of me, believe that," is all she says on that one, whether he was joking about it or not. "Anyway. I like the weyr. The paintings in particular. Gotcha a weyr warmin' gift out on yer table. Save it for a special occasion, alright? It's a bit strong."

The bronze's appreciation that the blue understands can be felt through his oozy touch, his echo of the excited crowd whooping their many-voiced delight. Rasavyth likes it when he is understood. It's such a rare happiness. « You shall have to convince her to let us see what it has inspired, if it is not too personal. » The last from another dragon might be out of concern, concern for modesty or comfort. From this bronze it's veiled amusement. His wind-swept sentiment is that he suspects there is little and less that the murals might have inspired that Tacuseth's Jo might find "too personal." There is a question there though, he's not simply making the assumption, he's asking for correction if his perception is wrong.

"I don't know about that. The dream you never did this." There's exasperation in his tone, but humor also. The part of him that isn't pride-hurt over being the target of the joke is already starting to laugh about it. The pillow that hid his blushing face from view ceases to be shield and becomes, with no warning, weapon to bap Jo in a blind swing to the side. Hardly a very invested strike, to be sure, if it even makes it's mark.

« Knowin' her, it will likely not be too subtle, » Tacuseth sends in response of inspiration, glimmers of his rider's easygoing amusement showing through here. « For now, our weyr has nothin' but maps. » And interest of his convict rider, evidently.

As for Jo, a brow lifting at something said by Rasavyth's rider, "Then what do I do in that imaginative head of yers?" she just has to ask, the laughter finally having died down from her side of the bed. "Y'should- Ack!" but then there's a pillow to muffle whatever else she was saying, her arms dropping from their resting place behind her head too late in time to stop it. She straightens up to grab at the pillow to bap K'zin right back, aiming for his face as she says, "How original. Whaddya want, a pillow toss? Ya'll lose." Her tone's its usual cockiness, tossing her wild hair back. "Atleast yer up. It's too early to sleep. I'm just gettin' in. How's it been lately, anyway?" Too. Early. She's also bracing for another pillow strike should it come, and this time she'll be ready for it.

Maps! How fortuitous that he should mention. « I would like a map. A large one. On one of the walls. Athimeroth's C'wlin recommended a Seacrafter over a Harper. Is your Jo skilled at drawing them? He could paint it, if she could draw it. » His mind's oozy wind scampers down the trail of thoughts, hopeful for opportunity.

"It starts with misplacing your clothes," K'zin response with a yawn, just in time to get air rushing down his throat by the pillow-whap to the face. This leaves him coughing, sitting bolt upright to choke that unexpected air back out. His face grows redder, but he's no worse the wear. "Shells, no. Mave kicked my ass. I'll end up in the infirmary going toe to toe with you and a pillow." The coughing fit can serve as his evidence of that. Regardless, he's definitely up, so he makes to slide out of the bed and stand. "It's been busy. Good, I think. Busy. You?" Once standing, he stretches, back muscles showing every move under the smooth, dusky stretch of unblemished skin."Want to see my sketches? I think I'm getting better."

Rasavyth's interest in maps seems to brings a buoyancy to the swelling crowd in Tacuseth's touch, showing his pleasure. « We have a large one on a wall, » he gives back. « She drew them all. She is skilled at it. We visit many places and she adds them. One day, ya can come visitin' with us. » That was his confirmation that given her fancy, Jo could draw the maps for his rider. The blue sees no reason why she'd say no.

Jo, herself, is laughing when K'zin is bold enough to answer her question, even though ends up with a face full of pillow before he could finish his thought. "Misplace my clothes and I'll just steal yers," she's quick to counter, and when Mave's name is brought up, "Mave oughta. She gettin' the best teachin' between Bones and me. Haven' seen the girl lately, since the play," which means, she might have someone else that needs visiting. She lingers on the bed a bit longer before she's up too, answering him on her well-being once she's standing. "Busy. It's the usual. Think it's high-time for a good getaway, though." She bends to pluck her jacket off the floor, the last getting a spark of interest from her as she prompts, "Really. Devana's been to yer satisfaction, then? Sure, I'll see them. I can compare them to the art on yer walls."

« I think I should enjoy that very much. » As for his rider's enjoyment of a visit with Tacuseth and Jo? That's entirely secondary. He's unconcerned. In this particular case, if it pleases Rasavyth that they should visit, then they shall. « Perhaps they can trade. » The bronze contemplates further, « Depending on your Jo's inspiration of course. If it pertains to these murals, my K'zin could sketch something for her and she could draw him a map. » Sounds like an even trade to him. What K'zin thinks of his dragon offering his skills so freely is not yet known, mostly because Rasavyth probably hasn't told him yet.

K'zin's focus is on something else, and it's not even the something else he expected to be focused on as he stepped toward the press off to one side: Mave. He grimaces. "Yeah... You heard about her mom's passing, right?" His expression is briefly pained, though she might only catch the look on profile. "She's been... pushing herself pretty hard since then. Doesn't seem to want to do much other than work too hard." Clearly, he's made it his business to know at least a little something of what she's doing, and it worries him. "Where're you headed? On your getaway? Anywhere I ought to visit someday?" This is grabbed as an easier topic to discuss as he opens the press and draws out a larger-ish sketch book than the ones she'd seen before. It's about two hands tall and one and a half wide. It's with this that he'll return to the bed. "Devana's been great. Thanks for setting it up. Been doing a fair amount of people-watching in Snowasis too. Actually, got an offer a couple nights back for a model. Um. Or to watch the-- er--" If Jo thought she had his blush going before, its nothing compared to the one that floods his face now, this one even pinkens his ears in the dim light of the low fire in the hearth. "You know, while things are in motion."

Tacuseth does notice that Rasavyth is running the show on the visit in amusement. It can be felt in his bold touch as he sends, « Plenty of places to go. We enjoy flyin'! A trade would be good for them. He draws somethin' for mine, she will draw maps for him. We've been lookin' more at places not drawn on maps, though. » Hidden places. Uncharted places. « That is our interest. » He doesn't give any reason why, either, but the bronze could probably feel the excitement behind such ventures in the blue.

Folding her jacket in half, "Heard somethin' 'bout that, yeah," Jo gives on Mave and her mother, frowning a bit. "That's a tough break. Hopin' she's holdin' up alright with it all. Ain' easy goin' through that kinda shit at that age. Ain' too surprised to hear she's been focusin' on her work, either." There's a heavy silence there, but it's brief, the bluerider turning towards her itinerary plans. Watching K'zin get the sketchbook, "Oh, I'm here and there," she answers breezily with a short flap of a hand. "Plan to hang out at this great beach and get some swimmin' in. There's some bars down Crom's way I like to frequent. Hit on some barmaids and down some good, strong drink. Maybe get into a fight or two for a good time. Plan to mix it up on a day-to-day basis." Once he sits with the book, she joins him there so she can see the drawings. There's a smirk in place on Devana, and a brow lifts with interest on hearing the last. Eying that blush sidelong, "Got an offer to watch folks get it on?" she flat out asks him.

« That sounds like the most interesting kind of place. » Rasavyth answers thoughtfully. « Those that are already known can be anticipated and manipulated, but those that are not could prove to be a danger or an asset in the element of surprise. » To the rest, Rasavyth goes to lengths to hide his youth. He's never been much of a young dragon, but there are things he still only supposes or guesses at. To Tacuseth, this is not hidden. After all, Tacuseth is a very particular kind of teacher, one that is lacking in all other relationships in Rasavyth's life.

"I don't think she is, holding up that is. But you didn't hear that from me. Not saying so to her is the only thing that keeps me able to be close enough to know what I should worry about." The book is flipped open, as he confirms. "Yes. Specifically to draw things. Apparently. I -- wasn't sure what was going on, at all. Or what I was supposed to say." As the pages are flipped, a loose page flutters out onto the floor. At first glance, it's a female figure, naked, and alluring. The pose is drawn from the perspective of one looking down at the desirous expression on the woman's face. "Shit!" If that wasn't a give away that wasn't supposed to be seen, the scramble of the bronzer (book left carelessly on the bed) is a definite giveaway. On second glance, a keen eye with a familiarity for the woman would recognize Telavi.

If Tacuseth could, he'd be giving the bronze an emphatic nod. « Dangerous, and an asset, » he agrees, which seems to be right up the blue pair's alley. « Mine is used to dark things. » Maybe in that, he means experiences and places. « What interests yers? » There used to be a major reluctance from the brash blue in the past when speaking with the weyrling bronze, but this has since downsized the more they come in contact. At least he's seemed to stop warning them against hanging with the convict pair.

"I oughta find her," Jo murmurs, not seeming to like what she's hearing on Mave. It's clear she's grown fond of her. "Ain' good, her dealin' with this on her own, ya know? Thought maybe she wasn' all this time." But then K'zin's opening the book and she moves sit right next to him so that she could get a good look at the sketches herself as he talks....and then one sketch in particular flutters to the floor. Her rapt gaze falls on it fast, and as he's cursing, she's diving down to try and scoop it up before he does. "Somethin' ya don' want me seein'?" she openly teases, making her want to check out the drawing all the more. "She looks familiar. Is that....that's Telavi." Yep, she is one of those with a keen eye, stealing a glance K'zin's way to gauge his reaction.

"She's not." K'zin has time to bristle over Mave. "I just don't know what to say or do. So I'm just there." No, Mave isn't dealing with it alone. But that doesn't mean any of the company is actually helping the girl. Then there's the paper. And the scrambling, and the continued blushing. He may have been first to chase it, but he's sleep-rumpled and slow. Jo had the advantage from the start and once the drawing's in her hand, all movement freezes for a moment (of course, this probably puts K'zin well into the bluerider's personal space, close enough to have his outstretched arms against her, and this might be just as much a reason for the freeze. It's hard to tell, because he was already blushing so intensely over the "modeling" offer he was relating, if K'zin is more embarrassed now or still at the precipice of death by mortification. "Shit, Jo. Give it back." He grunts, shifting into action again as he tries to take it from the convict (this will go well, surely!). "I'm not supposed to draw her. I promised I wouldn't but then she got stuck in my head and -- I couldn't help it!" He's trying to defend an action that Jo probably cares nothing for. That he feels bad about breaking his word is clear, and that he felt helpless to do otherwise is also obvious. Of course, judging from how very real and sexy that drawing is, there can be little doubt to one who's seen his other drawings that K'zin was drawing something he'd actually seen.

"Best ya can do for now is to keep bein' there for her," Jo soberly suggests to the helplessness seen on K'zin's face. There's sympathy in the silence more than on her face, lingering only long enough until the drawing in question has her full attention. She expected K'zin to chase after the sketch, so the bluerider's stretching back, keeping it at the farthest armlength from him. If she's notice their proximity, she's probably using it to her advantage by now. With him blushing like that, his calls and movements in trying to get it back, Jo just can't help but to toss back in rebellious laughter, "Make me." Really. She's holding firm to that sketch now and will press her other free hand right against his chest as if to stay him long enough so that she could get a really good look at the drawing. "Yer a naughty one, aren'cha?" she teases as she studies the sketch, the crooked smile winsome. If he lunges for it, she'll stretch herself and that arm back further. "What have ya two been doin', huh? Do I even need to guess?" All the more reason to make him a shade redder, it seems. "Even I'll admit she's a lovely piece. Ya captured her well, here. I see improvement in technique. The lines are surer. The shadin' ya did really makes the light on her skin pop. Just how did ya manage to get her drawn so well in that angle?" The questions are getting worse and the knowing look on her face suggests she could probably answer those questions herself.

"Fine! I will!" The acceptance of the challenge is rash. It shows his youth all too clearly. His lunge does continue, swift at first, stretching his torso as he comes up to a knee to be able to extend further. It puts him into her lap, leaning up into her chest. It leaves his trunk, sides, and backside as grossly exposed targets. The blushing hasn't abated at all, but now a young man's stubbornness has taken over whatever propriety had prompted him to start when body parts began to touch before. "You told me to get--" Grunt as he lurches to try to gain an extra inch or two of grasp to grab the drawing out of the convict's hand. "--experience!" He doesn't offer answers about his technique or just how helpful Rasavyth was in capturing an image he'd like to remember forever in such great detail. "You can't tell her. She'll never--" He doesn't even say the word, simply jumping it as though it were said, "--again!" And it would be just awful to put a stop to it, his tone tells.

In the meantime, Rasavyth's response is delayed, owing to his sudden attention, amusement and a touch of annoyance. « Ilicaeth's Alida keeps trying to teach him a sense of self-preservation. Look at him. Opened up to all sorts of consequences. Ask her to avoid a trip to the infirmary for him, please? » The question is only half serious. He doesn't genuinely seem much concern that that is a likely possibility. « Forgive me. You asked what interests my K'zin? » Obviously apologetic for his distraction, Tacuseth has back the bronze's undivided attention. There is thought on the topic. « My K'zin can be quite simple. Though occasionally anything but. He is interested in sex. » Obviously. « Drawing, making things in the forge, exercising. He plans to turn our extra room into a training room. » The bronze doesn't think much of this, but the sense is that the deal is the murals repainting for the training room. « He enjoys anything that requires physical exertion. » That's the most common thread, « Though I am teaching him to love to read and play chess. » It's slow going.

It seems expected that K'zin would double his efforts to reclaim that sketch, and so it seems to only make Jo want to keep him from getting it all the more. He might be blushing from being in her lap and up against her chest, but she's not. She has a wicked mischievous gleam in her eyes, her laughter foretelling that she's well aware of all exposed targets. Keeping away from her knives strapped to her sides, she instead is crafty and bold enough to use one of his weaknesses (or inexperience) against him. "I'm not done lookin' at it," she drawls, her tone taking on a way too sudden sultriness along with that searing look when she cuts her eyes to him. There's a subtle shift of her hips against him, and a press of her breasts against him, too. Her free hand lifts and does a light trail of her fingers down his arm, then up his side with that deep laugh - it all must be meant to distract him from what he wants, right? "So this is what ya did with my advice?" she continues to tease now, her tone openly suggestive. "And why shouldn' Telavi and I talk about ya? Oh, ya mean this?" The hand holding the sketch rattles it just enough. "Naw, I won' tell her about this. I might keep it for myself, though. Somethin' like this could get into the wrong hands, ya know. Aren'cha glad I was here to save ya from possibly more trouble?" Surely that's what she's doing. Nevermind that Jo's trouble herself.

Tacuseth, meanwhile, is also tuned into the going-ons of their riders, his being more idly amused than anything. « She won' cause him any pain, » he assures Rasavyth, amusement spiking on his end on the very fact that his lady still has such a reputation. « She will cause him blue balls, faster. » It's a word borrowed from his rider, and then he launches on the topic of interests, not seeming surprised one bit by the answer given. « Jo loves sex, » he sees that as something in common between the two. « And drinkin'. Fightin'. She's physical, like yer K'zin. » He agrees on all, sharing the mutual commonality. « She can be more, » he adds then, noting how the bronze wants his to enjoy things like chess and reading. « She knows that, but she's too focused on makin' people pay. » Something that garners a guarded sense from him, oddly enough.

Woe to K'zin for Jo's use of the most dangerous weapons in her arsenal, the ones K'zin has the least defense against. With the shift of her hips and the press, he freezes again, awareness of just how close they are and just how much he can feel of her form against his shirtless chest. His breath catches and his hand seems a little less determined to reclaim the drawing, his eyes falling from the drawing to her face. "Faranth's fetid feces, Jo!" The man cries the curse in a combination of frustration and annoyance. It isn't bad enough that she shows up in his weyr and scares him half to death, now she's got to turn him on too? "I'm barely started with sex and you're already cockblocking me?" He starts to try to push away from her now. Whether he succeeds or not, he'll go on with a grunt. "You can't keep it. I've got to burn it. Then it's like I didn't draw it at all." 'Cause that makes sense. "I'll draw you something else. Someone else. Anyone I've not promised not to draw. Just let me burn that one and don't tell Tela." He reiterates that, even though she's already agreed not to tell on that account.

Rasavyth, for his part, seems serenely unbothered by Jo's teasing of his lifemate. « As she likes. If ever she feels like rubbing one off, without going it solo, I'm sure mine would oblige. Though he is still learning. » It's offered nonchalantly. It seems only logical, he loves sex, she loves sex. Could be a bonding experience! The sentiment, too, is that it doesn't matter much to Rasavyth if Jo takes him up on the offer of his rider's services. « Actually, he's still learning all three. He would do well to learn from her. » This comes after a moment of consideration. Then, a gently curious oozy wind slips towards Tacuseth's banners, « What sort of payment does she seek? Is it payment for something in particular? May we be of help? » After all, he always learns so much from Tacuseth. Surely, they should be allowed to repay the blue and his lifemate somehow.

Jo doesn't let off her weapons, as they were, the knowing smile only growing when K'zin reacts the way he does. When his breath catches, fingers continuing their lazy trace of his side through his curse. "What, ya don' like this?" This being her hips knowing exactly where to press at that moment, and it's only when he starts trying to push away that she goes with the momentum and slips from his proximity and gets to her feet with the sketch even more out of his reach. Now a few paces from him, laughter in her voice as she lets up the sultry tone, "I wouldn' dream of cockblockin' ya, darlin'," she states, deadpan as she takes slow, backward steps. "Why would I? In my opinion, ya should get it in as much and as often as ya can manage. Now this-" and she lifts up the drawing, "-I dunno about. Ya say ya'll burn it, but I don' think ya have the stomach to. I should hold onto it for ya. It's not like I'll show and tell her. Maybe if I was anybody else..."

As for Tacuseth, the casual way his mind deals with such talk, it's like he's way too used to Jo's ways and wiles. On the same line, « That would be useful. Beneficial. » It's a win-win, right? « He could learn well from mine, » he agrees. The winds die down on his amusement on the question - making people pay. Shadows creep into Rasavyth's mind, it being a way more serious subject than sex. « Pain. » It's a single word that houses many levels of meaning, the word feeling heavy. Silence lingers here before he returns with a relatively easy, « Maybe. It is far. She hunts. We hunt, » he reiterates the last with emphasis. « She was given a sentence 'cuz of them. » Sentence. The mines. The images are dark but too brief to make them out. The feelings are there, and there's a lot of anger. Likely taken from the innermost parts of Jo's mind. But there's also curiosity - how much can Rasavyth and his rider be trusted? The blue doesn't need to ask. The undercurrents are there. Perhaps telling him this much could be a test.

"I'd like it more if it were going somewhere. Which it would be if I were still dreaming." K'zin complains as he gets to his feet, more not entirely gracelessly, but no where near as smoothly as Jo. He steps around her to the hearth, embers burning and snags a poker to stir it up. "We'll burn it now." He answers her with resolve. "Please, Jo." This request seems more genuine than all the rest put together, certainly more vulnerable. "I can't explain why I had to draw it. I just had to." And, his eyes tell, hated himself for every pencil stroke that betrayed his promise. "I'll draw you anyone else that you want." He entreats again. "Do this for me. Give me this." Another soft entreaty. "I'll owe you."

The matter of pimping out his rider is wholly less interesting than the shadows that Tacuseth's touch brings now. His reflective mind sops up shadow, makes it oozy and spews it back out, redoubling the darkness. He is thoughtful, that much is clear, about the information given, each bit being tucked away. « It seems reasonable to me that retribution would be sought for such. » He doesn't ask if Jo was guilty. It's not important to him. Her motive makes sense. He doesn't need for a cause to be just or righteous to approve of it, even if it is, in it's own way. « I am clever. » This is not a brag. It's a fact. « In time, » The sentiment of trust earned is hung as a banner, flapping gently in a dark, moonless night, « I may be able to help your Jo get what she desires most. » As for K'zin? Well, he's a hard nut to crack. It's been discussed with the blue before. Time and patience though, time and patience.

That first gets Jo's consideration, even though there's no answer for K'zin. Like a hunter stalking prey, she watches him as he gets to his feet and goes to the hearth. She doesn't interrupt him as he tries to convince her to give the drawing over, his vulnerability laid bare before her. Once he's done, "Could be, I rather like the drawin' of her," she says a bit soberly, giving said drawing a cursory glance. Meeting his pleading eyes dead on, "Own yer work, K'zin. Yer too young to be always guilt-ridden like this. I'll give it back," she finally says, "for yer dream. Tell me the whole of it, and it's yers to do with as ya wish." A trade of sorts, now addressing his first couple of comments.

Tacuseth lets the shadows linger and be sopped up, the doubled darkness as he sends back, « She won' let go of her revenge. I don' think they're relevant anymore. » It could make one wonder what would she do should her revenge be completed. « In time, » he does agree with that, trust coming as a difficult task for both rider and dragon. « My Jo will be well. Huntin' them does her good. Have ya learned much since our last? » He remembers.

« Much, and more, and more still. » Rasavyth responds with a mixture of amusement and pride, leaving be the issue of Jo and her revenge; Tacuseth's words make sense to him. « My K'zin and I have become of one mind, in many ways. » A brief collage of sensations and images are shared with Tacuseth: the injuries of month three and the decision to cultivate their promise made in the night; deepening of their bond as K'zin faced the frustration of doing the right thing and still being reprimanded - Tela, naked but hidden, being pulled up of K'zin's lap by the inked I'zech and K'zin's anger in those moments; his intimate involvement in getting K'zin through his deflowering experience with wise counsel, their shared embarrassment at its brevity. Their minds are binding more closely together. « There is still much and more I cannot share with him yet, he would not understand. Yet. » The shadows curl around his last word. Does Tacuseth understand what he means?

"Faranth's fake fingers, Jo." The man lets the curse out in a mixture of exasperation and relief. The price is his dream? That he can gladly pay. Replacing the poker, he moves back to the bed, settling on it. "I'll tell Tela I've been drawing her. Own my work. But if I stop getting laid because of it, I'm going to complain to you, loudly." One hand goes through his hair as he adjusts the pillow behind him so he can recline comfortably against the headboard. "So the truth is, I was lying. I wasn't dreaming of you just then. Seemed like a good thing to say at the time, but you're in luck because you're a frequent visitor to nightly excursions." When he's not too tired to remember them. "The best ones have been since--" He nods towards the drawing in Jo's hand. "Because, of course, now I have some idea of what things really feel like. At least--" With Tela. He doesn't finish the sentence, and instead, goes on to explain the dream. "Three nights ago, I dreamt you'd decided to teach me some sparring move. We were in the other bedroom. The one I'm going to make into a training room, but in the dream it was finished." He pauses to gesture to the bed, offering that Jo could make herself comfortable (as if she wouldn't anyway if she wanted).

"Sparrin'," Jo echoes that one word drolly, watching K'zin as he speaks on another dream. "How borin." At least, in 'dream' form. She approaches him then and with a press of her lips, she hands the drawing over to him before she takes up the offered seat on the bed. "That's a poor price, but here. A deal's a deal," and she's not one to flip on a deal, small or otherwise. As for Telavi, "I doubt ya'll stop gettin' laid, and I'm sure she's not the only one ya can grab up." She looks expectant now, jerking her chin towards the book. "The best ones, huh?" The drawings.

Tacuseth, for his part, redirects some of the winds away from Rasavyth suddenly, his attention seeming to be taken at least for a moment. When it returns, there's a draconic amusement that's purely him more than his rider letting the shadows touch through each and every image sent his way. The image of I'zech sends a rather amused, « That one is a clutchmate. He left her bothered the other night, » and there's a glimmer of an image of two painted blue balls sitting next to each other, all by his own creativity and laughter. Still, he seems to commend the bronze on his guiding his rider, though he does send back, « Is it cuz ya think he can' handle the rest ya don' share with him? What are ya waitin' for from him? »

"There's more," K'zin assures, lest Jo think she got cheated. "So there we are, sparring in this awesome room," That only exists in his head at this point. "We start to work up a sweat," He glances to Jo, eyes skating over her choice of outfit for the visit, "You were wearing something even tighter than that." Even if she's wearing her tightest of tight pants and curve-hugging top. "You start to get hot, so do I, so shirts come off. You get a good hit in on me, draw some blood, get me up against a wall. I reverse it, take you down onto the mat." Obviously a dream at this point. He casually draws the book she referenced across his lap. Certainly there's a reason for that as he goes on. "Then, after our bodies have been pressed up against each other the sparring goes off the ledge," Out the window. Whichever. "Sort of." Thought the blush is burning in his cheeks, K'zin's grin is impish as he relates the tale. "Things get a whole lot hotter and the clothes just have to come off." There's a shrug, as if that should spell the rest of the dream out for her. "You're probably right about Tela not being the only one I can get. Haven't sought it yet, been real busy, but wouldn't turn it down, for sure. You know, if I could stay awake long enough. Don't really have the energy to go chasing tail, it'd have to come to me... for now." The book is flipped open and he thumbs through the drawings. They're a mix of practice and refined, "finished" drawings. He's getting the hang of it. There are still a few subtleties he misses and he's still struggling with the ears, but getting there. "Bigger market for women or men, would you say?"

There's amusement from Rasavyth. « They are an interesting pair. Too bad she did not come here. He would have tried to help her. » Tried. Ras is pimptastic but not delusional about his rider's lack of experience. « I know he cannot. » This comes sadly on the much more serious subject. « I know him better than he knows himself. I could tell him. It's not as though he could change that we are bound together for life. But he would work against me. I am waiting for him to be ready to truly see the world as it is. » As Rasavyth sees it. « He is slowly coming to view a great many things my way. »

Jo's current choice of outfit at the moment is her sleeveless white tank top with her black leather pants, her jacket draped somewhere in the room to keep it clean. She even spreads her arms briefly when K'zin looks to her as he talks more about his dream, and then her arms fall to her sides. She doesn't interrupt him as he describes what's clearly not a boring dream, taking in every move he makes with a keen eye. She doesn't miss much. His blush and the way he drags that book over his lap has lips pull a bit to the right before she finally breaks her silence. "Now that sort of sparrin' ain' so borin'," she admits, taking back her previous statements. "Ya should show me this trainin' room once it's done," she adds now in brazen fashion. "Tac informs me ya like gettin' physical like, I do," and yes, her tone is suggestive regardless. Surely she means athletic, right? "Some dreams have a way of foretellin' the future. The price is good enough," and so she waves the sketch in hostage in his direction for him to take back. Then she looks over the new drawings as he thumbs through the pages, nodding at certain ones that she probably deems worthy improvements, but she's not vocal about it. "They're better," she admits now, nodding. "Amazin' what just gettin' some does to yer drawin' skills." There's a smirk to that, and she answers on the market with an easy, "Men, usually. Not a whole lot of those drawin's on the male side. Ya'll get more pay there, but if ya keep workin' on these here, ya can sell enough where drawin' those won' even matter. Get as good as those-" she jerks her chin towards where those wall paintings are "-and who knows what'll come yer way."

Tacuseth lets the image of the balls fade with the winds, draconic laughter present in the spike of the crowds. « She is aggressive, » he will admit, or warn. « Not soft. Rough. » He's been listening to their riders, for he conjures an image of the drawing of Telavi, indicating her. Then Devana, the caverns woman posing for K'zin. « But I will tell her,, » he sends anyway, seeming at ease with Rasavyth's pimptastic ways. Oh, if only their riders knew what they were brewing up! Onto more serious topics though, « Show me how you see the world, » he suddenly asks, a sudden tingling in the winds. Images. Senses. Feelings.

"Does he?" K'zin's tone as he questions the information evidently provided by Tacuseth has him curious, and then blushing a moment later as no doubt a question to his lifemate clues him in to what variety of physical Jo likes to be. There's a shadow of the shyer K'zin then for a moment as he takes a breath and give s nod. "He's well-informed. You're welcome to get physical with me anytime you like. I wouldn't mind learning some of your moves." He means sparring, right? Of Waki, that would have been the only thing he could have meant, but K'zin? Now? He's returning her double-speak in kind. "First thing I need to do is find someone to unload that other bed on. It's good, not as good as this one," Which is, of course, why he chose this room as his bedroom, but he obviously needed to try both to be sure. "Know anyone in need of a bed?" He asks as he reaches to take the sketch from her. Get as good as those? Then his precious artist's pride is all wounded and stuff. His sniff as he slides the book off his lap and toward Jo for her continued perusal is dramatic, though likely playfully so. "As good as those? I'm better and you know it." Okay, he's on par. Or maybe worse, but that's not the point. The point is bronzer egos are delicate, doesn't she know? He slides out of the bed sketch in hand. "Maybe if I had women as inspiring as those to draw and they had less clothes on when I was drawing them, I'd be as good." Certainly, his drawing of Telavi was the best of the lot, though she doesn't appear in the book anywhere else. His reason for rising becomes obvious as he rounds to the hearth, taking once last look at the drawing before letting it fall to the coals. The low flames lick it testingly before starting to consume.

« More's the better. » is Rasavyth's approval for Jo is. « I have no doubt that the patience and encouragement that Solith's Telavi provides while he is learning is helpful, abut he should learn that not all women are the same. He should learn what else it can be. » And after all, K'zin did have that fantasy that was both violent and sexual, so maybe he's twisted enough to like Jo's brand of getting physical. For the sudden interest, there is concern. He's not concerned that Tacuseth wishes to know, nor is it that he doesn't trust the blue, for of all dragons, he might be said that Tac is the one Rasavyth trusts most with his truest nature, but it is worry. The sentiment of the worry is shared: like K'zin, could the bronze show too much of himself that Tacuseth might end up a disgusted enemy rather than a trusted friend?

Laughing, "I'm goin' to enjoy yer blushin' until yer far too wily to do it anymore," Jo comments on it, giving K'zin a look. His latter statement, having picked up on that double-speak and returning it in kind earns him an arched brow that says 'See what I mean?' before she returns with, "I just bet ya wouldn' mind. I'll keep that in mind, bronzerider, when that room is done." Despite the droll tone, there's a sense of approval as well, as if his words earned him that title now. She glances towards the spare bedroom then before she shrugs on the bed, but then she pauses and steals a look his way before she answers with, "Z'ian. Tsanth's. His is rough for wear. Might be somethin' he can look at." It's said so innocently enough, so casually. She's quick to move on though, returning to the banter of his drawing skills and the book he holds. She's silent and not taking anything said back, and once the book is slid her way, "I'm sure if ya ask nicely, Devana would oblige," she notes, finding his wounded bronzerider pride to her pleasure. "Or any woman," Right? "Some might give ya a good slap to the face, though. I hear bronzeriders get used to it, so ya might as well start early." She's so helpful. She watches K'zin make it to the hearth and toss the sketch to the fire, tacking on, "But I'll admit this much. Yer better so long as there's a naked woman before ya to draw inspiration from. Ya seem to have quite the imagination to draw from, too. Dreams and all." Returning to looking over the new sketches in the book, "Ya gamble?" the question sudden.

As for Tacuseth, he's quite content to supply some information when it comes to his Jo. His shadows are guarded like her own, still, but at least the heaviness of them around Rasavyth has lessened a bit. Else. He agrees with what is said. There's an odd familiarity surrounding Solith and Telavi when mentioned though, even if no words come. Especially since the blue's interest spikes at the silence from his usually forthcoming pal, the worry hits the shadows and the unseen sounds of a crowd before their suddenly boisterous. They're cheering Rasavyth's name, over and over, swelling to the tops of the stadium. It's his encouragement. « I've seen many things, through her, » he puts to words now, once the crowd's chanting dies down. « My Jo knows the blackest of black, and so do I. We see the world differently, but Jo thinks it best that we do not share it with all. » Only a handful few know their true nature, and the dragon is quick to paint an image of a serene, seaside cave on a beautiful backdrop. The cave looks harmless on the outside along with its surroundings, but to venture further into it would reveal something twisted and sinister. He sends the sense that the image was his lady. « To judge you, would be to judge her, » and Tacuseth is not easily scared.

"Well, not to curb your enjoyment," Because certainly K'zin would never want to do that... "But I am working on it. Then again, knowing I have the tendency just means you'll have to take it as more of a challenge. You seem the type to like that sort of thing." Challenges. "That sounds like motivation to me." To get the room done all the quicker. "I'll speak with Wingleader Z'ian about the bed soon as may be. I'd imagine between Tsanth and Rasavyth, it'd only be one trip to get it on out. Maybe it'd even earn me some points with him." Since there's only a handful more months until the opinions of Wingleaders are going to make a big difference in the lives of the weyrlings as they're tapped. If he's suspicious at all as to how Jo knows the worn-ness of the other bronzerider's bed it, he doesn't let on. "I might ask Devana." He acknowledges. She certainly seems a friendly enough sort. "Or some others..." Then he crosses back to the bed, but on Jo's side this time, sliding onto the edge, "What about you?" That's bold, coming from him. "The only bet I've ever made was on my own Impression, and Ras claimed control of two-thirds the winnings. Not to say that I wouldn't. Just never had much of a chance or reason." He shrugs.

Rasavyth is calmed and reassured, not completely, but mostly. Enough to press forward. « It is a game. » It starts simple and conjured to mind, stripping away some of the reflections of Tacuseth's showing more of himself. A dragon chess board materializes in the space between Tacuseth and Rasavyth. On the board, one by one begin to materialize pieces. The pieces sit on lovely marble bases, but they move where they sit, lively and identifiable. There is Iesaryth, Hraedhyth, Cadejoth, all the weyrling dragons. In fact, it seems that as he focuses, more and more dragons and their humans, and some humans without dragons join the board, which grows, and grows to accommodate. Notably absent Tacuseth, Jo and Rasavyth, himself. A few others waver in their consistency perhaps reflecting Ras' desire to count them as pawns, such as Ghislaith and Madilla. K'zin flickers, too, but also glows. This is how he sees the world. It's a game full of pawns and he (and a few others) the players.

"I do," Jo is certainly not turning down her enjoyment of challenges, "but now that I've put it out there, ya'll just work harder not to blush around me. Then I'd have to try and embarrass ya more. It's a vicious cycle." There's even a smirk for his motivation on getting the training room done, and she nods only briefly on him speaking with Z'ian on the bed. She keeps watch on K'zin by the hearth, it never wavering when he returns to the bed. "Devana," she repeats on his being bold enough to ask women to pose nude for him, "or some of the others." Her? When he's next to her, his bold inquiry earns him a sidelong look and a grin full of promised danger. "Would I have to hold the same pose Telavi was drawn in, I wonder?" she muses aloud to that, mischief in her gaze. "Would'ja pass around a sketch of me, should I give in? Do ya value discretion like I do, weyrlin'?" She flips a page in K'zin's sketchbook. "Hmmm. Ya got balls to ask, K'zin. If I let ya draw me..." It's left open-ended, but at least it's not a no. She doesn't finish the statement, choosing to pick up on gambling instead. "Dragon poker. Ya never played it? Not into takin' risks?" since he mentions the one, at Hatching time.

Tacuseth is intrigued. There's no other way to describe his rapt interest in the chessboard that Rasavyth weaves. Where he was keeping listen to his Jo and K'zin, now his attentions shift fully to the perspective being shown him. Each piece is being examined, his heated but dimmed winds sift through each and every one. Shadows are cast on certain spots where no piece resides, but a piece appears just as if he drew them himself: Kaitlin and her brown, M'ron and his, others that were non-riders seen in their presence...there's brief flickers of others that fill in some of the gaps, but they're there and gone instantly like holograms: a bulky man dressed in rustic reds, a pale-skinned man with dark curly hair, non-descript men that look clearly not of the Weyr. Finally the shadows and the winds dissipate, leaving the blue with an idle « Doesn' everyone use everyone to further their own ends? » for this dragon's not a fool. Even he lets flicker on the chess board himself and his Jo for a second. No accusation, though. There's curiosity, the blue moving K'del's Cadejoth forward on the board. « This is how they think, from where my Jo is from, » sends now, showing new understanding of the bronze. « It is a risky game. Ya have a destination. » His 'checkmate'. « Yer K'zin does not want to see things this way? »

There's an amused smile and a brief, deadpan delivery of: "I'm willing to risk it," for the cycle Jo describes. When she looks at him sidelong, K'zin meets her gaze, steadily. His head tilts slightly toward her, a small move but definable. "You can pose anyway you like. Though I might have some better ideas of how I like you best after I finish the training room." A single brow rises to give effect to a brazen look he manages to hold for a breath before blushing and grinning at her. "You seeing the drawing of Tela was an accident. You just watched me burn it so it doesn't happen again. I've not shown anyone else these types of drawings since you gave me back the notebook and told me I could turn a profit. Tela's said she'd like to see, and I'll show her. But only the made up ones." The ones conjured from the vague unidentifiable truth of Devana - of the woman's look but not her face. "What would I possibly have to gain from flashing your naked body around if I've any hope of keeping a bit of that for myself?" So, clearly, at least as long as the sex was good, she wouldn't have much to worry about. "I need a better place to store them though. Any thoughts 'bout how better?" How more securely, he means. Then there's a shake of his head. "No. Never played dragon poker. Wanna teach me? I don't mind taking risks, so long as their either harmless or the gain is greater than the loss." So he won't make a dumb bet (to his knowledge) but he won't (or at least doesn't think he will) shy from an interesting or good bet.

« From time to time, it may be necessary. » Rasavyth will admit, allowing one more flicker of Tacuseth and Jo. « But by and large, it is best to have allies and it doesn't do to forsake them or their goals; rather, it is better, I think, to help their further their goals unless they come into conflict with one's own. » That should be clear enough; as long as Jo and Tacuseth aren't opposing Rasavyth's playing directions to the other pawns, there's no problem. « My K'zin cares more deeply for people and dragons.than I. He understands the game, but does not have any wish to use others as players. I did choose myself an honest sort. But his is right for me. » There is no doubt there, though there is a touch of a sense that Rasavyth is still learning all the ways in which they fit one another.

"Ya might find yerself scratchin' yer head in thinkin' up poses if yer spendin' most of yer time bein' thrown to the floor on yer ass," Jo counters that bronzerider bravado with her own smoothly. "Ya'll be leavin' me with all sorts of poses of ya to choose from. Maybe I should take up sketchin' naked men instead of maps." It's all bravado and teasing, laced with her innuendo and challenge. She briefly nods to K'zin's answer on pictures and discretion, watching his eyes anyway but seeming to take him at his word. Even his very bold question on flashing pictures of a naked Jo around. That has her huffing once in amusement. That he's bold enough to say such things, "Well. Not sayin' no. Ain' sayin' 'yes' yet, either," and she closes the sketchbook before handing it over to him. "Still gotta ways to go first," she notes, jerking her chin down towards the book, "but I like it. Rise to my satisfaction," and there's a slight pause, a curve of her lips pulling. She doesn't finish that statement, that challenge in her gaze perhaps being enough. As for picture storage, "Why not somewhere in here?" she returns, gesturing about his weyr. "Maybe a hidden compartment somewhere on a wall or the floor...or hide it in plain view. Are ya expectin' thieves up here?" On the matter of gambling, there's rumbled laughter from her for his answer. "Takin' risks is all about riskin' harm and loss," she quips, leaning back on propped hands. "Can' gain anythin' if yer aren' willin' to lose it all. Even down to the clothes on yer back." Brows briefly lift at that one before she adds, "I suppose I can teach, when I've the time. I asked cuz one of my clutchmates hosts a dragon poker night up in his weyr. Thought maybe one day, should I extend the invitation, ya'd be interested." It's casually given enough.

Tacuseth seems to be really giving what Rasavyth says some thought, the wisps of the heated winds still flowing through the chessboard. « The same can be said in yer favor, » he gives finally, though he also adds right after, « What is it ya wish to do? » with all these pawns and pieces? « Yer endgame? » Then, on K'zin, « Ya chose cuz he was best. Perhaps he must go through things in order to have his eyes opened, » like his Jo before him, but it's implied in the winds and the creeping shadows.

To all her challenging, he gives one response, "Soon enough." K'zin grins as he takes the sketchbook, clearly pleased with at least that much, his words encompassing his progress there and every dimension of the phrase 'rising to her satisfaction.' "Hidden compartment would be good. Maybe I can make something at the forge." His eyes move around the room, twisting his body where he sits. "I'm planning on having a few visitors that like to get physical, and apparently am going to have at least one that likes to show up while I'm asleep, or probably while I'm not here," He eyes the bluerider pointedly. "Think what might've happened if I wasn't here to barter for the fate of that picture. I'd be back to no sex all over again faster than you can say 'Telavi'." Risking harm and loss she says. When she's finished, he shifts. It's purposeful and slowly enough that she can stop him if she likes, but his hands mean to (and do if she doesn't) come to either side of her torso, leaning in as she's leaned back to bring his face closer to hers. "I do seem to like putting myself into potentially hazardous situations when you're around, Jo. If anyone can teach me about taking risks, it's you." How many times has he (possibly purposefully, it might be thought now) left himself vulnerable? "Maybe one day, you should." He'll back off if she doesn't seem to do something more interesting with his closeness. "Leastways you can take all my marks or my clothes or both the first couple times. Depending on how your clutchmate plays it. This clutchmate isn't I'zech, is it?" There's a note of mild distaste that escapes with that question.

The board slowly dissolves. As it does, Rasavyth's attention seems more on it than on Tacuseth. « I wish to help shape the world I live in. » Who better than he? « I am a player in this game, not a pawn. » That is said with eerie certainty. He doesn't get more specific than that. Not now. Tacuseth is well above others in their knowledge of Rasavyth, but the bronze isn't the type to stupidly hero-worship his hand away. « I believe you are correct about my K'zin. I still feel strongly that your Jo could help with some of those eye-opening experiences. » And he doesn't just mean in bed.

Soon enough. Jo seems to allow that since she doesn't counter further, answering the next with a quick, "Ya worked at the forge before ya Impressed? Like N'hax did?" K'zin's next does draw a look from her and a casual, "Ya mean, ya want me to do the civilized thing and not show up unannounced, or while yer not asleep and are here? That's a tall order, darlin'. And, ya worry far too much about yer buddin' sex life dryin' up so soon. Bronzeriders." It must be a bronzerider thing. She watches him move like she was watching the approach of prey, his hands on her hips and him close now, and she seems busy giving him the eye to stop him. Her chin dropping to his words on hazardous, the convict rider doesn't answer him right away, Instead, she leans forward and if K'zin doesn't duck away, he'd find a strong hand at the back of his head, her long fingers going into his dark hair before aggressively driving his lips to hers. It's not a gentle kiss, but it's a brief one with her mouth and tongue tasting his. Just a taste, with her teeth catching on his lower lip to add that bite of pain when she breaks away, and just as quickly, it's over. Releasing him abruptly and pushing at his chest with one hand so that she could slide off the bed and get to her feet in one swift motion, "Some men get a knife to the throat rather than a taste of my lips," she now responds to him on taking risks, her hands smoothing down her clothes and appearing as calm as ever. "The twisted ones get off on either." Looking over her shoulder at him, "I live for takin' risks. Perhaps that's why trouble fancies me so much. I tend to have a hard time sayin' no to potentially hazardous situations," deliberately borrowing his words at the end. Even though she is the potentially hazardous situation he means. She's well aware of it. Now addressing the rest as she turns to face him, noting something of interest either in what he said or the tone, "I have other clutchmates I hang with. Ya don' like I'zech." It's said in quick succession. The anticipation in her tone also seems to be asking 'why?'. "Is he a hard taskmaster?"

« A worthy cause, » Tacuseth is sending at the same time to Rasavyth's goal, seeming to approve well of it. « A hard cause. It would be a hard flight to fly on yer own. » Allies. Players. Those believing in him and what he can do. The dissipating of shadows means his understanding of where the bronze is coming from, his interest laid bare. The last gets a bend in the winds and a clash of what sounds like swords in an arena. « I agree, » he finally sends firmly. « Mine can always use another valuable friend, » and he as well. « Our ways keep most at wing's length. Let them see of us what we want them to see, » much like Rasavyth does, he implies, the shadows being their cover for what's really underneath.

"I did. Not as advanced as N'hax, though. I was coming up on taking my senior apprentice exams to try to walk tables in a couple turns. Actually, that's why I asked to Stand." K'zin's expression turns bemused for a moment as he thinks back on that time in his life. "Feels like a long time ago, even though it hasn't even been a whole turn yet." Then there's a roll of his eyes for her, "No, Jo, of course I don't expect you to be any way other than as you are. What I'm saying, dear, is that I ought to allow for just exactly who you are by accommodating my own concerns for privacy with a secret compartment of some sort." This time, he'll grin at the accusation of worry and it's correlation to the color he rides. All this before he moves close. Before he doesn't move away as she leans even closer. Even with his brave holding of ground, he expected a tease, not a completion. So she's rewarded with a sudden intake of break just as her hand mashes his lips to hers. His surprise doesn't keep him from returning the kiss. It's not like any other he's ever had though, so there's confusion and clumsiness in his attempt to respond correctly. The thing on the whole leaves him a little stunned and easy to push so she can get up, one hand going to touch the bitten lower lip. Then he's laughing, grinning, eyes suddenly very excited. Good guys apparently do go for bad girls just as much as the reverse. "Well, I'm glad I got the kiss." It comes mixed with his laughter. His hand reaches to try to catch one of hers once she's done her once-over on her clothes. If he catches it, there's a little tug suggestive of the bronzerider's interest that she should come back to the bed. Then he's frowning, because ... well, I'zech. "The opposite. He couldn't care less. And makes a lot of assumptions about people." Says the pot of the kettle.

« It would. I do not fly alone. Some, however, are not truly players, much as they may wish it. As the Weyr stands, it seems all are focused around which gold will rise; but while they carry influence, » Certainly, as is their right as queens, « I believe the far more interesting and important question is of who shall lead with her. There are only two golds here, now. Their routes may be guessed at and anticipated; the leadership is far less certain, a far more interesting aspect of the game. » But here, Rasavyth is getting on a tangent. He returns to the point. « I seek true allies. » A ghostly imprint of his board returns. « Those worthy of being players. You. » His respect for Tacuseth is obvious now, if it weren't before. « There is no rush to bare ourselves; but perhaps intending to be allies shall allow us, and ours, a deeper relationship. » There's a curl of hot wind cloaked in deep shadow that weaves through a mental image of Jo and K'zin. « She is good for him. » He's said it before, but feels the need to say it again now. « And I think, he for her. Much can be learned about oneself as one mentors another. And he has much to offer, though he knows only a fraction of it now. She must be willing to give him time. To grow. »

"If ya hadn' Impressed," Jo muses, "ya would've left here and gone back? One of my brothers were interested in the craft when I saw him last. Jothan wasn' havin' none of it." Of course she merely snorts for his next, for of course she is who she is. Even if K'zin may not yet know that she has thieving tendencies. Beyond the kiss, once she's up and straightening her clothes, his comment earns him a look over her shoulder as she turns and says, "It was for yer trouble," easily enough with a toss of her head. It was probably done to keep him unbalanced in her presence, too. The corner of her lips quirking to the side, "Don' let it go to yer head, now," she teases, especially when he catches her hand and gives her that playful tug. She slips his release then and steps away to collect her jacket, adding on I'zech, "Assumptions. What sort of 'assumption' did he make of ya?" She has to ask now as she carefully shrugs back into her black jacket.

« It is the one that understands and is willin' to make sacrifices that truly rules, » seems to be Tacuseth's philosophy in relation to all that Rasavyth has said. It also seems to be in response to who really has the power: Weyrwomen or Weyrleaders. There's that underlying quiet of acceptance from the blue on allies - now that he has been shown what the bronze is truly made of. « Ya see the land truly for one so young, » he notes now, partly as him being impressed and the other in mutual acceptance of each other. « Don' waver and ya'll do well. » He adds his grittiness of the winds about the pair in image as he gives « I think she would be. She is drawn to potential. Even she has much to learn, still, in how to shape it. » There's others being added to the background of that image, but their faces are cloaked in shadow. « He will have the time he needs, » the blue agrees on the last easily enough then. « Her focus lies more on personal matters for the time bein'. » Vendettas, among other things.

Even once Jo's hand has made its escape, K'zin remains seated on the edge of the bed, watching her. "Actually, I'd've probably left the craft to stay here. I've always been here. Except for some classes I've had to take at the Hall. I've lived here since I was eight. I guess what they say about bronzes making you get noticed is true after all." K'zin's tone is light and amused, teasing the usually too-observant convict. "It's a pretty good craft. Takes all kinds depending on what interests him. There's all kinds of rules, which isn't too fun, but that's any craft. Or candidacy. Or weyrlinghood." Or life, he might as well be saying. "Is Jothan your..." He tries to identify one that would be called by name but with the same sway as a father, "Family patriarch?" He finally chooses as his guess. His face takes on that blush she's so fond of, not for the talk of kissing but for the assumptions of I'zech. "Oh, well, it's sort of a long and stupid story. But. Remember me telling you I'd been breaking the kissing rules with Sabs? Then was on punishment for it and drinking, and I was trying to follow the straight and narrow because, well, you know, the whole expectations thing we talked about at the feeding grounds, I think?" He tries to recall. For a moment, it's a struggle and then it looks as though he's reading a book in the middle of the air in front of him, eyes scanning, "Yeah. I told you all this then." So he picks up the story from where she doesn't know. "After I got off punishment, not long after, really, I ended up in the baths late one night and Tela was there. I hadn't yet even kissed a girl with tongue and she offered me something much more than that, and I-" Stutter, blush, "I stupidly turned her down and pulled her into my lap to try to keep us both from dying from embarrassment, only that made it work because suddenly I'zech was there and he grabbed Tela up. He didn't say anything to the others, but I'm sure-" Assumption. "-he assumed what was happening was against the rules when all I was doing was trying to follow them. That was the last straw. Playing the game for now, but living by my own rules. People will think what they want to think about you. So." Shrug. "Anyway. He didn't turn us in, but I'm certain it's because he didn't want the paperwork." Maybe someone should clue K'zin in about the poor ASSumptions he's making in regard to his favorite AWLM.

Rasavyth's response is simple this time. The sensation is immovable, unassailable. He is who he is. Nothing and no one shall cause him to waver or come between he and the accomplishment of his goals. He is not single-minded, of course, as that would cause him to ignore the big picture, and on the contrary, his little invisible bugs are usually oh-so-busy weaving all the intricate facets of the tapestry of tomorrow. Of Rasavyth, Tacuseth may be sure. « The three of us, together, shall shape him well, I think. » This comes after a moment of thoughtful consideration. « But that shape lies in tomorrow, and tomorrow's tomorrows and so on. » Until the end of days. Despite the delight that he's had in speaking with Tacuseth, the bronze can't help himself that his thoughts are starting to become more introspective. The blue always gives him so much to think about, but he is not withdrawn, just partially distracted as his gossamer webs and spinners with their oozy banner patterns get buffeted by hot winds.

"Imagine that," Jo remarks to his response on his craft and him being there for turns, settling the jacket over her top. The light tease is taken in stride, it drawing a light smirk from the bluerider as she pretty much gives as in excuse, "I don' stick around here, 'cept for maybe lately. Got hearts to break outside the Weyr." When K'zin questions the name given - Jothan - "He's my father," she doesn't hesitate to answer, moving around and pretty much casing his bedroom now. "Keogh guard." Stepping to his hearth with the remains of the sketch burning in it, she listens to his stories involving him and Telavi and I'zech. Towards the end, she looks back at him with the lopsided grin and says, Ya pulled her onto yer lap and expect these folks not to think ya were up to no good?" There's a playful tsk for that. "So ya were caught. Own it. Aren' bronzeriders suppose to be all that?" Laughing as she turns back towards the hearth, "Be glad that he didn' and thank yer wishful stars, I'd say," she notes. "Better I'zech than, say, Meara. Betcha she would have saw somethin', too. But I'zech, my clutchmate ain' a bad sort. Well, dependin' on who ya ask. Be glad he didn' give a shit about paperwork, if that was his motive."

With Rasavyth's thoughts starting to fall within, Tacuseth is content in letting the shadows fade a bit from the bronze's mind. Just not completely. « It's a long way to go, » he seems to agree, it being simple. « Many things can happen. But, he will always be yers. » Either way. That is one thing that cannot be changed. « We look to tomorrow, always, » he continues to say, speaking on the future and indicating his lady. « Yesterday cannot be undone. »

"I bet you do. Besides, if you'd met me months before you did, I'd've probably done nothing but blush and not find any words to say to you. You think I was sheltered when I met you? Nothing compared to a few months before." K'zin grins, amused to think of it. Then there's amazement taking over his face. "You're holdbred?? Shells, good thing you came along here. Weyr looks good on you, Jo." Of course, K'zin probably thinks anything would look good on Jo (and even better on his floor, or hers. He isn't picky). "I pulled her into my lap thinking I wouldn't have any people to explain myself to. Nothing was happening. She wasn't even letting me look at her. Because she was afraid I'd make her into one of these, I guess." The gesture is to the murals, only then it seems to dawn on him that he hadn't had these when that happened. There's a 'something fishy' look on his face for a moment, but then he's asking, "Does Tela seem the shy type to you?" As for I'zech? Well, a little grunt and nod seems to wrap that topic up for the weyrling, along with a begrudging, "I guess."

It is a long way, indeed. The agreement comes in sensation rather than words from Rasavyth. « He shall. » This sentiment is offered in his ever smooth tenor. « And I his. Our partnership may not always be the stuff of dreams, but ever the stuff of legend. » He's not saying it in a way that brags, simply the truth of fact a she sees it. « Whether we will prove to be someone's cautionary tale, however, lies in the execution of all things. We all shall have to be clever. Choose our moments. » The gossamer spinners of his mechanized mind continue their spinning, a spinning which might just make someone dizzy if watched too long for all of their swift movements, swinging hither and yon with thoughts cloaked in invisible, though occasionally shimmering ooze.

"Keogh, born and bred," Jo confirms on her being holdbred, turning to look at K'zin over her shoulder with a flash of teeth. "Grade A guardstock, too. Would've made a damn good one if not for takin' different paths that, well, led me here." Laughing briefly, "Weyr looks good on me? Shit, darlin', maybe it's me that looks good on the Weyr! Nah," and she hooks thumbs into the pockets of her pants as she levels an angled look his way. "The Weyr didn' change me, K'zin," she states almost soberly. "Tacuseth didn' change me. Unfortunate circumstances did." She's regarding him with lips pressed together as he explains the incident with Telavi further, even though hands lift up as she says, "Hey, I ain' the Weyrlingmaster. Ain' gotta explain to me why there was a naked girl on yer lap when ya were walked in on." There's an underlying poke there in the words, the tease present in humor before she answers on Telavi, "Shy? Her? Not to me. Why?"

Tacuseth is content in Rasavyth's words, letting his presence be felt though those gossamer spinners in heated winds and short moments of shadow. And the din of the crowd. « The others, » he now touches, flitting images of his weyrling class. « Ya fare well with them? All of them? » It was easy to think of the future with dragons beyond the weyrling class, but, what about his own? There's curiosity there, seeking where the bronze currently stood in relation to those he cracked shell with.

K'zin looks decidedly intrigued by the words of her history, though he doesn't press for more information just now. There's a grin for her reversal of his words, which might be a tacit agreement. Then there are those sober words, and again, there's intrigue in his face. Quietly, he answers this admission. "Someday I'll ask you about it. Your life, before this place. But someday when you want to tell me," Not today when he's likely to get straight answer. "Maybe you'll tell me while I draw you." This, too, is a quiet suggestion. The quietness is an indication of respect, It doesn't fully fade to good humor as he answers her next, shrugging. "No reason. She didn't strike me that way either." He reaches up a hand to run through his hair. "Have you given yourself a tour of the rest of the weyr or you gonna save that for another night?"

« I don't fare ill, but I wouldn't say that I fare well, either. Some are easy, » There are flashes of a few mind-touches, none distinct enough fot be recognized, « Others, not. » Rasavyth isn't hiding this information from Tacuseth. The sense is that everything with the other weyrling dragons is in constant transition, some days better than others. « I am not as physically apt as many of them. Their minds are largely child's play. » He offers the sense that this is frequently the case for him. It's not offered as a boast, just simple statement of fact to answer Tacuseth's curiosity.

Giving into a slight shrug of one shoulder, "Wish I could say that there's not much to tell," Jo remarks on his wanting to ask, regarding his face for a moment. "But, maybe. Someday. The drawin' part, too." There's a little challenging smile for that last said, seeming content to keep the weyrling on his toes with anticipation. Once he asks his question, though, the bluerider finally turns from the hearth and answers it with a wry, "Have I cased the full of place yet, lookin' for valuables? Nah. Think I'll finally leave ya to the peace ya had before I crashed in," and she moves toward the entrance, putting action to her words. "Weyrlins' need their sleep, right? I can always scare the shit outta ya again another night." There's a crooked smile for K'zin as she says it, then with a brief incline of her head, "Nice work, though. Keep at it. Keep, ahh, inspired." Just like she arrives, she leaves - but at least she doesn't scare him half to death on her way out.

« That is the way with a fair mix, » Tacuseth sends on the class - Rasavyth's class. « It's either one or the other. Ilicaeth is interestin', » and he even seems to be lumping in the blue's rider to that, as well. « We get along well with them. Solith, Ghislaith, too. » And while he doesn't necessarily name them, images of Sybile's and Canie's dragons flicker into Rasavyth's mind at that moment, too. Then, letting the smoke of his shadows and the winds gradually fade, « We shall leave ya and yers to yer peace, » he now gives, marking the late hour of the time. « Our talk has been, as always, very welcomin'. »

A single brow rises to answer Jo's rephrasing of his question about the tour. Apparently, he wasn't accusing her of anything of the kind. Poor, naive bronzer. Then he's pushing himself up onto his feet and rounds the bed back to his own side, "With you in my dreams, couldn't fail to be." Comes his answer over his shoulder. He doesn't look back at her, trusting her to show herself out as he drops trou to give this whole sleeping au natural thing a try. It is his weyr after all. He wastes no time slipping under the quilt and starting to settle back into sleep.

« Ilicaeth is a fine dragon. » The bronze's tone is complimentary and Tacuseth suddenly has back his undivided attention. « He is under the misapprehension that I bear ill will toward blues, or greens or whichever other color. I have not been able to reverse this impression. Nevertheless Ilicaeth's Alida... » There is thoughtfulness; but Tacuseth? He's a player in the game, not a pawn. « She is one of ours. For now. She is ready to leave if times get tough; this... restricts our trust. » Then his thoughts turn to Solith and Ghislaith. There is fondness for both; Solith is sweet, his mind says without saying. Ghislaith... Ghislaith is his favorite. There is acknowledgement of the other dragons, enjoyment of Sybile's sly blue 'mate. « We shall speak more. Next time, ask me specifically what you wish to know of my class and I shall do my best to oblige. Farewell, Tacuseth. A good evening to you and your Jo. » His tendrils of ooze draw back and a reflection of warm wind follows the blue as he departs.

Tacuseth seems to be taking in each and every assessment, giving little comment to each. If believed by the tendrils of shadows surrounding dragons named in particular they all seem to be a favorite of his. Especially the greens, but that shouldn't come as any surprise. His humor is all that's left, sending as he recedes, « Later. Yer words on them is somethin' to be considered. Farewell, Rasavyth, » and then he's gone like he and his rider is from his ledge.