Difference between revisions of "Logs:Map Of Truths"

Since transferring to Snowdrift, Jo's been mostly put on observation detail by her new wingleader. Like intense wing shadowing, she's been watching each wingrider during drills and casually getting to know the ones that she's never talked to a day in her life than the ones she do know. So, once all the drillwork and sweeps are done for the day, the bluerider finds herself at home in her weyr, standing on her tip-toes as she tries to attach yet another drawn piece of map topography to the massive map on her leftside wall. It's a mis-mash of drawings and renderings of the broad High Reaches area, slowly creeping beyond the area towards Fort. She still has her black leathers on, suggesting that she hasn't been home long, especially since Tacuseth is still wearing his riding straps.

« Tacuseth! » Aeaeth's bubbly greeting, puffs of green and gold like powdery and colorful snow, prefaces her appearance from above, angling towards his ledge without any questions as to the welcoming of her presence. She has a standing invitation, after all, which must by necessity extend to the young woman settled into her pink straps. Her landing is neat and graceful, and Yesia's dismount is the same. Her helmet and gloves are removed summarily, and the straps are loosened if not removed. Yesia stops just shy of the entrance, lingering on the ledge and calling, "Jo?"

Aeaeth's touch is probably one of the few that Tacuseth welcomes intruding. His desert touch is a warm breeze on a balmy day. She is indeed welcome, and it shows by him shifting from the warmer side of the ledge so that she can have that spot. Perhaps he tells Jo of their arrival, so when Yesia calls, she's not appearing startled as she calls back, "Come in!" She still stands with some pins sticking out of her mouth, affixing the drawn piece of cartography. Around the pins, "'Bout to stick myself. Wanna help me?" It's an offer, the bluerider working next to a few torn pieces of drawn maps scattered on the desk by her. « Sweets! » the blue calls, meanwhile. « The ledge there should be warm enough. It's good seeing you outside of drills. » He's pleased they're wingmates, of course.

Aeaeth gladly takes the spot offered, and when she can wiggle loosely in her straps she drapes herself like some elegant green duvet with the agreement, « It's perfectly warm, » like he heated it himself. Her sharp muzzle is protruding over the edge so she can look down over it, not paying the slightest bit of attention to Yesia's departure inside; her intention is clearly to sit there and cuddle through whatever is going on with their riders. Which, if the stiffness of Yesia's bearing is any indication, is Strictly Business. "Um, not really." At least she's honest, even if she holds her hands out for whatever Jo will give her, with the caveat, "I'm not tall enough to be much good."

It seems like Tacuseth is easy to remember the things he wants to, for the blue to send back, « Just like I promised. » His aim is to cuddle as well, for the blue settles up against her with such familiarity that there's no question. His watch is toward the sky while Jo looks over at Yesia's answer to take in her demeanor. Perhaps the bluerider has gotten used to the sway of her moods - or at least some of the familiar ones - that there's a slight frown given to her once she finish tacking the current drawing. Nodding down towards the desk, "Don' need'ja height. Just grab those three sketches for me'n I'll tack'em up. What's goin' on?" she asks now, addressing more of Yesia's detected mood than her presence. "We're good?"

Yesia does as she's bidden, picking up the indicated scraps before turning her eyes to the wall with distant fascination, her lower lip between her teeth. Her survey is brief, but not vapid, before she starts shuffling through the scraps as well. "I just...you're supposed to shadow me and the person I'm shadowing tomorrow." Because of course Yesia's still shadowing. That she's bothered by it is plain. And whether that's good or not, the problem here is, "Why did you move to Snowdrift of all places? I was just starting to feel..."

The scraps Yesia holds depict places in the Reachian area, drawn with topography and some added color here and there. It's detailed. Jo takes one from her and quickly moves to another place on the map to tack it on as she speaks. "Yeah, that's right," she says, glancing Yesia's way briefly. Noting the discomfort, "It'll be alright, darlin'," she tells her as she moves to grab the second one held - her fingers lingering a second longer as she looks at her. "I'm not a hard taskmaster. Ya survived weyrlin'hood, so, I trust'ja." But then, it's the latter. Once the second piece is in place, she straightens up and turns toward Yesia fully to focus on her. With a soft snort, "Believe me, my comfort remains with Glacier," she tells her, perhaps to lighten the mood somewhat before the grin that starts out falters to something uncertain. "I didn' transfer to stalk ya or somethin', if that's what yer thinkin'," she says more soberly now. "I'll tell ya why...but ya tell me what yer startin' to feel." It's an honest trade, one that has her searching Yesia's face.

Yesia at least seems able to note the areas, if vaguely. They're still just a puzzle, and before long she's sorted them in some order that makes sense, after a little back and forth glancing between the scraps and the latter map. She'll have the third prepared and held up, in logical sequence for Jo's moving, by the time the bluerider wants it. "I didn't say any of that," she says, guiltily. "I'm not doing anything important anyway. Mai will be doing all the hard work and making the big decisions." Yesia's frown is brief, schooled away just shy of quickly enough. "I was starting to feel comfortable with where everything was. Everyone. Can I even be friends with someone I have to call ma'am most of the time?"

Catching that guilty tint, "Don' have to," Jo answers to that with a small shake of her head. She nods on Mai, and she states in counter, "Nothin' changed, darlin'. Other than me bein' seen durin' drills, which, I hope isn' really a bad thing?" Chin drops a bit as she angles a look at the greenrider. To the last, "It won' be most," she states that one firmly with a look. "I'm statin' right now that as long as Mielline or R'vel's not standin' in front of us, I don' wanna hear ya call me that. Even infront of other wingmates, too, if it bothers ya. I'm Jo 'n yer Yesia 'n we just happen to be in the same wing." But she answered, and a promise was a promise, so the bluerider takes a pause as if to gather her thoughts, looking over the map on her wall before she says, "Mielline offered a position I had a hard time refusin' in the long run. The woman's convincin', I'll give her that," with a snort and a shake of her head. "But, couldn' deny all what she said. 'Bout potential. Maybe stickin' with Taikrin for so long ain' so good for me. Maybe I could be more. She seems to think I can'n, well..." Looking back a Yesia with a small shrug, "Guess I owe it to myself'n Tac to at least try," she says evenly. "I don' have to ever wonder 'what if'. If I fuck up, it's on me. Maybe I will'n she'll kick me out. It's what some folks expect of me here. But I've tried'n if anythin', that's something."

"You're not allowed to play favorites," Yesia counters, and wiggles the untaken scrap insistently. "Especially if you're playing favorites with the weyrlings. They'll think you're babying us." It's no small wonder she seems to be including at least one other person in her scenario, who would call Jo Jo come hell or high waters. "Happen to be in the same wing you're bossing around soon," is grudging fact, but she crosses her arms with the scraps caught between her fingers lightly. "You never seemed to be the ambitious kind. You're all, fuck 'em and leave 'em and disappearing on business all the time, and weird day trips to parties you're not even invited to. Not wingleading and telling people what to do. Is Taikrin mad?"

"I don'play favorites," Jo answers that briskly as she reaches to take up the scrap. "I haven' with Canie'n I've known her for turns. I haven' with Ed. I won' with you. But make no mistake," and with that scrap still attached between them, she steps closer to Yesia, "I'm not one that walks around with the wingsecond knot attached everywhere she goes. I am Jo first." Maybe that conveys a deeper meaning in her gaze before she slips the scrap free and turns to attach it last to the map. "So ya don' liked to be bossed around," she concludes from what Yesia says, amusement heard in her tone. "I'll keep that in mind." Once attached she steps back to look the new additions over with a critical eye, but something Yesia says draws a sharp look to her face in the pause. "Ya say so much 'bout me for someone who hasn' even tried to get to know me," she notes quietly, looking back towards the map. Even quieter, "Ya have all the cards'n ya won' even attempt to play'em, girl." Silence. "She got it," she answers on Taikrin. "She couldn' blame me. She doesn' need a wingsecond'n I was never gonna be one there. I'd imagine she'll miss my pokin' at her every single day, though. No one'll be there to do that."

Yesia, who is very good at glossing over important things for trivial ones, says, "Nobody likes being bossed around." Her tone leaves duh implied. The next scrap is prepared, fluttered between her fingertips gently but without the insistence she had before. "I have too! I...went to Crom to help you find puppies. I was trying, but now you've gone and messed it up. And Mielline too. Maybe Taikrin would take you back as a wingsecond, if she knew you wanted it bad enough to leave."

While Yesia is good at glossing over things, Jo is good at reading between the lines. At least for the most part. She's doing it now, watching her and searching those green eyes as she straightens up approaches her for the next scrap. Taking the scrap but not moving it from her hands yet, "Nothin's messed up," she says each word with emphasis in her study of the younger woman. She goes quiet then for a long moment, almost as if she's contemplating taking Yesia up on her suggestion of asking Taikrin for a knot. Then, "What're ya so afraid of, Yesia?" she asks, the question quiet but firm as she closes the distance between them. "Why can't ya trust that everythin's gonna be fine?"

"Yet," Yesia says contrarily under her breath, and it's easier that way. She's already got that nasty look of annoyance when she looks back at Jo more fully, her brows knitting down over eyes that are flaring with annoyance. "Nothing. I'm not scared, I'm annoyed. Everything was fine. But if I couldn't be friends with Telavi when I was a weyrling and she was technically my boss, I don't know why you think -- I thought we could be friends, and then you had to go and move."

"Nothin'," Jo repeats, shaking her head at Yesia. "I'm not yer boss. Mielline is. She's mine now, too. I can't just move, Yesia. It doesn' work like that." Her thumb brushes the greenrider's hand, not taking the scrap between them as she tells her, "Wings are part of life here, but it's not all of life. Folks become friends regardless of what wing they're in. Folks even fall for....Taikrin'n Riorde've been together for turns now'n they're both in Glacier. It's well known'n no one cares. It happens, baby. Don' run now. Don' let this...." She trails, shaking her head barely, still searching her face for something.

"Oh for fuck's sake." The expletive sounds bad coming from Yesia; she doesn't swear, not like that, spitting the expletive on the floor like a rotten bit of fruit. "I'm going to petition the weyrlingmasters make training more logical then, a turn of being told you can't be friends with your weyrlingmasters, that you have to salute anyone with a bigger knot, that you'll be in trouble if you mess up or miss it or forget, and then as soon as you graduate it's--" She's young remember, and she's frustrated. She stamps a foot to get some of her annoyance out. "Don't fraternize, fraternize, salute, don't salute, use titles, don't use titles. No wonder I'm not good at this, nobody even knows what they want or what the rules are."

That Yesia curses is noteworthy, and so Jo merely blinks. Letting her say her piece in silence and answering at the end of it, "We're not weyrlins' anymore." Stepping towards her, "Ya do what ya have to out there-" she gestures with her free hand towards the ledge, indicating the Weyr proper, "-but in here? That shit stays on my ledge. Yer gonna be fine, Yesia. What's it gonna take for ya to believe it?" Frustration shows in her wry frame, too. "Me..." She stops.

"Nothing," Yesia counters, annoyed. "I don't want you to convince me, I just wanted to say, tomorrow, please don't -- make it weirder than it already is, okay? I'm still learning to do things the way Snowdrift wants, and Mielline is -- " Is something. Whatever she is. Yesia puts the scraps down, then, what's left of them. "I didn't mean to interrupt your map, or whatever."

Jo listens. She won't stop her with that unreadable expression on her face. She barely shakes her head when requests about tomorrow, and when she tries to put those scraps down, the bluerider closes the last of the distance between them from the pause on their wingleader -- to her lips attempting to stop the rest of those words. It wouldn't be a clumsy kiss, but it's spontaneous, meant to draw the greenrider in. No words.

Yesia, notoriously, doesn't shut up after that. She's just fishing for a word, whatever Mielline is, it's right there on the tip of her mind, but she can find it on her way out - or she could, given time to think. Less so, maybe, when Jo is right there, and her sound of surprise is all she gets out, the beginning of a short 'e' sound that mostly chokes off against Jo's lips. There's a moment of rigid nervousness, and all of Yesia coils up with tension, then...relaxes. Into her and into the kiss with a soft breath almost like relief.

Jo's body is tense despite the sudden kiss, the suddenness being a sort of aggression from the convict wingsecond. Lips closed - chaste - when she feels Yesia rigid in response, her lips only moving just a fraction against hers...but it's the other's relaxing that changes everything. Long fingers gently tug the greenrider's arm towards her as she parts her lips to swallow that breath. Her aim having to have the younger woman against her black leathered own as her tongue seeks to deepen it. The scraps could fall to the floor for all she seems to care. When her head tilts and her free hand comes up to rest on Yesia's shoulder, the low growl of hunger coming deep from her throat perhaps indication of how much aggression she's holding back in this moment.

It's easy enough to move Yesia - she's spent months falling into this role, and when Jo draws her close there's not a protest, at first. She kisses like she's starved, her palms flat against the smooth front of Jo's leather's for several minutes that feel suspended, and it's only when she takes another breath that she comes to herself. She shakes her head abruptly, draws back -- but doesn't run, and more importantly doesn't shove Jo. "I just said not to make it weird. And you - and me -"

It must be like drinking an elixir to Jo, Yesia's body firm against hers as she feeds that starved hunger with her own. Those several minutes is like breath is suspended as well, the bluerider wanting more of those lips, teasing that bottom lip before she feels the other draw back. She doesn't let go of that arm nor that shoulder, pulling back reluctantly with dark eyes glazed with need as it's clear that she's trying to comprehend. Perhaps seeing more than hearing, fingers lift to draw against Yesia's chin as she breathes back, "A knot's not gonna make me stop how I feel." It's given quietly. Heatedly. Her lips are lingering close to Yesia's. "'N me'n you are nobody's fuckin' business." Fingers brushing that skin, "This is not weird. 'N what we do has nothin' to do with our wingmates, baby." The need to kiss her again must be strong, her gaze lingering between green eyes and red lips.

Anyone with a lick of common sense can tell when Yesia's actually listening. She's doing it now, lips slightly parted, her breath already a little ragged. Outside, Aeaeth shifts under Tacuseth's wing, stands, and tries to gingerly creep to a position where she can peer into exposed entryway. She's vibrating with anticipatory glee. « Tacuseth. Tacuseth, watch. » She says it like a person who has seen this particular part of a play several times, but still revels in how it goes. Yesia's brows knit together in concern, confusion, then -- she can be aggressive too, as it turns out, when she wants something. Even if she has been denying that someone often.

Tacuseth seems to have been ignoring all the going-ons in his rider's weyr - pretty much having who he wants right under his literal wing. Jo was on her own. So when Aeaeth stirs, the pair having been quiet up to this point, he shifts to let her move and he turns his head towards the weyr to her mindvoice. « Nothing's been spilled, » because he's checking. « Nothing's been thrown. You mean-- » and nosy, the blue is now tuned as Jo watches the greenrider steadily, hand tracing the line of Yesia's shoulder slowly down to her waist. "Tell me ya don' want me," she says it, her lips mere inches from the other's. "Tell me ya don' like me'n that ya don' think 'bout me." Aggression barely held back herself, barely holding on by a thread to keep the beast in.

« Yeah. » Whispered, like they might be overheard. Like they're children sneaking peeks at the turn's end gifts, not entirely sure their parents are asleep. Yesia shakes her head, slowly. She could be saying she doesn't; it could be rejection of the statements. In the end, she doesn't say anything. She presses closer and kisses Jo, not gentle. Urgent, with her fingers trying to find purchase to bunch Jo's jacket into a fist. Leather never was a good fabric for that sort of thing.

With Yesia shaking her head, Jo parts her lips to speak before soft lips stop her. The aggression is probably unexpected by her, but the bluerider really only takes a second to even register it as such before her own aggression answers back. With that jacket in the way, she practically manages to shrug out of it once she wrests it from Yesia's grasp to reveal the scarred arms and chest underneath. Her tank bunches as pulls her body to press against her with one arm as she deepens that kiss to speak what's not said in words between them. « 'Bout time, sweets, » Tacuseth's shadows thicken with relief, the blue slumping with exhaustion against the green.

« Yesia might not even be mad in the morning, » is exceptionally cheerful as Aeaeth leans against him, briefly. Her mind wraps multicolored streamers through Tacuseth's shadows before she turns to curl back up. « I get to stay the night. » Like that was the point all along. All that work for a sleepover. At least Yesia seems obliging to participate in the plan, giving up on the jacket except for to push it free when it's halfway along and then she's wrapped a hand in Jo's hair. She pulls Jo with her when she moves this time, towards the table.

It's shadows and multicolored streamers together as Tacuseth revels in having Aeaeth all to himself for the night. There's deep contentment dawning in him as he sends to her, « Ledge is big enough for the both of us. Good thing she loosened those straps, » for yes, he still remembers a certain memory that happens to be the one where they first met, he flashes the very one. Inside, with Yesia a willing participant, Jo doesn't waste anymore time. She's guided towards the table easily with her hair in hand, lips locked and her own hand snaking between them with a firm aim for between Yesia's legs. For now, the table will do, but eventually Jo has every intention of taking it behind her towards the far comfier bed.

Tacuseth's memory is better than Aeaeth's, but it comes back to her quickly. « Poor Akluseth. Yesia would never be so careless. » But yes, it was a good thing. Yesia breathes, "Jo," as she reaches behind her; it's entirely possible she knocks some of the map on the floor, or at any rate maybe creases them, but she can't be faulted for trying. Jo meets no resistance: Yesia arches into the touch, groaning lowly, and remains that responsive. She breaks their kiss only when she must to breathe, and keeps Jo close; it turns out, she's not just teeth and claws during flights, though when she sinks either now it's gentler, incidental. Yesia melts.