This was a rare moment: Jo. In the Weyr. Out in the open. It was evening and the Weyr's folks could be seen going to and from the caverns, the winding down of cool breezes and the rising up of inebriation. The bluerider, while she was surely present and looks to be loitering, has settled up against the flank of her blue, Tacuseth with a bottle in hand as she regards the surface of the lake. Any that pass her on the shore is given brief, cold stare, something that's become a known quirk of hers ever since she was tapped in Glacier. Broody intimidation was her favorite drink this night, as she keeps her legs sticking straight out in front of her like she has all the time in the world to be sitting out there.
This fine evening has likely seen Szadath in the feeding grounds, to judge from the bloody mess on maw and talons as the brown glides down into the shallow part of the lake. Taikrin ambles on not far behind, a flask in her hand and an air of relaxation about her -- the first since Iolene's murder. As she draws to a halt on the shore, she glances over and raises her flask in casual salute to her wingmate. "Evening."
When Szadath lands, Tacuseth is easy in his rumbled greeting. It's what gets his rider's lazy attention, the bottle by her side half-empty. She does a little stretch before Taikrin's greeting meets her, the woman leaning forward to arch and crack her back. Eyes train on that flask. "It will be a good evening if you're sharin'," is her own, her dark gaze now regarding her wingmate with her head slightly tilted. Then, uncharacteristic of her - blame it on the booze, perhaps - she waves the brownrider closer and adds, "Might as well join me. No point in getting' liquored up alone out here, is there?"
"Could be," Taikrin allows, though the half-smile she crinkles is a more definitive 'yes'. She walks, loose-limbed as the slightly inebriated tend to be, to join Jo with a short greeting of, "Hey, Tacuseth." There's a rumble in there somewhere from Szadath as well, though he's primarily occupied with dousing himself in the chilly lake waters. "Ain't no point at all. You drinking for anything special tonight?" she asks as she motions to hand her flask of whisky over.
Tacuseth turns his head over towards Taikrin, as if acknowledging and recognizing her himself for the greeting. Perhaps something passes between rider and dragon for Jo to suddenly snort and shake her head, though she doesn't follow it up with words. Once Taikrin's close, she reaches out to take the offered flask and upends a taste passed her lips. "Good stuff," she remarks as she examines the thing, nodding once. "Always figured you all kept the real good stuff hidden in your weyrs." She pauses then before she takes another pull before passing it back over and settling her arms across her frame before she answers the given question. "Nope," comes quick. There's a longer pause before she adds on with a shake of her head, "Gotta turnday comin' up, and for some reason, can't stop thinkin' about home. Once a turn my conscious wants to take a claw to my throat." Beat. "Maybe it's because of Monaco rider, too." No names. She takes up the bottle by her side and then asks, "You?"
"Me, I'm just glad he ain't gonna be bothering us and ours anymore. Permanently. Big load off our shoulders, ain't it?" Taikrin is likely referring to the ad-hoc guard service she set up for Brieli and Azaylia, primarily out of Glacier riders. Jo might even have served a shift or two? She takes the flask back, and knocks back a sip of her own to mask the speculative way she's eyeing Jo. "Good thing we all got a good hold over our conscious, ain't it? Way I see it, sometimes it's best to bury things deep. Real deep. Real deep/."
Jo nods to that, "Yeah, I hear ya." She indeed served a shift or two, although she was missing in action any other time. She falls silent for a moment before she says, "Been outta the loop for a bit." A 'bit'? "Iolene kickin' it reached out deep, but I'm fuzzy on how this I'kris kid ended up being it." She takes a long drink from her bottle before rubbing at her mouth and flicking a quick glance Taikrin's way for her next words about conscious. That gets silence. "It's buried enough, as always," she then says to that. "And I ain't crackin' up, so if you're thinkin' that, don't." She meets her in the eyes then. "Just havin' an off day. A girl's allowed one, every now and then. Just....his death and all, and all the dragons' cryin' about. Death just makes me...thoughtful." She falls silent, her gaze going towards the shore before she adds, a touch wry, "I never did figure you out, you know. You, and Greenfields. Never even learned if you could punch like a girl or not." She could be teasing, to lighten up the mood, or by the shadow of a lopsided grin on her face.
"Don't know as how crazy needs much understanding. Kid snowed the lot of us, but the way I see it he was out of his head. Whoever did it was doing us all a kindness. 'Specially his dragon. Don't think even a dragon could forget about what the two of them did together." Clearly Taikrin was in the 'kill the kid' camp, to judge from the scowl the twists her face despite the warm burn of whisky as she takes another swig. "Ain't nothing on me to figure out." Is it a warning? She's not as worked up about this as she had been about I'kris. "Some long-gone things, laid to rest. Did some jobs to get by, like people do. Like you did, I reckon?"
A brow lifts with interest at the passion Jo hears in Taikrin's voice about Iolene's killer. Eyes narrow onto the brownrider, but it's not menacing. "Out of his head, or truly believed in what he was doing was the right thing?" she muses, even. She falls silent again, absorbing. Listening. Or, maybe reveling in the alcohol in her system. Taikrin's next though, actually brings a smile. "You keep your cards close. You're loyal to this Weyr. I observe. Perhaps there is nothing about you to figure out after all. Other than what I see." What she studies right now, that is. That smile fades on the last and she looks away, leaning her head up against Tacuseth's flank. Then, low and could be almost unheard, "It didn't start out like that." She drinks and swallows, stretching out the silence. Was that a reach out? If so, Jo's suddenly up off the ground, downing her bottle with a sudden vigor as if she were preparing to disappear back to elusiveness.
"'Course I'm loyal to the Weyr. Ain't we all? I mean, with the dragons, how couldn't we be? Unless you're crazy, of course. It's our job now to protect the queens so's they can protect us all. Got to stick together, yeah?" Maybe it's a peace offering of sorts, as much as her following oh-so-innocuous question: "How do you mean, about starting out?" She's got her flask held close, now, and she taps out an idle rhythm against her ribcage with a corner. "Ain't no shame in who we were, if that's what you're thinking. It ain't necessarily who you are now."
Standing, pausing and tapping a finger to her temple with a grin, "Are you callin' me crazy, too?" Dropping her hand then, "I'm loyal, enough, and I'm willin' to admit I ain't all that put together in the sanity basket, though I won't be pullin' an I'kris on anyone or anything around here. I agree. Boy stupid enough to do it at all and get caught deserves what he got. I would know. Still, I'd be careful stickin' around with the likes of me. Don't you know I'm still trouble?" She could be teasing, but this one doesn't really joke around all that much with the wing. She drains her bottle then at the last - at that question - and then just stares at Taikrin. Sizing her up, maybe? Or perhaps she was deciding the wingmate could be trusted. Then, leaning back against her blue, "For some, havin' a beast in your head don't change you. Perhaps you've moved on from the life." But. It hangs there, waiting and unfulfilled as she returns to Taikrin's question. There's a twitch of a bare shrug before she answers with, "How I mean, is that I was sweet once." Jo? Sweet? It's laughable. The look she sends the brownrider, she's even daring her to laugh. "Didn't need to survive then. Now, it's all I have."
"Are you?" There's no judgement in Taikrin's voice, only cool equinamity; funny, she doesn't seem nearly as drunk as she was looking a moment ago. "You're still Glacier; we got your back. We look out for each other, yeah?" Even if Jo hasn't always attended the poker games or drinking nights. "Reckon Tacuseth changed you more'n you think. They all do." Finally she does grin, even if it's a bit twisted. "We were all sweet kids once, way I figure. Maybe only when we were on the teat, but there it is. 'Cept Riorde. Reckon she came straight out exactly how she is."
Jo is slow to answer the first. She just leans there up against her dragon, arms coming to a fold across her chest as she gives the brownrider the once-over. Then, as sober as she could make it, her answer is, "Yeah. To both." Beat. "Huh. So is this why you're being so nice to me? Cuz I'm in your wing?" Drunk or not, the tendrils of distrust had always lingered close behind the bluerider. She was a creature of habit, and kindness was something that threw up red flags for her. Then, more evenly and direct, "Do you trust that I'll have your back, when the going gets tough, Taikrin? Or that you have mine?" You. There's a slight, barely there emphasis on the pronoun, as if it mattered more if it was her. When Tacuseth is brought up, there's a snort and a wry, "Is that so. He likes to think that. I let him think that." But then, what's been changed in the convict rider remains to be seen. She almost mirrors that twisted grin on the last. "You were sweet? I think you gave'em all a little bratty terror even back then. 'Snot bad, though. Riorde." Another wingmate she never talked to, but she observed much. "Yeah. She seems so. Guess, being born in exile can do that, I hear."
"Well, why else? Weyrmates ain't forever, but your wing ought to be. 'Sides, I got to look after Szad's get. Ain't all that many of you. Got to make sure you're on the up-and-up. Makes him look good too, yeah?" This despite the fact that the brown hasn't shown a hint of paternal interest in any of his offspring in turns and turns, at the very least. He's certainly completely uninterested right now. "Reckon I can count on you enough to know when I can count on you. And you know I look after my wingmates, no matter what. And my crew. Always got to look after your crew. Yeah?" She's still got her crooked grin, and now it's complete with cocked hip: Taikrin is the very picture of unconcern. Look, she even takes another sip from her flask and holds it out as an offering.
Unconcerned on one side, Distrust on the other. It's almost comical. Jo's lips twists a bit. "That's all it is," and it's more a statement than a question. She falls silent to all the rest, seeming to be lost for words. There's even a faint expression suggesting that maybe she wasn't the only crazy one right there on the lake. Considering all their past encounters - and that to Jo was turns back before she was knotted and started all of her disappearing acts - it looks like she just doesn't know how to take this nicer, open Taikrin. It was jarring. "Up-and-up? Counting on me? Your 'crew'? Anymore sisterly love sent this way might have me thinking someone's abducted the Taikrin that used to threaten about with no care in the world and replaced her with a twin." She's eying that cocked hip and the crooked grin, and this time there's a long hesitation now in taking up the offered flask. She then takes it quickly and upends some of the liquor into her mouth before passing it back, wiping her lips with the back of one hand. Fortified, "Or," she says, coughing once, "you're trying to lure me into a false sense of security where I tell you everything. Sorry, love. I'm not -that- drunk."
Maybe the teeth-baring grin and all of its implications might be more familiar to Jolie, even if Taikrin tries to keep her voice pleasantly light. "What, me? I've always been a fine, upstanding rider in this Weyr. Threatening our wingmates ain't how it's done. Ain't you learned nothing in the turns since you got tied to him?" She takes her flask back, but instead of drinking she tucks it back into the pocket of her riding jacket. "All that was turns ago. You ain't got anything I want, and we fly together. Don't know as how it benefits anyone for me to be after you. Waste of energy. Got bigger fish to fry, lately, don't you think?"
"I've learned people always lie, and leave, and screw you over in the end." Jo says the words simply, as if they've been lingering in her head. "Guess here," the Weyr and its people, "it's just taking me a good while to be proven otherwise." With her being a phantom rider and all that haunts the wing. She lets that stick in the air, regarding that teeth-baring grin more steadily than before. And then the latter. Waste of energy. Bigger fish to fry. Her silence could very well be agreement. And, if it wasn't, "Point made." Pause. "Thanks, for the drink." Her preparation to depart as she turns to stash the bottle away on her dragon.
"Might be," Taikrin allows, with a dose of well-understood reality. "Good thing we ain't people. We're riders. Your dragon'll never leave you and screw you over. Might be it changes things, somewhat." Szadath has finally emerged from the lake, cold and steaming and demanding. "Any time. What's a wing for if it ain't for drinking together, yeah? You ought to stop by one of these nights in the Snowasis, you know, and join us for a round." Still, the brown is insistent-- so Taikrin doesn't linger. "See you there."
Dark eyes flick over to her waiting blue when Taikrin speaks of dragons and the bond, and both rider and dragon seem to regard each other in that space of time before she says, "Yeah, I get it. Tac and me are fine. He would have just told me to quit my drunken bellyachin' and stop thinkin' there's someone out to get me everywhere I turn." Sound advice, if so, but with Jo, old habits seem to be dying hard. She was pulling herself up to mount Tacuseth when the offer was extended, and the rider looks over her shoulder to where Taikrin is before she answers back a slightly hesitant, "Maybe. Maybe soon." And then, with a nod of wordless goodnight, the blue takes her into the night.
|
Leave A Comment