Logs:Style And Loyalty
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| RL Date: 1 February, 2013 |
| Who: Jo, Vienne |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Vienne stops by for some clothing advice. Jo picks her brain about the new change in leadership. |
| Where: Jo's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Ainslee/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
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| It's well into the evening to oddly find this blueriding pair - Jo and Tacuseth - home, and yet, here they are. With Tacuseth looking alert on his ledge, within the weyr with the heavy blue drapery pulled back there is Jo walking around, somewhat undressed. Her black leather jacket is slung over the back of a chair at the table, showing her in a sleeveless, off-white tank top hugging her wiry form and showing off her arms. There's healed scratches and scars down them that could be seen laying lean muscle, and the convict rider doesn't seem to be minding the growing cold of the evening. Hair wild and seeming unkempt, the woman reaches for an open bottle on the table and takes a long drink before she's back to tidying up one wall of her weyr that seems to be home to....maps. And lots of them. There's warning; ever polite, the newly-transferred pair don't just show up unannounced. Oswinth checks, all electric fizz and magnetic hum, to see if Tacuseth and his rider are in before he lands on their ledge. Vienne dismounts in her wool coat and furry boots, hat and scarf and mittens, even though there's little reason to believe she's come from anywhere other than her own ledge. Nudging back the blue curtain, she peers inside quietly, letting her gaze skim around the weyr, the maps, the gleam of the floor, before it settles on Jo in her white tank. "Hello?" she offers as a greeting, waiting there with her face poked through the curtain rather than stepping inside without invitation. Tacuseth seems amiable enough to let Oswinth land, his voice as rough as gravel being crushed by booted feet. It goes to say that dragon and rider have communicated, for once Vienne had dismounted and approached the drapery to greet, "The temptress finally makes a visit?" Jo has her back to the entrance, now standing before the various maps pinned to that one section of the wall with an open study. Arms fold across a well-formed chest normally hidden by the jacket, one propped arm lifted up to idly brush a finger against her own chin as if she was lost in thought - but she wasn't. She turns her head then to pin her piercing dark gaze on the bluerider and she jerks her chin to the side in a gesture for her to enter. "Vienne," she greets, the smile forming full of that cocky boldness, as usual. Eyes taking the length of her in, "Just came back from somewhere?" she asks. There's a breathy laugh from over by the curtain for that temptress remark, Vienne's smiling face still floating against the blue drapery. "Have you been waiting long?" she quips to Jo's back, her tone wry and teasing. When the invitation finally comes -- that simple, silent tip of the dark, wild head -- the little ex-harper slips inside, careful to keep the curtain drawn and the cold winter air out, even if the temperature doesn't seem to effect her host at all. With melting flakes still sticking about her hat and jacket, Vienne looks rather like a figurine in all her winter get-up, her mittened hands clasped as she lets her steps meander a bit. "Not at present," she replies, the grin easy. "You aren't busy are you? Or expecting anyone?" Her eyes enjoy another survey of the unfamiliar surroundings, then another real look at Jo, this time actually catching sight of those scars. Or maybe it's just the bareness of her arms. She can't understand it and shakes her head. "Aren't you freezing?" Jo approaches, her gait its usual saunter and 'I'm-the-shit' quality that comes with her as she lightly brushes past Vienne and firmly lets the drapery drop down to block out the chill. Perhaps she's close to the woman's ear while doing so for her to says in low tones, "I'm patient." Then once Vienne's inside her weyr, all covered from the cold, the convict rider steps back as she returns to the crates and messiness of that side of the weyr. "Not wholly," she answers on being busy, bending to pick up one of the heavy crates on the ground and moving it to stack up against the wall. "Thought I'd take the night off and get this place cleaned up a little. It's spiced brandy," she notes, straightening up with a nod towards the bottle at the table. "Ya can have some if ya wanted." She turns fully towards the bluerider now and step toward the table, leaning a hip against its edge before the smile hitches on that last question. "I had a father that thought it wise to bring up all his children in the ways of doin' things in the chill," she explains with a small shrug. "Even as the only girl, I wasn' excluded in his brand of discipline." She might be a little close, yes, and, with a smile hanging on her lips, Vienne turns her head to spy Jo from the corner of her eye, pulling her hat off at the same time and tucking it into her pocket along with her mittens. Her hair has that half-matted, half-mussed quality that only a hat can truly master, and her fingers go about combing through it, a quick twist putting some of the picturesque curls back in. "I'm good, thanks," she says to the brandy. She all but ignores the bottle, her eyes on the maps instead. "Should I take my boots off?" is asked after a half-step, before she remember shine of the floor. Meanwhile, she can at least make herself comfortable by unbuttoning her coat. "You have one of those lives, don't you. The kind that people write stories about. Hardship and adventure." "Hope ya don' mind my own brand of dinner, then," Jo quips to the decline of drink, the woman taking it up, raising it briefly towards Vienne and taking a drink. She watches Vienne more than where the other is looking until she asks about her boots, and then dark eyes drop to the boots in question with a lift of a brow and a "Been shoppin', have we?" Beat. "I don' mind, but, if ya don' want to scuff up my floor." Amusement colors her tone as she answers, setting the bottle back down and now sending a look towards where Vienne's looking: the maps. Her comment about her life and its hardship gets a sidelong look from her, even though that bold little smirk still lingers as she returns her gaze to the various pinned maps on the wall. "People just wanna hear about the adventure, not the hardship," she answers on that, some of that cockiness ebbing. "Ain' a whole lot of adventure in my story, darlin'." "They're just wet and dirty," Vienne says of her boots, bending to unfasten the straps and doing her best to step well free of the puddles when she's just in her socks. "I found them in the stores, actually," eyes down while she navigates and then back toward one of the maps, letting it draw her in and hold her attention. "I don't mean to sound..." she doesn't have a word on hand and so she just lets that hang rather than say anything else about the nature of Jo's life. "Why the maps?" she wonders, looking over her shoulder at her hostess. A fresh smile cracks on her lips, pulled to one side: "Or were they just here when you moved in?" "I might make ya clean around here if I catch those dirt tracks on my floor," Jo warns with a smile, always seeming to make anything she says sound dirty. She examines the boots Vienne's taking off with interest, then, as she examines the rest of her, "Lookin' more Reachian by the day. Gotta get ya fitted for the right kind of leathers, next." Vienne's beginning of an apology gets a shake of her head and a quick, "Ya don' sound. It's cool. Really. And it's true, what I said. Hardships don' make good stories, but heartbreaks do. Got some of that in mine, too." She then pushes herself from the table to approach the myriad sizes of pinned maps, mostly depicting areas of the High Reaches and on into Telgar. She moves to stand beside the bluerider, looking the maps over with hands on her hips as she answers with, "Nah, they're mine," she drawls with a crooked smile going to her. "I collect them. Like knowin' places. Always been like that. Anyplace Tac and I go, and haven' been before, I draw it up and make sure it's all accurate before it goes up," and she nods towards the wall of maps. "More I look at'em, the more I memorize, see. Brieli gave me a new place I wanna check out and add, next." She actually sounds genuinely pleased, and anticipatory. Vienne wets her lips and tucks them in her mouth, a smile that's coyly contrite as she looks back. That's for the 'dirty' warning and the Reachian wardrobe comments. The talk of hardships steals the humor from her expression, leaving something more thoughtful in its place, and she lets her eye slide over Jo again. "In a story," as opposed to real life. "Hardship and heartbreak usually serve to make the heroine more sympathetic." She just puts it out there, no particular sympathy in her now. Just a shrug. As the other bluerider comes to stand beside her, though, Vienne turns her attention forward again, her gaze following the ranges of mountains, the dots of civilization. And then she blinks at the woman beside her. "You draw these yourself? Did you draw all of them?" It's hurried now, the way she looks from map to map for signs that they've been done by the same hand. "And what do ya think of me?" Jo, who's quiet when Vienne points out about hardship and real life, is now asking. Her tone shows interest, indicating that the convict rider does indeed value to other's opinion. She turns on the matter of the drawn maps, a note of pride entering her tone as she nods firmly. "My father discouraged that sort of talent, but I always kept it up whenever I got the chance to alone," she explains. "I've always had a good memory of places, people, things...and I could drawn them accurately. Try to, at the least." Glancing at Vienne then, "I guess it's just one of those things I kept up with after I left Keogh," she adds with a shrug. "I liked capturin' things down on hides....bein' able to check them out again later. Just a little somethin' I do. Ya were in the Harper hall, correct?" she suddenly asks, brow raised. "What sort of thing ya were good at there?" Alas, there's no forthcoming answer for Jo's question. Not when all these little details about her talents are coming out into the open. "You can draw anything?" Vienne is impressed, and she continues to scan the wall of maps, as though there's something else to discover in the otherwise familiar coverage areas. Well, maybe not at familiar to Vienne, but she's slowly settling in. "I can't draw at all," she says with a shake of her head. But she is done studying for now, and she turns to face Jo, winding her hands together. "Voice. Especially when I started. I'm not any spectacular talent though. And we learn a bit of everything. I like... discussion. I go back when I can, sit in on things, just to listen and think. I miss it. I miss the atmosphere." A narrow shoulder rises an falls again as she pauses. "I actually... I came here to ask you something." No answer to that particular question has Jo's eyes narrowing just a fraction, but perhaps that's a window that she's not looking to repeat again in light of further questions to the maps on the wall. It's obviously a favored hobby, one that most wouldn't know by just looking at her. "I'm not the best," she levels at the bluerider at being able to draw anything. "But, I think I'm pretty damn good at it. Ya can sing? My temptress gonna sing me somethin', sometime?" and she'll even make that sound oh-so enticing with that wolfish smile that could promise her anything. She is of course filing away all that's being told to her about the Hall, nodding to that and echoing, "Discussion." Beat. "If I can answer it," she now turns towards the woman heading away from the maps and towards the table and her liquid dinner. Her eyes close as she smiles, vaguely shy for the way Jo tries to entice her. "Yes," Vienne says, like a promise, her glance lifting to the other woman's face again. "I'll sing you something. Sometime." Even though she's surely not surprised, it seems Vienne is still rather flattered by the liberal use of pet names. It makes it hard for her to subdue her smile, like her mouth just won't quite close all the way. As Jo moves off toward the table again, her guest follows, busy hands eventually finding the back of a chair to rest on. "I was wondering..." Her teeth snag her lip once more, for just a beat. "Who does your pants?" Surely, if it were Jo saying this, it would sound terribly suggestive, but from Vienne it's just a hesitant question, and it's not until she cracks a shy, teasing smile that it's imbued with flirtatious humor. Yes, she knows how it could sound. Jo's pleased by her answer, of singing. "Good," she states firmly with a nod, as if that settled it. "I'm holdin' ya to it." She sits on the edge of that table and takes a swig from the bottle as Vienne asks her question, and excuse her for almost practically choking upon hearing it. She blinks, that bottle going down as she tries to detect anything in the bluerider's eyes. Then, "Ya....want to know who does my pants." Not a question, exactly. It certainly does seem to throw her off in it being an unexpected question. She has to look away to think about it for a moment, "There's an off-beat tanner I go to," she says, bringing her gaze back to Vienne now with barely contained amusement bleeding through her tone. "He has a daughter that's good with custom fitting and the like. Had lifted somethin' from his wagon back in my younger days and he was kind enough to put me up for a seven. Gave him business ever since." Eyeing Vienne's legs now openly, "Why do ya ask?" Yes, yes. It's an odd question and Vienne has to laugh, a quiet, patient chuckle as Jo gets her bearings again. "I want some?" she answers, like it should all be clear. "Well, not exactly like yours. I don't think I'd... Though they probably would come in handy whenever you take me to that Rusty Nail place you told me about." Her grin spreads knowingly -- she remembers. "But no, I was thinking... maybe a suede pair. Brown or... gray." Not black. Black is a color suited to Jo, not Vienne. The trousers she has on now are a pale gray, snugly tailored but hardly skin-tight, though if it's really her legs that being checked out, well, they're thin, straight rather than shapely. "Do they charge much? I.. don't have a lot of money left." "Still want to go to a place where ya'll have mugs thrown at yer head along with fists?" Jo's looking Vienne over now with open amusement. "I mean, it's nothin' like the Snowasis. Ya might really get groped or somethin'..." But the warning isn't really one since she's laughing. Yeah, she's still going with corrupting the Igen transplant. Jo starts a slow meandering walk about Vienne, checking out her pants - though, really, she could be using this as an excuse to check out Vienne in general. One never really knows with her. "I can see grey," she decides to say then, nodding a few times. "Ertrand can do grey. He can do it any way ya like, really. He's very good, and so is his daughter, Missie. They don' charge much if my name's attached to it," she tacks on the last, answering her as their gazes meet. "He'll help ya out. Just the pants?" Vienne makes a face, a wide, toothy grimace that is more show than actual feeling. "I can probably skip the 'having things thrown at my head' part," she hedges, a glance to one side. "Maybe you should give me ducking lessons, though. Just in case." She flashes a quick, cheeky smile, around back since Jo is prowling around her. "Gray? Probably good. I have a lot tan and brown..." Ah, fashion. "You said Ertrand has a wagon?" Which suggests trader. "Where would I..." Come on, Vienne, you can do it. "Find him?" She flusteres a moment, though, for Jo's last question. "Do you think I need something else?" She might even look a little worried at the notion, that that's probably just because of the marks. "No one warns you that when you move to High Reaches, you need three times as many clothes." "I'm such a good instructor, too," Jo says, though it's hard to tell by her tone if she's referring to the topic at hand or at something else entirely. "Gray," she repeats in complete agreement now, seeming to be studying Vienne's legs again. "Ertrand will do ya up real nice." She nods on the man having a wagon, and as to finding him, there she has to pause, thinking. She frowns a bit before she looks back over to those maps and says, "Around this time of the turn, they'd be pretty close to the Weyr. I can help ya hunt him down if ya want? Be good to see them again, ya know?" The last question has her looking over her once more, though this time she shakes her head slowly and answers, "Maybe not, darlin'. Still, yer ridin' jacket from Igen ain' gonna cut it in Reachian weather. Think I might have somethin', though..." and she turns to head towards her press at the foot of the bed, unlatching the hook and flipping up the lid to reveal various clothing - all neat and folded down to fit within. She rummages through it as she adds over her shoulder, "Better to bundle up than not, in this place. Not unless yer crazy like me with her arms all bare and out in the open." If she's going to continue studying, Vienne will step away from the chair, her hand still on its back, turning a step toward Jo to put herself on display -- not that Jo seems to need any help. "Sure," Vienne agrees readily, happy to have a guide on this mission to find a man who makes good, cheap leather pants. "I figured I'd just wear layers underneath. I haven't found much in the stores so far. I'm starting to think it was pretty well picked over for winter before I got here." Or she might just be too particular for her own good. Now she watches Jo head over toward the bed and she takes the moment to shrug out of her jacket, to leave it over the back of that chair before she moves to follow. Despite having her arms covered, her shoulders hunch like she might still be a little on the chilled side and she tugs her sleeves down over her hands. "I'm kind of small," she warns. In case Jo missed that. With another little laugh: "You make me feel cold just looking at you." With Vienne offering herself up for Jo's eyes candy, she was certainly taking it up without apology. "We got some others that transferred, too, right?" she muses idly with a slight frown. "I remember the pretty greenrider one with the red hair...." Jo then finds what she's looking for and pulls out a thick brown riding jacket that looks fitted and stylish with pockets. She gets to her feet and turns with it, holding it out with both hands for Vienne to take and try on. "Might be a little big," she muses as she sizes the other woman up, "but maybe ya can get someone to take it in some? That shouldn't really be so bad on the purse. Maybe have them make it shorter, too," as she takes in their respective heights. "Other than that, I think it would work for now, until ya can find somethin' better." The last has her laughing, and she eyes her own jacket slung over a chair as she says, "That brandy'll warm me right up, among other things." Vienne probably doesn't want to know what those other things may be. "Ainslee," Vienne supplies the name of the pretty redhead. "And H'vier, who I hear is a very tall man," she adds in with a proper lilt, making it clear that those aren't her own words. "He just transferred, too. I haven't met him." But then, with the jacket coming out, held out for her, the little bluerider's attention flicks between the coat and its owner, gratitude springing up in her smile. "Really?" It's not a sharp excitement in her voice, but rather something small and quiet and thankful. She takes the coat, slinging it on and rolling her shoulders into it, as much to settle it as to warm it up. The fit isn't all that terrible -- better too big than too small. She steps back and holds her chin up, a lofty pose struck. "How do I look?" And if she caught that comment about the other things that keep Jo warm, well, she doesn't call her on it. But there might be a knowing little glimmer in her eye. Ainslee. Jo tastes the familiar name, her smile easy before H'vier's name is brought up. "He's a transfer too, huh?" she lingers longer on that one, perhaps it being news to her. And tall, apparently. "Have ya heard anythin' else about him?" she asks, seemingly casual as she returns to her table now that Vienne has taken up the jacket. She watches the bluerider with it as she drinks her brandy, her smile lingering as the jacket gets put on. "Good for hidin' all manner of stuff, too," she lets her know, a finger circling before her towards the various inner and outer pockets that lined the riding jacket. Inspecting her openly now and finding it of approval, she gives into low laughter when Vienne strikes a pose and says, "Like the jacket is made for ya, darlin'. Ya can take on the world with that jacket." Vienne shakes her head, not full of gossip about H'vier. But... "Actually, I think I heard he was in a fight?" Her eyes widen a little, nonplussed either by the fact that he's just moved in and is fighting or by her delay in putting those two things together. "I can't imagine that. Transferring to a new place and getting in a fight. I mean, the 'fisticuffs' thing aside," she jokes quickly, a roll of her eyes not hiding her long memory, "What could he have to fight about? But I suppose it's not all that uncommon here." It seems that way to her at least, or she's just been hearing about the same fight from so many different people that she assumes regular brawls are all just part of the circus that is her new home. Meanwhile, her hands have started to feel around, seeking out those hiding places her new jacket boasts. "Yes," she laughs, dry and self-deprecating. "That's me. Taking on the world." She hunches her shoulders again, doubtlessly aware that she's just making herself even smaller. "I like it. Thank you. Maybe with this jacket, some ducking lessons..." She doesn't finish the thought but it's probably meandering back to their theoretical plans to go visiting seedy taverns. "Yes, he was," Jo answers on H'vier, that much being known about the man. "Quite a couple of them with the men I know." She closes the presses and turns to sit on top of it, all crossed long legs and leaning back against the bed rakishly to watch Vienne with her clothing. "He could just be the temperamental sort," she guesses on why the transplant would be fighting so soon, amusement lacing her tone. Well, she's not one to talk, really. "Ya know, punch first for a greetin', ask questions, after? Could be why he left wherever he's comin' from, too." Vienne's self-deprecating humor on herself gets a wry, "Give it time. Ya will, especially if ya stickin' with me," because, apparently, she's so worldly and protective and all. She inclines her head briefly to her thanks, her smile turning warmer and more genuine on her before that rakish smile is right back on display on her words about taking ducking lessons. "Ya don' wanna learn any duckin' lessons from me," she notes, laughing. "It's goin' to involve my knife set. I wouldn' worry too much, though. If yer with me, I'll protect ya." And she seems so sure, too, and confident that she could. There's a brief moment before she then drops, "Hey, can I pick yer head about somethin'?" It's possible that Vienne knows someone who might be a little punch-first-ask-later; it's in the way she eyes Jo now, with a smirk and the lift of one brow. "Could be," she agrees, settling her hands in her new pockets. One comes out with a tiny mark, the kind that is so easily forgotten in an old jacket. She offers it back to its owner without remark. "Am I sticking with you?" she asks, still flattered and a bit amused by all this protective posturing that the other bluerider is dishing out. It makes Vienne's grin go wide, playfully coy, and her quick survey might be wondering just how much those bare, scarred arms might be capable of defending her. But if Jo wants to pick her brain, she can drop the flirtation for a moment, turning to take a seat of her own on the corner of the bed, hands still deep in her pockets and holding the jacket closed, a thickly socked foot hanging on the edge of the trunk. "Yeah, sure. What's on your mind?" In that way Vienne looks at her for the first, Jo flashes her a briefly wide smile as if, she knows. She waves the mark piece off, "Y'can keep it, and yes, ya'll will be if yer wantin' to go to the Rusty Nail and all. Can' have all those men pawing over ya when I haven' even done so yet." Ah well, Jo may have an agenda after all, but she at least has the grace to try and look a little serious while saying it. Yet, she's enjoying the little flirtation, which she drops a bit when Vienne seats herself and prompts for a question. "Well. Just wanted to know what ya thought about all this Weyrleadership stuff," the convict rider plunges right on in, her crossed boot tapping the air idly. "Maybe tell me how everyone else ya came in contact is feelin', too. In particular, about my wingmate." Clearly, not Azaylia, by the pointed look she's giving her now. "That," Vienne says, letting her teeth catch her lip. She draws her other foot in, tucking it beneath her, hunched into the jacket while she thinks. "It's kind of strange, really. Everyone seems, understandably, unsettled. But I just... it all feels very distant to me. It's not something that's happening to my home, you know? Maybe having just moved, it feels like.. wherever I am, it's not forever?" But these things aren't really what Jo has asked for, just the musings of an outsider looking in. And there's further delay when that bit about everyone else comes out, because Vienne has to smirk over at her. "You know more people than I do. You've probably heard more about that. People tend to be... judicious with me. I'm a stranger. Anyway, I don't know Taikrin at all. The only time I really interacted with her was at her party." And well, it was not the most stately of introductions, so Vienne arches that brow again as she sends a pointed look Jo's way. "I guess they can't say men have something she doesn't." "All opinions are useful," Jo says to her being an outside, musing a bit over what Vienne tells her. "And, soon, ya won' be much of an outsider anymore. Soon, ya'll have to see the Reaches as home....like I do." Something flickers there when she says it, the pause indicated before she moves on. "I don' know as many as ya think," she notes now, looking the bluerider's way. "I came here, Impressed here, went through weyrlinghood here, but most of that time I've kept outside the Weyr. Kept to myself. Besides, some folks here wouldn' want to deal with me, anyway. They'd deal with you moreso." Leaning back now, her growing smile of one of remembered fondness for the turnday party as the topic shifts to Taikrin in particular as she answers on her wingmate, "I'll tell ya about Taikrin. She'll loyal to this Weyr, down to the last mark, darlin'. Folks 'round here don' know that, but she is. Fiercely protective of the weyrwomen, makin' sure what happened to the last one don' happen here again. Gotta love a woman that can protect others, right?" and yes, she's putting herself in that category by the lift of her posture to look almost regal. "I mean, who says a woman like her can' run this Weyr any better than, say, H'kon, or K'del? She has the balls like they do. She's not as amazin' as me, of course," she has to say, since that's so important, "but, she's alright. She'll do right by this Weyr. Just hopin' folks here give her a fair chance to prove it, is all." "So you're asking me," Vienne says with a wry grin taking her features. "What the respectable people think." She can only shake her head, though, the smiling growing impish as she teases, "I'll let you know when I meet some." But it's all in good fun, much like her duly serious and impressed face when Jo goes on about how very amazing she is. "Why not you, then?" she wonders, mostly joking, though perhaps that's some hint in there of something else. "Why not Brieli for that matter?" But she shakes her head, letting all those suppositions fall to the side. "I'm sure there are people who are uncomfortable with the fact that Taikrin is a woman. I don't think, though, that that is really the core of what has people bothered. It's just that one 'why not' just leads to others and people see their whole understanding of the world slipping away. That's frightening. It makes them hold on tighter to what they do know. Or what they still believe they know." Her small mouth pinches a bit more tightly. Laughter. Vienne gets laughter from Jo on respectable people and she shakes her head to that. "Oh, there's plenty respectable here," she answers that casually. "They just don' like me. Dunno why, really." Yeah, right. "But ya can tell me what the disrespectable folks think, too. Can' leave any of those out." Vienne's joke of why not her, well, the cocky bluerider is nodding her head in open agreement to that one, and she's probably not joking, either. "I know. Tac and I would be just as great, but as far as I know, I've never heard of any blue catchin' a gold. And then, don' think I would want the title," she muses a little more soberly now. "Despite my dashin' sense of style and good looks, I'm a girl that likes stickin' to the shadows too much." There's a teasing note here though, the laughter present in her tone. She says more evenly on Taikrin, nodding once, "So it's a traditional thing, yer sayin'? That, since Weyrleaders were always bronzeriders, they should always be? Shouldn' be more 'the right person to lead' than that? Or, a person they can trust? Trust that the Weyr won' get thrown to the canines?" "Yeah," she agrees about the title. "I understand why people want it, the noble reasons and the ones less so, but..." While Vienne won't really say she wants to stick to the shadows, her little smile suggests she might at least prefer to avoid the spotlight. "People really haven't said all that much to me. Most of the time if they're talking to me about this stuff, they're just asking what I think. And I don't really have all that much to say on the matter. I don't know anyone involved." She withdraws her foot from Jo's trunk, knees out so she can sit cross-legged. "But so you like Taikrin?" For Weyrleader. "Is it, in part, because she is a woman? I'm sure there are plenty of people who are excited about her on that factor alone. Not that I doubt she's loyal and protective, like you said, I'm just..." She draws in a long breath, her gaze drifting off toward the maps, not really seeing them as she considers her thoughts. "It's interesting. So many pieces, so many points of view." "Better them than me," Jo says on that particular title, lips pressing together. "But ya met the weyrwomen, right? Brieli and Azaylia?" As to her opinion on Taikrin, barring what was already given, the convict rider affects a non-chalant shrug as her arms fold across her chest, the scars on arms showing in the dim lighting. "I think she'll make a good leader," she gives on her wingmate with a sage-like nod. "Never gonna know anyone more loyal to this place's well bein'. I mean, sure she's a woman and all, but that's not really my reason. It's because I trust her to take care of what we got here. She ain' gonna fuck it up, and I believe that. Folks will see, when she gets goin'. They'll there ain' anythin' to be worried about at all." There's enough confidence in her voice to lift all the wings to rise to Thread. She's watching Vienne all the same though before she says, "Well, I'm just sayin'. Not tryin' to sway yer mind or anythin', but, I'm just a girl, givin' a few words here and there. Pickin' folks' heads. It's what I do sometimes, when somethin' is of interest." "I don't know H'kon any better than I know Taikrin. He seemed... loyal, though," Vienne considers, the pause in there to think back on her single encounter with the man, or maybe it's just some discomfort with that word. Perhaps, if it's the latter, her continued musing explains it. A hand slips out of her pocket again, this time to scratch behind her ear. "I would suspect that everyone's heart is in the right place, that they would want to benefit the Weyr. I can't see the angle in having other loyalties. What would it possibly do? Make you Weyrleader?" That's a lateral move. "Unless you're someone full of spite and vengence and all you really want is to watch the world burn. It's not like, as a rider, it's really all that easy to take some huge payoff and live on a beach in hiding for the rest of your life." So maybe she can see angles, just not realistic ones given that she laughs at the end, a light, breathy chuckle. She drags herself back from fanciful philosophizing and comes back to more concrete questions. "Do you think it will stay the way it is? With four of them all working together? I don't get the sense that Taikrin and H'kon are particularly... friendly." "Ran into the man a few times," Jo ponders briefly on H'kon before the brownrider is dismissed. "Didn' get a good vibe from him. Dunno about him bein' all that trustworthy, either. He probably is loyal, but...." And she lets that trail, a hand lifting as if she suddenly needed to examine her own fingernails since she's doing so now. As for hearts in the right places, the look filtering through the convict rider's faces briefly tells on how she feels about that. "There's always other loyalties," is all she says to that, turning that palm facing her with her fingers curling to continue her idle examination. That statement seems non-committal. "And, just because someone has agendas on the side don' mean they wouldn' make a good leader, darlin'. Just gotta know how to prioritize. Think it depends on the person, I suppose." Again, non-committal, though she ends her musings to answer Vienne's question. "I've been told repeatedly that it will," she says on things staying the same, her examination of her nails done so she can look the bluerider's way. "Maybe it'll help take some pressure off the weyrwomen, havin' them around now. They could probably use it." As for Taikrin and H'kon getting along, there's low laughter to that, brief. "Reckon with time, things'll work itself out there," she says to that with confidence. "But that's what I mean," Vienne says, jumping right back to the topic of loyalty, enjoying the theorizing too much to let it drop. "Sure, everyone is influenced, and everyone has things that they value." Both of her hands end up in her lap, fingers flexing as she thinks through her explanation. "One person's loyalty might not look like someone else's, and it might not please all the same people, but loyalty isn't necessarily all that matters because I think everyone would believe that what they're doing is right. So, like you said, you think H'kon probably is loyal but... But loyalty isn't really here or there. A person could be loyal and terrible at the job or a person could have their agendas and still benefit the Weyr." And Jo can go ahead and read whatever she likes into the words of a rider who left her last home after her loyalty was questioned. In the end, though, it doesn't really appear that Vienne has anyone particular in mind during her evaluation of loyalty, just the notion itself. But she's not oblivious to Jo's lack of commitment, and she starts to pinch her lip between her teeth, skeptical of the other bluerider's eventual show of optimism. "If you think it will all work out, why worry about what people think of Taikrin?" Jo's brows knit together when Vienne philosophizes about loyalties, and when she's done, "Ya never left the harper hall, didja?" is her initial comment to it all, clear amusement touching her tone. "Ya have a point. Loyalty, ultimately, doesn' much matter in whether they're a good leader or not. Trust, does, though. Question is, who do ya trust more? Who are ya willin' to trust?" She falls silent to let that linger, and it's only on the last that she uncrosses her legs and gets up and paces about a little, hands on her hips. She turns to Vienne at last and pits a crooked little smile on her as she quips back, "I said, I reckon things will work itself out. Could be because of those folks I'm askin' about and their opinions. Could be because of somethin' else. People get reassured that things won' change, then it looks like things have worked out, don' it?" She steps away then, heading towards the table as she breezily says, "Anyway. Ya givin' me much to think about. Don' get to talk to harper-types all that often, or at all," and she picks up the neglected bottle before turning back to face Vienne. "Hope I gave ya the same, as well. It's all just words, in the end." She takes a long drink, then once she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, "So. When do ya want to hit up Ertrand, or did ya wanna hit him up by yerself? I can send word to him that yer comin' his way, if so." "And you don't trust easily," Vienne surmises, pairing her knowing glance with another wry little grin. It gets snagged in her teeth again, though, when Jo gets up, and she starts to unfold herself, sensing she shouldn't stay lingering on the bed while her hostess is given to pacing. "I don't trust any of them. And I don't distrust them, either. I don't know any of them well enough." So she'll just have to remain neutral. Meanwhile, her tongue pokes at the corner of her mouth while she follow Jo to the table, coming back to the chair where her wool coat is still waiting. "Do you think you can forgive me? For being a harper?" She doesn't actually answer whether or not the other bluerider has given her food for thought, but she's looking equal parts teasing and apologetic. "I don't mean to... I am told that I talk like a harper. And I don't think I've yet to hear it sound like a compliment." She takes a long, deep breath, eyes rolling toward the ceiling as she considers the whens of their next date. "Sometime soon, I think. I just have to look at my marks again and make sure..." Make sure she can pay. But, with a surprise smile she remembers the one in her new pocket and she pulls it out again, "Of course, now that I have this..." It's entirely in jest, give that mark could barely buy anything at all. "I don'," Jo readily agrees with that statement, facing Vienne with a firm nod. "And I give my trust to my wingmate." Hopefully, that means something to the bluerider. She doesn't appear surprised to hear Vienne's opinion on her trusting any of the Weyrleadership, and it shows in that crooked smirk from her. With an incline of her head, "Fair enough," she drawls to that. "And there's nothin' to forgive. Ya are who ya are, just as I am. Shouldn' have to apologize for it. I don' think I would have made a good harper." She takes another drink and then looks towards the crates not yet touched by the side of the wall where the maps were - more work to be done, still, is likely - before she looks back to the bluerider on the trip and dips a glance to that mark piece with an amused, "Well, ya know how to hit up Tac when yer ready. Since you have that now, and all." Uh-huh. That smile is more mischievous though and the convict rider nods over towards her crates as she says, "I better get back to finishing up, unless yer helpin' me. Don' think I can get another night off anytime soon after this one." Slightly apologetic since it's clear she'd rather shoot the breeze more with the fellow bluerider, her company enjoyed. "Oh, I bet you could bang a good drum if you wanted," Vienne quips for Jo's harper potential, her smile shamelessly cheeky. At least she seems not to be too worried that Jo will hold harpering against her. "I could stay," she supposes, even as she goes poking through her other jacket for her hat and mittens. "But I have a feeling I wouldn't be good for much other than asking repeatedly 'where does this go' or just sitting around and watching." She might even let her glance flick over Jo again there, her smile so quiet there's only a breath of suggestion about it. But that's just something Jo can ponder while she plays with her crates. "We'll go sometime soon. So you don't have to miss me too much," and with that statement, there's no mistaking the suggestion because she bounces an eyebrow at the other bluerider, all playful exaggeration that a person can't take too seriously. Then she waves her mittened hand, gathers up her jacket and if off into the cold again. "Destroy a drum, maybe," Jo quips good-naturedly with a shrug. "Anythin' looks pretty dicey in my hands." Of course, Vienne's small hint of suggestion could be taken all the way with the convict rider, the woman holding that bottle to her mouth and arching that slender brow her way. Oh, the things she could say. "Don' make it too long," she says on missing her, returning that tone with a sultry, leering flick of her gaze up and down the slight woman. "I happen to be pretty good at huntin' folks down, too." She doesn't look to be playing either, even though Vienne is. She wiggles fingers of her free hand to her then as she leaves along with a brief, "Night," and then, she's back to work after a thought-provoking, lingering look in her wake.
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