Logs:F is for...
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 16 May, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, R'co |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Two blondes does not a happy ending make. |
| Where: Snowasis |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Mielline/Mentions |
  |
| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern. It's mid-week, and as she's done with her duties and her secretive extra studying, Alida's to be found in the Snowasis, seated towards the back of the place, near a wall, as usual. Upon her tabletop for two is settled a bound series of hides that apparently have to deal with rescue of people a-dragonback, given the illustrations between text. A mostly-consumed glass of beer is settled nearby, casually sipped at while the bluie peruses the book, and gives an occasional glance upward to keep the state of the small crowd assessed. Entering that crowd for the first time in over a sevenday is R'co. Light blonde hair is gently tousled once he pulls down the hood of his jacket, which is hung up before he heads straight to the bar. He looks more tired than usual, a little more rumpled than would be typical for him, with dark circles beneath his eyes marring the fading tan of his complexion. The drink he orders is a simple, straight-up double which is drained on the spot; a second is ordered for more sedate sipping, as he turns around, leans back against the bar, and scans those gathered for a familiar face. She's not as 'paranoid' as she used to be when she first came to the Weyr, and so Alida doesn't lift her gaze to peer at every single body that enters and leaves the Snowasis...and misses R'co. Sipping the last of her beer leaves the weyrling peering into the bottom of her glass and debating...finally choosing to lift her hand to wave down a barmaid. Another pale ale is ordered, her empty taken away by the server, and once more the bluerider gets down to business, turning a hide page and studying. A raised hand /certainly/ gets his attention, and he stops the barmaid that's about to carry Alida's drink over to her so that he can step in, instead. With the beer carried on a tray, and his own double-shot in a tumbler in his other hand, he sashays on over to the fellow pale-blonde to slip her beverage - serving tray and all - onto the table in front of her, probably disturbing her papers in the process. "It's so good to see a pretty 'Reaches face that I simply couldn't resist coming over to say hello, darling. I do hope you don't mind the interruption?" Well now, that male voice is quite a change from her female server, and R'co's words inspire a silent sigh and a faint frown from Alida, her head lifting up a bit woodenly from her studies as cool greens focus upon the... Oh, he's not staff, but a brownrider. Immediately, a flat affect is cultivated, and the weyrling notes in a bland alto, "Ain'cher darlin'." Still, she's trying to handle this stupid, 'personable' thing better than she usually does, and so the guard murmurs, "Got a problem?" Uh... still not so good, Alida. "I've got a fuckload of problems, actually." R'co might be taking her question literally; he might just be taking the opportunity to be facetious. The Snowdrift rider leans lightly on the table, tapping his fingers around his tumbler. "My poor Deveriteauxth's still got stitches. I've been stuck in Fort for the last... Faranth, 10 days, I think? Far too long. I've missed out on work, I can't join in drills, and I've not had sex in, oh..." He looks up as he thinks, then snorts in forced amusement. "Long enough for me to not even be able to count. Are those enough problems for you, darling?" It's emphasised, probably as a dig at her reaction to the initial one. "Or are your..." The brownrider peers down at the hides she's studying, blue eyes narrowing when he sees what's on them; then his tone changes as he recognises them. "That's Snowdrift work. That's Mielline's." Why oh WHY do so few ever take the fucking hint? That's the expression within Alida's clear, deep greens as she continues to stare blandly into R'co's blues, though a hint of curiosity creeps upon her features at words of his brown being injured, and his being stuck at Fort for a little while. With the full rider's words of sex comes the bluie's attention directed stiffly back down to her hides, that next 'darling' inspiring a deceptively chipper, "Hmm...let's see. How about this, sugar tits? I'll call ya' just that - sugar tits - each time *you* call me 'darling.' Sounds fair, right?" A pointed look up and a flashy show of teeth in a sharky grin are all for the willowy brownie, the weyrling then dropping the pretext with a barely civil grunt. "Y'get a gold star." Ooh. A challenge. Alida's comeback makes R'co lean toward her, elbows on the table, both hands wrapped around his glass, lips curved into a keen smile. "You can call me what you like, darling, though I would suggest sugar buns might be more appropriate. I have an adorable arse, but, see, I forgot to stuff my bra tonight so I'm rather lacking in the tits department." Hands leave the glass to pat his flat chest, giving himself a little squeeze. "Mine certainly don't live up to yours.... which are rather fantastic, I have to admit. Perhaps you ought to be sugar tits?" "Tell it ta' someone who cares..." Alida notes blandly of R'co's ass, the weyrling moving her gaze over to her beer, then clipping off a flat "Thanks," to him for nabbing it along his way. Really, she wishes he wouldn't have, but hey...trying for at least a little politeness. Lifting glass to lips, a solid draught of the pale ale is taken, her greens settling back into her hides. That noting of her breasts, however, has hidden greens firing with some sudden anger, Alida not looking fully up and over at the man as she ripostes coldly, "Think I might just call ya 'asshole' instead. Think it fits even better." "Such animosity," R'co sighs airily, waving his hand. "Honestly, sweetstuff, I came on over here, doing you a good deed by bringing you a drink, and you're so..." Both hands flail a little at the blonde, while his nose wrinkles in place of the words he can't find. "It's not like I'm leaning over the table and groping you, darling. It's a compliment, anyway. Your boobs are nice. Live with it." With an 'ooof!' of hopelessness, he drops down into the empty chair at the table, leaning back with his legs stretched out. "Another gold star..." Alida rumbles out darkly, still ticked off at the brownie. "And I *thanked* you...though *you* chose ta' pick it up." At his words of not groping her, those now-slightly narrowed, calculating green eyes lift slowly, burrow into R'co's blues, a hint of the rattlesnake heard in her tight tone. "Smart move...unless y'enjoy all'uv' yer fuckin' fingers broken." Beat. "*I'll* decide what *I* take as a compliment 'r not." Grin. "Asshole." R'co shakes his head, nose wrinkled, a tight little smile on his plush lips. "No thank you, darling. I've had them broken once before. It makes jacking someone off so much harder." And just in case she didn't understand what he meant by that, he mimes the action mid-air. "Would you prefer I compliment you on your superb rendition of being a grade-A bitch, sugar tits? I can do that, if you're going to call me an asshole." She doesn't even bat an eyelash at his mimicing hand, Alida in her complete bitch zone, right now. The bluie even notes in a most amicable tone to her unwanted tablemate, "Might wanna use that thumb more, Asshole. Maybe y'll get 'em ta' stay all the way through, if there's a next time." Twinkle. "I'll raise yer grade A bitch by one class F fuckwit." "Oh, sweetheart, if only you knew what I could do with my thumb..." R'co mimes something a lot lewder, and a lot more female-specific. "I wouldn't get rid of you." He blows an airkiss over at her, then winks. "And class F? Really? F? F for fucking fabulous, darling? Fantastic? Fuckalicious? So sweet of you to think so." The brownrider raises his glass to her, smirking as he takes a sip. There's no real animosity about him; just an easy, almost playful blowing-off-steam sort of air. She talks right over the top of him... "How about tryin' shovin' it up yer own ass?" is facetiously inquired, Alida then lifting her beer and chugging the rest of the stuff down like some old pro. Just for some extra 'fun,' the blonde leans over the table a little... and suddenly belches like a sailor on an all-night bender...long, loud, deep, right at the brownie's face. A few of the drinking weyrfolk around her stop their talking and card playing for a moment to listen, and then clap and cheer, even chuckle. A couple folk roll their eyes, but obviously, the weyrling gets high marks, overall. On the tail of her massive belch, the woman simultaneously closes and lifts her hide book while standing up rather quickly, her chair bumping and scraping backwards upon stone. There's nothing but flat coolness in her gaze. R'co is certainly not one of those cheering such behaviour. He turns his face aside from the breathy assault, looking absolutely disgusted - when she backs up, he fans his hand to clear the air, standing up as she tucks her hides away. "Such a lady," he states with disapproving sarcasm. "Tell me before you leave, sweetheart; are you a grade A sugar-tits bitch all the time, or is it just your monthlies playing up? Oh - oh! Or perhaps it's cock-envy, darling? That's it, isn't it?" Perfect! Just what Alida wanted. As the bluie strides around the table and towards the ledge on her way out, she notes almost chipperly to R'co, "*That* y'll never know. Have a night, Lord Fuckwit Asshole." Cue a finger wiggle, a tuck of her book under one arm, and easy steps as the Ice Queen of Bitch Mountain meanders her way towards the Bowl. "What, no kiss, sugar tits? No goodnight grope?" R'co calls after Alida, before dropping back down into his seat, at what was her table. "Foreplay. She wants me so bad," he snorts in amusement to the people on the table next to him, before he kicks his feet up onto the recently-vacated chair and settles in to enjoy the rest of his drink. |
Leave A Comment