Logs:Contagion
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| RL Date: 14 December, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo might not be contagious, but Brieli's not taking chances. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 7, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
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| It's late in the evening. The quarantine's long over, and while Jo is still coughing here and there - like she is now - she's looking much better for wear. The convict rider has folded herself into one of the comfy chairs, close to the fire while nursing a mug of something hot. Her hair is a wild tangle behind her ears, her frame all clothed in black leather and promises of potential danger. It seems like she's lost in thought, staring into the flames with the tendrils of steam before her face from the mug. It's late enough that there's people occasionally coming in and out, looking at the stew by the hearth hopefully, getting a mug of something to continue on into the night. Eventually, one of them is Brieli; tall and dark and quiet with a purposeful step and dressed in something ridiculously short, as you do in the short Reachian summer. Well. As the goldrider does, at least. She's already found herself a mug and is pouring out klah before she shows any notice of Jo at all, but with a flicker of her sharp, dark gaze, "Don't breathe on me." And good evening to you too. Jo watches all the people pass by, her silence heavy. When Brieli walks in, she takes in the younger woman from the shadows. She watches the girl get herself some klah, and she was content in just regarding the other until she spoke. It takes a flicker to realize what she meant, the greeting getting that lift of one corner of her mouth, and perhaps a very deliberate, single cough. Shifting in her chair, "Might not want to touch the klah, then," she vocalizes with a touch of wry, the bluerider holding her gaze on Brieli's back. With a purse of her lips, staring at her mug, "Too late. Thank you." And if Brieli's sarcasm can't be heard in her tone, it's obvious in her expression as she turns to give Jo the side-eye. It's not enough to ditch her mug and run for the redwort, but when she folds herself into her chair, she produces a small, thin flask from somewhere to pour some of the contents into the klah. It's alcohol, it sterilizes, right? As she crosses long legs, slipping the flask away, "I should have made them quarantine you until it's over with. It's said that it's not too contagious, but who believes Healers?" Not the weyrwoman, that's for sure. "Yer welcome, darlin'," Jo drawls from her seat, wrapping both arms about her mug and leaning back more. She's easy in returning the sarcasm, meeting that gaze head-on. Eyes drop to that flask and she adds, "I hear -that- could go a long way in curing me." Bold. Brieli's next gets low laughter from the bluerider, not daunted in the least. "I believe Tacuseth may have had it, too," she returns on that score, brushing black hair from her face. "He just would have visited your queen. He's friendly like that. Then I'd have to come get him. Who would want that?" She flashes a grin, the idea of one of the convict riders perched on a weyrwoman's doorstep probably a disturbing one. "I'm not certain it would. I am certain that you'd be touching something of mine, which may yet carry contagion. I won't get sick." Not can't, will not. Brieli slants a sidelong look at the bluerider, before, "I'll think about it." And she won't look too satisfied by the sip she takes from the mug, either. "And no one comes into my weyr. Keep that in mind." No one whose name isn't Azaylia or N'rov, at least. She doesn't look disturbed by Jo's idea, just dead serious about no one. As for convict riders... it's only been a few sevens since Taikrin was parked on Iesaryth's doorstep, so who knows? After another sip, as she looks into the fire, lightly, "Tacuseth would only able to visit if he's around here anyway." "Never know unless ya take the risk," and Jo leans forward and takes a sip. Piercing eyes lighting on Brieli, her gaze full of challenge as a brow lifts and falls, "Scared of the risk?" She's going to keep up the faade that she has something, even though she was certain she didn't by now. She leans back comfortably then when she mentions her weyr, stating more than asking, "Brieli. Pretty name." The comment could be meant to be offsetting, or deliberate. "I'm protective of my weyr, too," she goes on after a spell, taking a drink from her mug. "Too many thieves in this Weyr." Uh-huh. The last gets a sharp look, studying. Slightly guarded. "He's around enough," with that 'he' being easily exchanged for a 'we'. Even though she was certain her and his absences these last turns have been duly noted. Arching fine brows, "I don't take risks stupidly, no. I have work to do, a party to plan, an island to run off to, and my turnday coming up. I won't be sick." Brieli repeats that again, as if the mantra will ward off illness on its own. But, perhaps feeling some touch of goodwill - or pity - for sickie Jo, she finds the flask to put it on the table before them. "Keep it until you're better, boil it or something. There's not that much left. And I've never been overly fond of it, but I'm sure my mother would be pleased." Leaning back, drinking, she has a faint smile about her after, noting, "I'm just a private person. And 'enough'. Isn't that an interesting way of putting it. Enough to what?" The goldrider doesn't expect an answer, but she does look over to the older woman with a curious expression, expectant - do go on. "Don' need to be a stupid risk," Jo counters, regarding the weyrwoman with open study. "And I've got things to do, too. Had to spend my turnday stuck in a locked weyr. Imagine my joy." But then, after a pause, she reaches forward and plucks that flask right from the table. She flips the lid, brings it to her nose and gives it a sniff. "I can get ya better," she notes, seemingly both on the flask and the drink within. "I know some people on the outside." Then, she takes a drink from it. When Brieli mentions she's a private person, the convict rider gives one of her disturbing grins. She couldn't argue with that one, and so, she doesn't. It's probably for the best considering the look she's now under for the last, and the bluerider's looking back at her carefully. There's another pause before she answers briskly, "I haven' missed any of my duties. I've been on every assigned sweep. Ya can ask F'rint. Beyond -that-," and she gives a slight smile of daring, like someone who thinks no one can prove she's done any wrong, "I'm just a private person." With some little sincerity, "I am sorry about that. But the Healers were quite insistent, and I tend to defer to their judgement on these matters. Azaylia as well." Though the other 'acting weyrwoman' seems to be something of an afterthought. Brieli arches brows again, seeming amused. "On the outside. As if you were in the mines. If they're traders, I don't tend to deal with them. It could be useful to have someone who does." She doesn't elaborate, but she does grin at Jo's brisk answers, almost entertained. "I don't expect you have, no. Not that it means much, does it? And in my experience, private people don't offer up their connections on a platter. But we could have different definitions. What might you do to maintain your privacy? In theory, of course." Azaylia. Jo nods to that, acquiescing and seeming to be filing that away. "I managed," she states on the time lost, making it seem as though she wasn't clawing at the walls. When the weyrwoman comments on hers about the outside, "Is there another way to say it?" She reaches to set the cooling mug down, taking up mainly with the flask. "I catch them on my sweeps," she adds vaguely, far too casual. "Need someone to deal with them, that is?" she now asks, showing some passing interest. Jo is helpful, see. Probbaly more than her fellows M'ron and Kaitlin. The last gets a long, acknowledging silence from her before she takes another drink from the flask. "Suppose it don't," she says after the long pause, clipped in her husky voice. Chuckling to herself, "Did I offer a connection?" she suddenly considers that one, a finger lifting up before it slowly moves, side to side. "Are ya sure that's what that was?" Her chin drops as she looks at Brieli on that one. As to the last? Fingers curl around the flask and she's quick to counter her with "What might ya do to maintain yers, darlin'?" "There's many ways to say it that don't equate the Weyr with prison," Brieli says mildly. She's not offended, just saying. "And while on duty, hm? I suppose it can be good to multi-task. Except when you end up catching cold rather than traders. Or whoever. And I need very few things, but there are things I might like. Though..." She sips from her mug before looking over it towards Jo, noting, "You talk quite a lot." Nothing on whether that's a good or a bad thing. With an easy shrug, "You offered something. And..." She flashes a lovely smile. "I asked first. It all depends if you have something to hide or not, I'd imagine." The first. That gets actual laughter, and Jo's not denying what Brieli says. It's the observation that she's social at all that she addresses the most, the bluerider responding with a blithe, "I think I'm still under the weather. I wouldn't worry about it, though. Once I'm right as rain, ya'll hear hide nor hair of me," or see her, she doesn't say. Bordering on sarcasm. The truth of what she says is likely the case, due to her past behavior before the quarantine. There was even a slight sheen on her face. The next, the last, the convict rider regards that smile as she idly brush a finger against her bottom lip. Corner of her lips twist. "We all have something to hide. Even you, I'd wager, weyrwoman." Then, after a pause, she's up to her feet. She slips the closed flask into her black riding jacket before deftly doing it up closed, and she's taking up the cooled mug and getting rid of it. Only when she's done, her back to the weyrwoman, the older woman then looks over her shoulder as if she was preparing to depart, her gaze always lingering with a guarded facade in place, "I do whatever I have to," is the eventual answer. "I think ya would, too." "Mm. I'm sure." Brieli doesn't sound that sure, but she'll say it anyway, in a tone that might be near reassuring. Concentrating on her mug again, after another slow sip, "Yes, but some secrets are more useful than others. Private doesn't necessarily equal interesting." As Jo stands, she tilts her head back to look up at the bluerider, content to stay in her seat for the time being, dark gaze sharp and steady. At the answer, she has to find a slight smile again, noting, "It depends. Sometimes, there's things one wants found out. But I always do whatever I have to." Given recent events, that last shades a bit dark, but still: "Have a good evening, Jo. Regards to Tacuseth." "Something we agree on after all," Jo notes on secrets, eyes twinkling. "Who'd have thought." She meets Brieli's gaze head on for a moment, the talk of doing what had to be done - and the dark intonations within - "We might have something in common. Some would worry about that." Her smile is brief, and it lights on recent events and the decisions the weyrwomen had to make. Straightens her jacket and the last gets a single nod from her with this parting shot: "In case ya wanted to drink something better. I'll offer. Evenin', Brieli." She didn't have to say that if the weyrwoman needed to find her, that she could reach her blue as her heavy booted steps take her out. |
Comments
Leova (Varied) left a comment on Sat, 15 Dec 2012 07:24:07 GMT.
< Sarcastic vs. sarcastic! <3
Also, this: "Yes, but some secrets are more useful than others. Private doesn't necessarily equal interesting."
And: never have I ever had a birthday in a locked weyr. Jo. Darlin'.
Brieli (Brieli) left a comment on Sat, 15 Dec 2012 17:35:27 GMT.
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My secrets aren't interesting, for example... >.>
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Sun, 16 Dec 2012 02:24:12 GMT.
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e.e Ya'll a bunch of sneaky sneaks! Huff! But it was a fun read.
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