Logs:Dirty Little Buttons
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| RL Date: 15 February, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Jo, Z'ian |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo meets a caravan guard named Alida. She's pushing buttons and the two size each other up until Z'ian shows up. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 13, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snow |
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| With it snowing outside and it being well into the evening, the nighthearth is barely populated save for those only passing through and getting themselves something hot to drink or to eat along the way. Jo doesn't seem to be one of those people, choosing to commandeer the sole table in the place before the blazing fireplace. She's wrapped in her black riding leathers - sans shoulderknot as usual for her - with her hair wild about her face as she holds a flask of something clearly not warm in one hand and a writing stylus in the other. She's writing something vigorously down on a few sheets of hides, the stylus in constant move and only pausing when someone wanders too close to her enough to get her familiar scowl. Given her usual watch duty at home is just ending right about now, Alida too is found out and about, this time looking to assuage her hunger at the Weyr's night hearth. Heavy boots sound off a not-so-heavy, almost militaristic cadence against stone floor as the pale-blonde femme makes her way towards warmth and food, only a mild twist of lips marring neutrally guarded features as 'lida notices someone else is there, first. At least the person's busy. It's the heavy boots that draw Jo's attention, the convict rider watching Alida enter with the familiar militaristic gait that sets eyes to narrow only slightly. She knocks back whatever she has in her flask, her stylus curiously not stopping despite the notice of another entering. She sets the flask down after a narrow but brief study of the blonde, checking out her clothing like she does anyone else that walks in before her gaze flicks momentarily back to what she's writing down. And, just as Jo checks out Alida, the silent blonde checks out rider, greens meeting browns unflinchingly, then snicking down over her form like razors, estimating what might be found upon Jo in a gestalten sweep. Once the pair finish with their studies, the guard's own gaze flicks all around, taking in entrances and exits, the lay of the land all about them, Alida moving at her own easy and confident pace to that hearth. Soon enough, a bowl and cup are hers, and whatever's in the pots are ladeled into both receptacles...likely stew and klah. A basically polite grunt of acknowledgement are offered to the only other person in the area, the holder woman then moving off towards the other end of the fire. With the first sheet apparently done, Jo sets the flask and stylus down and moves to fold the missive into fours. All the while her gaze briefly flicks about, coming last to rest on Alida to find the woman studying her in turn. She opens her jacket enough to slide the folded note inside, patting it down, and then closes her jacket up just as the woman walks by with that polite grunt. Brow lifting a fraction as she goes to tuck the writing stylus above one ear, "Yer lookin' like yer expectin' someone to come runnin' in here with a knife. The way yer casin' the place," comes low and idle observation in a husky voice - perhaps that being her greeting as well since the rider is looking her dead in the face. The other sheets seem to be fine by their lonesome on the table, the woman now reclaiming her flask. Taking her time in settling her ass on the warm bricks before the fire, Alida finds her gaze drawn back to Jo with the forthright words of the rider, greens once more locking to browns, though with nothing showing in them. A faint roll of one shoulder presages the blonde's clipped alto, "You never know..." her own voice clear and tinged with an air of mixed tiredness and command. A small rub at eyes soon enough leads into a lifting of a fell spoon of chow towards mouth, the guard pursing up to blow repeatedly on the stuff before consumption. Jo hefts the flask a little to test how much more of what's inside that she has left. Her head is turned, regarding the other woman with both open guardedness and interest, though, she seems more interested in her level of drink in her flask more. Now that she seems done with her writing, her gaze finds the fireplace despite Alida's response finding her. Chin lifts as if the convict rider was acknowledging that, but it's a long silence that greets it before, "My father would say that, back in Keogh," she says then, the place notoriously known for breeding guards. Then, "I've got a knife," and she looks Alida's way, oh-so serious. As if she was about to run the place with it. Yep. Eating, sipping, sitting leave Alida decent time in which to surreptitiously study her hearthmate, the woman only doing such when Jo isn't looking, however. Between one bite and a draught, that same low, clipped alto responds to the dragonrider, "Pars." A loft of one white-gold brow for Jo's latter words, then a grunted, "You got the will?" It's not really a challenge, but not really a flippancy, either. Greens study browns blandly. Another drink from the flask has Jo turning in her chair a bit to really look at Alida and her attire. She's not hiding the fact that she's studying the other now, nope. The name of the place dropped gets a low, thrumming grunt from her. "Heard of it. Ya don' look like one of its holders, though." Almost pointed. As to that question, she finally lets a little smile peter out that makes her look just a little on the unhinged side, her hand going to her side and rapping her long fingers there to that. "I've got a whole lotta will, darlin'," she drawls to that, her tone one of slight arrogance. "Do you?" Spoken as she takes in the way the other woman speaks - her tone, her dress, the way she had walked in earlier. "Not one uv' its holders..." Alida lips off in bland rebuttal, not offering any verbal clues up on just what she is exactly, though her sword and knife might be telling. A small frown as something in the stew seems to burn her mouth for a moment translates into a pointed flick of eyes over into Jo's, the rider's second comment inciting a lazy roll of eyes ceilingward, then a sighed out, "Depends on what's willed, and the circumstances." Nothing in the blonde's demeanor seems to have changed at all, but something subtle in her thrums with accumulated energy, with intent withheld. Jo pauses, eyes dropping to Alida's knife that she could see at least, and her hand just lingers more causally on her own. "Lemme guess," she drawls, deadpan, clearly having already came to the solution by the intent look in her eyes. "Got assigned to Pars, didja? Carryin' a bit for just someone from Pars," and eyes drop meaningfully towards the knife she sees. "Got that stiff-back discipline like my brothers did." Another pull from her flask, and she unceremoniously uses her black sleeve to wipe across her mouth. Alida's answer gets that small spark of challenge, the bluerider throwing down right back, "What circumstances ya want? We ain' gotta use knives." Clearly she's joking. Right. "Mhm..." the blonde woman replies, a faint, knowing little bit of a half-smile creeping upon her lips at Jo's words. "Things change..." is muttered with a sudden bit of a glower and grump, the guard finally setting aside her meal in favor of giving a pointed look at the other femme. Unbidden: "Thought you riders never fought unless y'had to. Seems like a sound practice." Smirk. Legs cross. "Do they," Jo counters, eyes narrowing slightly in her rhetorical for that mutter. There's a long pause from her, the convict rider looking away to study her own flask before drinking from it. Then, "That why yer here? Bit of a way from home, for one such as ya." But then perhaps she hears the sound of something moving away, and Alida's words get her to turn right back to fit long look to the guard. "Well," she says with a touch of wry as she drops her chin and lifts two long fingers up to tap against her temple, "I ain' exactly all that sound, darlin'. Must have been from turns spent, fightin' guards. Before I Impressed." The last, such a pause and an afterthought. "Everything changes, sooner 'r later..." Alida replies neutrally, though something in her eyes flashes for just a moment as they continue to look into Jo's brown's. "Maybe...maybe not," follows that up as the blonde replies to the rider's second inquiry, a hint of her own smirky wryness settling about an unglossed mouth, by now. "Rogue?" is clipped back to Jo's remeniscing about fighting guards, the blonde once more - if slowly - taking up her bowl of stew and trying to eat. Jo doesn't seem able to refute that first, so her silence must be her agreement to it. As to Alida being at the Weyr, "Here to gawk at the choice men here, then," she puts right out there, nodding to herself as if the guard had alluded to as much. "I can well understand." Study to study continues, and when Alida asks about her being a rogue, "Maybe...maybe not," is borrowed with that briefly cheeky smirk. It's even answered with the same reflection used. But then, since they've been talking long enough, "Jo, blue Tacuseth's," is her word given. "In case ya didn' want to refer to me as 'that crazed one who fights guards.'" Oh thank the stars...she can resume eating instead of fistfighting! The thought doesn't register at all upon Alida's features nor in her flat green eyes as she works on stew and klah once again, though that subtle readiness about her slowly fades. "Huh?" is artlessly inquired, the blonde then snorting wryly before shaking her plaited head a couple of times. "What the f*ck would I be doin' travelling in the winter just ta' look at boys?" What indeed. Nom. "Caravan guard this round." Nice punishment, that. Mrf. "Alida, Pars guard." No rank is given. Alida's readiness may fade...but Jo isn't moving her hand from her side. It just stays right there, though it's with the casual air of someone just posed in such a position in their chair - not someone about to whip it out in a moment's notice. The guard's dubiousness to her words on men-watching gets a slight tilt of her head and a wry, "What, worth it more to look at the women? Think I'll agree with ya there." Yeah, she's not joking. But then Alida gives the real reason, and just a bit of her guarded tension fades from shoulders. "Caravan guard. Got it," she echoes, nodding once to that. "Fought a few of those, too. Gotta a problem with havin' their mark purses stolen once they've sobered up after a hot night." Pause. "Alida," she echoes that name, seeming to commit it to memory. "Ya met Jothan before, Alida?" From Keogh, presumably. Since she's a guard. The blonde's gaze rarely wavers from Jo or the space she occupies, given that the other is armed and potentially quite capable, but Alida learned long ago that to constantly expect attack leads to exhaustion of body and mind. Best to react while in the now. The rider's next question earns her both a pause in the sipping of klah, and the faintest of brow-scrunchings. "No... Just here on business." Damned randy riders. Sip. "Not recently. I'm usually..." Suddenly her lips press together in a thin line, the moment of anger shaken off in favor of a laconic reply, "...usually home guard." The nighthearth is empty at the moment save for two at this time of the evening, with the snow outside providing a merry fireplace, hot drink and hot food. Jo's at the sole table in the room with a couple of blank hide sheets before her and a flask in her hand - with the other on her knife at the side - while Alida is a little ways, eating. Something Alida says raises a brow of interest, her head tipping a little ways downward as she continues her sharp study of the other. "I forget guards don' take much pleasure in....pleasures," she notes with a little smirk when she speaks on business. "Oldest brother had a stick so far up his ass that ya can twirl him around on it." But to that last, the convict rider turns her head back to the fire and leans back. "Ya did somethin' dirty." That's her surmise to that for being reassigned. "Jothan and his type don' like dirty. Whatcha do?" The blonde seated at the periphery of the hearth makes no verbal comment to guards not taking much pleasure, Alida still loyal to her 'kind,' at least in theory. A sip of klah almost goes down wrong, however, as Jo' speaks of her brother, a low snark of base humor emitted from her lungs...only to be coughed out as the rider pricks her sense of pride. Within those green eyes, a demon of sorts can be seen quite suddenly, only the discipline of Turns reigning in 'lida's suddenly ignited anger...clearly seen within her gaze, at the turning down of a small frown upon her mouth. "I'm not the dirty one..." Growl. The bronzerider slips into the nighthearth, quiet on his feet as the caverns appear to have emptied out more or less. He pauses by the entrance, catching sight of the two women. His gaze lingers curiously on Alida for a moment before shifting towards Jo, at which point his lips press into a line. Z'ian is still decked out in his outerwear clothes, so he begins to pull off jacket and gloves as he crosses the room. Once he's within earshot the corners of his mouth tug upwards, "Evening." The change in temperament from the Pars Hold woman warrants a quick flicker towards her, "Sorry, am I interrupting something?" With Alida suddenly lighting up in anger, Jo almost appears quite amused by it. Back straightens up as she fits a lit up look on the guard now that growl getting a, "Then who's dirty, huh?' That gets put to her them, her dark eyes meeting Alida's until she catches Z'ian's arrival. There's a sudden shift in the convict rider when she sees him - something slightly softer and more unusual for the usually hardened woman - but her gaze darts right back to Alida as if expecting the woman to make sudden moves. "Hey there, darlin'," comes her greeting, that slight inflection of fondness glimmers there without her even looking at him. Her eyes are all for the guard right now, along with that slight crooked smile of daring. "Ain' interruptin' nothin'," she says then, looking Alida over. "Just two girls from the opposite ends of the Code, gettin' to know each other." She leaves the introductions alone, for now, her one-track mind more on anticipation for where Alida's anger is going to flow. "Why don't you ask them?" Alida once again grumbles to Jo', the blonde finally able to apply enough self-discipline so that she's once more frozen cold in aspect, gaze. The sudden icy smirk she starts to 'award' the bluerider for jerking her attention back to the guard - just in case of violence - is transmorgrified into a faint glare at the interrupting Z'ian, the schmucky bronzer recognized instantly. The woman rises from the hearth, leaving her mostly-denuded bowl of leftover stew behind, though that klah is still in hand, to look over her shoulder at Jo' and lip off smoothly, "I ceased bein' a girl about ten turns ago." Zing. And as her boots once more set her into martial motion, the young woman clips off briskly, blandly to the bronzerider she passes by him heading towards the exit, "Hi...Bye, Ass." Well now, it appears as if she's going to continue using that little nickname. He's unbuttoned the front of his jacket, gloves now stuffed into his pockets as he braces one hand against the back of the bluerider's chair. The other goes to the table, allowing him to partially lean into Jo's space. There's nothing lecherous about it, just seems to be a move that's easy and comfortable for him. Z'ian watches the exchange with his wide blue, speculative gaze. He follows the path of the young woman as she gets to her feet and lets loose that one retort, if anything he seems to be casually amused by it. When she delivers her farewell to him, he lifts one of his bracing hands long enough to give her a chipper little wiggle of his fingers. "Nice seeing you again, Hagatha!" When she's out of sight he'll just shrug his shoulders to Jo. "I guess she didn't like me introducing myself to her when she sat at my table the other night. Can't make everyone happy, yeah? Maybe if I wasn't so hideous on the eyes..." "Maybe I will," Jo counters without even thinking, that smirk meeting that ice cold gaze of hers. But she notices the shift in the woman at the bronzerider's arrival with piqued interest, but doesn't comment on any of it. Instead, she watches the woman get up and prepare to leave suddenly, and those words on her not being a girl getting a wry "Find my weyr and show me, then," - her typical, crass counter to that. If she hears that greeting she gives to Z'ian, there's no comment. It's only after Alida leaves, the convict rider watching her narrowed eyes before she comments drolly, "I really hate guards." Funny, since she's from a family of nothing but. To the bronzerider, "And it's Alida. Why are ya callin' her Hagatha? Why she's callin' ya out like that?" And the later? That gets her look, and it's one of bemusement. Looking where Alida's gone, "Ya know her?" she has to ask now. His mouth tugs to the side and the bronzerider rolls his eyes. "Well. A few days ago, she sat down at my table while I was eating. I was the only one there. So I introduce myself, because that's what my mother taught me to do when unknown people sit to break bread with you." Z'ian lets that table bracing hand raise again, palm up. This is obvious manners, yes? - He seems to be insinuating. "So, I prompt her for her name. She doesn't say anything, just stares me really sullenly. So I figure if she's going to be rude, I might as well be as annoying as possible. Told her I'd just give her a name of my own if she didn't want to tell me. It's the little brother in me." He shrugs his shoulders then and grins slyly. "She called me an asshole eventually and left. And that about brings you up to speed on our tumultuous relationship." Glancing over his shoulder to where she's departed. "Do you know her? Seemed like you were doing a good job of pushing her buttons too." Once Alida's gone, the last of the tension leaves Jo's wiry frame and she finally lets her hand stray away from where her concealed knife was hidden to rub behind her neck. Z'ian tells her what happened and her gaze strays toward the entrance where the guard left once more. "Doesn' like to share herself all that much, it seems," is her observation, and if it's one from her, believe that there's the undertone of innuendo lying there in double meaning. She doesn't seem all that surprised by what she hears, either, though lips curl up when Z'ian tells her about how he gave a name for the woman. There's laughter to that in approval and a, "So that's why she's callin' ya an ass. Haha! Maybe she's shy and got too mesmerized, ya know?" Flask lifts and she takes a drink before she offers it his way to his question. She shrugs to that, silence for a few moments before, "Naw, dunno her. Figured out she's a damn guard, though. Got those stiff-asses all up in my family and pissin' me off back in the mines enough to smell one right off. Know enough about that life to know she's been knocked down a few assignments, too. Probably did somethin' she's ashamed of." She snorts to that. His hand slides from the back of her chair to her neck, absently working his fingers where she placed her own. Z'ian glances down to see where her hand came from and looks back to her again, one eyebrow arched up carefully. "Yeah, I got that feeling too. She said she was Pars Hold, it's not a particularly big place. Strange for her to be down here without her people. Maybe she's afraid, nervous." The 'Reaches native looks thoughtful on that before he shrugs, grinning broadly once again. With a quiet laugh, "I doubt that. Even if she was, the girl is a little too young for me. She's all yours." The bronzerider cants his head to the side, "Probably. Don't need to let a kid like that get under your skin though." That last is quietly noted, even if they're alone in that room now. Just a quick observation, he noticed those last dredges of tension. "Can I preoccupy your time with something one of these nights?" He asks, not seeming his usual easy self with this. With Z'ian's fingers on her neck, Jo's eyes slide a little closed as her own hand leaves that area. Turning her head a fraction, "Keep that up and I'll make ya do that 'till yer hand falls off," she seems to warm, her voice shifting from confrontational to something more sultry in moments. His words on the young guard has her chuckling quietly and shrugging one shoulder, and to those of her being all hers, "I'd have her runnin' right back to Pars, darlin'. Or my father, maybe. I didn' get rough," she tacks on to his quiet notes on the guard getting her close to that aggression, the woman regarding Z'ian's face as she leans her head back. "Wanted to, but it was more her than me. Guards always got a nice little button that needs pushin'. Shit, I just couldn' resist," and she gives him that little smirk of trouble, tinged with weariness as the adrenaline leaves her along with the time of night. She takes a drink from her flask then when he speaks about the last, her eyes glinting with interest to it before she says, "Of course," and her gaze flickers over him, noting his expression changing. "Yer good?" Or alright, really. Z'ian continues to work her neck, kneading firmly and sliding down to the base just between her shoulder blades. "It would be real torture if you made me touch you until my hands fell off. I don't know if I can imagine a worse fate." They're lightly joking words as he tips his chin to catch that closed-eyed look, expression softening for it. There's more laughter from him then, still pitched low to match the atmosphere of the nighthearth. "I imagine that you would. She's probably not used to a woman like you, maybe she thinks she is." He doesn't expand on that, simply letting it drop off of there. Because obviously he doesn't think Alida would know someone like Jo. "So we both like to push the buttons of uptight strangers? We're quite the pair. I bet we win Lord and Lady Popularity for Turnover." He smiles then, wryly. "I'm fine." Isn't that female talk for 'Not really!' does it mean the same thing for men? Possibly not. "I have something I'd like to run by with you. Talk over. Not really good conversation for here, even if we're technically alone." Jo takes any massages, her tired smile one of ease that was missing earlier. "All risky and into torture now, are we?" she puts to the bronzerider with that cheeky grin. "And I haven' even brought out the knife play yet." All teasing aside though, on the account of the guard his words to that subject has the convict rider snorting lightly as she looks to the fireplace. "Hardly anyone is, truth be told," she says on anyone being used to her and her wiles - such bravado making its cameo appearance briefly. Then, thoughtfully, "Actually got along with a guard, once. Doubt he's much of one anymore, since." Odd words, but she doesn't seem to be elaborating. She laughs to them pushing buttons together, turning to look his way and state, "We are. We'll have a good time at the Rusty Nail. Ya with a bloody nose, and me with a broken arm." Good times to her, apparently! That smile fades somewhat to his last, eyes narrowing a fraction to his being fine, but since he sounds serious, she gives a firm nod and a, "I can come by, or ya can come to my weyr. We'll talk. I promise to even be good long enough, alright?" Long enough. She says it evenly enough to suggest she's not a complete body of raging hormones. Z'ian eases off of the massage and slips his hand back up, tugging on a few locks of her hair. "Sure, if that risky torture is coming in the form of more of you. You're going to have to work me up to the knife play though, you can't just spring that on a man." The bronzerider shoots her a sly smile, even if there's some tired dragging on his expression. He's curious about the guard, but there isn't a big push for her to reveal the circumstances of their relationship. Just a quick purse of his mouth when she looks away from him to the fire. It's time maybe, he pushes his table bracing hand off and regretfully untangles his fingers from her hair. Straightening up again finally, the bronzerider laughs, shaking his head. "I was thinking I'd go a few more months before having my nose broken again. I enjoy my face being largely symmetrical. It's crazy and wild, I know." His reaction to her last is to smile again, quickly biting down on his lower lip and glancing away. "As long you promise that it'll be just long enough. I won't have any of this serious crap get in the way, you know. Not if I can help it." Jo smiles slowly to his touch of her wild hair, the convict rider reaching up to briefly grip his wrist for his initial words. A chuckle that's sultry and wry as she says, "Yer so hooked." As to knife play, "I'll start ya light," she says with a rakish air, her head tossed back a little so she could look at Z'ian from an angle. "I know what buttons to press to help." She could be joking, but... He removes his touch and she straightens, eyes going towards the entrance just as two male riders enter into the room, engaged in their own conversation. She grips his arm as she gets to her feet, her hand lingering longer than it should while he speaks on getting his nose broken. "Yeah, it is," she drawls deadpan to his crazy and wild, though she can't help the little smirk at the end. She reaches out to grab the flask and tuck it away, then the sheets of hide gets folded and tucked as well. Securing the writing stylus above her ear more firmly, "I wouldn' worry about all that," she says to her staying all that serious, giving herself a little stretch that renders some popping sounds. "Time and place for everythin', Zach. Ya can come to me for anythin'. Not just for my killer body." Smirk. "Ya headin' out?" she asks now, eyeing the newcomers as she steps away from the table. He doesn't have a good mouthy retort to her comment on being hooked, just a quick smile and roll of his eyes. He knows. As if to illustrate how true that likely is, Z'ian is far more easy to catch by the wrist and later the arm than he would be for someone else trying the same sort of moves. He waits for her to get those hides in order, reaching out and brushing his fingers along her side while she moves. "They better be some really helpful buttons." That's put amusedly and he flashes her a crooked smile for his next. "Yeah, I know that. Why do you think I'm here right now?" His gaze moves to the arriving riders and he begins to button up his jacket again, tugging his gloves out of the pockets and slipping them back on. "Yeah, you too? I'll walk you to your dragon. Make certain you stay unmolested by young guards-girls." The bronzerider is always there to be helpful, very helpful. Jo grins knowingly to Z'ian's roll of his eyes and wordless answer, the bluerider well certain. "I know the right ones," is all she says to buttons to be pushed, her tone indication enough that those right buttons won't be the same ones she was pushing on guards. Fingers to her skin and she's fastening her jacket fully closed in preparation to head out into the snow, done with her packing up and ready to go. "I could have a very bad response to that," she nearly purrs as to why she thought he was right there with her, "but then I already got me enough of a reputation." She looks to those riders now in there with them and she jerking her chin towards the exit, his last getting a very wry, "What a helpful gentleman. Next time I'll have to keep some from labeling ya with all sorts of crass names. Next time." With that, tossed wild hair and hips swaying and the flash of her black leather, she's starting to head out of the room, slow enough for the bronzerider to catch up and play good escort. |
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