Logs:The Clap, And Other Misfortunes
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 20 March, 2012 |
| Who: Emme, K'del, Perseid, Quinlys |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Perseid arrives at the weyr. He and K'del slot right back into their old friendship, at least superficially, while Emme and Quinlys make fun. |
| Where: Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
    |
| Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north. Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries. A layer of patch clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today. Sunset comes early to the jagged peaks of High Reaches, the sun just dragging below the ridge to wash the world in orange and red when the runner beast arrives in the bowl, worked hard for the last leg of the journey to arrive before true dark. The man who slides off is easy in his dismount, showing little signs of hours spent in travel, except in the grit that has worked into the creases of his jacket and dark pants. His hands run gently over the lines of the runner, calming her as he looks for the stables uncertainly, or anyone to direct him in the correct way. The bowl is busy enough, despite the approach of darkness: dragons coming in from afternoon sweeps, or finishing drills, crafters on their way to dinner from the craft complex on the far side of the bowl. Most of them pay little attention to the new arrival and his runner - excepting, perhaps, a cobalt blue dragon who swoops in slightly too low, just overhead, clearly aiming to frighten the runner. He lands, just ahead, fanning his wings out before furling them around himself, as his rider glances back warily, apology written across her lined face. She skitters and snorts a breath, contained from bolting by confident hands as Perseid murmurs warm, soothing words under his breath even as he quirks a crooked, charming smile in the bluerider's direction. "I guess I brought this on myself. Do you know where I can take her?" he calls out easily towards the dragonrider, straightening as her wraps leather reins slowly around his fingers. "I'm so sorry," says the bluerider as she dismounts, pulling off her riding helmet to reveal greying hair cut short around her ears. "Enberanth can't help himself sometimes, and I clearly have less control over him than you do over that mount of yours." She indicates the direction of the stables with a tip of her head, then adds, "There anyone in particular you're here to see? I can send for them, while you deal with her. By way of apology." Charm never subsides even at the obvious age of the dragonrider, Perseid's smile still hovering at his lips easily. He allows wryly, "I hate to ask it of you, but if the Weyrleader is not too busy for an old friend, perhaps you could send him my way." The shivering beast does not prove as happy to move, but patience wins out as he pulls at the reins, leading her slowly to the stables. The bluerider's whole face lights up at what Perseid has to say; she seems utterly amused. "That," she says, brightly, "implies you might have some fascinating little stories about our Weyrleader's past. I do believe I may have to look you up again at some juncture. I'll let him know." Fingers, still snug in their lined riding gloves, waggle in his direction as Perseid heads towards the stable; then, tucking her helmet under one arm, the bluerider heads off in the other direction. Perseid is deft in unsaddling and stabling the runner, muscles built in years of athleticism hardly straining as he lugs the saddle around into the correct place. It isn't long until he's stepping back out into the bowl, lingering near the entrance of the stables as he scrubs fingernails through his dusty scalp, raking a path in short, dark hair. Emme fortunately didn't really just arrive /on/ Rhazekth and possible scare the runnerbeast. No, she's apparently just been going for a, well, a run. And when she rounds the bend to spot Quinlys, a smile appears, which is follows quickly by a wave. "Hey Q. How's things?" To Perseid goes a brief nod of greeting, since she doesn't know him at all. By the time Perseid makes it back out of the stables, the original bluerider is long gone on her way, but there's another one, there: a much younger one, with red hair and a cheerful grin aimed at Emme. "Emme, hey," she says, yanking testingly on her starswept blue's straps. Also visible - his uncovered red-blonde hair eye-catching, especially given his impressive height - is K'del, ambling across from the caverns with a curious, and thoughtful, expression on his face. A flash of a smile meets Emme's greeting, brief, as Perseid hooks a shoulder in a casual lean against the stable door. Without the immediate appearance of the Weyrleader, he seems content for warm eyes to linger on the pair of young riders, appreciation a casual thing in his gaze. "Fitting him with new straps? I guess it's probably about time for Rhazekth to need a new pair. Or at least some repairs." Emme mulls, in the process of reaching out to tap the blue's straps lightly. "That was never my strong suit. Think I could bring them to you to check out, see if I've pegged the weak spots right?" she wonders, glancing over at Perseid with a bit of amusement at his appraisal of them. And then out at the approaching K'del. "Getting crowded over here today, it seems." Olveraeth turns his head to look at Perseid, even if Quinlys doesn't; the blue gives the young man a considering huff, as his rider says, "Mm. I'm just not sure about them, yet. Sure, I'll look at yours. Olly?" Finally, she does turn, giving Perseid a glance, equally appraising in its own way. She's in her early twenties, pretty in a casual kind of way. "Hey there. You waiting on someone?" "The Weyrleader. A bluerider -- short, grey hair," Perseid explains with a gesture, holding his hands up to the right length, "--went to get him for me." He rolls his shoulder with a careless shrug, curved smile brightening his eyes where they slide from Emme to Quinlys. It is Emme's glance to K'del that directs his own attention at the approaching Weyrleader, gaze squinting brief in recognition that is turns old. Then, slowly, a smirk touches his lips. "Thanks. If there's anything you need in return, just let me know." The goold ol' barter system. Familiar, and necessary with the way she spends so many of her marks on books and writing implements. Which results in a rueful expression, obviously. "Well, he certainly hopped right to it." Emme notes, glancing between both men. "Which suggests you know each other already. Or, there's trouble. Maybe both." is joked. Perseid's connection with the Weyrleader makes the red-haired bluerider all the more interested in him: her reaction is not far off that of the previous bluerider. "By that smirk, I'm going to guess it's the former. What do you think, Emme?" Her own mouth draws into a smirk. "How do you know him, anyway? And why are you coming to see him?" K'del is still making his way closer, step by step, but it doesn't seem as though he's seen the group, yet - or if he has, he hasn't made out Perseid himself. "Childhood friends. Or competitors, you could say," Perseid allows with wry humor, teasing warmth playing like a curl of smoke along his words as fingers catch on the pockets of his jacket. The jacket looks rather like a dragonrider's, for all that. Patient, he waits until K'del is within an easy distance to call towards the man, questioning in a raised voice, "Have you lasted longer than half the hour yet, Kasadel?" "Oh no, no. A smirk like that almost -always- means trouble." Emme counters, clucking her tongue like she's some kind of mother hen protecting its' chicks. "Capital T." is clarified, even. Her smirk matching Quinlys own. "He just proved it too. I'm certain there must be some kind of bet going on there." Her smile for the weyrleader is of course, all innocence. "Hello K'del." Dimple. That call across to the Weyrleader draws giggles from Quinlys, who glances at Emme as if in the hope that the brownrider will stop her from completely disolving; probably not. Even from this distance, it's apparent that K'del is initially puzzled - and that comprehension dawns moments later. "Perseid." That's when his steps increase in momentum, the lank young man crossing the rest of the distance at what is only slightly short of a run. "Can't believe you'd even ask me that. Thought my reputation'd spread even as far as Tillek, to my mother's shame. What are you doing here?" His gaze flicks towards the two female riders for only a moment, as though he needs to keep staring, outright, at Perseid to reassure himself that he really is standing there. All smirks and friendly humor, Perseid only answers, "I doubt your reputation has spread that far from your own hand still." His gaze spared in a side glance towards Emme and Quinlys is all conspiratorial and including, easy warmth shared there to make an inside joke into something welcoming. "I thought it was past time I visited a Weyr for once, much to my father's chagrin. I only hoped you'd find a place for me for a while before I'm forced to return home." No, Emme is going to be no help at all. Because -she- completely dissolves at Perseid's response to K'del. "Wow, Quinlys. Maybe we should give these two some privacy." The words stage-whispered to her clutchmate, and accompanied by a slight elbow nudge. "Just about anyone can take a spot in the residents barracks can't they? I mean, not that I'm trying to say you're 'just anyone' or anything. But don't let K'del tell you no. Sheesh." "You wound me," is K'del's reply; he's smirking, too, now. "Haven't you heard about all the sex bronzeriders get? Endless flow of women, man, I swear." Quinlys is trying to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop the flow of laughter, but it's not helping much, and it leaves her incapable of replying to Emme. K'del, shooting them both a glance that suggests his dignity has been a little bit wounded, says, in an attempt at a more serious tone: "Of course! Can definitely find you something. Anyone who works is welcome-- surprised your father let you go, from what I remember of him." He runs a hand through his short-cropped curls, head shaking as he goes back to staring, outright, at Perseid. "Has to be endless, if none of them come back after the first performance," Perseid drawls in automatic response, knuckles lifting to tap in a gesture against K'del's arm before his smile turns onto Emme. "Thank you, but I'd rather have better company for privacy. Sorry, I didn't introduce myself." He pauses, fingers lifting to his jaw to brush at the stubble there where his brown eyes crinkle with suppressed laughter. "I am Perseid of Cardine Groves Cothold." "Did you hear that, Quinlys? If we'd impressed bronze, we'd have an endless flow of women too. Or does that just mean that blue and brownriders have an endless supply of men, while greenriders get an endless supply of both? Hmmm." Ignoring the fact that women can't impress to bronze of course, Emme obviously has no problem needling K'del. Bad for her promotional prospects probably, but too much fun to quit. "Nice to meet you, Perseid of Cardine Groves Cothold. I'm Emme, formerly of the exile island, and now rider to Rhazekth." She doesn't even stutter over the word exile, holding out her hand to shake. Emme's latest remarks have Quinlys dissolving into even more laughter, though some seconds after the brownrider's introduction she manages to add, "Quinlys. Olveraeth's rider. Do you have an endless supply, Emme? Because I'm still waiting for mine." All those needles, one after another, have K'del making a bland face - but the assault on his dignity still doesn't outweigh his pleasure at seeing his old friend again. "I'd watch out," he tells the women. "He might claim he'll give you a good time, but he'll really just give you the clap." That earns a laugh, caught in Perseid's throat with an amused shake of his head and a mock-glare shot towards his old friend. He counters dryly, "Well, what's the last gift that you gave a woman? At least I think to give them something to remember me by." Presumably, he is not very serious. At the introduction, his gaze draws with a curious sharpness over Emme, as if pairing vague rumors to the reality of flesh and blood before him. He takes her hand with a drag of a rough thumb across her knuckles briefly. "Pleasure to meet you, Emme. And Quinlys." Emme sighs with mock wistfulness. "Hardly, Quinlys. I've been waiting for mine since weyrling graduation day. Maybe we should get tips from K'del here." she suggests hopefully, batting her eyelashes at the weyrleader in parody of that endless supply of women he apparently has. "Ohhhh, ouch. The clap? You going to let him get away with that?" She makes no comment at the sudden intensity of Perseid's persual of her. If anything, her chin tilts just a bit more prideful and stubbornly. And after a quick smile for his return gesture, she withdraws her hand so that she can lace both of her own together to rest in front of her. "Sons," is K'del's answer to Perseid, a pleased and proud grin twitching into place around his mouth. "There's two women 'round here privileged enough to be able to call their children mine. Reckon that's a better gift by far." He's got his eye on the look between Emme and his friend, and that handshake, but makes no remark on it. Nor does Quinlys, who, instead, declares: "They must have been absolutely frightful as children. Weren't you, Perseid? And K'del here must have been impossible to deal with. He's still full of himself: the Weyrleader, and don't you forget it." "You're a father? Congratulations!" Sincerity is a weight to his words, sobering slightly where Perseid casts a critical eye towards K'del at the news of the man's progeny. "Though, he was awful frightful as a child, so I can only imagine what kind of children he produced." He pauses, likely for dramatic affect. "But, not I, no. I was absolutely delightful to everyone around." He shakes his head slightly towards Emme in a spare gesture. No, he doesn't have the clap. "Cute kids, too. They obviously got that from their mothers." Emme offers, tongue-in-cheek. She's also frankly quite dubious at Perseid's childhood innocence. Her expression rather displaying that disbelief. And, as it's accompanied by a snort... well, it leaves little doubt. There is little she can say now about the man's possible STD's as well, so she just bites her tongue and smothers a laugh that he felt the need to assure the ladies that he doesn't actually have that particular one. "All joking aside, I suspect you two have a lot to catch up on. I wouldn't want to intrude." And thus, her eyes dart towards the worn running path that heads back to the inner caverns. K'del's pride is audible in his tone, and visible in his expression. "Two boys," he confirms. "They'll turn five this turn. They're--" He spares Emme a bland, if still amused, glance, head shaking. Also: "Yes, why don't the two of you," this includes Quinlys, clearly, "go and find yourself something else to do. You can catch the clap from Perseid some other time." To his old friend, when his blue-eyed gaze turns back towards him, he adds, "Am I going to regret this? The whole weyr is going to know every embarrassing detail of my childhood." Beat. "But I'll have my retribution, just so you know." "The only thing I'd give them is something they'd like. I'm not sure if you know about women's ability to enjoy sex as well, but they do if you do it right," Perseid murmurs, though self-deprecation touches at his smile and he even offers the other riders an easy wince. But then his attention is back on his friend, his eyebrow curving upwards expressively as he adds, "I think we can come to some sort of amicable agreement." "To be fair, we would have to do a comparison." Innocently, Emme points this out. "I mean, to see if either of you can do it right. Of course, given that Perseid has the clap, I suppose we'll just have to give that idea a pass." Her tone, woeful. Her expression, deadpan. But when she, and presumably Quinlys, turn to make their exit - her peal of laughter suggests she's going to have a lot of fun making jokes and both men's expense for awhile! "Ouch," says K'del, at least as much amused as he is wincing-- he gives Perseid a long glance, head shaking, but refrains from further commentary until Emme and Quinlys have taken their leave. Their laughter makes his mouth twist all over again. "Sorry about them. They're--" A hand flaps around, evidently intended to convey something, though it may not necessarily be clear exactly what. "Want to come up to my weyr? I've some whisky. We ought to catch up. It's been ages." Eyebrow remaining up in a question at that hand flap, Perseid does not press the inquiry yet, though perhaps he will later as he is quick to accept the offer with an easy, "Yes, yes. I swear my throat is coated in dust." His own gaze traces briefly after the riders, but then he's gesturing K'del ahead to lead the way to weyr and whiskey. |
Leave A Comment