Logs:Distractingly Hot
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| RL Date: 12 July, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Irianke happens across Jo at the hot springs and seduces her. Really! |
| Where: Hot Springs, High Reaches Area |
| When: Day 28, Month 3, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
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>---< Hot Springs, High Reaches Area (TP Room - HRW) >-----------------------<
Even further north than the Weyr itself, a short flight between crags and
over crevasses that even a wing-scarred veteran of Fall might undertake, a
cluster of clearings lies low in the shelter of hardy trees and ancient
stone. The outer two clearings might have been lost to more stubbly trees
Turns ago, if it weren't for the centre-most: a natural pool of warm,
softly bubbling water several dragonlengths across, with enough space for
perhaps a half-dozen people and their lifemates. Though the air is cold
all Turn round, and snowdrifts frequently whiten the ground, the
geothermal activity heats the mineral-scented water to such a consistently
comfortable heat that it becomes a refuge for those who don't wish to
travel further afield to wash their dragons.
Of the clearings that abut the spring, the nearest is only a few steps
away, though it's small enough that only a few dragons can lounge at once.
A steep trail descends to its substantially larger neighbor, a
gravel-strewn crescent with enough space to spread out and enjoy the crisp
air and the mountain range's admittedly spectacular views.
Available Commands: +tp/help
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Irianke F 38 5'7" slender, dark curly hair, stone blue eyes 0s
Jo F 33 5'8" wiry, black hair, brown eyes 24s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Out
>-----------------------------------------< 28D 3M 38T I10, winter night >---< It's a late night at the springs that finds Jo occupying the most shadowy corner of the hot springs alone. She has her pile of clothes out of reach but her bottle is not, her hair damp and piled on top of her head as she stays above water with both elbows planted on the springs' edge. Her eyes are half-closed as she looks to be resting and soaking. Drinking, too. It's a low key night. A turn and change after arriving at High Reaches finally finds Irianke seeking out the hot springs, winter's cold driving her towards something a lot more warm and medicinal than the baths in her own weyr. Niahvth is hard to hide in her descent to that small clearing, though with Jo in the most shadowed corner, neither dragon nor rider discern the rider's presence though the blue is familar and is accorded a low rumbled greeting. Irianke dismounts expertly, a towel slung over her shoulder, and strides quickly towards the pool even as she sheds her clothing along the way. No neat piles for her and shortly, she's at the far edge of the pool, standing there in the cold, nude with that towel slung around her neck now, and pretending so valiantly that she's not shivering. Tacuseth rumbles his greeting to Niahvth's arrival easily enough. One can probably expect that after that moment, Irianke's arrival is expected, but Jo is silent as the Weyrwoman undresses and drops her clothes in her wake. Her dark gaze openly drinks her in, watching any open expressions that could be seen from her advantage before she breaks her silence with a simple, "Weyrwoman." Likely a greeting or to announce that she is indeed not alone. A slow smile draws across Irianke's mouth and she tests one toe in and then the rest of that foot. Then, the entirety of her body slips in, the towel relinquished to the side of the crater as she does so. Bliss sweeps the smile off her facfe and she sighs audibly, leaning backwards into the wall she just slid own and looking up at the sky. "I've been missing out," she says, a slight turn of her head finding Jo and flashing a lovely smile towards the bluerider. "You've been holding out," as if it were Jo's responsibility to bring Irianke here. Watching her, and not hiding the fact that she is, "Ya have," Jo agrees with her with a roll of her shoulders, though by the suggestive tone, she's not talking about the hot springs. "Ya should get out more. Rather, get out more with me. The invitation was a given." The last is likely in response to her holding out, her rakish smile growing. Head leaning back a bit without removing her study, "A drink?" she offers now, lifting the bottle she holds. "Or," suggests Irianke in the blithest of tones, "You could stay in with me." But while Jo watches overtly, Irianke pretends to not notice and further, feigns not looking at Jo directly, staking her claim on that breadth of wall behind her firmly. "No. No thank you," is said for the drink, the deep smile stretching up to twinkle her eyes. "Tell me about your day first," says the goldrider, the singsong lilt of her voice clearly not expecting a real answer. "Was that on the table?" Jo counters on the suggestion, her front teeth playing with her bottom lip. "Is that an invitation?" While Irianke doesn't look at her, Jo is keeping her gaze right on her. To the decline of her bottle, she takes a drink from it herself before answering on her day. "Drills, sweeps, visitin' old friends'n gettin' in a late meal. Some bondin' time with the blue man in my life. No nightcap. Yet." Which, considering she's drinking, her 'nightcap' must mean something else. "What 'bout you, darlin'," she turns it back, setting her bottle on the surface. "What's yer day like today?" "Oh, the usual in the life of a single Weyrwoman. Lounged on a chaise while aids fed me frozen grapes and rubbed my feet until I was driven from the Weyr due to sheer boredom here." Irianke has perfected straight man humor and delivers this without allowing her voice to waver in the least, in spite of her smile. "Or did you mean the realities to the fantasies?" Finally, the Igen woman looks back to Jo, finding her in those shadows and begins a slow wade across to her. Snorting loudly, "Only to end up in the arms of yer pirate husband," Jo adds onto that story, straightening up. "The very one I fucked for a trip overseas. I'll admit it. The frozen grapes have me jealous." Just as straight-faced, the convict rider watches her close the distance before she adds, "Spendin' yer time findin' out about folks?" she asks on fantasies and realities. "Though, if ya really wanna go the fantasy route, I have a few we can talk 'bout, darlin'. They're not exactly for dragon ears, either." "Mine has heard worse." Irianke's curiosity, however, is piqued enough so that when she reaches Jo, her hand reaches up to curl the backs of her fingers against the other woman's cheek. "Spending my time," she says in the quietest of tones, "Finding a new Weyrleader." That gets her interest. "There ain' nothin' like me," Jo notes, the boldness of her statement laced with the sort of arrogance one hears from a bronzerider. Irianke's touch gets her to part her lips, and her gaze goes towards her lips. When the last is revealed, her dark gaze cuts to hers, her smile slipping just a bit to something else. That her overly-sexualized persona actually slips in that brief moment before the goldrider to show the myriad of emotions from surprise to calculated interest. And delight. It's there and gone, and the convict rider simply states a lightly piqued, "Oh?" "Oh?" mimics Irianke, having caught some flashes of those emotions. In that distraction, the goldrider leans in to claim the soft flesh of Jo's neck for her lips, trailing it up slowly to her ear and then draws back, leaving her hand right there, there in place of her lips. "Tell me your thoughts, Lee." Jo lets her neck be claimed, her chin lifting just a bit before she regards that hand at her lips. Instead of answering right away, her head dips as she tries to nip one of those fingers, giving just a bit of bite as one arm comes to claim Irianke at the small of her back. It's possessive, the move, and the dangerous woman draws her lips from that hand to her ear to say low, "Show me yers, then I'll show ya mine." It's obvious laced with more that thoughts, that low purr deliberately sensuous. Testing. "You've already seen mine," says Irianke, deliberately misunderstanding whatever Jo might mean. Niahvth stirs when Irianke pushes, tests the limits of Jo's hold of her back, then quiets when the Igen woman stills. "I am serious. This," she gestures to Jo, the hot springs, and then back to tuck a finger under the bluerider's chin, "Is all lovely, but I need you, your connections, and your thoughts." A breath, leads to one that releases faster, and then faster and then, "And you. Come back to my weyr with me. Fuck this cold." Eyes narrow slightly, and when Irianke pushes, Jo slips her arm from her, both hands lifting up in unison with the barest of smirks. "If it's information ya want," she notes with a touch of wry, "ya don' need to seduce me. I'll take what ya offer regardless. If there's anythin' in it for me." The smile blooms, and then she looks around the springs before returns to Irianke with a simple, "Lead the way." A hand even gestures for the other woman to proceed her out the springs with careful study. It's a pity her visit to the springs was so short, but shivering, she exits, slower than she entered and pieces together her outfit the reverse of how she shed it. "I don't seduce people for information. The information is the extra bonus to what I plan to do with you tonight," says Irianke, the frankness of her voice pushing past any velvet flirtation though her hand lingers at Jo's waist, when they reach the dragons. "We can talk more tomorrow morning," is both promise and threat of just how long she plans to claim the other woman. Jo is out behind her, her own clothes a mere pile as she goes to retrieve them. It's quick the way she slips her own clothes on and collects her bottle, the rumble in her throat one of amusement as she states, "Hope ya don' have plans tomorrow mornin', then," is all she says to that, if the woman plans on keeping her the whole night. The bluerider doesn't look concerned in the least, as she follows her out with a blunt, "Ya should cancel yer meetins' as well." Later on... the morning after in Irianke's weyr It was an eventful night of many different kinds of hijinks, with sleep only coming in the early morning and when Irianke's assistant shows up with breakfast, the scents of fresh baked bread, morning meats, and a cinnamon-citrus tea waft in to the bed chamber where Irianke, legs entangled with Jo's, snores lightly into the other woman's chest. Outside, the hearth is lit and this assistant, being far more aware than her last, discretely cleans, folding clothes and placing them on the lounge, and makes sure to get an extra mug out of the goldrider's personal pantry before departing. It's the food that rouses Jo from deep sleep, the pleasureable aches from her wiry frame drawing a husk of a sound from her lips as she stirs. Irianke's warmth and scent draws her to dip her head close to hers, her dark hair sticking out at odd ends as she claims the other woman by her waist. If she's noticing any activity by the assistant, it's not showing in her face. Rather, coming fully awake, she lies there with the tips of her fingers idly tracing down the woman's bare back in a caress. Then, in a low voice, "Ya should eat." It might not be heard at all. It's heard. Irianke's long since learned to stir at the scents and sounds of somebody outside putting things to order and bringing her breakfast. And they've learned to not tread past the beaded curtain that separates the sleeping area from the main cavern; some having needed some eye-opening lessons on why this is bad. "You?" Irianke finally murmurs, answering in a voice filled with sleep; a flirtatious sleep but sleepy nonetheless. An absent hand reaches out for something, anything and traces the curve of Jo's chest while simultaneously shivering away from but then pressing into the finger down her back. It's complicated. "Stay. Took too long to get you here." Jo can't help the lazy smile that stretches - Her body stretches against Irianke like a feline's, arching her chest into that touch as she continues to caress her back. It's the last where her laughter is felt in her body more than heard before she says, teasingly, "Y'had only but to ask." The tease only lasts for that long, though, for the convict rider then gives more sincere, "Ain' goin' nowhere, darlin'. Not many can claim they've worn me out in one night." "Lie," says Irianke, waking up a little more at that, enough so that she's arching her back up and pushing herself off the bed to study Jo next to her. "Such lies, but I'll let This." Kiss. "One." Another kiss. "Pass." Kiss. "This." Kiss. "Time." Each word, punctuated by a kiss in a different, deliciously wicked spot as she works her way down the length of the bluerider's body, until she's sliding off the bed with that last and rising to saunter out those beads towards the outdoors. "Wait here," means Irianke is back shortly, carrying the tray with its food, tea pot, and mugs back into the bed chamber. Murmuring close to those lips, "Oh Iri," the purr comes from Jo, self-satisfied tone. "Such lil' faith in my words." She could add more to bolster her claim, really, but those kisses has her inhaling, reveling in each spot her lips touch on her body. The cool air hitting her then when Irianke withdraws has her trying to draw her back into bed, but her fingers slip easily and her head drops back down to that pillow with a "Mmm-hmm," for waiting. She only sits up when she returns, the smell of food getting some of her attention. Mostly she's studying the sway of hips and the gentle bounce of breasts. Irianke walks with the confidence of someone who knows she looks stunning, even with the gentle curves of maternity long ago along her otherwise flat tummy. She stands there, the tray in hand at the foot of the bed and looks down on Jo, her lips relaxing into a desirous smile. The tray finds the bed, nudging at Jo's toe as it gets pushed deeper and the goldrider stays standing, her fingers brushing against and playing idle patterns onto the sole of the other woman's feet. "You promised me ears to listen and lips to speak last night. Or was it lips to kiss?" Innocently quizzical that last, Irianke's mouth does nothing innocent to a very un-PG-13 set of lips, but only teasingly. Briefly. "Do you like your morning rolls buttered or jammed? Or both?" is asked momentarily. It's a moment of Jo just staring at her, not saying anything until she states, unbidden, "Aren' ya beautiful, baby." She sits up more once the tray is placed, her toes playfully stretches at those teasing fingers before she leans forward to take up the tray to her lap. "I believe I had promised to make ya come 'nough times that yer forget yer name," she corrects in her crass way. "But I am curious, 'bout what ya want for a mere 'rider like me besides a great fuck." Beat. "I go both ways in everythin'," comes last, presumably on those rolls. And those lips, of course. "Mere rider?" Irianke is amused at that, slipping along the bed so her elbow rests somewhere near Jo's hip and her face is on level with that tray held in the other woman's lap. "Well then," she swings her legs to sit and breaks one of those fluffy fresh baked rolls in half, slathers butter on one side and jam on the other, presses the halves back together and divides it in half and holds out one to the bluerider. "Anything but mere, unless you meant mare? Fucking hot. Wild. Fun." A moment later, adds, "Smart." The predatory look on Jo's eyes as the Weyrwoman moves can't be hidden this close, but there's also a deeper study there as well. "I have no rank," she begins lightly, watching her movements - watching her - her words slow. "I ride a blue dragon. Beyond the rumors, the only stir I cause this Weyr is breakin' the hearts of those that think to collar me. 'Less ya mean my other talents." She doesn't given explanation on what sort of talents, taking the roll with a nod of thanks. Dark gaze studying her face, "What do ya want to know?" finally, she asks, her tone curious as she takes a healthy bite. "I had," Irianke begins, ignoring her bread and opting to dip a finger into the jam and reaching out to swipe at Jo's nose with it, a grin causing her to stop talking for a few moments. "Sorry. You're incredibly distracting and I haven't..." She might not have forgotten her own name last night, but she certainly remembered Jo's quite well. "In any case, I had an interesting conversation a while ago with someone who said that a brownrider, particularly a female brownrider would not be taken seriously as Weyrleader. I find that way of thinking a fucking travesty." Pern's womens' movement, patient zero. Snorting at the swipe of jam, "Now yer gonna have to lick it off," Jo tells her, showing her mock-sterness before that smile breaks through. "And I am. Distractin'. Ya can miss whatever meetin' ya have with K'del today." Cocky, her free hand tracing one finger from Irianke's neck to her collarbone as she listens to the latter. "Taikrin," she states the name of her Wingleader. "For awhile, she was Weyrleader. I backed her'n Aishani every step of the way. There were many that had the view of Weyr instability bein' caused by a female brownrider makin' Weyrleader." Her tone suggests what she thinks of that. That was clearly the idea; Irianke's wicked little smile deepening as some more jam finds itself along some of Jo's scars. The bread is set aside and she leans in to lick the little bit off Jo's nose and then claims her mouth with a lingering, bread-filled kiss. "Distracting. So fucking distracting, and I can't. I wish I could, but..." she is Nimae's little minion deep into her bones, in at least habits and shirking duties... "Just think about it for me. You're a strong, intelligent woman and I'd like you to come back next week so we can talk." Among other things. "On who you think would make a great Weyrleader, and whether you have," she pauses in her licking of jam to smile sunnily at Jo, "Other ambitions than mere bluerider. Now shut up." As if Jo's the one that keeps talking. Muscles comes alive under scarred skin to each jam-ladened touch, and Jo's return kiss is heated and aggressive. Her own wiry frame is tight with it, as if she was barely holding herself back. Fueled by hunger, "Rather eat you than this bread," is huskily noted to distractions, likely making it worse on purpose. But, she'll pause long enough to consider the rest Irianke says, that intense study back in her dark gaze before she briefly inclines her head in a nod. "Ya'll see me again," she agrees, her tone pleased. "I'll make time for ya. I'll think 'bout Weyrleader prospects'n my ambitions, too. After." After what, she only says with her mouth possessing the other's. It's only the desire not to burn themselves with the tea that has Irianke pausing to put the tray on the floor before utilizing her last moments of freetime that day in a very mutually possessive way, where her goal, this time, is to make sure Jo either forgets her own name or knows Irianke's all too well. |
Comments
Alida (00:38, 14 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
Delightful! How the 'wicked' are drawn to one another. Oh...wait. Alida really like Jo, too. *giggles* ;D
Faryn (06:11, 14 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
#feminism #drinkmensimpotenttears
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