Logs:Arriving Different
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| RL Date: 18 September, 2015 |
| Who: Rategar, L'rok (ST'd by Faryn), Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Rat bums a ride off L'rok to High Reaches Weyr instead of through Greenfields. Jo is not pleased by his first impression. |
| Where: Western Bowl / Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 11, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Storyteller: Faryn/ST |
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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.
Heavy, driving rain makes everything a wet and muddy mess today. While the Greenfields gang goes out of their way to provide transportation to the transplants to be at the Weyr, Rat wasn't having it. He had dodged some dragonrider by the name of M'ron to go wait outside with his sole bag of things, and that was where his buddy, L'rok, finds him. It was evident this M'ron was taking it as a slight, but the ex-con was already astride L'rok's brown dragon and Between before anything really got down. Now, a few breaths later, he's standing in the middle of the Reachian bowl next to L'rok, his dragon, and the various weyrfolk going on about their business. "So this is a Weyr," he says to him, taking a long look around while he hefts the bag over one muscular shoulder. At least the rain had stopped. "Doesn't seem like much to me." Quick observation. The ease of getting another rider, specifically a rider like L'rok, has something to do with how little the brownrider stays up in politics, and how little he cares about the comings and goings of that crew from Greenfields. He comes as a friend to ferry, for no other reason than because he was asked. L'rok's dragon is a patient fellow with a cherry-hide and an amiable demeanor, who's more helpful than his rider in getting them up and away - and he even offers his own apologies to Hiyudath and a amiable tenor call of, « Gotta do what we gotta, » before he pops away for home. He ultimately spirals down and backwings for a neat, gentle landing near the entrance to the caverns, hunkering down while he's unburdened of luggage and passengers alike, and L'rok is deft with the straps with a laugh for the initial assessment. "It's more than a Hold," he points out, but doesn't say better, turning back around and pocketing his own hands as he leans back against his lifemate. "You just have to know where to look, for the good things. No fighting, though. It'll get you kicked right back out, and I'll probably get in trouble for bringing you in the first place." Still looking around with a surly frown, "Yeah, well," Rategar says, "holds had pretty maidens with tits out to here," and sure, why not show L'rok how big he's talking with both his hands? "I'm not seeing anything like that here. I won't fight anyone," he promises, sending his friend a look that borders on mirth. "I know how to play this. Thanks for ride, by the way. If there's anything decent around here for a drink, I'll owe you one." "Plenty of those, and easier to get to boot," L'rok say with a meaningful lift of the eyebrows, a suggestive sort of wiggle as he turns around like one might manifest on the other side of Peransth. One did not, so he was forced to elaborate, "The greens rise all the damned time, here, and their riders'll usually come home with you if you flatter them enough. Your first drink's on me. Maybe some are in there." There, being, of course, the patio ledge visible from where they've landed. The brown is quick to shake his straps into a comfortable position and launch away, leaving L'rok to lead the way. "Snowasis is just beyond there, only bar you can reach, but it's good." "Really?" Now we're talking. That's the sort of look that's on Rat's face as he nods. The next look around is a little more favorable. "Rising greens. Yeah, I heard a little about that sort of thing back in Bitra. Makes everyone horny, right? That won't be a problem for me. The flattering part might need some help, though, know what I'm saying?" L'rok will get a pat to the chest before he follows the man towards the patio ledge, and when a bar is mentioned, "Probably so clean you could eat off it. You alright with this place, man? Don't you miss home?" Home being Bitra where they met. "The golds, more, but you missed that." Poor Rat, who did not get to have sex with anybody, let alone have such luck as L'rok, whose grin is rakish and boylike and a little lewd as he brags, "During the second one, I got two of them up to my weyr. Not greenriders. One pretty little kitchen girl who'll give you a touch on a good day," hint, "and a bluerider. We need more golds," is the obvious conclusion. Point is, "You can tell some of them they have nice racks and they'll kiss you until you're lightheaded." He reads between lines that may not be there, though, and the question is maybe bordering too close on any genuine emotion for his comfort. He decdies instead, "It's pretty clean. Has its characters. Plenty of gambling. Man, I'd rather be here than bouncing a bar in Bitra anyday. I didn't leave anything special behind." And his gaze implies neither did Rategar. "That's what I get for not coming sooner," Rat says with self-deprecating shake of his head at missing the goldflight partying. "Guess the next one's too far off, huh? Well, maybe there's some tail around that don't need any randy dragons to get them off." He looks at his friend for a few moments when he speaks about Snowasis and bars before there's a grunt and a "Yeah. Know what you mean. Bet I'll do alright here, then. I was thinking of using my hands in the stables here. Heard every Weyr has one because of the dragons. Think I could slip in as a 'hand or do I have to play by the rules and talk to someone?" Because he clealy prefers the latter, if his tone is any indication. "Serves you right. A pitcher. Unless you want something else," L'rok turns his head just enough to take Rat into his line of sight as he signals the bartender, his lean against the bar cocky and a bit like he owns the place. (Spoiler: he doesn't.) At any rate, thinks duly on the options presented and concludes, "Just go in there. I bet they'll think one of the headwoman's assistants told you to come and won't give you a hard time. Won't get paid, though, that way." Shrug. No skin off his back, either way, and anyways, "You can come drinking with me whenever you want anyways." The way L'rok's parading around, already Rategar is eyeing him like he knows the truth enough to angle a look at the end of it. Waving a hand on getting paid, "There's more than one way to win a fight, my friend," he says, not seeming worried at all about not getting paid. "Just a place to crash my head's good enough for me, for now. I've got plans for this place." Quick to look the brownrider in the eyes, "Legit plans," he has to add with a meaningful dip of his head. "Dragon sex means eggs, right? I'm pretty sure one of those eggs might have my name on it." He claps L'rok on the back then for the last, openly pleased as he answers on drinking, "I'm going to take you up on that, man. I want to get real good and familiar with this Weyr and I'm sure you can help me. If this gambles aims right for me, I won't have to step into a cage ever again." Even though he probably shouldn't have been since getting out of the mines. Theere's a moment while he waits for the pitcher, the accompanying glasses and then L'rok is tilting his head towards a free table in the middle of the floor, admittedly the only one they could reasonably occupy. Every other one is taken. He sets the pitcher in the middle of the table after pouring himself a glass. "I'll miss watching you fight. Sucks, you have to stop just to be here. But whatever, man, it's your life." He laughs at the question, shaking his head despite his, "Yeah, dragon sex means eggs. You came to stand? Faranth." That requires a drink, for all L'rok has been extoling the weyr's virtues. "Why that gamble?" L'rok wants to know seriously. Spying the same table L'rok does, "I was suppose to stop once I got out," Rat admits about the cage fighting past his mines sentence, that likely being news to the dragonrider since he's giving him a quick glance. "It was places a lot less known about. Greenfields, for one." Maybe that also serves as a reason for him being in Greenfields, too. He goes to pour himself a cup and turns around a chair to sit on it backwards as he sucks it down like water. "Hey, it's working for you, right?" he notes on being at the Weyr, gesturing broadly around them. "It's long been time for a life change for me, man. The cage'll wait on me if it all goes to shit. Yeah, I'm standing," he announces his intentions as he straightens up. "Why not, right? I'm going to try my hand, anyway." With L'rok not knowing about his new employers - the Greenfields gang - the newly minted transplant is going slow with his words. "You know, I had a friend back in Bitra like you that told me how his life had changed for the better when he Impressed. Boy was smiling with his cracked tooth and everything. Had this sweet little blonde greenrider on his arm and even got himself some rank. Life-changing. I'm all about the life-changing right now. I can't be shoveling shit for the rest of my life, right? Or dodging guards. You know what I'm saying?" If the other can even follow his train of thought, rather. "It was a bet, man. We just put marks down to see if any of us would get anything from it, I didn't expect..." Impression. But that odd and fond smile dragonriders get sometimes, without any prompting, has touched his face as he takes another drink. He doesn't even know it's there, that's clear, and the blue of his eyes is bright with it. It's almost sappy. It's an interesting contrast, then, to Rat's recounting of his life. "You'll have to get a dragon to Search you, if you're not going above board with your job. But," and this is important, "we're not allowed to Search in Tillek. Or in the Beastcraft. They might just be asking for volunteers to get enough for the eggs when they're laid." He's nodding his understanding, though, adamantly even, for the rest of it. "I know. Trust me, man, I know. I wouldn't have lasted my entire life doing that. I'd be dead, I think, if he hadn't chosen me. I'm just saying, it's a big chance." Rategar eyes that look that brightens L'rok's face with a frown and a, "Okay, that's strange," is uttered as he drinks. Leaning forward and gesturing with one hand, "But, isn't having a dragon useful?" he asks with a serious look. On Searching, "I'm not from Tillek, and I'm not in any craft," is his return answer to that. "Don't know what they have against Tillek and the Beastcraft around here, though. Don't worry, though. I'll find a way in. I'll look as clean as a whistle to this place. Not bad here," he makes an assesment of the Snowasis and the drink combined, nodding. Back to the topic, "Yes. Dead. Dead's not a good look on me, mate. Ladies don't like it. I'd rather not take another visit to the mines, either." He reaches to refill his cup. L'rok seems bothered by the first question, his thick brows furrowing down and the shake of his head instantaneously. "That's not how it is. You don't -- Peransth isn't just useful Rat. He's -- shards it sounds stupid, saying it to you." And that might be the only time he's ever put that between them, like a wall Rat can't mount. It's safer to move on to the Search, at any rate. "It's not about how the weyr feels about them. They told us no more. Fuck the weyrs, I guess. Like we haven't spent blood and sweat on them even in an interval." If they were outside, L'rok would spit, and his posture changes to show it. "Just ask," he says, "Or wait, see if one of them finds you. They sniff Candidates out. Peransth might, even. If not, tell me. I'll get you a white knot." He lifts his glass in toast to the promise, and maybe to not being dead, too. Both hands lifting when he senses L'rok's consternation, "Whoa, whoa, I didn't even....realize...." Rat starts, but really, he doesn't know what to say and his voice falters. "I'm still learning this Weyr business, but I'll get it. Shit, Tillek told the Weyr, huh? What sort of politics shit goes on here? Who should I be staying away from?" Speaking of, that is, as he looks over the current patrons around them. That L'rok offers to pass him a white knot, however, that a full grin from the ex-convict and another clap to the other man's back. Meeting that toast with his cup, "To making life-changing decisions," he declares, clinking his. L'rok's exhale is deep, moving his broad shoulders, and the air may well work to smooth out the crinkles of consternation on his wide forehead. "It's not...don't worry about it. People live here their whole lives without Impressing and understanding it. Just...they're not tools, Rat." L'rok finishes his beer on that point. "Bullshit politcs, is what. Weyrleader just got back, you'll watch out for him I think. He'll ship you off faster than anything if he finds you're trouble." Which, it should be noted, L'rok is looking at him like he's trouble. Or maybe that's a hangover from that comment about his dragon. Hard to tell. "Irianke is the new senior weyrwoman. Igen. Sexy as hell. Impossible to read. Easy to lay." More or less. "Farideh isn't. She blushes pretty, though, and she's young enough to be cute when she's mad. You'll meet them both if you Stand." He's standing now, looking through his jacket pockets in sequence for something. Rat is nodding like his life depends on it, perhaps to placate the only friend he has in the Weyr. "Not tools, got it," he's quick to repeat like bird, though it's perhaps noticeable that it's lacking the substance of understanding. He drains his cup and sets it down when the Weyrleaders are noted, the man propping up his arms on the back of the chair with a brief look going to L'rok on trouble. He meets that gaze square on. "I'll just make sure I'm a good little boy around the Weyrleader, then," he promises with a solemn hand to his chest. "I'll do my best to appear as though I don't want to fuck the Weyrwoman to the point that I'll have in my lap, and I'll check out this Farideh at least from a distance. You know I have a weakness for girls that put out. I'll keep that in mind." When L'rok stands, he does as well with his bag of belongings. "Stop that," L'rok says with a laugh at the parroting and the head nodding. "It's weird." He comes out of his pockets with a few quarter marks to put on the table, payment and maybe tip. "I'm serious about K'del though," is really somber. "The man was just stabbed. You should...maybe not tell people where you came from. I have to go, Rat." His abruptness might be a hangover from their short talk about Peransth, but it might just be that he really has, "Drills." Laughing himself, "As long as it keeps you smiling, mate," Rategar tells him as he hefts his bag. "I'll keep K'del in mind. I got my stories in check, don't you worry about it. I doubt anyone's going to be paying any special attention to me, some random stablehand. They should just pay attention to my good looks," and he rubs absently at the crooked nose he has that looks like it's been broken more than a few times over. Once the brownrider says he has to go, he nods and steps from the table as he states, "Thanks for the drinks, man. I do owe you one for today. We can hook up back here tonight if you've got the time. I should probably go see about a place to sleep and something to eat. Later on, right?" for he's already heading out of the door, as if he knows where he's going. "Later, yeah," L'rok agrees in Rat's wake, but he doesn't linger once their paths can diverge. He's down the stairs and making a hard turn towards the middle of the bowl, where his dragon waits for those drills, stamping like an impatient bull. They'll be late.
Rategar was walking on his way outside towards the stables when he hears his name down a dark inner cavern corridor. When he turns, it's hard to detect the feminine frame leaning against the wall down the way in shadow, but perhaps her voice is indication enough for him. Still, he turns toward the voice and takes a step forward. "Had my own ride." "That's not how we do things 'round here," she says, walking forward and letting the dim glowbasket lighting reveal her black leather and her mess of dark hair. Arms fold. "I'm sure our uncles have told'ja, darlin'." Eyes narrow. Rat is undaunted. In fact, he gives Jo a crooked smile of recognition. "Figured I'd run into you eventually," he greets, ignoring all else that she says. "One of you. Jo, right? A man's name for a girl?" Jo sniffs. It's derisive the way she looks him down. "Ain' got use for boys that don' follow protocol," she notes, not answering him. He knows who she is. "'Specially ones that don' give a shit." "I give plenty of shit," Rat counters, hands spreading wide in a gesture of peace - or challenge. "I apologize," he gives evenly. "It was not you that I meant to offend." Jo only looks the tall man down, her hackles already risen from the younger man's lack of respect. After a lengthy pause, her voice lowering more as she steps closer, "I'd be careful where ya tread, were I you," she warns, her dark eyes as sharp as knives as she takes the newcomer in. "Our uncle ain' one ya wanna fuck with. Neither am I. Narrow slips'n all. Ya ain' one of us yet." Despite Rat knowing that he messed up, he doesn't appear plussed about it. Rather, "Ya got nothin' to worry 'bout with me, darlin'," he deliberately imitates her accent flawlessly, pressing a hand to his chest for emphasis before returning to his Cromese one. "We're all here for the same reasons, right? I just like to go about it differently. No offense, Lady boss. I just thought it would be more convincing to the Weyr public that I arrive based on the good nature of a friend I know here. L'rok. Look him up. Might be smarter to not have all of your new cousins arrive by known associates." Pause. "In case someone's watching you, Wingsecond." He displays all he knows in a few sentences, his asshole smile disarming as he looks her over like a man buying livestock. Something Rat's says foul Jo's mood even further, the woman covering her new shoulderknot with an arm as she immediately goes into her spiel of, "As long as yer here, ya do as I say. Nothin' goes on 'less I say it does. Keep yer head down'n yer nose clean'n above all," another step towards him, "keep yer damn ears open for anythin' useful for our family. Ya follow that, then we're squared. I don' care how ya follow it. We're good?" Because she's done with him, and it's clear when she cuts her eyes away from him and on towards her next target. Rategar listens. He listens like he's looking for any chinks in her armor - like he's looking for any detectable loopholes in anything Jo says. He waits until she's done and has dismissed him like passing dung on the ground before he gives her a grave smile and a shallow nod. "I aim to please, Lady boss," he promises, injecting enough certainty for it to be believable. "We're all in this together." "Good." Jo doesn't look satisfied by his answer - wary, even - but she has other things to do. Taking on a higher knot has certainly cut down a lot of her free time during the day. "We'll talk later," is all she tells him as she's gone, moving in after a group of laundresses to head out into the bowl where her dragon awaits. She won't see Rat's smile souring, but perhaps it's still a smile of confirmation for further meetings all the same. |
Comments
Faryn (23:36, 20 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
Alida (02:32, 21 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
- giggles at Faryn's comment*
Ohh, JoJo; you gotta watch out for those nasty, uppity bastiches with wills of their own. Oh, wait...that could also describe Alida. >.> ;)
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