Logs:Delicate People
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 2 August, 2015 |
| Who: Jo, Yesia, Tacuseth, Aeaeth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo takes Yesia south, as promised, where they continue to have a difficult time getting along. |
| Where: Gather, Outside Southern Hold |
| When: Day 7, Month 6, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Edyis/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions, Alida/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions |
    |
Gather, Southern Hold It's a gather, with gather-like things around. Plus since it's Southern, it's quite warm. True to promise, one Reachian afternoon Aeaeth would suddenly feel the shadowy tendrils of Tacuseth's mind as he sends the visuals of the south along with a wryly sent, « We're here to deliver. Come see! » to the green. The visuals show where the blue is parked at least, and it accompanies with it the heat of the pleasant heat of the south. Should they arrive, the sun would be beating down over a festive scene of southerners engaged in shopping stalls, food tents and dancing out by the white-sanded ocean. There is a wide delay between that relay and their arrival, though Aeaeth's absolute delight leakes through as trilling piccolos. There are images as explanation as the time draws out, too, images of Yesia's red hair and multi-colored ribbons, and several different patterns: white-and-black polka dots, swishing red expanses, white lace. What she's saying becomes clear when the green appears overhead and angles down, settling down beside Tacuseth with a shudder of pleasure. « It's so warm. » Yesia's dismount is not as swift as normal. She's taken back to wearing pretty dresses, and settled on polka-dots, a fitted bodice and a long skirt to compliment. It's not exactly gather finery, but it does seem to put her more at ease than she was when Jo last spoke with her, with just that robe. « Warm warm warm! » Aeaeth gushes while Yesia smooths her skirt and says, evenly, "Jo." Tacuseth seems to find amusement in humans getting ready, and he sends Aeaeth the visual of Jo merely dropping her leathers and walking out to the ledge in return. « The water will be cool this time of day, » he sends her way as Jo stands by him, forgoing the stifling black leather for a fitted pale yellow halter top that effectively puts all of those scars along her arms and chest on display along with loose drawstring tan pants. It's a masculine look save for the top and the slightly-tamed mess of black hair on her head. Look Yesia over once she dismounts, "Ya'd pull it off better'n I ever would," is her greeting for her dress before meeting her gaze with leisurely warmth. "Yesia. Thought ya'd like to visit the south this way rather than at one of their taverns. Come." "I missed dresses for months," Yesia says easily, looking down at the fabric fondly and running her fingers over it absently. It's better than what happens at first, when she really gets close enough and sees Jo's scars and can barely pull her eyes away. It wouldn't be politic to say anything about them, but she's biting her tongue, hard, and it's clear. « I bet it is, » Aeaeth says sweetly. « I love the water, can we go? » Hell with their riders, then, and Yesia is nudged so the green's straps can be removed, a thing she executes fairly quickly, so they're not ruined, and then she beats haste after Jo, saying, "You got that right. I don't want to go to a tavern ever. They're filthy." Watching Yesia as she speaks on dresses, "If my mother had stuck around, I think she would've loved ya," Jo remarks in amusement, shaking her head as she turns to lead them both towards the gather grounds. "I always thought I looked like a standin'-up canine in a dress, even back in Keogh. I hate feelin' so...confined." Of course the bluerider notices the weyrling's study of her scars, the little curve of lips suggesting that she knows she's staring, but she doesn't look to be commenting on it just yet. Once they clear from the dragons, Tacuseth immediately lauches to the sky and wings towards the ocean sending back to the green « They'll be awhile. I wanna show ya the fish! They're different colors here! » And then dives. "Taverns are cleaner than dive bars," she relates on the last as they near the closest open tent with tables of food and wines. "Ya meet interestin' folks there. Shouldn' knock it till ya try it." "I think it's the way you stand," Yesis says, allowing herself to fall back and really watch how Jo carries herself. "You don't have any..." She shrugs. "How are dresses confining?" Demonstrably, Yesia bunches fistfuls of the skirt and twirls -- it makes the ribbons and her hair fly, and the skirt puff out like a parachute for a few seconds, and she's smiling when she faces Jo again, the movement having drawn her right up alongside the bluerider again. Aeaeth is quick to follow Tacuseth, her piccolos faster; the green is more graceful in her dive, and when she lands it's to paddle peaceably at the surface and dip her head underwater, looking around. Her own colors are guessing: pink, always, and purple, and orange! Those colors? "I don't know if I should meet people like that," Yesia says, sounding wry. "I didn't know there were so many categories of icky drinking establishments." "What's wrong with the way I stand?" and Jo pauses, looking down at herself in a dubious manner. She appears amusingly clueless, anyway, and she resumes walking. She watches Yesia twirls and is immediately shaking her head, "No, no," she cries with a wave. "Confinin'. Where can I hide my knives? Sure, I can put my tits'n other assets on display, but, what if someone wants to punch me in the face? Or the stomach?" These are important questions. "I can't go trip over my skirts or expose my ass if I fall over." Tacuseth dives smoothly into the waters, wings back and seeming to revel in the currents. Once he surfaces besides Aeaeth, « Look at those there! » he directs her to a school of small fish - mostly bright yellow with specks of blue and green on their fins as they try to avoid the two dragons. « Ilicaeth'n I would try to catch'em sometimes, » he relates, merely watching them for now. On bars, as they come upon the food tent and she snatches up a bottle rather than a cup, "Many types," she tells her quite sagely. "There's some really respectable bars out there. I usually feel uncomfortable in them, 'less I'm really there as a 'rider or somethin'. Places like Snowasis. I feel more comfortable bein' where folks can be who they really are. Even if that means I have to mind my purse of marks every second I'm there." Straightening up, "Gotta scar along my side from one place," she explains wryly. "Pickpocket thought to knife me for catchin' him with my purse." Yesia's eyebrows go up. "You're mannish," she elaborates, without the bite that says she's being insulting. She's really making an effort. "I think they're less confining than pants, but I guess I'm not hiding knives because I'm not a criminal." Again, there's no bite; she's just stating facts now, and might as well be talking about the weather. "You show your ass anyways, in those silly leathers of yours," Yesia asides, her attention drifting to the foods with curious eyes. That she makes her way to the sweets is telling, and she picks a puff of a pastry up, licking the cream off the top. In the water, Aeaeth shifts, a big undulating movement that submerges her and propels her forward quickly in the water, leaving a wake of bubbles. She opens her mouth, snaps them closed near the tail of a fish, and gets nothing. « They're too darty, » she concludes, sounding sad. « Can you catch me one? I want to see how you do it? I saw a blue dragon that could stay underwater forever, at Reaches, but he was not helpful. » Yesia pops the pastry in her mouth and chews, swallows, decides, "You're not making me want to visit. Scars are unsightly. Especially Thread scores, but," and she's casting for a glass, not a bottle, "we don't have to worry about that, now." "Mannish," Jo seems to be trying the word on for size - and what it represents, likely. "Guess I am," she allows lightly as she snags a couple of cups now and passes one Yesia's way. "Some men like that 'bout me, though. I'm not exactly soft." Dark gaze briefly taking her curves in openly, "You are," she adds as she reaches for small cut of fruit to pop into her mouth as they move down the table. Nevermind the fact that they're crashing a party. She smirks at her for the criminal jab and remarks on visiting bars, "Ya look at my scars, love," she notes on them being so unsightly with a knowing look. "I've lived a rough life. Some bars are decent enough, ya know," she notes as she grabs a plate and start piling it with fruit. "'N the ones that aren', I'd protect ya. No one gets past me. Like sweets?" She now comments on Yesia's choice of foods. « I bet he didn', » Tacuseth doesn't seem to believe a word of this blue dragon, « but I can catch'em for you. » Like so, the blue drives underneathe the surface, underneathe Aeaeth, to wade towards the school of fish with slow strokes. He's in stalking mode as he sends, « If I catch one, we have to eat them quickly. Those firelizards like to come'n steal them from us! » "You know, there are things in this world that are terrible but hard to look away from. Like -- " Yesia stops as he accepts the drink, downs some of it to gather her thoughts, and then says, "In Crom, when I was younger, a friend of my dad's got stuck in one of the collapses. They got him out, but - he was terrible to look at, bruised and bloody and broken. I thought - I knew I should look away, my mother said staring at him was rude, but I couldn't help it. Your scars are like that." Yesia grabs up a plate, piles it with two more of those pastries as they move on in answer to that question, and says, "I'd rather not need protection: I'd rather go places that are nice and respectable, because not all people are bad and faking." Aeaeth snorts under the water, and bubbles go up towards the surface. « Firelizards are terrible, like little tunnelsnakes. I don't know why people like them. » Up her nose turns, but her faceted eyes follow Tacuseth. « I won't let them take it, » she promises, « but I want to see up close. » Filling her own cup with the wine, "Scars tell stories," Jo says to that story of the poor man bruised up. "If ya can survive somethin' like that'n live to tell that tale, that's sexy. It speaks of bravery. Toughness. Means ya can't get fucked with." Nodding her way, "Every scar I took, I got my way eventually at the end of it," she tells her. "No harm in displayin' them proudly, darlin'. Got laid enough cuz of them." On protection, "Not all places in Pern are so out in the open like a dive bar," she notes with a touch of wry. "Some respectable places only appear to be so on the surface. The same can be said of people. Ya should be careful where ya go all the same." She sets her plate up and moves towards one of the empty tables as she asks over her shoulder, "Been back home yet?" as Tacuseth sends while he dives after the school of fish, « Mime's not bad, » on firelizards. « He's just always lookin' to steal some food sometimes. Hold on- » and suddenly, he emerges with a mouth full of fish that he wades towards the shore, his eyes whirling. "Does every rider think it has to be danger around every turn? Why can't we just -- ugh!" Yesia puts her plate down, settles into the chair and crosses her legs at the knee, sitting prettily. "There are more attractive things than danger and death and knife fights. I just want to have fun, and fly with Aeaeth, and go to parties and gathers and maybe sometimes hatchings. I want to visit home with Aeaeth and sit with my mum and hug my dad and let them spoil Aeaeth. You look for trouble," she decides of Jo at once, "You and half the riders in the weyr." She eats her pastries the same each time: tonguing the frosting off first, then breaking it open to eat it in bits. "I did, when we could fly. But we're always so busy. Even with free time, it feels like we're busy. I'll go when we're really done, when we've graduated and I've really done it." Aeaeth huffs again, but she's a swift beast and makes it to shore about the same time as Tacuseth does, trilling her delight as soon as she surfaces. « Yay! » is for the fish, as she pulls herself out of the surf, water sloshing onto the sand. « I don't know this Mime, but if you say so. Oooh, look at that blue, » she adds, putting one eye close to a fish and then mimicing the color, glossing it over her words in bright bursts of light. « Thank you! Oh, Tacuseth, you have the best gifts. You're so talented. » Her tail flicks, coyly. Hooking a seat with the bench between her legs as she faces Yesia, "Not sure which 'riders yer hangin' 'round," Jo says drolly, "for the ones I've seen hardly have such an excitin' life." Watching the weyrling, "Ain' always gonna be gather parties, Pretty Girl," she quips with a touch of tease in her rough voice. "Consider yerself lucky if ya get that sort of life from hereon. There's those of us that don' have the cards turned so in their favor." Pause. "If I look for trouble, then what am I doin' here with you?" is her blunt counter to that. A challenge. Still, she looks entertained watching Yesia with that pastry since she says, blandly, "Nice tongue." That totally doesn't sound dirty. Nope. « Mime belongs with us, » Tacuseth explains as he opens his mouth and deposits the flopping little fishes onto the sand between them. « He's a good little bronze. He takes things for my Jo. I tried takin' one of these home to keep, » he admits on the fishes now, « but Jo didn' think it was a good idea. It wouldn't flop around anymore. » Still, the blue's shadows let in the sunlight of being pleased at Aeaeth's crowing words about him. « Told'ja to stick with me, » he sends quite easily. « I will, » Aeaeth says, more rainbows of mimicked color as she shifts from all the fish, before out her tongue goes to grab one, two of them and swallow them down while they wiggle. « I don't remember, » she says, and it might be honest, as dence as she can be, « but I think I should anyways. I'll do my best to remember. » Yesia at once stops licking off that frosting, setting it on the plate and crossing her arms. "Don't be crass," she says bitingly, loooking down at her plate. "I don't know why. Maybe you're just trying to get one more notch in your belt, which isn't working," she has to add, so there isn't any misunderstanding. "I just don't understand why it can't be more fun than when people were worried about Thread. If we have time to practice crafts and escort trade caravans, then why shouldn't we be able to do fun things more often than we do boring ones? What's our point, without Threadfall?" Tacuseth nudges one of the flopping fish towards Aeaeth as he says, « My Jo finds yers curious, » he's idly noting in between their conversation - apparently he's listening in theirs as well. « We should quickly eat these before the 'lizards come. » "It's not?" Jo looks dramatically shocked upon hearing that her attempts at notch-getting isn't working. It's enough to put a hand to her chest before the act drops and she drains her cup of wine. "I'm a crass woman, pretty girl," she admits with no apology in sight. "I say what's in my head. Do ya really find a woman givin' ya pleasure so terrible?" It's a simple question laced with her usual brazen humor as she refills her cup with the bottle on the table. "'N, like I've said before, I'm hear to get to know ya. I believe I had saw a glimpse of the real you a few moments back on the way here when ya talked about yer dress'n twirled so." It's soberly given - no mockery or tease in place of it before she addresses the last with "Maybe the Weyrs needs someone like you to show'em. Maybe suggestin' somethin' to the Weyrleaders?" « Does she? » Aeaeth says, much less attentive to her rider's conversation. « Yesia thinks yours is... » hesitation, both to follow orders and try to take more of those fish up into her maw, glaring sullenly as a firelizard appears from between and darts too close for her liking, and to peek into her rider's mind and deliver, « sneaky. » Yesia snorts at her. "Well, I guess if you're resigned to that, there's nothing to be done," is about crassness, and possibly meant to overflow into the conversation about pleasure. "It - isn't natural or normal. If our dragons make us do it, that's one thing, but --" She drains her glass, looking at Jo very directly as she studies her. "It's too weird." For the rest, Yesia actuall has a real laugh, with hints of bitterness. "I'm not suggesting a thing. They wouldn't listen, and -- they won't graduate me, if I do. Quinlys has told us, I know. We have to keep our traditions for when Thread does return, for later generations, but it seems so silly anyways." « Unsure of herself, » comes Tacuseth's next observation of the green weyrling. « Sneaky. » There's a pause as he seems to consider this words in regards to his rider while more firelizards blink in to spy on their catch. « Opportunistic, » he finds a better word. Right. Tacuseth eyes those firelizards as well as he tries to collect what fish remain on the white sand. "Should I be resigned to be someone else than myself?" Jo puts to her with slight curiosity now, on her crassness. And Yesia's next explanation seems to be allowed as she openly gives it some thought as she admits, "I used to think so, too. I remember hearin' 'bout that sort of thing from the 'riders assigned to our hold when they were on break talkin' to my brothers. Thought it was far too....well, unnatural," she borrows Yesia's word. "None of the girls did those sort of things in the hold'n neither did I." On traditions, "Traditions can be bent, darlin'," she dismisses that with a snort. "Nothin's wrong with holdin' a gather or somethin' like that every now'n then. Not everyday. Maybe a cookout on the lake shore or somethin' folks can get involved in. Thread ain' returnin' tomorrow." « Sneaky, » will suffice for Jo's nature, as determined by a green dragon and her teenaged lifemate. « Yesia thinks cannot be trusted. Not like I can trust you, » should be noted. "Do whatever works for you," Yesia says flippantly, much more careful with her second pastry than she was with the first two, though getting past the frosting without licking it off, or removing it with a finger to lick off that proves disastrous and she winds up with the frosting on her nose. She rubs at it furiously with a napkin, asking against her better judgment, "Then what? Then you just decided to try it and you saw the light and realized you really like girls?" She sounds dubious, dropping the napkin on the table. For traditions, she notes, "The last time we had a gather, our weyrwoman died." « Semantics, » Tacuseth is easy to counter in much the same way his lifemate would. As for trusted, as he swallows the last of his fish, « Trust is earned, sweets. We don't need to worry about all of that. I don't know why they- » likely meaning those not dragons « -don't just be honest from the beginnin'. The this 'trust' would never be a problem. » Watching her with that pastry without breaking into laughter as she works on clearing her own plate, "If yer gonna be snotty 'bout it," Jo notes to her questions, equally flippant, "then I won' tell ya 'bout it." She drinks on gathers and dead weyrwomen before she drawls out drolly, "I doubt our current ones will drop dead due to rousin' songs 'round a bonfire. Irianke seems far too resilient'n Farideh seems way too sure of herself that she'll likely keep death at bay by bein' annoyin' to it." There is a heavy silence from the green dragon, stark because she's been so cheery and quick with her music since they arrived, so much so that she's certainly background accompaniment. It makes her silence that much more profound. « Yesia is always so scared of it. I tell her the cannot love her less than I do, if she does, but she never believes me. » Her sigh is physical, and takes her pale form down to the sand where it mats to her at once, warm and not entirely unpleasant. « We are always so honest with them. » "Ugh," Yesia says in response, shaking her head. "I'm not, I'm letting you hear what you want to hear. At least one of use can be themselves, even if it's lewd, and that can be our victory," says the greenrider mildly, popping tiny pieces of pastry into her mouth and then looking at Jo's plate as it's cleared, like she might snag a piece of fruit off it if she can be quick enough to not get stabbed. "I thought Azaylia was resilient, but you're right about Farideh, I bet. A fire would just douse itself instead, just to stop listening to her screaming about it ruining things." It's less funny than she probably anticipated it to be, and she knows it, her mouth thinning into a line. "Maybe we could. It might be nice. Being around all the wings has been...neat." "That was not how the story went," Jo continues to be flippant, her chin lifted a bit much like a blooded daughter. "But if that's how ya wanna believe it to have gone...Irianke could be quite formidable, despite any lewdness," she goes on to say as she pops a grape into her mouth while watching the green weyrling. On Azaylia, there's a pause as if she's considering that statement before she states, almost stubbornly, "Aishani was resilient. She was just more unlucky than the other." Eyeing her eyeing her plate, "Any wings of interest to ya?" she asks now with her bringing it up while Tacuseth croons to Aeaeth's silence « Perhaps it's proof that she seeks? » settling down beside the green heavily now that all the fish caught were eaten. « Might not believe in mere words, like my Jo. » « How am I to prove it to her? I love her more than anything, » Aeaeth replies, flicking her tail at him and letting it twine with his own, if it doesn't move away. « If she won't give them a chance, a real one, they will not prove anything. She does not try long enough. » "Irianke handles herself gracefully in public, and with people," Yesia says, an outside perception to be certain but not inaccurate. "Fine, don't tell me what happened. I don't care," but Yesia is clearly ruffled by Jo's lack of explanation. "I don't know. I think I might like Iceberg," she says at length. "I like the most people there, and H'vier is good." Jo studies Yesia for her initial response before she rolls her eyes expressively and states, "Yer as belligerent as I am crass, pretty girl. Very well. After I left the hold with this dashin' trader boy, he took me back to his friends'n one of them's name was Senna. Wild sort of woman, but had this rebellious heart like as how I've never seen before in a girl. She traveled with us for a bit'n I rebuffed all of her advances for sevendays. As much as I admired her spirit, the advances made me uncomfortable, see," she explains with a look. "Plus, I was in love with trader boy Deetan at the time, too. He was all I saw in those days. Well. It wasn' so instant as me suddenly likin' girls," she notes a touch sardonically. "But, there was one night that I drank just a tad more wine than I should'n she had a way with words. I was also the curious sort, even if I never liked girls like that. One thing led to another. Fuckin' blew my mind'n I freaked afterwards. Was over a turn before I tried somethin' like that again, but it was always in the back of my head. 'Course, I had far more things to worry 'bout at the time than my sexuality, like makin' sure I didn' die. Iceberg." She mulls that wing over in her head in the transition before she softly snorts. "H'vier, huh?" « Others, » Tacuseth says of proof. « We have nothin' to prove to them. They have to be willin'. » Easier said than done. Yesia pushes her plate aside with an elbow so she can rest there, her chin in her hands, but she otherwise listens attentively, her expression impassive. There are subtle shifts in it: her brow furrows for the names, and she becomes wholly skeptical at the mention of love, but otherwise she doesn't have anything to interject until the end, when she says, "And yet you mock me for being worried," comes miserably. "Now you just sleep with everyone, yeah? Collect people like trophies?" Of H'vier, she has a wave, and now it's her turn to reach across the table for the wine so she can refill her glass. "H'vier," she affirms. "He's...nice to me. And I don't think he's lying when he tells me something needs to be done. He's honest." A sigh from Aeaeth then, her nose towards the water so the surf can touch her chin, « How do you make yours willing? » Swiping the last wedge of redfruit from her plate, "Hold beliefs have no place in a Weyr," comes Jo's simple explanation for her mockery. "Ya'll either come to that conclusion yerself, or ya'll see it enough." Yesia's other accusations has her lips pressed together as she chooses to favor her cup of wine now. "'N those like H'vier doesn'?" is her dry counter on collecting trophies. "I get the double standard, believe me. No one bats an eye when a bronzerider fucks anythin' with legs." There's a twist of lips before she says, "I don' fuck everyone'n not everyone becomes a trophy. Should I fall in love, ya prefer? Weyrmate to one for all my days like some harper's tale?" There's a snort to that as she straightens up from her lean and finally chooses to look at the revelers than at her as she says, "Yeah, I know all 'bout love, baby. Been there, done that. Don' expect you to get me'n what I've been through." She drains her cup, the easy bluerider appearing somewhat guarded in that moment as she falls silent on the bronzerider. Then, "I'll give him honest," she says at least, but she's suddenly on her feet and nodding towards the shopping stalls as she asks, "Ya wanna take a walk? We can bring the bottle." « I make her look that what she's hidin' from, » Tacuseth is blunt in his shadowy desert answer, his head keeping to the skies as he watches for them both. « I make her face it. » When Jo counters her, yet again, the greenrider looks briefly like she's been struck, her eyes going wide before they narrow abruptly again. "I -" she starts, then shakes her head. "It's not that he -- he doesn't make me feel ashamed about it." Or at least, he hasn't yet. "He tried to make me feel...comfortable. Not like I'm stupid." Which suggests, of course, that Jo is doing the opposite. "I just wish I could keep her on the ground forever. And - away from Tacuseth, or Akluseth, or...all of them." That's a lost cause, and she knows it, sighing as the bluerider stands and points away, equal parts relieved andexasperated. Her answer is to pick up the bottle and her glass and start the direction Jo nodded. « Oh. » That's quiet from Aeaeth, her chin coming up out of the water. « Doesn't that hurt, Tacuseth? Doesn't it upset her? » Walking them out the tent and towards the stalls, Jo abruptly turns to face Yesia to stop her in her tracks as she asks, "'N I would make ya feel ashamed? Make ya feel stupid? Seems to me like ya know all there is to know, don'cha? 'Bout me'n everyone." She turns away then and gestures towards the stalls as she calls over her shoulder, "Aeaeth just might be caught by dragons of men. Stranger things have happened. I've long stopped tryin' to predict the ways of those beasts. Tacuseth has always done what he wants'n invaded my life all the same." The stalls they approach are colorful with things like linens and fabrics and craft-made jewelry. « It does, » Tacuseth answers with the nonchalance rivaling Jo's. « It will, at first. She doesn' like thinking and being told she's wrong. She does end up seein' things as they should be in the end. I want her to be better, » he explains, swinging his head her way. « That is why I chose her. She's worth more than she think she is. » Yesia halts and retreats a step when Jo turns on her, keeping a distance between them. "You already have, or are we going to pretend the Nighthearth never happened?" She doesn't look scared of Jo this time, not even talking about that, but her lips are pursed and she's issuing a challenge there. "I already spend most of my time waiting for the other boot to drop with you. Why wouldn't it? You're the one telling me that I should be careful, because people and things aren't what they seem." She waits for Jo to get a few steps ahead before she proceeds after her again, her eyes lighting at the fabrics and pretty baubles, and she mutters, "I can only hope, but the two dragons she likes the most are already with women riders." Aeaeth's voice is jarring discordancy as she rejects his idea outright, the sounds enough to hurt the teeth. « I can't do that. She trusts me. And I trust her, and we have each other only, forever. » A beat. « No, no. » "That was different," Jo replies tersely. "Ya came at me like a bitch. How else was I 'spose to react? Ya haven' acted that way since, I've noticed," and she looks over her shoulder right then, her dark gaze piercing. "I won' apologize," she notes to that challenge, verbally stepping up to it as she pauses at the jewelry stall, "I'm a simple girl, darlin'. Come at me with poison'n I'll return it tenfold. Come at me with klah'n ya'll have nothin' to fear from me." She fingers one of the shiny blue necklaces then, and on dragons, "Aeaeth may just prefer to get caught by a dragon not of this Weyr," she idly notes. "Some greens behave differently when it comes to flights. I've seen some that were well enamored with Tac'n ignore him outright when they take flight." Tacuseth's shadows blend in that discord, sending to the green, « Perhaps it doesn' work for all, » he allows on the method, musing. « It worked for me. She'll always have ya, sweets. That's all that matters. » Yesia grunts at her, again countered, with no reasonable rebuttal. She pulls a grouping of fabrics between her fingers as she passes a carousel, perusing the bright colors and finally, finally changing the subject. "I guess I'll find out," she says. "Aeaeth likes him a lot. And," as small compliment, "you're better than Ed, if I have to suffer someone else's dragon on her ledge." She drops the fabrics and moves on to the next display, beside Jo despite their quarreling, looking at the necklace before saying, "That's not well made," as an undertone. so the vendor won't hear. Her hands move knowingly along the edge of the table, eyes softer at the accessories, until she points at another grouping of pieces. "That one's okay, though." Not great. Aeaeth's discordia fades down into something more bearable, if persistently unnerved. « It might work, but Yesia...she needs to trust me. She can always trust me. But maybe...I will try it once. Maybe. » Jo shifts a glance at Yesia when she's not looking at her, her gaze guarded as after lingering silence in which she's regarding the necklace in much a way as though she's looking to buy it, "Tac likes her too," she answers back, holding out her cup towards Yesia for a refill. Then, with a grunt, "Yer ain' as snotty as Farideh. Only slightly. Tolerable when yer ain' pointin' out how much of a bed-hopper I am." Possibly a compliment, but she hears the assessment on the necklace before letting it go with a look at the man behind the counter. "I've stolen better," is her brand of assessment as she moves to the pieces in question, but her expression is less surly now than it's been as she fingers those. Tacuseth's desert sands and shadows linger through Aeaeth's discord, « She needs to trust that you want her to be better than she is, » he agrees, gently nudging her with his head as if in encouragement. « Gonna be fine, sweets. Ya'll see. » Yesia's not paying attention at first, and there's a bit before the cup in her peripheries catches her attention truly, at which point she'll fill it up. "I know I'm not," is to suffice as a thank you, and sounds like one besides her grimace at having been compared to the goldrider in the first place. She's taking it as a compliment, at least. "No," she breathes at Jo, her brows furrowing all over again in displeasure. "Don't steal them. They're hard to make, why would you?" She's disappointed enough to take a step away, leaving the bottle there for Jo to handle as she moves on, just to be safe. "Sometimes they take months, trying to find the right stone and the right metal and get it all sorted out." Aeaeth falls very quiet again, every set of lids closing as she puts her head back down on the sands. « I just want her to be happy, not better. She is perfect. » There's a tolling bell that rings at the distruth in the statement - even she knows nobody is perfect - one resonating sound that fades slowly. Jo snorts again, but this time at least it's an exasperated one. "Ain' lookin' to steal," she tells her, and since the stall owner overhears enough to have his eyes widening, she flashes him a harmless grin. Collecting the bottle, "I was just sayin' that when filchin' things like that were my thing, I'd go for the quality. 'Course that was long before Tac came into my life." Looking back at Yesia, "I told'ja, I wouldn' harm ya. That does include gettin' ya in trouble. I'm civilized when I wanna be. How ya really know so much 'bout all that with stones'n metal? Yer father?" - « It's what we all want for them, » Tacuseth sends, the breeze coming off of the ocean lulling him to finally dump his head to the sand. « Just a lil' nudgin' from our end. » The tolling bell rings against a murmuring, waiting crowd of the arena, there and gone - as if the blue knew and acknowledged. "That's terrible," Yesia says anyways, to drive the point home, just in case Jo thinks she wants to try that again. "What do you filch now, hmmm?" she asks, lifting her chin and looking down her nose at Jo as best she can, given the woman is taller. She makes her way to the next stall and peeks into it, doesn't find anything that piques her interest among the knives, and attempts to move on. "My mom," she corrects. "She was a jeweler, and I was...well, not, but I helped her. I don't wear them anymore, because they thought I'd get them stuck on straps and in calisthenics, but I have some. I used to give them as gifts, to people I liked." When there were people she liked. "I thought I might go into the craft, too, but then I came to Reaches." Aeaeth doesn't stir, but she's not sleeping, not yet. « Maybe, » she says again, tentative. « If she felt like she was better, she would feel happier. » Light blossoms low, in ambient greens and glowlight yellow. « Just a little, little nudge. » "Some would say hearts," comes Jo's answer on filching, sliding a wink Yesia's way before dropping, more evenly, "Secrets'n information, I guess. Favors. Maybe." She doesn't seem committed to her answers, though, listening to her answer about her family. On wearing jewelry, "Ya can wear a small one," she suggests, lifting up a wrist that shows in a flash something gray around her wrist. "It doesn' get in the way. Too bad they don' let 'riders go into a craft in the Interval," she notes more in a serious air. "At least unofficially. They have some nice stuff here, though, if yer lookin' to buy. There's even traders down this way that sell fabric like that pink thing yer dragon wanted from mine." She lets them linger on down the stalls while Tacuseth sends to Aeaeth, « Not a hard push, » in a tentative agreement. « Yers is more delicate than my Jo. She will need a lot more gentleness than mine. » He would know, it seems. Some would say hearts, and Yesia would scoff before she can catch it. "I don't see it," she says plainly on that. Eyes roving through each stall they pass, the greenrider waiting for anything else to catch her eyes. "I can now, just like I can let my hair grow," and her hands go up to her beribboned hair, running her fingers through the locks that are now past her shoulders again, in big wavy ringlets. "What's that?" Yesia's curiosity is piqued, her eyes on Jo's wrist even as she continues. "This is what I mean. "We're not fighting Thread, we should be doing something else. It would keep us out of trouble," she says drolly, with a bland look. "Aeaeth loves that blanket. It's very nice of you to let her have it." Of the goods, she flicks her fingers dismissively. "I don't buy jewelry. And I don't think I need anything else. The clothes here aren't for Reaches weather anyways." « Never hard. She is so very soft. She likes to make herself out like angles and sharps, » the green says, sleepily, and very fond, « but she's not at all. » With a little smirk on the first, "An open mind could go a long ways, darlin'," is all Jo will say on that, busy as draining her cup and perusing the stalls they pass. She eyes Yesia's hair before she is asked about the bracelet. "I loved him, too," she says a bit soberly on the bracelet she wears. "A bronzerider. It was long ago. I like the bracelet." She goes quiet from then, reflective as she pauses at one or another stall without really looking at its contents. "Out of trouble? What sort of trouble are ya gettin' into?" she now asks with far too much innocence. "But I do agree. It's not a traditional sort of view, though," she seems to warn Yesia. "I'd reckon many of the older riders would oppose such an idea, even if it makes sense." She nods in thanks on the blanket before noting, "Let me at least get ya somethin' from here to take back. Even if it's nothin' more than a cup for yer weyr." - « I think mine is learnin' that, » Tacuseth, not very sleepy himself, seems to be observing more than just their own conversation. « Jo is not used to being around...delicate people. This is a good learning experience for her. » As imagined for Yesia on the opposite side of the spectrum, but he doesn't need to point that out to Aeaeth. Yesia's regard for Jo's sobriety is almost reverent, and again she doesn't interrupt; further, she doesn't have anything to say on it. It's not until she's asked about trouble that she shrugs, shaking her head. "I'm not. I meant people like you, obviously." She's smiling though, her fingers dragging against another table in passing. "But history says we should, doesn't it? In the last Interval, people thought we were just leeches, and it was terrible by the time there was another Pass." She's not stupid, for all she plays at it because it suits her needs. "I couldn't," she says. "I - this is enough, really. Thank you, for showing me." « I would like very much if they were around each other, learning again, » Aeaeth says sweetly, cracking one eye open to look at Tacuseth, « Just so they can be better. And we can sun together, and eat fish, and next time we can race in the water. I bet I win. » "Oh, obviously," Jo is droll in her return with a thin-lipped look going Yesia's way. "Keeps us bad, bed-hoppin' criminals on the straight'n narrow by givin' us somethin' wholesome to occupy ourselves with. Only, what if we're just good at bein' bad, bed-hoppin' criminals? I doubt that's a craft." She's teasing with a straight face now, narrowing a look at that smile she spies. Still, she seems to concede to the point made with a incline of her head. "Do ya see someone like K'del agreein' to that? Irianke, maybe," she muses, mulling that over. "Who's to say it hasn' been tried before? Might be somethin' to pour over in the records'." Pause. "Thanks for yer company," she allows after a pause, the grin a bit more genuine going her way. "Anytime, darlin'." « I think this is a good idea, » Tacuseth agrees, his shadows receding a bit as if his attention is being pulled more towards his rider for a brief moment. « She makes her....contemplative. » He doesn't explain that further, but he is quick to return a jaunty, « Best me? Next time, sweets. After we sun, we'll chase! » "That would be the worst crafthall," Yesia whispers, appalled. "I don't know. K'del has always seemed very reasonable, to me. And I - maybe I'll look in the records, if I remember. We might have even talked about it in lessons, but I don't remember. They give you so much to remember, some of it has to fall out." She doesn't sound committed to the idea despite how adamantly she advocated it moments ago, and is quick to turn from the stalls and back the way they came, without much warning. "You're not so bad, either," she allows. « I'll show you, » says Aeaeth, preemptively smug in her would-be victory. « I'm very very fast. You will have to bring me something pretty again, if you lose. » "Or the most awesome crafthall ever," Jo counters with a smile. "Ya'll be jealous of how awesome. Pretty girl might even wanna join it before long." She follows Yesia's lead back to where they came from this time, those words on crafts and research getting her attention along with a few well-placed jokes (or taunts) dotting the conversation on their way back to their waiting dragons. And while Yesia's admition yields no comment from the convict rider, what it does warrant is a lingering gaze that betrays nothing on the surface. Tacuseth must sensed them coming since he's suddenly getting to attention, sending to the bubbly green, « Deal, » in much the same fashion has his rider. « But I'll win, sweets. I've flown many in my day. » Or, well. maybe he doesn't mean how it came out, but maybe he does after all. |
Leave A Comment