Logs:The Proper Way
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| RL Date: 30 December, 2015 |
| Who: Alysce, Drex, Farideh, Jo, Lys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A dirty pirate meets a pristine harper. They aren't friends, but they do make a bet. (aka why Drex wants to take his pants off.) |
| Where: Greenhouse / Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 9, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Happens concurrently with Compromises. |
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A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a
refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework
captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the
day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the
dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and
various flora.
Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an
assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike.
Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting
in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving
is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the
softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst
the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this
a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.
Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small
hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with
cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for
irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans
and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting
materials tucked underneath. The greenhouse, apparently, is the place to go if a) you want to drink, b) you want to drink relatively undisturbed and c) you're a dirty pirate who doesn't mind sitting down on the dirty floor, one arm slung up on the wooden bench rather than sitting in it. Clearly, Drex doesn't adhere to the normal rules of sitting on things that are meant to be sat on, and he seems pretty fine with it -- something that may have something to do with the bottle of rum that's in his hand, which he occasionally takes a generous swig from. His fingertips are a little dirty, like he was doing some digging in the dirt earlier. Alysce is none of these things. Well, maybe one. She definitely isn't a dirty pirate, and given the long-sleeve, tight-bodiced cream-colored dress that hugs her slim figure, she'd likely mind sitting on the dirty floor. She has a bound book in hand when she sashays into the greenhouse and the hint of a frown caught on her lips as she frets over something that clearly bothers her. That her gaze stops on the pirate is inevitable, that it drags over him in a careful, weighted look is also inevitable as she considers his appearance. She points out, finally, brilliantly, "There is a bench there, you know." There's a moment or two where Drex just stares at the harper, his expression clearly musing over whether she's slow or something. "Aint blind," he scowls. "I'm leanin' on it, aint I?" He gives her another look over, gives a silent snort at some unspoken comment, and lifts the bottle to his lips. "That isn't how you use a bench," snarks Alysce dryly in turn, her tone implying that he might be the slow one. Just to prove her point, she walks over to the bench he's leaning against, twirling her skirts in a gesture to fan them before she sits down properly right in the middle of it. The book is settled into her lap, opened to a random page. "Oh?" Drex's brows go up, like he's shocked. "Bring me the manual, and let's see," he says flippantly, waving towards, presumably, some non-existent manual. He doesn't move his arm, and indeed her choice to sit right in the middle means his dirty pirate arm is just about touching her clean-looking cream-colored dress. Even more so when he accidentally slips as he shifts his weight, brushing a dirty looking arm against her. That frown deepens, as Alysce's dark eyes drop to the bare hint of dirt on her dress and then lift back to Drex as if deeply betrayed. There might be some shock, even, before she tells him, "I think there's something in an etiquette book, but I doubt you'd read that." A pause, as she continues eyeing him, before she asks dryly, "Let me guess, bronzerider?" Drex seems not to notice that look or what he's done -- at least, he's not looking at the girl. "Etiquette? Fish's nipples, who has time to read that shit?" He's shaking his head, but it's not until her latter words that he actually turns to look at her, deeply offended, "I may be a dick, but I aint an asshole." Apparently he thinks this answers her guess fairly obviously. "Fish's nipples," Alysce repeats slowly, and there is a twinkle of delight in her eyes for the phrase. It might just soon become her favorite phrase to spit out to other people (not even giving any credit to Drex). "I do. I think I was required to read it, at some point, by some tutor." A pause, as she adds, "So obviously I know what I am talking about." Just as he didn't notice her betrayal, she doesn't seem to care about his offense. "Are you a gardener, then?" "You've clearly lead an incredibly dull existence," is Drex's opinion on the matter. But then, he is a dirty pirate, so what does he know? His snort, however, is clearly disagreement with the harper knowing what she's talking about. "Read it in a book, clearly true? Then I guess you believe in love at first sight, that all riders walk on clouds of fluffy white air, and that Bloods can feel a rock under a pile of ten mattresses because of the amazingness of their ancestors?" "Oh, you're not in love with me, yet, after looking at me?" challenges Alysce back with easy, confident snark, tossing black hair over one shoulder with a flip. She doesn't have any doubts of her own attractiveness, regardless of the pirate's impression. "And of course I don't believe everything I read. I am a harper. I'm smart enough to know what's true from runner shit." "My girl's way hotter than you," Drex says without missing a beat, all casual like it's a matter of fact more than a boast (although it's probably that, too). With a shake of his head: "Yer a harper? Well, no wonder you have such funny ideas, with yer nose in words all the time. Aint never seen the real world, I bet." Alysce only curves a brow upwards, disbelieving of that statement. But she doesn't argue against it, likely because she doesn't feel she needs to. She answers instead, "I've seen enough of it. I've been pretty much everywhere on Pern. I've been invited to dine with Holders before, been to all of the gathers." She shrugs a shoulder in a simple roll, finally brushing at the dirt on her skirt. "Not all harpers are obsessed with always reading or writing. Or even singing." "Oh, holders, and gathers, how worldly you are," Drex says, clearly mockingly. "With your pretty dresses and educated ways, I bet you aint never had to haul yer own water, wash yer own clothes, make yer own food." "Why would I want to?" Alysce challenges with a little wrinkle of her nose. The book is finally abandoned into her lap, a hand lifted in a gesture to his rum bottle. "Are you going to share, at least? Since you ruined my dress. I promise to be all impressed that you have done manual labor. I'll even say that it makes you better than me if you let me keep the bottle." "Because that's what normal people do, but yer insist you do more than peek outside of a book without actually doing anything. All you harpers are alike," Drex says, dismissively, like he's met so many. He glances in surprise at his bottle, then suspiciously back at her, like he's weighing up whether he's willing to catch harper cooties. It's her latter words that earn a scowl, "Fuck you," he decides, keeping his bottle, and taking a generous gulp as if to drive home that it's all his. Alysce's lips curve into a little smirk at that, as if finding it amusing, before she offers back, "It was probably bottom-shelf stuff anyways. But you did get my dress dirty, so." She glances down pointedly to the hint of dirt, before picking her book back up again. The page she flips to is mostly blank, filled only with her own scribbled words and with a writing pen stuffed inside. "Aint bottom shelf," Drex says, defensively. "Was a bribery present from a rider who wants to fuck my girl." Or at least the sailor's interpretation of the gift's intention. He gives her another look as he lowers the bottle to his side, his voice going into an attempt at falsetto: "Oh, I got your dress dirty! Well, fuck, my bad. Best go get changed into one of your thousands of other dresses and hand the precious thing off to the laundress to take care of right away!" "Right, I'm sure. A guy like you is dating a girl that all of the riders want to fuck," Alysce replies with another disbelieving curve to her brow, another sliding gaze over Drex before she returns her attention back to her book. "The point isn't whether I have other dresses or not. You got this dress dirty. I really should tell the head gardener about his staff." Drex grins, now, sounding pretty certain. "Want to bet on it? You can scrub my pants in a tub if you lose." Because that sounds like fun! His hand waves at her latter threat, "Fine, go tell the head gardener." "All of the riders?" challenges Alysce. "Sure, I'd bet on that. But I wouldn't trust you with my clothes, so." Like she would be any better with his pants, but. There's a little smirk on her lips, as she closes her book again to look at Drex. "Not the ones who don't like women, of course," Drex concedes, "Though I bet she'd make a few of them consider turning," he muses, with eyes going up for a moment in consideration. "Anyway, even you have to concede she's not enough for that." He rolls his eyes at her talk of the preciousness of her clothes. "Fine. You can have what's left of his bottle," he says, quickly taking another gulp. Alysce huffs out a breath, only answering, "I can buy better." But a moment passes and then she questions, "Fine. Who is your girl?" "I'll show you," Drex says with a certain smugness, and he pushes to his feet, recaps the lid on the bottle, and starts moving for the exit, pausing only to glance over his shoulder at Alysce to make sure she's coming. Alysce doesn't jump to her feet to follow him, watching him as he moves away with a little wrinkle of her nose. Then she huffs out a sigh as he glances, and unfolds herself from the bench to follow with her usual sashay. "Yeah, why just tell me when you can drag me somewhere," she points out. "You'd trust me to describe her?" Drex says, doubtfully, and clearly he knows the answer to this, since he keeps walking. You head to the Snowasis. "I know him, but we haven' exactly talked much 'bout girls," Jo answers Lys with a snicker. "Still, some things ya can tell 'bout a person. Our weyrwoman is right. Compromisin's the best bet, especially as weyrlins'. Really, who's to say y'all even see each other much once ya graduate?" Talk on Drex gets her to drink before giving a shrug to them both that's not quite innocent in its deliverance. Matter-of-factly, "He likely knows I want his girl," she muses, glancing over at Farideh. "But I ain' territorial'n there ain' nothin' irrational 'bout how I look at ya." Pause. "I also do it to watch'em squirm." Right. "But our weyrwoman here is far too smitten with her boy for it to even matter. Exclusivity bein' what it is." It's bold, perhaps, and she adds for Lys, "Best ya learn what ya want early, Lys'n stick by it once ya do." Though the evening isn't a busy one in Snowasis, the bar seems a popular place to sit and drink, at least for a goldrider (wine), bluerider (whiskey) and greenriding weyrling (wine, too). "I can imagine Jo being powerful motivation for a man," Lys murmurs to Farideh, smile pressing into something amused, but warmly so. "I guess in a way, it's sort of nice if that's the case. If it's not just a territory thing, then he probably loves you a lot," there's almost a childish playfulness to that, though she resists making kissing noises in the air, turning her attention to Jo instead. "Are you saying now you don't care if things would be weird for you and V'ret if I needed your particular guidance?" Evidently Lys is unbothered about talking about this particular deal even with Jo having just expressed interest in the brunette beside her. "Who knew Jo-not-the-relationship-type had such great relationship advice?" Farideh will just be over here, slow sipping white wine from her glass and not taking herself so seriously today; it could be the atmosphere or maybe it's been a good day. "Compromise," is her final say, in agreement, but since they're revolving through topics-- "Of course he does. He hates it here and he stays. Why else would he? Not for the food or the entertainment," is dry. "What guidance? Jo, are you taking her to one of your poison bars? It's a horrible experience, don't waste your time, Lys." And then, she's flagging down the bartender again, because she's drank all of her wine. Drex is looking a bit dirty, like he's been working and hasn't managed to make it to the baths yet. He's also carrying a mostly finished bottle of rum (funnily enough -- it looks like the one Jo brought the other seven), heading in from the bowl with Alysce. He stops once inside, scanning the crowd, frowning as he tries to catch sight of his girl. Luckily he has the advantage of height, and he nudges Alysce (again, with one of those dirty elbows into her nice clean dress) nodding towards the bar in Farideh's direction. "There she is," he says, with a kind of satisfied, see? tone to the words. Mind, he doesn't actually approach the group at the bar, so he could've just as easily been looking for a pretty girl to point out as his. Alysce's dress was nice and clean, a well-tailored dress, long-sleeved and perfectly fitted bodice that hugs her small curves, made of a cream fabric. Her nose wrinkles as Drex nudges her, and she brushes at her arm where the pirate nudges her, but she does lift her gaze to scan after him. She glances over Jo and Lys and Farideh all, lingering on Farideh last. "Wasn't she, like, the one who was all pregnant? I mean, she just had a baby; I don't think riders are into that," remarks the harper dismissively, shaking her head. Hopefully this isn't one of those awkward times that bar noise dies down as she talks. "Wait, you're a dad?" Pause. "Poor kid." Jo says, "Now I never said I was all forever-bachelor," Jo says to Farideh, leaning back. "I've been known to dabble in monogamy myself. For the right one, I'm willin' to bend my rules. Ain' a whole lot of 'right ones' out there, though." And as for guidance? Jo looks to Lys for that one, but she answers on V'ret, "I'm sayin' that he is my friend'n I wouldn' keep anythin' from him. Poison bar. I haven' even taken you to one of those yet, woman," she says the last to Farideh before she downs half her glass. of course, the wingsecond notices Drex and Alysce's arrival with them looking their way, but she's only watching them for now without bringing any attention." Lys, so far, has no reason to look beyond the conversation at hand. She glances to Jo briefly and then to Farideh, shrugging, "Not bars. I asked Jo to show me what I need to know for when Evy goes up, with women, if I end up needing it." It's a succinct answer, even if it does draw a blush to her cheeks. "It's good, though, Drex loving you like that. So you'd say picking up his bar tab is one of those compromises?" It's a genuine question, as if she's assessing how this compromise thing might work based on the FariDrex Relationship Model. "Did I hear somewhere," she asks Jo nonchalantly, "that you were with Weyrleader Z'ian back before he was injured?" "But, doesn't forever bachelor have a certain ring to it? Look at B'ren, and--" It's a nice effort, but she's easily distracted by the bartender placing her refreshed glass down on the counter. "You want to screw Jo, to prepare for the possibility of having sex with a woman in a flight?" Farideh slants Lys a curious look, and yet she doesn't have a runner in his race so keeps her thoughts to herself; maybe her own experiences with a certain bluerider keeps her mum. "I suppose you could call it a compromise. At least I can guarantee I know where his drinks are coming from," the goldrider replies, expression carefully blank as she turns away from the bartop, wineglass between her hands. The sailor rolls his eyes at the harper's response. "I'm a fuckin' amazing dad," Drex says, as he unstoppers the bottle of rum and takes a gulp from it, because clearly he won whatever bet they had going. "Just because she had a baby doesn't mean riders don't want to get into her pants. In fact," as his eyes narrow marginally, "That one there, next to her, is one of the wants that wants to fuck her." He waves a finger vaguely in Jo's direction, but his gaze doesn't linger overly long, looking back at Alysce expectantly. "So, should I take off my pants now or later?" with a grin. "One rider isn't all. I don't even know that rider. She probably just has bad taste," Alysce counters with a little thoughtful frown. It's only at the question that she lifts her book between them, aimed directly between his crotch and her just in case he does start stripping. "You can leave your pants on. I am going to get my own drink." The harper then will head in the direction of the bar and the women there, carelessly. Jo looks nonplussed by the fact that she's been propositioned by Lys. Eyeing the blush to cheeks, "It's a good idea," she says to Farideh with a slight shrug. "If her choices fail her. I doubt they will. I'm not B'ren," she adds with a snort to that as she looks towards the card tables before them. "I go by my own rules. Y'all should know that by now." Gaze seeks out Drex and Alysce again before Lys's question involving the former Weyrleader draws away some of her amusement before she nods once. "Guess it wasn' really known back then," she confirms it. "We were pretty exclusive, too. Stranger things have happened." "Yes," is a succinct answer for Farideh's summation of the situation. "Up to four flights a turn, they tell me. I don't want to go in blind. Jo's experienced, why not? It's just sex." It's somehow said blandly for someone for whom sex is still new, though she did spend that turn with those traders, so who can say. Maybe she's as wanton as the riders beside her are supposed to be. Perhaps it's out of deference to the reduction in Jo's amusement that Lys doesn't pursue the topic of Z'ian. Plenty of things go unvoiced while the weyrwoman watches her two companions in silence, her lips near perpetually glued to the rim of her wineglass. In the end, where Lys wisely dismisses Jo's past, Farideh is not as apt -- plus she hasn't noticed Drex or Alysce yet. "Do you miss him?" "Oh, come on," Drex says with a roll of his eyes as he trails after Alysce for a couple of steps. "You can't tell me she's not hot. And hey, you," he taps a random brownrider on the shoulder, grins at the older man, and points at his girl, "You'd do her if you had the chance, right?" The brownrider takes one look at Farideh, his grin making his answer plain even if he didn't say, "Faranth, yes!", said grin only marginally less bright when Drex gives him a warning scowl, before he gives Alysce a self-satisfied look. "See?" With a shrug of shoulders. "Fine. I'll leave my clothes on yer floor for you to attend to. You can leave them, clean and pressed, in Farideh's weyr when you're done." He doesn't follow the harper to the bar, apparently deciding being outnumbered by girls -- one of them his -- is not great odds. Instead, he heads for the bowl. With any luck, he's heading to the baths. "I hope you don't need pants, then," is what Alysce will call after Drex as he abandons her, her nose wrinkling once again in a pointed gesture. But she doesn't seem annoyed past the moment to be abandoned, nor is she upset to be unnoticed. True to her word, her intent is to post herself at the bar to get a drink. Once there, she opens her book to an empty page and writes two words. (They happen to be 'Fish's Nipples'.) |
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