Logs:Alida's Well-Trained
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| RL Date: 18 February, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: While looking for Bones, Leova finds Alida instead. There is an oath. |
| Where: Greenhouse, HRW |
| When: Day 10, Month 1, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Wind and snow make for very bad weather today. The visibility is low, making travel dangerous. |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Barnabas/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions, Issedi/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Anywhere where people *aren't* is where Alida is more likely to be found, the a-social guard found to be walking the humid warmth of the greenhouse amongst the lush greenery. A hint of a quiet half-smile lingers upon her lips as she inhales deeply of the scents of herbs and flowers, the woman's athletic form bending down at waist so she can practically bury her schnoz in the petals of some lovely blossom. Above and outside, the blizzard rages, only panes of glass separating a wonderland of life from a nightmare of death. Snowy, disheveled, at least the leather-clad rider's made a token effort to brush the blizzard's leavings from her shoulders and her boots. Her helmet swings from her belt, recently removed if her hair is any indication, snow-free but flattened reddish-dark against her skull. Goggle-creases ring her eyes. Never mind the pretty flowers: "Bones!" It's alto, Tillek, carrying. In one cry of someone else's name, Alida's quiet moment is spoiled, the blonde both wincing internally while also whirling around in a reaction fueled by both some surprise and adrenaline rush to stare down where that voice came from...perhaps seeing the other woman herself. One hand remains paused like a vulture above the hilt of her sword, the femme's cool green gaze narrowed to slits. It's the movement that gives her away: already scanning, amber eyes fix on the other woman. There's a brief she's-not-Bones moment in which Leova could glance away, move away, search away. But there's that hand, that hilt. The older woman gives both of them a dismissive look, and warns, "Don't be drawing that here." Assured that (hopefully) no violence is going to be taking place with that surprising greeting, Alida slowly withdraws her hand from her weapon, then offering the unknown Leova a murmured alto, "No reason to. I'm well-trained." Should that be reassuring? Losing her predatory look with a small, internal effort, the blonde woman further assesses the rider she's facing, then casually lipping off, "Apparently I'm not yer' boyfriend. Sorry." A small smirk presages a look all around her, as if the guard is trying to remember the peace she found by coming here in the first place. "Are you." Should Leova sound quite so dubious? "Reckon as how you're not my girlfriend either, thank Faranth," and she's got quite the Tillek drawl when she chooses to use it. "Do you even know who Bones is." It could be a question. A lift of one white-gold brow for a scant moment presages Alida's faint shrug to Leova's inquiry, as if to say that it really doesn't matter what the other woman thinks in that regard. The rider's drawl is noticed, mentally catalouged, even as the Pars holder femme notes in glib fashion, "Yep. Saw him and his nickname - and real name - mentioned and pointed out at Turn Over." Nothing more is forthcoming, except that Alida is bobbing her plaited head, and attempting to move off to some quieter end of the greenhouse. Except that Leova's prowling after her. "Mm," she says, just so's the other woman knows what's coming. "And what are you doing here." There's no pause to examine the greenery, no deep breath to take it all in, just footsteps that don't have to be near-silent and yet are. Well, this is a first for Alida: someone with at least a resemblence to her own attitude in unknown situations. Another faint lift of both brows, and the guard is slowly swinging about to face Leova head-on, her hands at her sides, but something subtle about her thrumming. "I'm here on private hold business." And that's all Leova is going to get, given that shit just got real. "'Private hold business.'" There's that dubiousness again, laid out frankly disbelieving in that smoky voice. "Would you say that, were you brought before Lady Issedi, she would claim you as hers? Or would her husband." Unlike that thrumming tension, there's something settled about the older woman, as though she had her boots not just on stone but on bedrock. "Like I said: private hold business. If you wanna' push, feel free, but expect some push-back..." Alida shrugs, simply standing in a subtle, ready pose just in case. I'm legit." Shrug. With assured slowness that won't provoke any bad reactions from Leova, the blonde is reaching into one of her beltpouches, finally fishing out a rank cord in Pars' colors. A showing of the thing to her soon ends in the proof being tucked back into its home, 'lida not letting her green gaze off of the rider for one moment. Won't it? This time, at least, it doesn't. This time, the greenrider waits her out. "Better," she says, like it's a reward. Not that the brief warmth lasts: "Going to assume you didn't just win those off a body. And going to advise, seeing as how you seem new to Weyrs and all, that this ain't no waystation to be acting like you don't have to answer to no one so long as you have the marks. If you do have the marks. You wear your cords, people will know how to treat you. You talk polite, you don't get thrown out in the storm without your knives. Understand?" While Leova speaks, the wintry chill within Alida's gelid greens only grows, while her mouth perhaps oddly moves from a flat line into a much-too-reasonable smile. And when the rider is finished, the guard responds in a controlled, chill, and yet much-too-light voice. "Funny; I've been treated pretty decently without 'em. Speaking of rank cords... just who the f*ck are *you*, girlie?" Smirk. "You could be some imposter lookin' fer information, for all I know." A slight wink and a flash of white, even teeth in a rakish grin presages, "You talk polite, you don't get tossed out in the storm without yer shitty attitude. Understand?" The greenrider's got a slow, untroubled smile. "You kiss your mama with that mouth? I don't reckon anyone's going to be tossing me anywhere but my wingleader and my weyrwomen. And you aren't any of them. So settle your hackles before you get yourself het up with someone who's going to fly off the handle. Now, let's try this again: I'm Leova. Vrianth's. Of High Reaches Weyr. And now it's your turn to introduce yourself, all polite-like." Her stance is grounded, the lift of her chin expectant. Perhaps it's helped, having a hand in raising teenagers. Being only about two Turns shy of that teenaged mark, Alida still has enough leftover hormones to make her somewhat rowdy. But harsh and early experience temper the young woman more than most her age, leave the palest-blonde able to cinch a leash around a temper that urges her to pound Leova's features to a pulp while allowing her to take a deep and steadying breath. One might almost sense her internally repeating 'easy does it' to herself. After a few moments, the outsider finds her temper leaving her some, and while her eyes are cool, her mouth is simply flat once again. "Alida. Pars guard. Yeah, I did, when she was alive." A faint, dark smirk barely touches one corner of her mouth as she waits, arms akimbo, still subtly rocked forward onto the balls of her feet. Better. This time, Leova doesn't say it out loud, but again there's that brief sense of warmth as her patient waiting's rewarded. "Well met, Alida of Pars. I'm sorry for your loss." Alida's turn, now. At least structured formality gives Alida more reason to shed her sometimes unruly temper, a bob of her plaited head offered for the 'sorry' thing. "Well-met, Leova, rider of Vrianth of 'Reaches." Yes, she's still somewhat surly, but only the stiff formality of her alto shows such. "I give you my word of honor as a guard that I mean no ill to anyone here." If Leova notices, and surely she must, that surliness isn't something upon which she remarks. Rather, those amber eyes quietly intent, "Heard and witnessed." And she goes so far as to reach with the requisite forward step, the better to cross Alida's palm with her own. For a moment, Alida twitches slightly as Leova steps forward, the guard's wound-up internal reactions trying to kick in to aid her in protecting herself. However, experience and a well-developed 'safety' mechanism within her brain shunt what might've become a punch, kick, or whatever into that twitch, her own pale hand soon enough crossing Leova's own to firmly seal the oath. The greenrider nods, once, and lets the other woman be: she even takes that step back into that familiar stance, giving the guard and her nerves some room. "Any questions? Alida. Before I go." A thoughtful, sagacious look crosses the guard's rather surprisingly mobile features for a moment as she studies Leova in many ways, a fain moue of lips the first thing offered to her inquiry. Finally, "You have any Exiles here in the Weyr?" What? "Several," Leova gives her. "Though some might not take kindly to being called that, not now. That going to send you screaming into the snow?" There's something about the one-cornered quirk to her mouth that reveals the joke. "Any uv' 'em discontented with the Weyr or Hold?" is inquired in a thoughtful, focused clip right after Leova answers her first question, a judicious nod offered for using the word 'Exile.' The latter inquiry has Alida snorting loudy, a dark flash of humor rolling into deep green eyes for a moment as she answers the greenrider, "Shells no. Just curious." Smirk, pause. "I'll trust you not to speak openly to random folks about what's been shared here." Will she, now? "That," Leova says drily, "might make a body think that just maybe you did intend ill to this place. If they didn't just hear your oath otherwise. As it is, have to say I'm curious as to why you'd want to know." She directs a glance towards the stairs. "And no, you won't be hearing me running into the cold, shouting about how Alida-asked-me-this-or-that. For what that's worth." "I wouldn't be this fardlin' obvious if I wanted t'cause harm. Too many people've seen me already..." Alida notes with dry wryness, then shrugging. "Again, it's private business, or else I'd maybe chat a bit about it." Really? Still, her hands are tied. "Thanks for the information, no matter." Smirk. "Lemme buy you a drink some day soon, 'n I might let you pick my brain a little...if I c'n pick yours." "Mm." But Leova doesn't elaborate, instead allowing, "Might could. Meantime?" She directs a wry look toward the shuttered glass, beyond which the snowy winds howl. "Clear skies. Even if it takes a month or two." As it is, the greenrider starts to head towards the stairs, though that means turning her back on Alida along the way. "Same t'you," ALida clips off, simply watching Leova depart back out into the blizzard. And when the greenhouse is well and truly hers alone once again.. Well, the guard paces off into the greenery until she's either wound down enough again to attempt sleep...or until someone else shows up and bugs her. And if a pair of workmen just happen to come up and find something about the greenhouse that needs doing... why, they don't bother talking to Alida particularly, so long as she doesn't cause trouble. They have, after all, a job to do. |
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