Logs:Fixing Fate
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| RL Date: 15 September, 2013 |
| Who: Rasavyth, K'zin, Neve, Erugolth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Neve has a morally questionable proposition for K'zin and Rasavyth. They apparently don't know the meaning of integrity. |
| Where: Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 10, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy. |
| Mentions: Prue/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Neve by Prue! All things in this log are purely IC RP fodder; K'zin is doing no actual searching. Stay tuned for why not! |
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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. Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy.
With a shudder of midnight wings, Erugolth's feet hit the ground amongst the other landed dragons, though the frightened young'uns on his back tell a different story of where he's been than drills. While he attempts to stalk further into what shadows afternoon makes, rider Neve throws her own legs over his side, undoing her straps before the vehicle's come to a complete stop. Hitting the bowl after a climb and wiggle, the older rider strips off her helmet, letting full black hair breathe as her eyes eagle in on K'zin separated from the group with a crafty side-eye like a skilled predator. The sashay of her hips labels her the same: she's getting on in years, but bears it well. At a noise from her brown, she slaps his side without looking up, "Yes, dearie, hurry up. There's a barracks around here somewhere-- good luck and..." something something. Far less important than stalking over to the bronze-pair. "He's tweaking," she notes. Rasavyth is more observant than K'zin and is the one to take in the sight of the landing Erugolth, his passengers, and the approaching rider. He doesn't make any pointed greeting to the brown, but as is so often the case, his oozy mind-touch is inviting and amicable, even if there is always that edge of amusement and the touch of 'wrongness' about him. K'zin doesn't seem particularly surprised to hear the voice, so the dragon's observation must have been shared, but the voice does have K'zin turning slightly to look on the speaker with his own eyes. His arms are loosely crossed over his chest, "Yeah. He thinks he's fine, but that's what I'm here for. To make him see a healer in case." He reaches up to push a hand through helmet-matted hair. "But good to know I'm not just seeing things." And probably sensing them too. "Thanks." He glances toward the young people, "Bringing in more victims for the sands?" He asks dryly. "Terrified little boogers," laments Neve, glancing along her shoulder back at the two clambering inelegantly down one side of the brown, looking like death has come. "Erugolth seems to think he's saving them, poor deluded thing that he is. Can't ignore a sign of innocent distress. But anyway," briskly, she turns and the charm of having spent many turns perfecting society's norms falls over her face and her casual posture as she continues to look K'zin up and down, contrarily, like meat -- scanning for usefulness to the claws of her mind. "So," she murmurs, rubbing a hand over her chin while Erugolth struggles to look dignified while aiding the unfortunate new candidates in the background, "You've a way with stubborn ones, do you, bronze-thing?" The word 'boogers' earns a predictably amused look from K'zin. After all, he's a boy and he's not yet twenty. Even if he were older, chances are boogers would still be funny to him, even when the term is applied to candidates. "Erugolth, savior of the masses." K'zin compliments, "From Nabol?" He queries, "Or were you saving them from a life as something less than a rider?" The shift in demeanor is noted with mild interest and his hands drop away from his chest, turning a little more, hands sitting low on his hips as though to offer her a better view. A single brow raises in a silent inquiry. But then he has to: "Ha! Well," His hands slide away from his hips, "If by 'a way', you mean I'm good at getting walked all over and occasionally good at keeping him from doing something I'd rather he didn't or the getting him to do something he'd rather not, then yeah, I've got a way with them." Neve flashes an appreciative smile for both his accommodation and distinction; there's even an effort to look almost apologetic for her manner. Almost. "You seem capable enough," silkily said, it's not condescension, but a flirt with not wanting to over-speak. Both pragmatic -- down to business, then -- and complimentary -- hinting at not wanting to dangerously inflate his ego -- she nods, running another hand to liven her helmet-stuck hair. "I've a favor to ask and money to hand over for it, too, before you ask." A hand fishes into her pocket but doesn't bring anything out. All she does is pull at the material to let him see the weight of what's there, possibly in a coin purse, inside that front pants pocket. K'zin, poor K'zin, for all that he's supposed to be a smooth worldly wise bronzer, by now, the man doesn't recognize the flirtation for what it is on his own. After all, they're not in Snowasis or somewhere else that he might be more in tune with picking up on these sorts of things. However, an audible sigh from Rasavyth and a sudden touch of a blush to his cheeks might indicate that someone more observant (and smarter) clued him in. Not that it helps him to do anything other than to look a touch self-conscious. But at least now he's paying closer attention to what she's saying. "Yeah? A paid favor." The tone suggests 'this ought to be good', whatever it is. "I'm listening." His hands have started to fidget at his sides and they move to slip into his pockets. Play it cool, K'zin! A tic at the corner of her mouth suggests Neve might have noticed these little conscious touches of his, but she gamely plows forward, nodding again in a slow, heavy pattern while bluntly ignoring as a different rider politely approaches the candidates she left behind. "I've a small problem in the form of a teenaged girl," she informs him, voice dipper lower as she glances one side across the bowl; teenage girls appear when whispered about, of course. "I'd like you," and her hand fishes languidly into her pocket, deeper, conveniently also accentuating her older, womanly hips. "To Search this girl for me." This makes K'zin's brow knit downward. "A teenage girl," he repeats, though not as softly. His eyes flick distractedly down to the movement of her hand, and then back up with a freshening of his dusky blush. "Why can't you Search her yourself?" Seems the first logical question, his head tilting to one side, "Or am I being paid to not as questions?" "The gal knows me," informs Neve without hesitation, sighing through the final word and into, "She'd never believe it was legitimate." Not that-- it is. Since the girl's apparently worth just a sack of coins. "But coming from a handsome young man on a bronze dragon? There's a ring of officialness to that, don't you think?" K'zin looks to Rasavyth. His expression betrays nothing, but it's long enough that it's obvious there's an exchange. He directs his dark eyes back to Neve, "She's not Blooded, right?" Because that's not a mess he wants to be in. "You know, happens to be the sister of the nephew of the heir to somewhere or other that would short us on our tithes, twice removed?" A short laugh, through which Neve rolls her eyes not at him but that it's necessary to ask these days. Stealthily amidst, she's sidled closer to him, adding a private touch to their conversation without, yet, looking too suspicious to outside eyes. "No. No, she's nothing like that. She hasn't a prospect in the world. She just needs a little settling down. Come on, bronze," now the coin purse appears, jingling, "Easy work. Get yourself a little something." To his credit as a bronzerider, K'zin doesn't retreat from the closeness Neve is creating, and he even manages to put on a smile that speaks of flirtation, not conspiracy. He reaches out, as though to caress the hand, but really it's to touch the purse. If she releases it to him, that's that, otherwise he'll simply cover it from prying eyes. "No problem then. Who's the girl?" Integrity? What's that? Rasavyth doesn't know. K'zin, apparently, doesn't either. Not about this anyway. Maybe it's because he's only ridden search for one other clutch and even then, not really. "That's the spirit," approaches Neve, leaning in more than is strictly necessary to release the purse; her fingers touching his, her shoulder heatedly in his area before she sidles back, smiling with one side of her mouth coyly higher than the one. And then, it all fades to her practical, "Prue. Her name's Prue. She's a runner, so you'll find her foolishly trying to pick up jobs with the weyrbrats in the mornings. She has," a wispy touch of that smile returns, "gorgeous dusky skin like me." There's a wink in her voice that nearly makes it into a real one but stops politely short. K'zin is less smooth about finding the purse a home. He's more used to being on the side of handing out the purses than receiving them, but taking a moment to fuss with his jacket, the hand slides into a pocket. Maybe no one saw. Or if they did, maybe they'll think he was settling a bet or something. "A runner named Prue with gorgeous dusky skin." He reaches up to run through his hair again, "Got it. Should I expect resistance?" The last question is said in such a way that he has trouble picturing resistance he couldn't overcome. But she did say something about stubborn ones. Another little sigh from the clearly overburdened Neve, who still hasn't relieved her dragon of his straps as he sits there in the shadows, sulking. "Some, I think. If I'm right. Don't let her be lazy and don't-- " there's a little stab of her finger to emphasize, now, "Let her know this came from me." Perhaps that's why they haven't exchanged names yet, except the girl's. Neve shifts a leg back and relaxes her weight onto it, freeing him from her shadow. "Oh, and, I'm telling you up front that sleeping with her won't change a thing, so. I hope that's not your only tactic." Somehow, it's flirtatious again. Could be that, when mentioning it, she drops her eyes down to his crotch and makes the assumption that he's that going for him at all. K'zin looks like he's seriously considering and weighing all of what Neve tells him, right up until those last remarks. Then he busts out laughing. He has to step back in fact, because it's having him pitch forward, hands bracing on knees. It doesn't stop immediately either. When it does though, there's a slight glisten of tears in his eyes - it was that funny. "Rasavyth," the pimp, "-says my sleeping with her is going to cost extra. No matter how gorgeous her dusky skin is." He's left grinning widely at Neve after that. A long snort releases from Neve and she waves a hand in front of her face as if to expel the indecency. "I said it wasn't going to work, Rasavyth. But nice try. You can't just lie around for this one." "Then you won't owe us more marks," K'zin answers with a smirk. He turns his attention to the business-minded bronze, "Dragon infirmary." He makes a 'go' gesture. "I'll have Ras bespeak Erugolth if there's any hiccups." He offers, lingering as his dragon starts to reluctantly move in the direction of the dragonhealers, in case there was anything else. "Lovely. Shoo, then, bronzerider. Good luck with your tweaking." Now she does wink, Neve, before turning to tread along on her way. She's nothing to do but leisurely remove the straps off her dragon, now; the candidates long gone and, thankfully for them, out of her care. |
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