Logs:Intrusion
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| RL Date: 11 October, 2014 |
| Who: Alida, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Edyis brings critical information to her client. |
| Where: Alida's Rest and Relaxation Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 13, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Rumbles and flashes of lightning intersperse between the periodic fall of snow throughout the day. |
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| Time and practice do wonderful things for a person. Edyis doesn't take long at all to detangle from the straps of the green and rider playing elevator, checking the bag at her side before waving off the weyrling pair. It's the painting over the wallow that she studies as she waits, wrapped tightly in the borrowed flight jacket, Clearing her throat to announce her presence, but not venturing any further than that painting. The sound of the green's backwinging inspires a blue head to pop forth from the outermost, heavy hanging, Ilicaeth's slowly swirling, blue eyes dotted with faint flecks of grey here and there as he watches the process of landing and dropping off of Edyis. For a long moment, the dragon peers at the scribe, and then his noggin withdraws back into his part of the weyr-proper. With the throat clearing comes a flat alto call of, "Enter," from the innermost weyr, the sound of Alida's voice just loud enough to be heard echoing a little. The blue is regarded with a smile, and it's only after the word enter is spoken that she moves into the weyr proper, pulling out the stack of papers, neatly wrapped with twine. "Turns 13-16 immigration records from Monaco Hold, as promised." She offers with a soft smile, dark eyes searching for the familiar figure of the green eyed blond. That familiar figure is seated in the rocking chair she's repaired and called her own, a blonde-wooded guitar of excellent craftmanship settled to one side of it. With Edyis' words of her mission comes a small bob of Alida's head, one of her hands moving up to reach for the compilations the scribe offers. Of course, Ed will have to cross the weyr to reach the bluerider. Along her way, the not-scribe might notice the lowered glow-light all around that casts long shadows, the faint scent of alcohol and a bit of stale sweat...and the slightly disfocused, somewhat haggard look on the blonde's face. The scents, the low lighting, the haggard look on Alida's face all seem like tell-tale clues that something is up. Though she isn't invited to, she lights on one of the pieces of furniture watching with those dark brown eyes, trying to piece together the pieces. "You ok?" It isn't eloquent, or anywhere near what she would like to say. Something is off though. There's a faint furrow of brow at the not-scribe as she doesn't hand over the goods, Alida's eyes managing to focus fully on Edyis, a faint hint of irritation appearing in them for a moment, then vanishing just as quickly. "Well?" is noted with the faint leftovers of that ghostly hint of ire, her right hand gesturing a few more times for those reports. Get on with it, already. Instead of arching a brow or shaking her head and calling Edyis out about inviting herself to sit, however, the bluie just stares silently at the other female for some moments, then rocks forward a little so she can take up her guitar in hands again...and stare down at it. "Yeah..." is muttered almost casually, the woman's face a little pinched. "You aren't." She states finally, "If you were - I wouldn't still be holding these." Holding the reports up, as she passes them over finally. The pinched face, the monosyllabic delivery, "Your particular brand of irritation usually has more energy." There's a look given to Edyis - something behind green eyes hinting at suffering - and then, rather suddenly, the woman's exploding from her rocking chair towards the scribe, that guitar of hers saved from a painful bounce by the thick rug at the bluerider's sock-clad feet. How fast Edyis has become might be paramount at this moment, since the guard takes one-two-three ferociously fast and quiet paces to the chair Ed's settled upon, and lunges at her with one hand, a chill and dead 'expression' settled upon her face. >---< NorCon: Dice Roll 6-sided die x 1 by Edyis >---------------------------< 1 >-------------------------------------------------------------< Failure. >---< Fast was something Edyis was used to when dealing with Alida, of course nothing quite prepared the young scribe for those fingers to find her throat so quickly or the grip to be nearly as firm. Fear, yes in those wide eyes, but yet also that insatiable curiosity struggling to piece together what the sudden reaction means. Bracing for whatever the worst might come she surprisingly doesn't fight it, either out of shock or perhaps something less identifiable. "Do you need me to put up a fight?" The words are small, and soft. No fight. Crap. That temporary fire that was lit when her flesh contacted Edyis' via her grip is snuffed out instantly, Alida still keeping her hold of the scribe, though the grasp won't leave bruises. Flatly, staring woodenly into the other's dark gaze, the bluerider mutters, "What I need's none uv yer concern. What I *want* is fer you ta leave." A faint flex of those fingers about the curious one's throat might subtly promise a less pleasant fate is she doesn't comply...though Edyis is just-as-quickly released from the grip of the wher in human clothing, 'lida crab-stepping back to her rocking chair, and flopping herself down into it hard enough to make the old thing creak. "Leave the reports." Blink. After a moment, one hand's shoved roughly into her trous pocket, extracting a small coin, then flipping it negligently at the scribe. "Fer damages." Grunt. "Leave." Though quiet, there's still steel in the bluie's alto, a voice used to being obeyed. That coin, deftly caught and flipped back. "I didn't ask for damages, I asked if you needed a fight." That sweet soprano voice, comes back a little more firmly, the shock of the bluerider at her throat settled into something a little more prepared for a tussle. "I've never seen you like this. Color me concerned." She shows no sign of budging, and seems at least this time to be on alert for a fight. By this point, Ilicaeth has decided that more direct observation is the thing, the blue's neck and head carefully extended into the human part of the weyr as far as they can go without upsetting things further. His gaze is strewn with various colors, chief among them grey, yellow, and still that blue, his throat giving voice to a soft, breathy rumble as he regards both his lifemate and Edyis quite directly. Alida barely lifts her head to regard her 'partner,' then turns her flat regard back to Edyis. "Yer torquin' off Ilicaeth..." is muttered dourly. "GO." The scribe tilts her head at that, studying the blue and then the rider. Unfortunately she has no way to know what he's thinking, so gamble it is. "He's welcome to chase me out of here then." Gathering those reports, which aren't likely to be left at this point. Still she's standing her ground. This time, there *is* fire - some, anyway - behind Alida's eyes as Edyis appears to be taking the reports with her. The bluerider slowly rises from her rocking chair, steps towards the scribe with hints of menace, though her motions are calculatedly slower. "You should leave while ya can..." is whispered out tightly, the woman's green gaze glittering with hints of the edge she's poised on. It's enough for Ilicaeth, who utters a quick little bark that echos loudly around the weyr, the blue interposing his muzzle between Alida and Ed, his faster-whirling gaze settled directly on the scribe. The blue's gaze must have the intended effect. "I'll hang on to these for the time being then." Tucking them into her bag wordlessly, dark eyes fixed on the blue that seems to have more sense than both women. "If you still want them later, you know how to find me." Moving out to the ledge wordlessly. At Edyis' stated intent, Ilicaeth stuffs enough of his neck in to almost totally block any means of egress, only an infant capable of exiting, at this point. Very carefully, the blue's head gives a rather human-like shake, and one of his coppery foreclaws extends just enough to allow him to tap it upon the stone floor of the weyr. Tick-tick-tick. On the other side of his head, Alida can be seen glaring at her lifemate, stalking away back towards her chair. At Edyis' stated intent, Ilicaeth stuffs enough of his neck in to almost totally block any means of egress, only an infant capable of exiting, at this point. Very carefully, the blue's head gives a rather human-like shake, and one of his coppery foreclaws extends just enough to allow him to tap it upon the stone floor of the weyr. Tick-tick-tick. On the other side of his head, Alida can be seen glaring at her lifemate, stalking away back towards her chair. "You can't be serious. She just tried to strangle me." She explains to Ilicaeth almost exasperated. "I had to go through a lot to get these. She can have them when she's cooled down or wants to explain." Petulant. "I'll give you a good scratch?" Because bribery works on dragons right? Again, Ilicaeth shakes that great head cautiously, the blue careful to keep it between Alida and Edyis, though his regard is directed fully upon the scribe. When Ed speaks of 'having them,' the dragon slowly extends his muzzle towards her, until just the very tip of his nose is near the woman. Depending on how Edyis reacts, the dragon lets his tongue slip past faintly-parted jaws, the slightly greenish-pink muscle flickering its damp tip over her satchel. "You are getting drool over my satchel." A very uncertain Edyis states, her voice just a pitch higher than usual, It is apparently not appreciated. "And I know neither it nor myself taste very pleasant." Clutching the bag protectively now, eyeing the blue with firm intent. "Let me go. Please." Noticing how wound-up Ed is getting, and slightly irked at being apparently unable to get his point across, the blue gives a short rumble of frustration - accompanied by a soft sound from Alida's general direction - then finally puts forth the extra effort to 'speak' directly to Edyis, though it distracts him from his rider. « Leave it with me. I'll handle it. » If she's never heard him before, Ilicaeth's clipped mind-voice is a dessicated, scratchy baritone, hints of desert heat and sand rich within. He means it: he'll take care of the information, AND Alida. To say that hearing a dragon in your head, where you've never heard one before is unsettling, is like saying the sky is blue. The scratchy baritone regarded with wide eyes and confusion as it takes her a moment to place where the words are coming from. Oh. Hesitantly, the bag is unloaded off her shoulder; her notebook fished out and tucked into her flight jacket before attempting to hang it over the tip of the blue's nose. "I leave it to you then." Ilicaeth looks almost as relieved as Edyis likely is, the blue's neck not as stiff as before, his throat issuing a faint croon when the scribe acquiesces. While his nose is a little too broad to hang the bag off of, the dragon instead offers a slowly extended and upturned front digit, the coppery claw thankfully fully retracted into its sheathe. A quiet rumble of his brand of thanks to the scribe soon sees him removing his neck and head to allow the woman to bugger off...though his physical presence remains quite near Ed, in case of a repeat of 'rider explosion.' Beyond them, that green and her rider await the scribe's return patiently. Good thing there's no thunder with the snow, at this moment. Edyis still seems too stunned to argue, quickly departing off, then down into the bowl. |
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