Logs:Iri and Lee
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| RL Date: 9 May, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Southern Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo and Irianke meet at the Southern Hold gather. |
| Where: Southern Hold |
| When: Day 7, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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>---< RP Room: Gather, Southern Hold(#1432RIJ) >-----------------------------<
It's a gather in the balmy tropics of Southern Hold, taking place partly
on the beaches near by and in the hold courtyard.
Commands: +list, +select <#>, +desc <room name>/<area>=<desc>
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Irianke F 37 5'7" slender, dark curly hair, stone blue eyes 0s
Jo F 33 5'8" wiry, black hair, brown eyes 39s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Out
>-----------------------------------------< 7D 10M 37T I10, winter night >---< The Southern Gather is in full swing, rapidly cooling temperatures in the north drawing visitors from around the world. Craft stalls, fabric stalls, and crafthall stalls are present down the beach strip, where a large dance square has been built with brightly colored paper lanterns and a merry trio of harpers. A bonfire is being set up nearby with some dragons assisting in hauling over tall logs. Between the dance square and the bonfire, there's the ever popular booze area, with tents set up for all the little craft fruit liquor distillers, the wine dealers, and the ale makers. That's where Irianke is seated at a beach side table, her barefeet toe deep in the warm sand and the outfit she's wearing far too appropriate for the climate with its barely thereness that still, somehow, covers everything. A small decanter of some pink fruit liquor sits by her elbow and a small cup balances between two fingers. She's watching the bonfire while her feet tap to the merry making music drifting from the other side. For some Southerners, it's probably not surprising to find one black leather-clad Jo present at the Gather. Well, black leather pants, anyway. With the heat driving the convict bluerider into just a white tank top that proudly displays her criss-cross of scars on her arms, she makes her way over towards the popular booze area with all the leisure in the world. Her arm is also casually draped over a pretty redhead in a sarong, nearly running into a table as she draws the woman's ear close to whisper something that has her laughing. She releases her then as she makes her way over close by where Irianke sits, pulling free her flask from her back pocket as she appears to be looking for an alcohol-soaked refill. Already hard to miss with the pretty looks and striking companion, Irianke's attention drifts briefly to the couple, a small smile playing on her mouth as if the redhead's laughter is infectious from this far. As if she knows what was said or makes up something in her head. "Heave ho!" sounds from the completion of the main framework of the bonfire and it's back there her attention goes until Jo appears in her periphery, sans redhead. An overtly casual once over is given the woman in her black leather pants and scarred arms. It becomes a twice over, then she reaches to lift her decanter of pink stuff and shakes it in the air, adding, "The kick in this is far more deceptive than its... pinkness." The pretty redhead doesn't linger for very long - either it was a passing encounter or they had arrived together from some other location. Either way, Jo is on her own once she spots the right bottle for her flask refill. when she reaches for a black bottle, Irianke's voice gives her pause. Jo's not one to not openly admire a woman's appearance, and so when she straightens, that's what she does first before stepping towards her to see the decanter's content more closely before answering. "Is it," she gives in more statement than question, her gaze flitting towards Irianke more than the decanter. "Is it enough to leave my ass out on this beach tonight?" Head tilts downward then before adding, "I ain' much of a pink kind of girl, darlin'." Amusement colors her tone. "No, you don't seem to be." Irianke responds, amused. She takes to being admired well, in fact, a crooked smile that when paired with a lifted shoulder that shifts all the loose too airy fabric of her clothes, encourages further looks. "But I'm halfway through my first very tiny cup and I now realize just why that man over there," a rotund, overly jolly man guarding a few flasks of brightly colored liquid, "Openly mocked me when I ordered a whole well, bottle's worth. Share it? Please?" She doesn't say please very often. It sounds foreign on her tongue. It's clear that Jo is entertained by the other woman's responses, the low throaty chuckle to herself being all that she responds with in return at first as she gives a light glance around them. Wordlessly, the bluerider hooks her leg around a chair leg infront of Irianke and seats herself with as much swagger as a eogtistical bronzerider. Like she owns the place, really. As she sits, she gives a look over at the jolly man before snorting and saying, "I don' think he's in much a position to be laughin' at anybody." She pauses with her flask, as if considering something, before leaning forward to pocket her flask in order to pick up an empty cup instead as she calmly states, like a comment on the weather, "So yer Irianke. I was wonderin' if we would ever cross paths, you'n I." Dark eyes meeting her own then with a glint of something mysterious as she reaches for the decanter. "And you ride Glacier." If she knows Jo's name, Irianke isn't telling. She rises just a little, enough so she can stretch and pour a half cup of the intoxicating pomegranate-fruity drink for the bluerider, likely fully aware of just how low the fabric of her dress hangs to provide a view to go with it. When she sits, the gauzy fabric drapes more properly once more, but there's a dazzling smile for the other woman. "But let's forget that for now and just be Iri and Lee while we're here." That Jo's looking at any cleavage to reveal itself is a given. She's not hiding that fact at all. It's the return words spoken that seems to lend the convict rider good pause, and the woman raises an interested brow that probably does a poor job of hiding some of her surprise before she regains her composure. Watching her fill her cup after a moment, "'N here I thought there was nothin' left to surprise me in the Reaches anymore." She raises the cup then in a sort of salute to her, inclining her head and seeming to be looking her over with a different gaze. She takes a lingering drink without dropping her gaze from Irianke's face, and when she's done, "Iri'n Lee. I like that. It's a good 'nough day to be just a couple 'ole girls, enjoyin' all the bounties that Southern has given us. Nice tits." Well, she's not always that sentimental, it looks like. "To nice tits," says Iri, lifting her unfinished cup to Jo and takes a smaller sip than the bluerider. "To my tits." The clarification is followed by a low laugh and cutely scrunched face. "My legs are jelly," she confesses, "And I hold my liquor well. But my legs are jelly right now. I don't know if I can move from this seat any time soon but the dancing," it calls and she looks past Jo to the dance square and exhales. "Lee, what's a girl to do but to drink more?" Laughing with another raise of her cup in toast to tits, "I'll drink to that, darlin'," Jo murmurs before downing it, setting the cup down for another round. "Ya hold yer liquor well," she then repeats her words with an acknowledging nod. Even to that question, the bluerider leans forward so that she could look over her shoulder briefly towards the dance square. Then she jerks her head back towards it at her before she offers, "Tell ya what. We drink'n we dance. Right here, right now. I'll keep ya on yer legs'n I'll promise not to grope." The much that's omitted at the end of the declaration is probably heard, anyway. "Think ya can hang, Iri'?" she sends in open challenge. "Noooooooo," groans Irianke, her head throwing back with all the over dramaticness of someone well on their way towards intoxicatedness if she's not already there and just faking it well. "I can't. I really can't hang, I would be dead weight just hanging onto your very beautiful shoulders and then asking drunk questions about your scars while fingering them up." Taking a deep breath, she knocks back the rest of her first pink drink and kyaaaaaaaahs it out in a very audible breath. "What happened to your her?" "I believe in doin' whatever ya want, so, ya can finger up my scars all ya want," Jo is easy to say. She's not well into her cups yet as that smile plays on her lips. Looking around, "Who's here to judge? Even my former lover here would approve of it." Refilling her cup, "As for my her," she goes on to answer, "we've already had our lil fun, and I don' like to get too attached." Brows lift and fall at her before she downs this drink just as fast as she had refilled it. "What 'bout you? Drinkin' alone, here in the south? Ya don' look the type." What Jo asks doesn't quite sober Irianke up, but a sudden curious alertness shines in her eyes. "What type do I look like?" Another glass is poured for herself, just barely not sloshing it. The look of intense concentration for the bottle has a lot to do with the lack of spillage. "Like the type that has men wrapped 'round her lil finger," Jo is quick to answer without pause as her gaze momentarily sharpens. Nodding towards her, "I can see control in every inch of that attractive frame of yers." Leaning back more comfortably as she idly fingers the rim of her cup, "That's a good type, darlin'," she notes with a nod. "Do ya come here often, Iri?" She tenders the cup under her nose, sniffing its potency. "Wasn't always that way." The words are too thoughtful for a woman in her cups, in spite of the vague slur. "Can't disagree, but I don't like getting too attached." The latter of her words brings that smile back. "It's not good for the job, for my dragon, for me. But wait," Irianke's nose wrinkles. "Not a dragonrider tonight, 'member?" Refilling her glass after the other, "A broken heart?" Jo guesses as she pours, shaking her head. "Gettin' attached ain' all it's wrapped up to be. At least, I've learned. There's freedom in bein' free." The last brings laughter from her, the convict rider shaking her head again as she takes up her filled cup and quips back, "Who said anythin' 'bout flyin'?" That glint in her eyes returns in that pause before she states, "I fucked a pirate to get passage here. Who knew flashin' a lil nipple was worth more'n marks. Ran from some asshole thinkin' he could just handfast me to own me. He ain' doin' so well right now." The raised brow lifts at Iri for her story as she takes a drink. Sudden laughter from Iri joins Jo's laughter after the woman makes her guess. "I don't believe in falling in love." With that, Irianke's jelly legs bring her up long enough so she can wobble into the seat right next to Jo, gaping the distance between them and threading her arm around the bluerider's elbow. How to top a tale of pirate prostitution and controlling men. "I'm the pirate's wife." "We have that in common," Jo answers on falling in love with a chuckle. Then, a little soberly, she adds, "Bein' caged don' appeal to me. Unless I'm the one doin' the cagin'. Guess I'm the type that likes bein' in control, too." She watches Iri as she moves to a seat right next to her, moving to drink down the liquor in her cup before the woman has her by the elbow and that last is delivered. There's a momentary pause as she looks into her own cup, seeming to take in the statement before a soft snort is finally given and she simply says back, "Well. Guess we've got one more thing in common, too." Meant to be humorous, perhaps, but the dark-haired woman glances at her then to deliver, "Don' tell me yer the jealous type." "Hardly." Iri finishes her second, turning so her chin rests on Jo's shoulder. "You promised me a dance." Draining her cup, "That I did," Jo answers smoothly, one corner of her mouth lifting at that initial answer given. Setting the cup down and turning her head slightly towards her, "Think ya can handle it now?" The way it's asked suggests that handle it and handle me is meant to be interchangeable, even though the more civillized option is chosen. A lifted brow and cheeky smile is all Irianke says in return. "How was my husband?" she asks, voice all innocence, that arm clinging to Jo's as she waits for the less inebriated woman to rise. Getting to her feet with cup in hand, and offering to guide the other woman up, "I was very satisfied," Jo answers on the other's husband, her voice in a low purr at the false memory. "I imagine that I would have you to thank for that? I find that some men really don' know how to please a woman otherwise without such guided practice." She steps away from the table and leads them towards the dance square as she adds as an aside, "He certainly showed an innocent holdbred girl like me a thing or two." The first laugh, an infectious pretty thing, is for the assessment on her "husband". The next, a lower, more amused one, is for the guided practice. And the final laugh is for the "innocent holdbred girl". Irianke is up on her feet, leaned into Jo's body. "I'm afraid I might fall flat on my ass tonight for as little as I've drunk," she says, as they leave the table with the unfinished bottle of pink stuff behind. "Tell me how an innocent holdbred girl got all this," asks the goldrider, her fingers trailing across the scars just like she said she would. Jo is easy in taking the lead towards the dance square, and once there, she sets a very slow pace to the music with a slight sway in time. Her free arm has Iri firm by the waist against her wiry frame as they move, perhaps to keep the other from falling as they sway. "I won' let ya fall, darlin'," she says with her hold - the position being one of slight dominance. "Looks like ya gotta trust me." There's a shallow wink for that before she glances non-chalantly at her shoulder where scars can be seen. It's possible that there's a slight thrumming of pleasure rippling at each caress of her marks that sounds suspiciously like a groan before saying, "Oh, ya know. My betrothed didn' handle me so gently. Guess he thought he could knock the defiance outta me." Her other arm reaches up to try and grip Iri by her shoulder as she maneuvers them about the square. "I wised up in time before it went beyond that. Not so innocent now, turns later." Just how far gone is Iri? Her fingers test against another set of Lee's scars and then looks up, noting, "You seem too proud of them for that story." Does it matter though? The curly-haired woman sinks in against the bluerider's frame, ultimately resting her head against Jo's chest and breathing evenly. "It was very nice to meet you, Jo." Her movements free and easy (and probably not too innocent), Jo seems to regards that initial statement on her scars with a wry, "Well. This innocent holdbred girl had to learn how to lie to get where she is now, too." Mysterious to a fault, the convict rider holds the other close as they move in time to the music around them. There's an unseen smile for the last and she answers with a more genuine, "Likewise, Irianke. Likewise." "I'd kiss you," says the goldrider, "But neither of us do attachments well, so let's put that off for later. When we tire of this." Whatever this is. What she says doesn't stop her arms from tightening about the bluerider's neck, nor the continued sharing of half-truths and mostly fiction to continue their charade well for at least a few more dances. Irianke is remarkably sober when they end up going their separate ways. Perhaps that statement was an unexpected one from the goldrider, and one will never know with Jo, but she's quick to laugh and say in return, "Where I come from, darlin', kisses ain' promises." She seems all the more agreeable, however, enough to add for the latter comment, "This is yer dance. Ya lead. I'll challenge." She'll continue that dance and a few others in the continued intrigued of banter, well until the time that she's sober enough to take her dragon into the shadows of night. |
Comments
Alida (02:31, 10 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
Jo, you could charm a tasmanian devil, a pistol shrimp, and a honey badger at the same time. *swoons* :D
Edyis (18:31, 10 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
- giggles* What Alida said, but it's always fun to watch Jo chase, even more fun to see Iri laid back.
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