Logs:Sailor Serendipity
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| RL Date: 3 July, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Jaecar "Farsights" |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alida's rest day has unexpected but serendipitous surprises. |
| Where: Seaside Hold Tavern, Southern Continent |
| When: Day 23, Month 2, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Mild language and making out. Back-dated and knitted together over a couple days. Jaecar played by K'zin. |
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| Seaside Hold Tavern, Southern Continent On the tip of the Southern Peninsula sits a tiny fishing hold. While the population isn't exactly large, their dockside activity is bustling. There are a number of small taverns that sit along it, catering to sailors and traders. Some of the more run down establishments tend to a rougher crowd. This particular building isn't great but it's not the worst of the lot. The floor is dirty and the lights are dim, but only one out of every 3rd person looks as if they might steal all our marks. Poker is played nightly, drinks are freely flowing and the women- well. You know.
Seaside dives tend to get that way because of the clientele they attract. There's certainly a fair few locals about from the seaside holding, those that fish and make their living on the southern beaches, but there's also a small port that seemed, even this early in the day, to be quite busy. As a result, the tavern is also populated by many men who bear the hallmarks of life at sea. Taverns of this size aren't often treated to trained harpers and are left with whatever locals or visitors happen to have a musical ability for entertainment. Sitting off to one side, a lanky man leans back in a chair, his feet resting against the supports under the table (so not quite so crass or arrogant as to put his boots on top), the back of the chair resting on the wall behind him. In his lap is a ukulele, the strings plucked in a variety of pleasant shanties that fade into the background of chatter for the most part. On the table in front of him is a mug of ale that seems untouched, and his table is full of salty sea dogs chattering of this that and nothing important. Two of the men have local 'beauties' in their laps, finding more than just the chatter to entertain themselves. The musician's been approached by these women, of course, but his interest hasn't been sparked, demurring in favor of letting his fingers tickle strings instead of sides. His slate blue eyes have wandered the room, again and again. It looks like the lot's just killing time, possibly til the evening tide. She noticed him on the way in - especially those intense blue eyes - and during the more drinking-intensive phase of her time in the tavern, Alida once every-so-often allowed her greens to roam over the man with the ukulele, his shanties and the sound of the instrument and his voice agreeing with her well enough. Even now, when she has only half her drink left and seven cards tucked in near her chest, those intense, astute guard's eyes very carefully flick towards him now and again from under the cover of long, pale lashes. She can't spare too much attention for him, given the rather tatty 'demeanor' of this place, and the eighth of a mark she currently has sitting in the kitty atop the table. While the other card players seated around her table are pretty mellow when it comes to loudness and rudeness, they're pretty serious about their gaming...everybody poker-faced, and peering at one another to try and judge each bat of lashes or twitch of mouth. Alida herself is stone-cold flat of affect, which seems to be driving one of the guys a little crazy...for he makes the occasional sour face at her. If the musician's noticed the guardswoman, there's no lingering glances (at least that she catches) to tell the tale. The music comes to an early end, not abrupt, but surely not the playing of a full song, after a long-haired, long-coated man in a hat catches the musician's gaze and makes a beckoning gesture before heading for the door. There's some laughter from the companions as the musician gets up, slinging the instrument on its strap to his back, one with girl in his lap joking, "All work and no play, 'eh, Farsights?" The smile on the musician's face is slight, but amused, slapping the older man on the shoulder as he passes, "Wouldn't want you to have to get up, Swabstick." As he starts to move the make-uped wench reaches out a hand to grab at Farsights' vest, "Oh, but you're not leaving so soon, are you?" She bats her lashes prettily, and though Farsights offers a smile, it's merely polite, "Duty calls, but I'm sure you'll have no want of companions." Nevertheless, the girl looks disappointed as the musician heads for the front door. Dismissing the sour-faced player from her eyes and peering intently at her hand after having made a switch of three cards, Alida's keen perceptions pick up on 'Farsights' and 'Swabstick' exchanging words, a quick flick up of her greens noticing the former is mister musician. With the likely retreat of the musician and perhaps sailor - and his easy dismissal of the salty tavern girl - Alida both frowns softly and inwardly smiles. She'll miss his songs and relaxing manner...and she can't help but wonder at his turning down of a bit of tail. That's different...and kind-of pleasant to see in a male. However, it's time to lay her cards down on the table, the surly guy across from her having interpreted the guard's frown as her not getting quite the hand she wanted. He, two other, somewhat more burly men, and one of the other women at the table of eight players are the only ones left in, the others having folded, now watching the outcome with quiet anticipation. It winds up with surly-boy having the best hand with "Full House: eights over twos!"...until Alida quietly lays down her "Flush: Weyrleader high." It figures. Immediately, mouthy leans in over the table, and growls, "Cheater..." at the guard, to which she only blinks, sighs, and starts raking in the wooden coinage. Instantly, one of his weathered fists thumps upon the tabletop, making the drinks upon it jump a little, his hand trying to block 'lida's. "Yer a cheater, blondie. And a stranger. Think yer gonna be makin' off with our hard-earned wages? Think we're stupid garbage, 'r somethin'?!" To the bluie, this is starting to smack of a set-up as she eases her hand back from the table, lowers it slowly towards its mate in her lap. He's too controlled in his anger, and those bright-hazel eyes of surly's are laughing, not upset. To him, the chilly, pale-blonde notes, "Is what I think so important? Well, uv' course, 'cept tha'cher tryin' ta bamboozle me." It seems whatever business the hatted man had for the musician doesn't take long, for by the time that the pale-blondes making her remark in return, Farsights is back, without his instrument this time, addressing the table with an air of authority unusual for one so young. "You're wanted." That's all it takes, with that particular inflection for the lot of salties to head for the door, leaving Farsights the target of two wenches now deprived of their mealtickets. There's less ill-will and more evident attempts to persuade him of their virtues. This process involves a lot of removing hands from his slender form and reclaiming of his own as they attempt to direct them places they'd rather not be. All the attention does flap his otherwise unflappable exterior, a blush starting to rise in his cheeks as his requests of, "Ladies, please," are repeatedly ignored. She can hear him entering again, every sense on overdrive right now as Alida tries to defuse this potential situation from even happening with a simple, "I think everybody 'ere at the table needs a drink. How 'bout I just..." This is when the glowering mouthed, laughing-eyed dude's mouth snaps off, "How 'bout we just take back all uv' those marks y'cheated us out uv, plus maybe allow ya ta' crawl outta' here without breakin' yer lyin' jaw?" And while all except for 3 others at the table are rapidly abandoning ship like rats, so-to-speak, two of the bigger guys surge up from their seats quite suddenly - chairs scraping harshly across wooden floors - one seeking to sucker-punch the guard while the other attempts to grapple her arms from behind. The third member of the group staying behind - the dark haired, blue-eyed woman - moves towards the door, acting as a look out, while mouthy starts scraping the various coins off the table. The bartender just groans, and shouts to the incipient brawlers, "Now ya know I don' like this crap indoors! Take it outside!" Damsel in distress? Well, maybe Alida doesn't exactly qualify as a damsel, and maybe her distress is questionable, but Farsights would still rather take on a bounty of brawlers than a duo of debaucheresses. His keen eyes are on the happenings across the bar, while maintaining his personal boundaries with the women, waiting for the exact right moment to rescue himself by way of going to the rescue. That punch launched at her is the first thing to require attention, Alida having jerked to her own feet just before the brute threw it. A simple sidestep insure it'll pass by without landing, the man once at her back to grapple her finding air instead. That was partly luck, partly the guard wanting something less dangerous at her six... like the wall. The look upon her features is prehaps odd: a hint of a chilly grin upon lips, a strange bit of glitter seen within wide greens, that expression never changing even as the first guy recovers and goes for the cocked-back arm of a punch that'd surely knock her out...if it ever connected. Instead of waiting for him to reach out and touch her, Alida instead darts in like a pissed-off tunnelsnake, and strikes him with...something. Not a fist, that's for sure, but the motion is too quick to clearly notice what. No matter; the harsh, quick motion leaves attacker number one doubled over and gagging as he staggers back trying to get his breath. Big dude number two, however, has managed to grapple and secure the guard's free arm, and looks about ready to try and jerk it up roughly behind her, while reaching for her long, heavy braid to control her head. The mouthy 'boss' - for he seems to be the brains of this little gang - finishes scooping marks into a pouch, jerks it closed and ties it swiftly onto his belt, then moves in himself to less-directly engage the now viciously-grinning, dead-eyed pale-blonde by coming at her from her occupied side. And the femme at the door? Surprised that their biggest brawler is still trying to get his breath as he curls up on his side upon the floor, her fingers starting to toy with a slim throwing dagger's hilt hidden within her bodice. It's been said that one should never bring a blade to a brawl, but there are some that simply heed that sort of warning. Even the ladies are left a little confused when nimble Farsights is no longer in their grips but is rather directing his beltknife into the strap of the coinpurse on the boss' belt. He uses his lankiness to his advantage, tapping the man's far shoulder with his hand as convenient distraction. The bloke falls for the ruse enough that the weight of the pouch isn't missed as Farsights tucks it securely into his cargo pocket, stepping into the fray. The beltknife is holstered just in time, for the brainy boss wasn't so easily duped as to not notice someone slipping past him. "Watch the little boy playing hero," He gives a gutsy laugh, which warns the man with the pale-blonde in hand in time to see, but not prevent the punch to the kidney that Farsights drops to a knee to deliver, a move obviously designed for group combat that would be ineffective in a one on one scenario. Yep, that was her next one to chose to engage, and instead of Alida's head viciously cracking backwards and headbutting his nose into oblivion, the second hefty asshole instead will piss blood for a sevenday when Farsight's fist tickles his kidney. A howl erupts from said bruiser as he instantly abandons his hold on Alida to deal with the dude to his rear, his motions pained and abbreviated as he lunges out to try and grapple... air. After all, the sailor's on one knee. Now free, the guard dances towards mister mouthy (now sans that pouch), who goes for his own knife within one of his boots. This, of course, means he has to dart, dip down to pull it, which allows Alida enough time to snap a vicious, and well-executed toe-kick to a specific spot just alongside the leader's nearest knee. Even as he was pulling his slim, long blade, he drops it with a shout of agony as the nerve running up and down the kicked leg reverberates from the heavy blow, that leg falling out useless from under him as he plows into the floor. She can only deal with so much at one time, however, and the gal near the door is drawing her own weapon, and hefting it for a throw at the meleeing blonde with the furious, dark little grin set in stone upon her lips.
In an ideal world, Farsight would continue to land clever punches and never see any comeuppance for his choice to intercede. But it's not an ideal world. Thankfully, the reprisal comes after he's thrown a dagger drawn from a hidden sheath in his boot as he stands, the dagger sinking into the wood of the doorframe, through the loose sleeve of the gal's throwing arm. "No blades in a brawl," He has the audacity to call in a clear, if accented, baritone. Maybe he missed. He might've been aiming for her hand. But the throw was made with force, and with the surprise causing the gal to drop her own knife, she's no choice but to wrestle with his that's been so deeply and solidly sunk. Epic moment! Quashed, of course, by the burly man who manages his grapple on the slender sailor, now that Farsights as made such an excellent target of himself. A quick glance for that dagger hitting the chick's sleeve leaves Alida barking out low to said femme, "Leave now an' I'll letcha' live another day." From the wicked sound of her voice, the guard means it utterly. Aaand...it's time to give up this fight, the dark-haired female simply tearing her sleeve away and fleeing out into the hot afternoon. No honor, and all that, she leaves her fellows behind...two of them writhing on the floor, and the other...now turned upon by the 'Reachian dragonrider in disguise. Hard, cold greens take one precious second to differentiate friend from foe, and that's when the blonde harpy darts forward on nimble feet, and lands another one of those vicious, precise toe kicks upon the second brawler's outside of knee. He barely has one second to start hauling Farsight in towards his 'loving' arms to try and crush him before he's suddenly howling in pain - just like his fellow thief - and writhing upon the floor. Finally, the man who had his air robbed from him is recovering enough to try and stand up to stagger away, still gasping softly, moving in slower, lurching fashion. The bartender: nowhere to be seen, since he's ducked behind his bar to wait it out. And the released sailor? She's crab-stepping sideways over to him, and smirking softly, looking him up and down. Finally comes her darkly humored, alto murmur, "An' here I thought ya' were just another pretty face makin' music ta' charm the women." There's a dismissive noise as Farsights straightens himself, at least up into a defensive sort of stance, taking in his surroundings along with the guard's comment. "When I can bloody myself to prove my bravado instead? Ha." Not that he actually did get bloodied in the altercation. It can be said that he knows how to string his words together. It can almost be sure that he's joking, as he takes a careful step back toward the door, "As charming as I've been to these folk, I think it's about time you and I made an exit. I've something that belongs to you." That's all the pale blonde gets before she's left with the choice to follow or not get it when Farsights slips out the door and drops into a casual 'just blending in' stroll around the corner of the building and into an alley. A dark and sinister-- well, no, afternoon, so it's shadowed and cool, and inviting enough, save for the distinct smell of urine, no doubt made by the classy patrons that couldn't be troubled to walk farther before relieving themselves. "Hardly bloody..." Alida notes wryly, smirking some at the nameless sailor, then looking around at the moaning, and now cussing detritus upon the floor as they continue to gasp and writhe in pain. As Farsights speaks, she dips down to retrieve the leader's knife: a simple, but rather nice affair possessing a carved bone hilt and sharp edges. A assessing peer is given to the weapon, and as she accompanies her 'rescuer' out, 'lida notes darkly to its former owner over her shoulder, "Little boys play with sharp objects, little boys get hurt." The bartender is finally resurfacing carefully, expecting broken things, and instead finding only living bodies. Passing the door frame, she stops momentarily to yank Farsight's own blade out of the wood, and pass it over to him hilt first over her arm. Habit. The dagger is received with an agile snag but it isn't put away until they're 'round the corner of the building whereupon he takes a knee to carefully slide it back into place. "So did you suppose you'd take them all yourself if a dashing stranger didn't jump in to help even the odds?" The tone doesn't imply that she couldn't have, as it might have from some others, but is instead an honest question of her personal assessment of the situation. The lilt of his words implies humor present for the description of himself, no real arrogance intended. While he's at a knee, he fishes in his pocket for the pouch of marks, easily grabbed, careful not to spill now that the string's been cut. Straightening, he offers them over, "I believe these belong to you, minus my brawl fee." He keeps a straight face, but there's a subtle edge to his voice that implies another humor more than anything truly serious. "Mm...Maybe. But there woulda' been blood, possibly severe injury 'n death," Alida notes with partial seriousness, and some dark humor mixed in, the woman speaking of violence not casually, but not with the typical civilian's distaste, either. Once the young man's restoring his blade to its rightful place, handing that little bag of coins up to her, the blonde can't help but twitching her lips into a hint of frown, then suddenly chuckling softly as she figures out how Farsights really means his words. Still, she owes him something, and so that nice knife she took as a token of the fight is slowly pulled from its temporary stow at her belt, and offered to him as his own, original blade was. "Finder's fee," is smirk-smiled back, along with her sudden, low, "And, uv course, the name uv' my kindly rescuer." Teeth flash brightly in her broad grin for a moment. Farsights' slate gaze falls to the knife she offers him, but he hesitates, "Really, it's not necessary." He reaches up a hand to brush through the short locks on his head, causing the locks to spike in different directions, "And truthfully, I'd rather not have any proof I was part of that fight. Something tells me that I frequent these parts more often than you've occasion to. It'd be best for me if they forgot I was involved. Something that-" he nods to the blade, "-something that counts as distinctive in these parts would keep from happening." He hesitates again, this time with a touch of an awkward blush, "But, if you did want to give me something, you could give me your name." Since the pale blond asked for his, he answers, "Farsights." A strange sort of name. "At least, that's what anyone who's looking for me would call me." "Yep," Alida notes to that unnecessary. "But still offered." And then his logic shines through, makes the guard nod to such as she reverses the blade with precision, then carefully resheathing it between belt and pants. Instead, fingers open, dip into that pouch he gave her, and pluck out an eighth-mark...passing that over to him instead. Dryly, "Getcher' self a new belt, at least." Smirk. She can't help but looking at those eyes of his again, something in them, perhaps in him, drawing her some. With Farsights' small blush comes her quick looking away to try and avoid her own coloring, the 'holder' almost murmuring, 'Sarida,' but instead choosing to honor him with the more real, "Alida." At his own given name, one white-gold brow quirks some, and lips smile-smirk again. "I take it that's a nickname...'r else yer parents were pretty damned cruel." Once he's standing again, she tries to move them along so as to leave behind the stench of urine in favor of salty seas. Farsights finds himself falling into step alongside the woman. Though some might note that any business a sailor like him has here would be back the opposite direction. "Easier to go by nicknames at sea," He notes with another little shrug, "Keeps track of what you do. Though, mine ought to've changed recently, but-- the older men have an easier time still thinking of me as hanging high in the crow's nest." There's a moment of awkwardness then as the tall man finds himself speaking more, relating more than he's used to. "Jaecar." He offers then after a moment. "But I grew up shipside, so I don't use it for much anything, other than signing on to crew." He gives her a look up and down, "So, what brings a pretty woman like you to a place like this where men can't even afford new belts?" He does indeed take the eighthmark and tucks it into his pocket with a nod of thanks. His words are laced with humor, not taking what it sometimes a cheesy pick-up line at all seriously. He seems to mean it as a genuine inquiry. "Yeah; figured that was it..." Alida notes in her clipped way of speaking, then factoring in a low, "Jaecar Farsights. Passable." Smirk. His look makes her bristle just a hint, but the word 'pretty' after it inexplicably causes the guard to pinken slightly, her words spilling out even faster, as a result. "Warm skies, card games, a different brew ta' try." Lip-twist. "If I'd've known I was gonna be set-up, wouldn've bothered." Snert. Pleased that he takes the bit she offered, the blonde simply bobs her head back, then quiets for some moments to sort her head out. After a little bit, "Where ya originally hale from?" Holy crap, she's actually taking some kind of an interest in finding something out about someone. "So glad you approve." The accented drawl from the sailor is colored with sarcasm, but his blush does darken, just a little. "Warm skies," He echoes thoughtfully, "So you're not from anywhere it stays warm turnround," The first deduction, "You fancy games of chance," Cards; a second. "And you like local flavors. How about imports?" He reaches into one of the cargo pockets on his pants, unbuttoning it to draw out a rather ornate flask, the kind of thing that looks from an older time and higher quality certainly than his garb would indicate he should have. "One Grain Seahold. Ever heard of it?" He waits only long enough to see some (even the subtlest) indication that the hasn't before half his lips pull up in a smile and he offers, "No one ever has. My uncle used to say that's why it was called 'One Grain'. Because it's like finding one grain of sand on a beach full of them. One seahold on a coast of tiny docks." For the answer he'll ask the same, "Where are you from?" "Glad my approval means that much t'ya..." Alida raps right back off to the sailor with her own casual mix of sarcasm and humor, the blonde unable to contain her smirky-smile. When Farsights is done noting those details about her, the woman notes dryly, "Think yer a guard, 'r somethin'? Trackin' me down fer crimes against humanity?" Snerk. That flask is being opened up soon enough, however, and greens can't help but noticing the quality of the thing, 'lida thinking of her own, extremely modest one back in Ilicaeth's packs. A small shake of head informs her conversational companion that no, she's never heard of his birthplace, the rider soon adding, "An' here I thought it was more along the lines uv' grains uv'...grain." Yep, she's still dry. As for his own inquiry of her origins, there's the unhesitating answer of, "Figured my accent would've cleared that up." Grin. It's hard and fast, clipped...one found mostly in the slightly more interior regions of the South. The returned sarcasm earns a smile from the sailor. Her dry notation about his questions have his eyelashes fluttering quickly, suddenly abashed, "No, sorry. I just--" The hand that goes to rub the back of his neck is self-conscious to be sure. "I was just curious." About her. The words are simple enough, but the delivery indicates more, that where he had no interest in the painted wenches in the tavern, the pale-blonde who knows how to handle herself in a fight holds interest for him. The flask is a saer topic, or more specifically, its contents. "It's a liquor made of southern flowers and sweeteners." He offers after clearing his throat, trying to shake off the awkward moment. As for her accent and where she's from? Well, the first remarks she made seem to have him ceasing his inquiry for the time being, his hands slipping into his pockets, falling silent. It's easy to see in his honest expression that he's trying to sort out what to say next. Should he stay? Should he go? Why's he even walking this direction? The blush rises. "That'll teach ya' ta' pu'cher nose in where it doesn't belong," Alida notes with airy humor, smirking at the young man's blush. "Curiosity killed the cat..." Smirkie. A look at that flask he offers her has the woman both curious and cautious by turns, and she finally has to gesture for him to try it first, though she tries to lessen the 'blow' of her general mistrust by noting low, "Need ya ta tell me if there's any notes uv' berries innit. Slightly allergic t' a few uv those." So what if it's an outright lie; she doesn't want the guy who just helped her to save her ass to feel too bad. She sees, senses his discomfiture, can't help but notice the return of the blush, and the woman gets just a little exasperated, lipping off a restrained, "I was born on a boat. My parents came from Twin Forks Hold, down 'ere somewhere. Interior." "The cat and the bold heart," Farsights' voice comes thinly. Embarrassed still more, the flask is closed, "Best not to chance it then. I can't speak for all the ingredients and we're leagues from where we could get a good answer about it." The flask is slid back into his pocket. He pauses in his steps folding his arms self-consciously across his chest, "Well," He adjusts his shoulders, "It's been... interesting Alida Boat-Born." Evidently, this is his farewell, though he doesn't yet move. Damnit! She wanted to try it, but her learned mistrust has screwed it all up again. And then Farsights is pruning up emotionally, which - for some reason - suddenly strikes Alida as something she honestly doesn't want. "Hey..." is quickly factored in, the guard trying for a smile, and managing to get it, this time. "How 'bout I buy ya' a round, 'n you show me that ukulele? Used ta play one uv those when I was a kid." There's apology in Farsights' look, "The ukulele is shipside. If I went back for it, you'd like not see me again today. Always work to be done," But. "But, I'd not object to a drink," So it may have been a close call for She Who Does Not Want, but apparently not all is lost. "And you can tell me how you learned to play? And if you still do? Provided," He offers a tentative tease, "That's not considered Top Secret?" "Oh. Aww..." the woman notes with both some humor and genuine regret, her braided head bobbing quickly as he speaks of staying away from his ship. "Saw this other place on m'way here. Looks about the same, but..." She can try again, neh? Smirk. Snert. "Keep it up, smartass..." And he might get thumped? His ass handed to him? A grin? Still... "My ma' was a Harper. Scribe...but she had ta' learn how ta play a couple sumthins, uv course." Already, using body language and motion, she's prompting them to move towards the aforementioned place. "So...ukelele 'n guitar." It's pleasant chatter as they walk, and quite relevant, though light... a rarer 'social meal' for the guard. "She taught me the uke, 'n I picked up on the guitar easy." The lanky man stays in step beside the shorter blonde, "Well, I could," Keep it up, "Only, I can't tell if you like it or if I'm getting on your nerves. And I'm not wanting to be on those." He listens to the story of her learning, "So you're not a harper then? Not that I've met many a harper, and fewer still that could handle themselves in a fight like that." There he goes again, making deductions. "You know," He preempts further protests, "I wouldn't have to surmise so much if you were of a mind to speak more freely." But she's spoken freely enough about her playing, so he returns, "My aunt taught me, on the guitar, actually. But guitars aren't practical for sailors. Ukuleles are cheaper make and more portable. So." He shrugs, simply transfer of knowledge, as she's pointed out. "Any kind of music you like to play, in particular?" "Yeah; habit..." the woman clips off in her usual - though slightly surly - fashion to the sailor's observances, then adding in an 'afterthought' of a brief little smile to try and make it stick. It might seem to Farsights that she's not a typical person, given her reactions... more like an often guarded, slightly tense, wary person. But she's trying, though it's tough. At least they have the music to talk about, and as they speak more about it, Alida slowly sheds her grumpiness. If Jaecar knew just how much she'd given him, he might be blown away. "Yeah...space issues," is noted of guitars and ships, the bluie looking quietly pleased that he knows how to play the larger instrument, too. For a moment, when he asks that question, her hands make a subtle gesture on the air before her, as if holding a guitar, and quickly strumming the strings. "Mm...shanties, actually." Smirk. "An' ballads...drinkin' songs." Beat. "Oh; the harsher stuff, too, I guess." Grin. "Dunno what they call the really intensive pickin' stuff. Y'know..." She suddenly air strums, and hums in a fashion heavily suggestive of spanish guitar. If Jaecar knew, but he doesn't. But he seems well enough pleased with what she does give him. "Well, habits are hard to break," He allows with a smile that warms his lips and reaches up to his intense eyes, "Maybe just stop giving me a rough time when I try to find out more about you." His brows furrow and he comes to an abrupt stop, glancing to her then, expression momentarily indecisive, "Unless you think its a waste if your time to get to know a man who'll be here one day and gone the next." He glances toward the sea, "I'd not blame you. We sail on the morning tide." His voice is quietly apologetic, but there's an element that suggests it's a fact of his life as he knows it. Gone and back again. "Well, habits are hard to break," He allows with a smile that warms his lips and reaches up to his intense eyes, "Maybe just stop giving me a rough time when I try to find out more about you." His brows furrow and he comes to an abrupt stop, glancing to her then, expression momentarily indecisive, "Unless you think it's a waste if your time to get to know a man who'll be here one day and gone the next." He glances toward the sea, "I'd not blame you. We sail on the morning tide." His voice is quietly apologetic, but there's an element that suggests it's a fact of his life as he knows it. Gone and back again. There it is again: that cool and defensive wall, and a hint of inner anger when he simply expects her to give up being who she is. Alida almost blurts out one of her more usual cracks of the verbal whip to put Jaecar in line... And then she realizes - while internally fuming - that he just mentioned he'll be gone to sea again. And somehow, this both reassures the testy blonde, and makes her just a hint sad. And since she's driven off many more people than she's befriended in her short life, since she's a hint lonely right now, and she's found one person that honestly interests her and actually risked themself to help her... Anger is bitten back, the woman taking a deep breath to even herself out again. "Ain't a waste." Pause, tentative smile. "Y'proved that wadin' inta' a fight that wasn't yers." After a few more long moments for thought pass, the now-serious-faced woman notes bluntly, brusquely, "I ain't usually sociable." "They call me 'tacit'," Jaecar answers Alida's bluntness with quiet confession. "I do more talking with my music than my mouth. I'm not 'unsocial', just..." He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't run my mouth just because, most days." There's a wry laugh then, "Actually, if the crew saw me talking to you, I'd probably never live it down. You'd surely be fabled a mermaid or a siren or something." His chatter now is easy, trying to put the blonde at her ease, but there's no sense that he's telling her anything but the complete truth. As the arrive at the tavern door, he steps to the side, making a chivalrous gesture to allow her to take the lead. "Sorta the same, 'ere..." Alida responds to Jaecar, then giving him a blink and a strange sort of smirk-smile for both his siren allusion and the 'precede me' gesture into the new bar. As they walk in, and her greens scrape all around the place from stem to stern and up and down - again, habit - she notes low to him, "Talk only when I feel the urge, wanna get somethin' across. Don' like much small talk." A brisk, clipped chuckle, and, "Any uv' my own folks saw me yappin' like this to a near-complete stranger, they'd tie me down ta have my head examined." "If you don't like small talk, then, what-- do you like? So I can do that instead." Jaecar asks, his eyes following a similar path to the guardswoman. "I know how to just be silent." He adds. No immediate threats noticed so he slips past Alida to weave his way to the bar, asking as he goes, "Drink of choice?" "Like drinkin', playin' cards 'n guitar, thumpin' on the occasional fuckwit..." Sigh, hmm...smirk. "Gettin' the occasional fly from my dragon-ownin' pal." Who just happens to be herself and Ilicaeth. His barward course is followed, the blonde finally bellying up to it - with her back to the nearest wall, if possible - and murmuring low to not pierce the small din of sailors and dockworkers carousing and talking, "Whatever strikes my fancy, at the time. Whiskey's fine." Especially since this is a dive bar that doesn't serve the more exotic stuff. "Two whiskeys," Jaecar asks of the bartender when the man catches his gaze and the drinks are quick in coming. There's no response so quick in coming from the sailor about the kinds of things she likes to do, in fact, it's not until the drinks are in hand and paid for that he comments, "I can handle the drinking. We've done the thumping, talked of guitar, so I guess the only thing left is flying on a dragon or playing cards. I happen to be fresh out of dragons." His humor comes wry as he starts to direct them past the stairs that lead upstairs to the handful of rooms rented out to the sailors who come through, directing them toward a table right when a handful of men come in through the door, "Shells," is his quick swear. His expression isn't exactly panicked, but it is concerned, "You want to keep my company any longer?" He asks, his voice low and urgent. A hand extending to the blonde. Riposted back amicably enough, "Yer choice...unless yer afraid uv' dragons." There's an almost mysterious bit of a smile upon Alida's lips, in her green eyes, though - as it often is - the expression is mixed with a bit of cockiness. Wait-whut? Now he wants to leave? Her features go cool and assessing in an instant, sizing up those new faces he wants to avoid. Apparently she's easy to stoke into a mood for battle. A small sigh and a murmur accompany her look at his hand, and the hesitant offering of her own mitt. "This'd better be good." 'Cause...whiskey. "Then come with me," His fingers close around hers and he pulls gently, leading them up the stairwell, and out of the line of sight of those new arrivals. Once up the short staircase, he's trying doors, finding some locked. One of the first unlocked has him blushing fiercely when his head pokes back out, and then finally, apparently what he's looking for, "Empty." He once again pulls gently on the woman's hand. "We can wait til they leave up here." They have their drinks after all, "Or find a window to climb out of." He heads into the room, looking around at the possibilities. "I've never met a dragon," He answers her earlier challenge. "Wouldn't know if I were scared of one or not until I met one, I guess." She thought they were going to head out of the place. Instead, they're going upstairs? Immediately, Alida becomes suspicious, but - out of respect for her companion's having helped her before - she remains with him, simply remaining silently alert, readied. His blush as he removes his head from an 'occupied' room is reason for her to stifle a soft snicker, the blonde striding into the empty room after she's visually assessed it as not containing anything animated. Of the human variety, anyway. Finding a chair, she moves it to face the dor, sits down upon it, takes a sip of her whiskey...and then drolly notes, "What? They lookin' fer yer favors? Ya' know I'll protect ya'." Grin. "Well then... how 'bout a smaller introduction?" She's suddenly in a mood, and the impulsive woman allows herself to go with it, for once. Without words, and in a small, beyond-chilly burst of coldest Between on the air, Pyrite pops in for a looksee, her chittering silenced by a firm look and non-verbal correction from the guard. After a moment, the still very young firelizard is coaxed to one of her fingers, then petted with the back of a pinkie from her drink-holding hand. No, the room doesn't hold anything animated. In fact, it's not even a proper bedroom. It looks like a dressing room more than something that would actually be rented out. There's a wide couch and some chairs, a trio of vanities all with cosmetics spread out. Farsights moves to the windows first to gain a vantage point, perhaps assess their suitability for escape. He doesn't answer her first inquiry about the men, looking distracted, and then finds his way to a chair to sit, reaching into his cargo pocket and this time withdrawing a deck of cards. The firelizard is caught in his sights and he gives a nod, "Plenty familiar with firelizards. Captain's got a fair that follow the ship." He takes another moment to look at the gold, "She looks young. Recent acquisition?" He queries, setting his drink aside to shuffle the cards. "Good idea..." Alida notes of Farsights' word of a ship's fair. "Good at catchin' small fish, vermin. Message carriers." At least he's conversant with the smaller, draconic cousins. Letting the flit explore around the room some while the guard looks to those cards, 'lida finally, quietly enunciates once more, "Okay, I'll try this again: Why us up here when they're down there?" It's pointed, mellow, but doesn't seem to allow for the not-answering her option. She's seen him looking around for egress points, after all, and it doesn't inspire relaxation within the woman. Farsights purses his lips, and lets a musical whistle trill through them, his attention on the small gold, the cards set on the chair beside his leg so that he has both hands to offer up as perches for her if she can be coaxed near. As with most animals, perhaps firelizards can sense the energy of a person; Jaecar's is of the good sort. She can sense his decent intentions, but - like a good follower (and a babe) - Pyrite looks to her 'mother'/leader first. Upon getting a mental 'go ahead, if you want' from Alida, the tiny beastie wings from a piece of furniture she'd been investigating over to the sailor. A couple of times buzzing around him seems to mellow her, and the gold settles upon his left hand with a soft, fluting vocalization...her little blue eyes whirling inquisitively into Jaecar's own blues. Jaecar's careful to stay still and let the firelizard investigate, and perhaps the delay on his response can be chalked up to his attentiveness. Once the gold has settled on his hand, he slowly moves his right to offer her soft strokes to headknobs and down the spine. There's a favorable reaction to the cozening she receives, of course, Pyrite cooing and humming softly right back to Jaecar, her lids drooping one by one as she sinks from a stand to a sit upon his hand. And Alida? She simply waits, watches, listens for any disturbances coming towards their door...and sips her whiskey. Once the firelizard's cozy, then it's time to try to make the pale blonde equally so. His next words aren't great at doing that, "Promise not to get mad, fly out of here and thump me on your way, Alida Boat-Born?" His slate eyes flick between the gold and the woman's greens. She figured it was going to be something that'd prickle her. "Nasty uv ya' ta use 'er against me..." Alida notes dryly of the now relaxed firelizard upon Farsights' palm. "Can't promise not ta get mad, but I think I c'n promise not ta do anything too impulsive 'r stupid." One white-gold brow arches up as she speaks, waits. "I prefer to think of it is as clever." Jaecar protests, "Maybe if I start with why I said what I said it'll go across better. I said it because you're interesting. Because-" And here he has to take a breath, "Because you interest me. I promise you're safe with me. For all that I know you could handle yourself regardless," Then comes confession time, his finger not ceasing its gentle caressing of the gold, "I didn't want to share you with whatever ninnies might be downstairs, but I figured you wouldn't come up if I just said so, thinking I was putting the moves on you, so when those guys came in, I just-- I used it. Maybe instead of getting mad, you could be flattered." This he adds hurriedly, "I've never fibbed to get a girl alone before. Never mattered that much to me," One thing at least is clear, Alida qualifies as something special to the slate-eyed sailor. That..wasn't what she was expecting, and the look in Alida's green eyes speaks volumes of such. The guard was thinking more of him luring her up here to perhaps explain he was one of the gang's members, or that he wanted to rob her but changed his mind. But that? Instead of anger, the bluie simply drops her gaze to the now-splayed-out 'lizard upon the young man's palm...and soon sighs. After some moments, her steady, firm greens return to the sailor, and she finds her voice. In no-nonsense tones: "Gonna speak candidly." Like she usually doesn't? "I am my own person...doin' what I want when 'n where I want." Out here, anyway, away from the damned Weyr. "I decide how somethin' appears ta' me, 'n how ta deal with it." Irked, definitely. "I'm not a 'girl.' Quit bein' a girl many Turns ago." And finally...she sinks a little back into herself, using her leftover ire as a shield against wanting to blush just a little. After picking, then tossing aside various ways of responding, the woman finally opts for a quiet, "I'm not...inta' permanent relationships." And then, she too waits, watching intently for how the sailor responds. There's a number of emotions that flicker across Farsights' pale face. Relief, that she's not wailing on him, screaming, or running out. Confusion, apology, and then more confusion. "Sorry, I've-- I guess I've never known a woman then." He allows the difference to be acknowledged, "I won't make the mistake again," He promises, before the confusion is given free reign. "How does-- how does this appear to you?" Perhaps an answer to that will solve the confusion over her comment on relationships, though he does add, "Sailors don't get to have permanent relationships, at least not in the traditional sense." Which isn't to say he's not into them, but says for certain that he's not expecting of one. "S'alright...one time. 'S' a mistake enough guys make..." Alida casually tosses off to his apology, only a trace of her former aggravation remaining. "I can't afford ta' assume..." the blonde notes dryly to what she thinks he means of relationships, then noting quietly, "On the surface...it seems yer' a sailor....tha'cher' a guy who ain't a sleep-around, but not a prude, either." Just keep going, Alida. "Decent guy who c'n handle 'imself without bein' a chest-beater." Pause. "Am I wrong?" His meaning for the question of how it appears to her was meant in the larger sense; him, her, here, this room. What did she suppose he was after? The way she answers seems to give Jaecar his answer, his brows furrowing, expression not entirely pleased. "Well, no. You're not wrong. But Alida-- I -- didn't -- I meant it when I said that you interested me. I didn't bring you up here to--" His blush is back, in full force at the idea that the pale blonde might be thinking he's all about taking advantage of her, "Not that I wouldn't because--" Because she's attractive and he's interested, duh, "But-- I--" His caressing hand ceases its strokes as he's at a loss for words. "I'm not usually that guy." He manages finally as the best way to explain it. She's trying not to blush as he tries to explain himself, and while Alida controls herself, Pyrite turns a lavender-in-blue pair of eyes upon her human, the flit still desirous of those pets from Jaecar. After a few moments to get her headspace straighter, "Yer interested in more 'n my tits 'n ass." Mutter. She can't quite look him in the eye, right now, the little gold her focus, instead. Sigh. "I c'n respect that." Swallow. "Reason I'm talkin' with ya' even now's 'cause yer...int'restin', too." A sailor? Wait.. "That guy?" Now she's confused. "That guy, who meets a g-woman," Jaecar quickly corrects himself before the word is even out. "Habits," He quickly says, lest he raise her ire by accident, "But I'm not usually that guy who meets someone and--" That blush is distracting. A his hand comes up to scrub across his face, the one not holding the gold. "Sorry, none of this is coming out right, Alida." It's with exasperation that he finally just says, "I just brought you up here to get to know you. I-- is that what you want?" "Neither am I. I mean, woman who meets a guy an'..." Does what he's doing," her words suggest. Alida's too caught up in the moment to even bother with the girl/woman thing, right now. She's squirming enough internally that Pyrite finally flings herself from Farsights' hand, and settles upon the guard's shoulder, to rub her tiny, oiled head upon 'lida's jaw. After a moment, greens touch blues, and the rider mutters, "Will you cut that out?" His blushing? "Makes ya seem like a 15 turn old." And what' her own incipient cheek-pinkening doesn't? "It's fine," is finally blurted out, the bluie a little testy in response to her own reactions, as well as Jaecar's. "Let's just move on, okay?" With a sudden motion, she's leaning in whatever direction the sailor's sitting, and trying to take his cards from him with her free hand...the motion causing Pyrite to squawk and spread her wings partially to balance. 'You're doing it, too!' he might point out of the blush, but that would make them like fifteen turn olds. Instead, Jaecar's head nods to the suggestion, "Moving on..." He agrees. Then she's suddenly in motion, leaning across the empty space that separates their two chairs and reaching. Only, he doesn't notice the reaching, or what she's reaching for. Her movement is entirely misread and as she leans, he leans too, pressing his lips against hers. Surprise! It seems to surprise him as much as it might her, for his eyes are closed only a moment before he's blinking and pulling back. It didn't help the blush situation. "I--" He starts. Then nothing. Sweet holy non-Jesus-believing Pernese fuck! She only wanted the cards! Misinterpreted Alida is again misinterpreted, and that smooch lands upon utterly surprised - and utterly clueless - lips. They're soft, and taste just a hint of coconut and herbs from her sunscreen. Pyrite squawks again as her human's emotions roil around, the little queen launching away from the ruckus to whirl around, above the heads of the pair as she chitters her own excess...Alida sitting back instantly, as if someone struck her across the face. Her eyes are huge and unfocused. If he were nearer their place of habitation, Ilicaeth might be heard to bugle, then shut himself up quickly, the blue reaching instantly for his lifemate to try and aid her in his usual fashion. But the guard's hand is already reacting, darting out to lay a sound slap upon the sailor's cheek, unless he's quick to avoid it. She doesn't look mad, though. Just... utterly floored and testy by turns. Blurted like aforementioned teenager: "I wanted the cards!" You idiot! And yet...her free hand's fingers are pressing to her mouth, trying to cover...something. Those big green eyes are still huge, though, and her pulse still races. Smack! If Farsights couldn't find words after the kiss, he certainly couldn't dodge well enough, though he's moving enough that the slap doesn't land as hard as it otherwise might. "Oh, Faranth," the sailor swears. "I'm sorry, Alida, I thought--" What he thought was obvious. He's picking up the cards and standing, "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot." He agrees with her, and his feet are having him back toward the door, blush going from rosy to crimson. His eyes look a little panicked, clearly, it was an honest mistake. Poor Ilicaeth; he's always left to clean up after his emotionally stunted rider's aftermaths. The blue helps hold his rider still by partially numbing the excesses of Alida's turmoil until she can handle it better, which is becoming less of a need as time goes on. Still... it really was needed, this time. Once he slowly relaxes his mental 'grip...' She's standing, mindlessly calling the yellow-eyed Pyrite back down to her shoulder...and then pacing around in the small space like a caged beast... or a madwoman. Those greens refuse to light upon Jaecar, right now, but her mouth runs a mile a minute. "You are! So am I." Pacepacepace. "I just wanted ta' play some cards! While we talked." Hands grip tightly at where her riding belt should be, and then abandon the air quickly. And finally, her gaze nails his own with some upset and ire...and maybe something else? Blurted out, still: "Mistake! Yeah...whatever." Pacepacepace. Despite his backing toward the door, despite his apparent apology, Jaecar doesn't actually move to leave. His cards still in one hand. "Wait, wait," He has to interject at the end of her words, "I said I was sorry and that I'm an idiot, but I didn't say it was a mistake." He takes a pair of bold steps toward the pacing woman, "You like taking risks," As he'd earlier deduced, "And playing cards," He holds them up, "I'll play you for it. I win, and we try that again, but not when it's full of misunderstanding. I lose, and you never have to see me again. You can even wail on me before I go, if it'd make you feel better." She honestly thought he did, and now the urge to clobber him for daring to decry her former blurt wars with the inner heat and uncertainty flittering about within Alida. Cue one of her pugnacious jaw-thrusts and a small narrowing of eyes. Uh-oh. "Yer fuckin' on." Growl. Apparently, she intends on winning, and perhaps busting his jaw for calling her a liar...to something she now doesn't even really remember saying. It might be seen that, though there's some orange flecks within Pyrite's gaze of many colors, she's not launching herself at the hapless sailor, instead, the tiny flit clings like glue to her human's padded shoulder, pressed in tight to Alida's neck. Farsights is wary of that anger, but he's brave enough to stay, to tempt fate. He moves slowly, enough so she can track all his movements and not feel threatened by them. He drags a little tea tray on wheels between the two chairs they previously occupied and then offers her over the deck, "Wouldn't want you to accuse me of cheating." He notes. "Lady's choice of game. But I'll cut the deck," lest she think of stacking her hand. As long as it's fair, it seems, Jaecar will take what comes, win or lose. "I'm no fuckin' 'lady...'" Alida growls out low to Farsights, even as she gives him a look of utter disdain for his insistence. A quick nabbing of that deck of cards soon has her slightly-shakey hands roughly shuffling them about nine times before she feels they're randomized enough to hand back over. Green eyes still glint into slate blues, but at least Pyrite's settling more, now that her human's under more self-control. Jaecar keeps his calm, at least on the outside. He cuts the deck simply, just once. Evidently more trust in the blonde for that. Then he slides into a seat, leaning forward with elbows on his knees, hands folded, waiting for the cards that will tell his fate to be dealt. It's simple 5 card dragonpoker, no wilds, nothing fancy. Each is dealt by the quirky woman, the deck then settled beside her as she lifts her hand up close in towards her upper chest, peering at what lies within. Cold greens flick back to her opponent, awaiting his choice of what to keep and/or discard...'lida then sending Pyrite off to perch upon the back of one of those other pieces of furniture. The fact that he asks for three cards doesn't bode well for the man's hand, but then, to gain something worth having, sometimes a big risk need be taken. His slate eyes are intensely attentive as they play, watching the woman. There might be a question he would ask, but chooses rather to stay silent. To meet him head-to-head, Alida takes three as well, her greens flaring challenges into Farsights' blues, her lips tipped into a dark little smirk. After keeping her gaze inscrutable behind lowered lashes (it's kind-of odd, how strangely desirable she looks at that moment, so predatory and yet strangely sweet in a twisted way), the guard clips off with a glottal purr, "Yer first." There's a point to bluffing when the stakes are getting raised, or when there's more than two players in a game or more than one round to be played, but in this instance, bluffing would do Jaecar no good." So it's with a deep breath, a dubious look and a simple laying of his cards on the tea cart. "I've got shit. Pair of threes." Just about the worst hand he could have gotten. So unless she happened to get worse, he squares his shoulders, waiting for her to confirm his fate. Triumph leaps over Alida's features like some sort of a hellish dawn, and she slaps down her "Three twos!" atop his pair of threes. For a long moment, it looks as though she might up and backhand him on the spot, so intense is the guard's glee at winning...until she looks into those pretty slate-blues of Jaecar's...at the set of his shoulders. It'd be a lie if she said she wasn't still ticked-off, but also a lie if the woman said she didn't feel suddenly hollow...as if this 'victory' became phyrric. Her predator's hover continues on...and on...and on, until "Fuck it." Growl-grumble. And just to show she's still in control of everything, including herself, one of her quick hands lashes out...to fist up in the sailor's shirt and tug him forward so she can plant a solid one on his kisser. It's not artful, not long or seductive, but neither is it a peck or a friendly smooch. Jaecar had been prepared to accept whatever pain she was thinking of dealing out. His expression resolved to take the wailing in good grace once her hand was shown. He waited, and waited, watching her intently. When she finally moves, there's not even a wince, but there's plenty of surprise. As a result, Farsights' soft pink lips are a little lacking in the initial moment of the kiss, but before it ends, he's pressing back. When it ends, he's on his feet and doing his own pacing, looking confused. "That wasn't-you didn't hit me," as if she didn't know. It ends after about 5 seconds, Alida pulling back and releasing him quickly, her eyes lowered to her lap, as if she's deep in contemplation. When the sailor comes up with that brilliant deduction, the guard can't help but snort softly, and murmur just a hint breathily, "Don't push it." She sounds not a whit upset at all, more buzzed and fatuous, as if she just pulled a good one over on him. Over on her perch, Pyrite gives a short, querelous almost-hum, and cocks her head at the two crazy humans. He faces a moment more and then he moves to the couch. Jaecar drops onto it, hands gripping the cushion to either side of himself, staring at nothing. And then he looks at her. His expression is serious, those slate blues locked on her greens. "Alida... would you join me, please?" In the face of uncertainty, manners seem to assert himself. Surely someone raised him right. After silently contemplating her figurative navel for long seconds, the sound of Jaecar getting up draws Alida's attention, the blonde watching him from under her lashes, then looking away as he shifts his attention back to her. She thinks about his inquiry for some moments, unspoken-of things within her warring for supremacy. A moment longer, and finally the blonde unlocks her knees, stands, and steps slowly over towards that small couch. Another set of moments to contemplate it, and the sailor, and finally she does so...sitting on the edge of her part of the other cushion. There's no words. Slate gaze follows her as she comes, watching the way of her movements. Once she's arrived he shifts, very slightly to face her. Farsights' face is serious, but somehow a little soft when he tries to catch her gaze, "Alida, I'm not out to convince you to do something you're not wanting to," He swallows, "But. I'd-- like to kiss you, again. If I may?" He doesn't move to do anything yet, showing both personal restraint and respect for her boundaries. Hoo man, does she have boundaries. Capital 'b'! She's not looking at him, until those words of convincing her come, and then the usually-bold, blonde latches her greens almost desperately to slatey-blues, staring as harshly as she can drum up, right now. Caught between one answer and another, the woman freezes, vapor locked on too much in her mind, at the moment. She doesn't appear trapped, more...poised on the cusp. It's carefully that he moves. It isn't to lean in for a kiss; he hasn't gotten a solid response and as he said, he's not out to make her do something she'd rather not. But Jaecar can't help his desire to make contact with the woman who stares at him. It's his hand that moves, slowly, to wrap long fingers around her own, the grip gentle but firm. He waits. It's that simple touch - simple, and yet so terribly complicated for someone like her - that slowly unlocks Alida, finally allows her to unstiffen some, and honestly breath fully again. This is seen in the rapid blinking of green eyes for a few moments, then a surer focus upon the young man sitting across from her, as well as her shoulders giving a bit of a sag. For a moment, the bluie can only stare down at their hands as if they belong to a totally different pair of people. And finally, her fingers - callused in some areas from Turns of knife and swordplay, plus her Weyrling training - twitch slightly, and then move with terrible slowness to squeeze back at Jaecar's own extremity. Finding courage somewhere, those greens finally flick up to meet blues once more...quiet and expectant. It's not verbal, but it's something. Jaecar is willing to take the chance that it's enough. He moves slowly, anyway, just in case he's wrong and she'd like to correct him before things have reason to get violent. His near hand is clasped with hers, but his far rises slowly to gently cup her pale cheek, helping to tilt her chin just so to meet his tilted head. No nose bumping then as the first real kiss between them comes. His lips moving first gently against hers and then with greater energy. She's strangely passive, letting him arrange her proud head just so, greens slowly following each of the sailor's motions as if from a state of dazement. They focus a bit daftly upon that broken-nosed face and oddly enigmatic eyes coming nearer and nearer, until she has to close her own to stop them from crossing or losing focus completely. And then the kiss...which gets no response, at first; almost like kissing a doll, except for the softness of lips, and that coconut and herb taste. The more his mouth moves, however, the more instinct seems to take over in the guard, allowing her to respond back with her own at-first gentle and unschooled motions of lips, which become warm and animated as time goes on, and Farsights' own efforts evolve. His hand slips out of hers as the kiss changes. His lips are experienced, though who can say how much beyond 'not novice'. Patiently they teach while enjoying the touch, taste, and feel of her own. Jaecar's close hand moves to curl around her shoulders, fingers squeezing her shoulder lightly before trailing a caress up and down a few inches of her arm. After a time, with her not pulling away, not seeking an end, he lets his tongue beg entry. It's not a demand, a few simple flicks across her lips and then gentle pressure, inviting. And, if Jaecar's not figured it out before now, her own are near-completely new to this, as is the rest of the often hard, fierce warrior-woman. Who would've thought. Patience is key with this bristling harpy - now hatchling - Alida starting to loosen up and enjoy each and every little touch, taste, sensation fed to her from someone who seems to understand. How funny, odd it might be to others if they could hear the guard's soft sighs and artless little gasps, her often cool and mocking features rendered soft and sensual so 'easily.' With more time taken comes more ardor, Alida's other hand abandoning her empty glass upon the couch, and then lifting to slide a light touch up the sailor's hard bicep, suddenly massaging there to feel the latent power in the muscle. Her own shoulders are sculpted and feminine, yet full of whipcord muscle of their own that shifts and dances gently beneath his grasp with her every response. And when the surprise of that gentle tonguetip upon her lips comes...at first, there's a small retreat, though not far enough to completely separate them. But green eyes do not open, and instead, the bluie deliberately, slowly leans back in for more, making herself experience more...avoiding avoidance. Patience is something Jaecar seems to have in droves. Sometimes in life, the right person appears at the right time for the right purpose. Farsights seems to be just such a person. He lingers when she withdraws, waits, his eyes opening just a touch to look through his blonde lashes, but then she's back and the kiss is returning and deepening yet as his tongue explores her untried mouth, inviting hers to taste of him, too. There's more kissing to be had then, but after a while, he leans back, sealing the lot of kisses with one last pressed to her lips. "Alida..." He breathes softly, eyes intently gazing at her. The look on his face is one of restrained desire. He's behaving, but some part of him has been thoroughly awed by these moments and he, too, is a little dazed. Her own tongue - smooth yet not wet - is finally brave enough to dare his own mouth, where it slowly becomes more and more knowledgeable, imitates his own...Alida growing more and more potent and ardent as time goes on. With her hands now stroking and massaging, dancing fingers up his biceps and forearms - her soft moans and gentle whispers of joyful pleasure intoxicating her own ears - he pulls away...and she can't help but let out a low, upset groan. Greens flicker open hesitantly, and look into those slatey-blues with want and ardor...to find him calling her name. Sighing - her now pinkened lips curling into a lazy little smile, the wher of a woman awaits what he has to say. Not wanting to spoil the mood, but not being able to simply advance in good conscience without saying something. "This is your first time. With... this." Any of this. Jaecar's tone is very gentle, though holding a little bit of surprise. "I--" What does he want to say? To ask her if she's sure she wants to kiss him? To do more? Where's the line? Instead of complicating it so much, making it something they really need to talk about, he simply says, "Promise me you'll tell me to stop if you don't want me to keep going?" That sounds simple enough. With his first words, she can't help but tightening her lips and looking away, Alida not one to lie about things of grave importance...though she will fib to some small extent. Her reaction probably says it all, especially since her pale skin pinkens even more noticeably at cheeks that were already touched by the blush of want. Part of her more typical nature wars within for a second - seen in a muted flash of green eyes - but for once, her harder half doesn't get to spoil this rare moment. Instead, strong, sculpted arms slide over his own limbs, around the man's upper back to pull him slowly closer. Murred out like a lazy canine, low and somehow almost drowsily, "You betcher' boots." And this time, she find his lips first, not as tentative with their initiative and responses.. the blonde learning rapidly and expanding that knowledge as she soon starts suckling at his lower lip, gently stroking and scratching at Jaecar's strong, slim torso through patched fabric. There's some blinking from Farsights as Alida makes her response, and more as she leans in going for the kiss, but the look he has is one that is pleasantly surprised, and in no way protesting. If she's down? He'll roll with it! So the lip-locking resumes. It's not instantaneous, but in time they find a rhythm, a silent understanding of what each one enjoys, and as time draws on Jaecar finds himself leaning more, pressing her gently back towards the cushioned arm of the couch. As they kiss, his hands start to explore a little, along her face, neck, and even trailing back into her hair. Reactions are clearly observed by touch and sound, the other senses busy between the sunscreen, the taste of her mouth, and the darkness he willingly surrenders his sight to; occasionally, he peeks, most often right as one of her little sounds begins, curiosity overcoming him. That response of hers might sound somewhat contradictory to his message, to the spirit of retaining some self-control...but right now, Alida's too into this intimate sharing, this first time breaching of her tight and frosty personal barriers, to protest much of anything. Turns of not only emotional, but mental and physical self-denial leave the guard a near-bone-dry sponge of sorts at this juncture, and whatever visceral enjoyment can be had in this rarest moment are feasted on with a strange mix of delicacy and fierceness. With Farsights' meanderings of hand, lips upon her mostly soft skin come the bluerider's own attentions in the same measure upon his own arms, face, neck...his gentle, sure pressing back of her to the couch meeting with a hint of resistance, at first, the blonde then slowly making herself relent. Trust - even this far in - is still a delicate process with her. The lookout's sounds, scents, tastes drive her onward, too, and her own eyes only occasionally open to give the woman another shock of sensation as she notes - so very up-close and personally - the textures and colors, nuances of the features of the young man who has become her first male kiss. At some juncture, the attentions to her pale neck bring a shuddering gasp forth from the former holder, and one of her hands flits up to the back of his head, lightly rubbing and scritching upon nape, swirling in the hair there, as if to coax him onward. Farsights is tacit in this too. Much more can be learned from how his body moves and the differing degrees of pressure provided by hands and mouth when Alida finds a particularly sensitive spot. But nary a sound is made, unless she counts the occasional unexpectedly caught breath. He's attentive enough to what's going on that when she provides resistance, he stops the press forward and waits. When he feels her body start to relax, he starts experimentally leaning again. Finding no further resistance, he continues on the original trajectory until she's leaned back. The sailor's discovery of the sensitive nature of her neck bears more exploration it seems, for his lips leave hers and trail kisses across her jaw before briefly flicking his tongue against her earlobe and traveling lower, tongue, lips and teeth used together to see what other noises and reactions he can evoke from her. He experiments with different pressures and kinds of touches. If she seems receptive, a hand will shift to her side, running gently up her side only, back and forth rhythmically, testing the water for more far-reaching exploration. For someone so hard and cold, so full of withdrawn silences and violent reactions, she's quite gentle and sensitive, at least at this moment. Longsights' lack of sound, in general, seems to irritate Alida, making her slowly ramp up her efforts to elicit such upon his more practiced form...her short, strong nails suddenly dragging lines down his strong back that would surely turn bright pink if it weren't for his buffering shirt. Her own mouth becomes more insistent, demanding, yet not hard or cruel, suckling and nibbling upon his lips at times, moving to cheeks, ears, jaw to nip and kiss, suckle at others. When lips meet at times in between other explorations, the palest-blonde seems to reject more than the very occasional, light twining of tongues, especially if they become too wet. But when Jaecar's mouth in its many incarnations hits her neck more decidedly this time...louder gasps, goose-skin, and low, shuddering moans ripple through her lungs, the bluie's pounding pulse and galloping heart making her draws for breath quicker, shallower. The movement of his hand to her side is pressed into lightly, her own left hand lifting to glide atop a strong shoulder, grasp and knead the muscle there, then slip like a ghost around to the back, then down a side to waist, where it lingers to appreciate the male shape of the curve of his back. Even her scratch of claws don't produce the desired reaction, although it does get Jaecar pressing his body up against her. The fact that he's enjoying this becomes unmistakable in that moment. He's too involved in the exploration of her neck to notice how close he is pressed and he backs off again, but this time, all the way. He's shifting on the couch, sitting up straight and angling more toward her. Why stop? Well, apparently, he wants less protection on his back for its his vest that he's divesting himself of, and if he makes it all the way through that, his shirt will be quick to follow into a pile on the floor. Finally frustrated in her inability to extract delightful sounds from him, Alida offers something perhaps odd: a rather guttural whimper-growl-whine that sounds as if it might've come more from a canine than a human. As her first 'beau' backs off for that moment to shuck off his vest, the blonde curls her hand up into his hair - firmly, not painfully - and opens her eyes to stare brightly up at him. From features touched with both sensuality and irritation - lips slightly twisted and almost-pouty pink - comes her breathy, slightly roughened alto. "Sing fer me..." her nails then once more dragging up and down brightly just over his spine. Huh? And just after telling him obliquely what she needs from him, the blonde uses his tough form for leverage, and pulls herself up so she can more easily plant a rough suckle and light bite upon his neck...then pulling back a little to observe what effect she might've had upon him. The fingers that had begun to draw up his tunic, and at least have the lower edge freed from where the waistband and belt had held it in place, go slack in surprise as the blonde's fingers find purchase in his short tawny locks. There's enough there on top to get a good grip. The lack of leather vest helps in Alida's campaign for sound, as a more visible shudder rides through his spine, but not yet noise. The attention to his neck has him lifting his chest a little, arching his spine just slightly. She's having effect, to be sure, but none that manifests vocally... yet. "Skin," comes his simple murmur - a murmur that takes time to form, his expression lost in the anticipation, the desire, the overwhelming feel-good of making out with a pretty girl for the first time. Maybe it's a recommendation. He was going to pull off his shirt, after all. Yes! She needs more honest sound from him, and with that shudder rolling over Jaecar's form comes some sudden help from Alida, the woman nodding quickly to his word of 'skin,' then helping him with removing his tunic...her hands direct and urgent. All the while, she's dipping and darting in more kisses, nips, suckles, bites to the sailor's lips, face, jaw, neck...and her fingers and hands dance continual patterns and pressures over whatever open bits of flesh from his waist up that she can find. A look of rapt, sensual concentration is settled firmly upon her features, and with all their motions, more wisps of the bluie's pale hair have escaped from her long braid, rendering her 'slightly touseled.' Since Alida's helping, Jaecar's hands are freed for other things. Other things like sliding onto Alida's hips and using them to suggest she come to straddle his lap. Maybe after the resistance of pressing her back to the couch and the unexpected hairpull together make him suspect she might like that sort of thing better. The shirt is soon off, and all the while he's returning what affections he can, eagerly, though with how much attention she's giving him, it's hard to catch her at the right angle too often, but he does his best. He wants her atop him? Sure! With alacrity, the woman is wrestling around with her new beau, getting them even more touseled as she exchanges places with him, a goofy and triumphant grin settled upon her features after Alida does indeed straddle him. And near-immediately, the guard's dipping down, and raining intense flurries of attentions of every sort upon Farsights' upper body, his handsome face...and pausing at points so he can stoke her own, inner fires with the reactions to her own efforts. That song she was seeking comes. It's as she rakes fingernails across his back, a groan that escapes his throat. Her attentions earn more than just the one sound from Farsights. As they go along, there are more, they're not frequent, and paired with only the occasional touch, and not something that ever happens twice even if the same motion is repeated exactly. He's a challenge if songs are her goal. Jaecar isn't satisfied with only his skin, though, his hands having investigated her sides, arms, and so on. So after yet more time of this that his hands start to seek her skin, trying to rid her of garments, up top, at least. Yes! With her draw of short nails down his back comes that delicious sound of pleasure and want, and it makes Alida's skin goose, her lips pull into a grin. She makes it a challenge to produce as many of those noises from Jaecar as possible, bold lips moving down his nearly-smooth chest to kiss and suckle, bites and puff gentle breaths upon his flesh. When it comes time for her own v-necked tunic to fly, though...the blonde quiets just a fraction, her body moving whatever way it can to silently try and dissuade him from doing such. And yet... the look of mixed need and concern within her eyes silently expresses the bluerider's mixed feelings. Jaecar's hands slow and come to rest on the tops of her thighs, not pressed to them, but fingers curled slightly toward palms, a gesture of passivity. His slates lock onto greens. "Too much?" He asks, his desire-rasped voice begging her answer to be no, but expression likewise showing his willingness to stop. "I--" He starts, maybe this isn't the best time for talking, but nevertheless he asks in his charming accent, "I'll see you again, won't I?" She seems suddenly loathe to admit that anything is too much for her, but when she doesn't answer... maybe Jaecar can intuit that the proud woman is simply unable to speak such 'weakness' to him. Instead, Alida presses her forehead to the sailor's chest, and kisses across it slowly, while her hands and fingers stroke along skin at his shoulders, sides. "I'd like that..." comes her low, artless murmur upon his skin, the guard slowly looking up and meeting his blue gaze with a concerned, green one smudged with ample leftovers of her own desire. "Yer...always on the move. How?" The hands don't go for the shirt again, but instead slip around her waist. Farsights is soon leaning forward, his head turning and ear laid to her chest, right where he could hear her heartbeat. Perhaps it's strange, but he stays there a moment, hugging her close, and then he's releasing, not wanting to keep the blonde beast caged too long, his arms going slack around her. How. That does present a problem. Then his eyes find the tiny gold at her perch. "Send her with me. Long enough until she can find me when you wish it. She'll always be able to find you." He looks up to her face, to see how the idea might be received. "Or I can try to send word to you when I'm in port here. Is here the most convenient port?" They never really did get around to who she is and what she does for a living. She's a little touchy about him getting near to her own chest, but Alida finally accepts that touch of his ear to it, the woman slowly relaxing, letting him listen to how that inner muscle-organ gallops in response to his near presence. In reaction to his arms slackening, hers wrap around his own torso as far as possible...not crushing, but definitely keeping him near. She's never felt like this before - so heady, so alive with desire - and she doesn't want it to end. At the mention of Pyrite, the blonde can't help but squirrel her own head and neck around to peer at the now-snoozing little gold, 'lida then carefully looking back down at Jaecar...her features hopeful, yet concerned. "She's only a few sevens outta' her shell. I mean... she's decent at bein' independent...but she still needs ta bond with me fer best effect." And honestly, the fledgiling would rather be around her new human even more, but Alida's own nature tends to preclude much of the 'hanger-on' syndrome. "She needs coordinates ta' Between, I think...not only faces. Gotta know where she's goin'...'n ships always move." The guard sounds let down...but she's got too many scruples to risk her new 'pet,' even for such a wonderful experience. The second idea seems about as good (or bad) as the previous, but at least it might not risk fracturing the new bond between firelizard and human...so Alida does what she rarely likes to: gives the complete truth to someone unknown. A heavy sigh soon sees the female climbing down to Farsights' side, and tucking her form into his, 'lida still wanting the feel of skin on skin. "I'm a 'rider." Beat. "Blue Ilicaeth's, from High Reaches." "A... rider." It comes slowly, stupidly, as though she'd just thrown him a bomb and he's not sure what to make of the countdown. Slated eyes and expressive face have Farsights marked as confused. He turns his face to look at her, and there is struggle in his eyes. "A rider." He repeats, this time seeming to register the term fully. He starts chewing his lower lip as he leans forward to start searching for his shirt. Oh FUCK. SHIT. Those sentiments can be seen in Alida's eyes as she notes Farsights' expression, his words, then his actions, and she pushes up from the couch, her features touched with caution, concern, and a bit of anger. Though she tries to regulate her voice, all of those emotions come out, though muted. "Shoulda' fuckin' known better than ta'..." Grumble, growl. Fists pound her thighs harshly for a moment, her frustration almost tangible as greens bore into the sailor's back. "Yeah, I'm a dragonrider." What the fuck of it? remains unspoken. Her chin is tossed up, gaze narrowed upon him, though he can't see it. "What's yer problem with it?" He's still trying to process when Alida's up off the couch and pounding those fists and-- he's on his feet. Farsights' hands start to move up to grab her shoulders but before they're even a quarter of the way there, some part of his brain kicks on to send warning bells and have his hands back to his side: no touchy the prickly when it's prickling! "Shells, Alida, give a man half a second." He demands, voice rising to match the volume and intensity. "We talk about dragons and you don't think to mention you're a rider?" And she's a rider. There's more there, but it's easier to go with shock than delve deeper in this moment so charged with emotion. Yes; do not touch the porcupine when its quills are up! "What was I supposed ta think?" Alida blurts out with some ire, glaring at Farsights. "I mention it, an' ya' pull away, start puttin on yer clothes." Jawthrust. Wait... his shirt is off? Blink. How'd they do that? Someone was on autopilot, perhaps, from her own suddenly surprised...then sheepish look. And then there's more, allowing her to move on past her own inner embarrassment, the guard puffing up some again in self-protection, the emotion making her tone somewhat surly. "I didn't mention it 'cause half uv' the crap we've been dealin' with lately leads ta 'ugly' when it concerns 'riders." Pause. "And 'cause some people seem ta take it as either an insult 'r a license ta' start goin' all stupid 'r manipulative." Defense is for wusses, so the moment that sheepish look crosses Alida's face, Farsights takes the opening to go on the offensive, squaring his shoulders, "Where do you get off just assuming I'm going to be one of those? Shards, I'd think making out with a guy for long enough to make his balls turn colors would earn him a little benefit of the doubt!" Scold, scold. Now he is leaning to snag up his shirt and pull it on roughly. It's a fair bet that at this moment, he's not doing much higher thinking, fueled by emotion and acting on instinct alone. She adds in for extra impact while he's dressing, "And 'cause I'm more than a rider!" That's almost barked out, Alida starting to fume again. "I wanna' be seen as me, Alida; not as dragonrider, then me!" And then it's getting a little dicey with the shouts being exchanged between them, and the guard hurls herself up from the couch in an explosive motion, her heavy footfalls storming her over towards the door...the suddenly waking Pyrite cheeping in confusion and distress as she flicks into the air after her mistress. "Alida!" It's not him calling to her, nor is it really any kind of attempt to get her attention. It sounds like he might be flinging off an exasperated 'Women!', only it's her name. She wanted to be seen as an individual, as herself? She's got it. Jaecar's obliging in his frustration as he continues to re-robe himself. On the cusp of the door frame, Pyrite whirling yellow and laverder-eyed around her head, Alida pivots about quickly, and stabs Jaecar with her angry, heated gaze, features that were once softened in sensuality now hard with ire. Starnge how she remains 'pretty,' or whatever he formerly called her. "What?! Glare. "What?" It's surprised as Jaecar turns toward the door, as though he didn't expect her to stop. But when he realizes she has, he's staring at her. He doesn't waste time just staring though, "Shells, but you can make a man's blood boil." It sounds like a compliment though, a fond look on his features. Is it possible? Did Alida luck out and meet one of the men that happens to like difficult women? It would seem so. She almost yells another 'What?!' back at him just to spite Jaecar, but his next inelegant blurt has her blinking in sudden confusion...and then quite unexpectedly laughing. It's not scathing, or cold, mocking laughter, but more something born from her frustration, anger, heat...and pure humor at the way this has suddenly turned out. At its start, the guard's venting does indeed sound more pissed-off, but when it finally ends about 30 seconds later, it's all hooting snorks and crass barks. It's while she's incapacitated (or at least distracted) by mirth that Farsights seizes yet another opportunity. He snags up his vest on two fingers, slinging it over one shoulder, cards scooped up and tucked away into his pocket, and then to the door, all swift and just in time for the end of her laughter. A hand slips lightly around the back of her neck and a kiss is pressed firmly, a touch hungrily, but decidedly passionately, and briefly to her lips. "I'll send word when I'm in port." It's quietly amused, but sincere. She looks just a little sad when he doesn't join in with her at the stupidity of this situation, though Alida won't stop Farsights from blowing by her in his haste to forget the hard-assed bitch from 'Reaches. And then there's that touch of hand - which makes her twitch and ready herself from habit - and the slightly hungry kiss which causes the pale-blonde to crush in against him and deliver back in kind for that moment their lips meet. Along his jaw, near one ear, is murmured, "Get one uv' yer boat's 'lizards ta go ta' High Reaches Hold when yer next inta' port." Makes sense: the Hold is a port itself, which the ship's firelizards must know well enough, after all this time. "Have it fly to the Weyr...it's very nearby. Y'know what Pyrite looks like, what I look like. I think I'm the only one with this hair 'n eyes, skin combination there." In other words: a standout. "I'll find ya somehow, after that." "Bossy," Farsights notes with an edge of humor when Alida's done rattling off her murmured instructions. "You're just lucky I like that." A brow quirks and wiggles at her tauntingly, his lips curled into a smirk."I'll see you again, Alida Boat-Born, rider of Ilicaeth." By the end, his words are lilting with a tease as he moves to slip past her and head for the stairs. "Another word fer someone who knows how ta make shit happen." Smirk. Her one hand that was locked about his strong bicep to keep him near then falls away, the rider watching Jaecar leave with mixed regret and anticipation. Nice ass, too. Soon after, she's departing with the now-happy Pyrite...and tossing the slightly confused bartender an eighth-mark coin along her way out back to where Ilicaeth rests. |
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