Logs:Taikrin goes a little overboard...
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| RL Date: 2 March, 2010 |
| Who: Taikrin, Z'yi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Taikrin has a terrible temper, and somehow picks a fight with Z'yi despite her broken arm. Somehow it all works out okay in the end. |
| Where: Hatching Ledges, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 3, Turn 22 (Interval 10) |
| Hatching Ledges, High Reaches Weyr Around the perimeter of the hatching grounds, long ledges hug the walls at irregular intervals, providing a dragon's eye view of the sands. When there's no clutch, it can be a warm and quiet place to soak up the heat radiating from below. During hatchings, though, it's a different story: the walls fairly reverberate with the thrumming hum of watching dragons, as the Weyr's older draconic inhabitants and a smattering of visitors welcome the newly hatched. Although most of these ledges are only accessible via dragonback, one especially broad ledge juts outward over one side of the galleries, and can be reached by the intrepid via narrow stairs carved into the rock. "Look, I really don't think you're scrubbing as hard as you could be," comes Z'yi's comment, amidst crunching of redfruit. Crunch crunch chew. He's up here on the ledges, with Isforaith looking like the slacker he is, sprawled over on one of the overlarge ledges made specifically for visiting golds and bronzes. Isz, meanwhile, is on the next one over, overseeing a small crew of candidates cleaning the ledge front to back with scrub-brushes and soap. "I think I see a dirty spot." He points it out, oh so helpfully, with a vague gesture of redfruit ... which promptly drips juice onto the floor. Whups. Taikrin is scrubbing! Well, sort of. Obviously someone wasn't paying attention when assigning chores out, because a one-armed girl is not in fact the most proficient of scrubbers. Despite the handicap, she's not yet managed to lose her long-handled brush over the side, though there's been a few near misses. There are curses a-plenty to make up for her surprising proficiency with the brush, and one particularly loud one escapes as she loses her grip on the handle and the brush clatters to the ground. Again. "Bloody flaming shards and shells!" "Okay, someone was stupid. Girl with one arm, come here. You can spot for dirty spots with me." Z'yi gestures with the redfruit to Taikrin, obviously, makes a face at one of the other candidates when they look up, hopeful. "No, /you're/ the one obviously with one arm." Here's your sign. "What'd you do, anyhow?" To the broke-armed girl, of course. Taikrin's attention pops towards Z'yi with alacrity, the brush forgotten for a moment in her startlement. "What, me?" Well duh. Her gaze squints, slightly, as she sizes Z'yi up, then gives a sharp nod. Scrub brush is retrieved, but only to be slung over her left shoulder as she walks with exhaggerated casualness towards the rider. "Bowl fell in on me. I'm sure y'remember." "Oh." Z'yi crunches his redfruit more. At this rate, he's going to have to pick up another one. A sachel at his feet displays the fact that he has at least three more. "When I broke my shoulder, a meteorite did it." Casual oneupmanship, mild like, 'top that, brat'. He nudges the bag at his feet towards Taik, sort of. "Have a redfruit." Maybe that'll put hair on her chest. "Oh, come on you /slackers/," he heckles the other three left scrubbing. "She was doing a better job than all three of you combined, and she only had /one arm/." Beat. "And a /girl/." Since the rest of them are pimply-faced boys. "Cracked a coupl'a ribs, too, healer says. Just about healed up now, though. 'Nother coupl'a pounds, might'a got me." Taikrin can play this casual game, though the way she's monitoring Z'yi out of the corner of her eyes is anything but casual. "Thanks," is offered as she rifles through the bag and pulls out a redfruit of her own. A pause, as she takes a messy bite of her own fruit, then she continues before even swallowing, "Bet I'm stronger with just my left arm'n all of them, y'know," she adds, conversationally. "Meteorite, huh?" That gets her full attention, at least: she stops lording it over the boys for a minute to arch both eyebrows at Z'yi. "Reckon it was goin' pretty fast?" "Oh, really?" Still casual. Just two good old boys shootin' the shit. Or.. er.. wait.. "Healer said if it'd been just a bit sharper, it would have plowed right through my shoulderblade, took out a lung." Mellow, as if it doesn't really concern him. "Scar's nasty enough as it is." Then, "Did they miss a whole /foot/ of stone? Are they blind?" This question is pitched deliberately loud, so the boys can overhear the bluerider's words to the convict-turned-candidate. Dark eyes, amused, turn to Taikrin. "Oh, you think so, eh?" Regarding her strength, but of course. Another beat, and, "Pretty fast, yeah. Didn't see it coming. He did, though." Redfruit core gestured at Isforaith, who's now snoring loud enough to vibrate a bit of rubble next to him. "Would'a been rough, not havin' a lung. Barely missed gettin' one stabbed through, once. Learned not t'bring fists to a knife fight." Taikrin shrugs her good shoulder, as if it was of no consequence. "They can see stuff movin' that fast? Shards." Taikrin does sound vaguely impressed at that, though she's quick to reassume her nonchalance. "Reckon they might be. Little boys, y'know, ain't known f'r their great focus skills." Beat. "'Less it's somethin' what got tits." The bitten apple is tossed up in the air, once, then caught again and another bite taken. Glance meets glance, then, with a look that's both casual and challenging. "Pretty flamin' sure." "Mmm. True that," Z'yi states, with a bemused smile to Taikrin - he'll stop with his death scares, as all of his others involve dragonriding, and... one does not scare the candidates. (Not necessarily her, but the three that are looking increasingly bug-eyed.) "Good eyes, the whole lot of them. They see differently than we do, too." Something he can't explain, so thus he doesn't try. Core is tossed at Isforaith - it thumps against his jawline with a hollow thwacking sound, doesn't seem to disturb the big blue at all. He choke-snorts at the mention of tits, and slanty-eyes Taik-ways. "Yeah, bet you get all focused up on a nice rack too," sarcastic point-out. He hmmmms there at the end, a great big sound from the big bluerider, seemingly contemplating. "Well, we could see." About how strong she REALLY is. "Ain't gonna lie, I got appreciation," Taikrin really is remarkably relaxed today, especially given the company and her previous occupation. Don't he mind that?" She twists, rising up on her toes to follow the progress of the apple core. "Weyrwoman was tellin' me 'bout how they got personalities an' stuff, when she took us out on th'sands." Attention shifts back, then, to eye the other three candidates askance. "See what? I'm tellin' ya, I can take 'em all with one hand. Easy." None of the boys are looking particularly thrilled at /that/ prospect: apparently rumors of the Candidate Fight Club are getting around. The way she stretches out her left arm in preparation, rolling her neck to release tension in the shoulder, is even more worrisome. Z'yi doesn't mind convicts. Mostly. Not like he's always been on the right side of the law, either... at least in terms of random encounters of barfolk with N'thei. "Some of your fellow candiates are sporting some good ones, too. That baker from Nabol," who is /rather/ generously endowed. Mmm. Z'yi even quiets for a moment, in silent appreciation for just the memory of that. He squints over as Taik interupts his woolgathering about dragons. Stupid dragons. "Of course they all have personalities. Raith is a smartass. Yyth is a bitch. Jeibeth is very graceful and polite. Iovniath is very composed. Just like people, all of them." Z'yi doesn't bother with any stretching, unless lifting his redfruit again to take a bite counts. "Mmm. Yeah. Don't reckon I can talk her sort into celebratin' with me, though. Even if I get beer." Taikrin turns a questioningly look to Z'yi, tapping the unbitten side of the fruit against her lips as she does so. "Candidates're allowed, right? Do they gotta pay for it? Ain't had a chance yet t'look." Attention shifts then to Isforaith, again, and a thoughtful bite is taken from her redfruit. "S'what th'Weyrwoman said. Like canines or whatever. Even th'babies what're still in th'eggs." "Yeah, one or two drinks... nobody's going to look sideways at you." Z'yi finishes his second redfruit - big mouth, fast eater, whatever - and drops the core into the bag. "Well, they make look sideways at /you/. But it isn't due to anything about the beer." He has no clue regarding costs, so he just vaguely shrugs. /Then/ he laughs, a quick, surprised barking thing. "Oh, child. A dragon is like to a canine as... you are to that rock." He points off a ways. "Or you to a firelizard, maybe." Lips quirk, bemused. "So. You want to arm wrestle?" "I'm allowed, same as anyone! Weyrwoman said so!" Well, she might not have commented on that /particular/ instance, but Taikrin is still quite adamant. "Free woman, me. Release day was yesterday." Which explains the fantastic mood, apparently. "An' she said canines. Wasn't me." That last bit is more typically Taikrin: defensive, and a little sullen. But talk of arm wrestling perks up her again almost immediately. "Arm wrestle, huh?" A final bite is taken of her redfruit before she crouches to set it carefully bitten-side-up on the stone. "Might could do that. Ready t'lose to a one-armed girl?" The fingers on her left hand flex as she warms it up. "Ain't even my main hand, y'know." "Sure." Z'yi, unconcerned with Tiriana and her complete randomness. (Unless it deals with him!) "Oh, really? Well, then. Congratulations." Isz sort of looks bemusedly on for a moment, wriggling fingers in Raith's direction. Eventually the blue awakens, grumbling, and hops from the one ledge to the other, balefully looming over all of them. His forepaw is placed in such a manner as to be the perfect table of sorts; Z'yi rolls his shoulder, once, and settles his left elbow onto the broad expanse of blue hide. "Left side is the one that I hurt, so you may have half a chance, girl." Isforaith makes a (perhaps unnerving) deep rumbling noise, something akin to a draconic snicker. "Thanks." An unnervingly large smile rewards Z'yi for his congratulations, before Taikrin is distracted by the blue's arrival. She takes a few steps back, warily, gaze flicking from the proferred forepaw to the dragon's head. "Uh, y'sure it's okay?" Apparently that rumble /did/ unnerve her. It takes her a moment to gather herself enough to step up to the other side of Isforaith's paw, but she does eventually manage it despite the tension in her wiry frame. "He, uh, he ain't gonna help you cheat or nothin', is he?" A rather weak smile accompanies the joke, along with a half-hearted 'heh' of laughter. "You're certainly welcome." Cheerful, of course, since he knows what's about to go down. Skepticism sketches brows in a remarkably expressive expression: 'you gotta be kidding me'. "You're not /scared/ of the /lug/, are you? Here I thought you'd have more balls than that." Beat. "Well, okay, maybe you're a girl and therefore cannot have testicular fortitude. He ain't gonna eat ya none, jes' maybe nibble on y'corners," the last a deliberate parody of the girl's own accent. "Oi, I ain't scared of him!" That certainly stung Taikrin's pride: she shoots a look over her shoulder towards the other three candidates, just in case there might be snickering. When her attention returns to Z'yi, there's a bit of pink flush to her cheeks, but also brashness born of embarrasment. "Reckon yer gonna be eatin' those words soon enough." She steps forward again, leaning her elbow onto the blue's forepaw with hand raised in typical arm-wrestling gesture. The astute will notice a faint trembling in her casted arm, though her free one remains still as a stone. "C'mon, let's do this thing." The expression she twists up at Z'yi isn't /quite/ a smile, though it comes close. "Reckon I got more balls'n most here." Perfect. Z'yi manages to shield his amusement from showing, stoic and stone-faced as he typically is. "Couldn't have told me that a minute ago, what with you backing away from him like a toddler from a big dog." Okay, now he's just going to try to provoke her. Maybe. Ahem. As she steps up to the plate, he finds a grip with her hand, his own paw very likely swallowing hers. It's not his fault. He was just built that way, serious. "On three, then, Miss Balls?" She's never going to escape that nickname, now. Poor girl. "One... two..." He's pushing once the end of 'two' is out of his mouth, doesn't bother saying three. "Oi, he might be one of them what likes eatin' people, y'know. Weyrwoman said some of 'em were kinda tetchy." Taikrin's gaze narrows at the repeated prodding, and her grip is unnecessarily firm despite the overwhelming size of Z'yi's own hand. It's a good thing Z'yi starts pushing at two, because Taikrin -- no stranger to the ways of cheating against a larger opponent -- begins pushing with all her might barely a split-second before that. Her jaw clenches, color rising rapidly into her cheeks from the exhertion. "Urgh!" Eloquent. Z'yi has a rumble of laughter for her cheating even before /he/ does, and he levers quite a bit of strength into struggle. Isforaith is hardly going to stand /still/ for all of this, mind, and jostles elbows and people alike with a cheerful swinging about of his head, to inspect the proceedings closer. He's the judge here, after all. And heavily biased towards Taikrin, though she may not actually understand that. Not a stranger to his lifemate, Z'yi just ducks his head and grimaces - that recent sprain to this particular shoulder is probably killing him about now. Taikrin unintentionally bangs her cast several times against Isforaith what with all the moving around, though it doesn't seem to cause much effect beyond an irritated grunt. "Oi! No! Cheating!" she manages to get out between gasps for breath, gaze slitting down to nearly nothing. But if cheating is how it's going to go... ever so carefully she slides a foot forward, seeking to wedge it between Isforaith's paw and the ground for added leverage to use against his rider. Her hand is wavering now, a little, though she's not about to give up yet. Oh, hey! Cheating! That's no fair. Isforaith, as mediator, takes Taikrin's side, if only to see Isz on his ass. Which is, you know, about where Z'yi's going to be, as big blue muzzle comes out of the sky to offer a stern nudge to right shoulder. Weeble-wobble, tipper-topper - and then Z'yi's quite presumably going ass over tiddlywinks backwards, as Raith's paw moves towards him. Oh, and that grip on Taikrin's hand? Totally not loosening. If he's going down, she is too! Of course, maybe she's strong enough to keep him upright. In the background, candidates may or may not be howling with laughter at this rather, uh, Three Stooges skit. "HAH!" Taikrin's amusement at Isforaith's interference, while great, is terribly shortlived; her expression barely flicks from gloating to shocked as Z'yi goes over and doesn't release his grip. To her credit, she doesn't squeal, shriek, or scream when her cheating backfires and she's pulled over Isforaith's paw. Instead, it's more of a pained grunt as she lands half-across the rider with the hard wedge of her cast tucked between them. Those laughing candidates? /So/ going to get it. Yeah, because they're cracking /up/ now. Z'yi, sprawled out as he is, glowers at Isforaith with quite some exasperation. "Raith." At least he's not pointing out the general awkwardness of having Taikrin right on top of him. "You're so going to get it." He finally, fumblingly - as if fingers are numb, maybe? - releases Taik's hand. Belatedly, concerned bass rumbles forth: "You okay?" Isforaith whuffles at the both of them, then hops back over to where he was /sleeping/ before being dragged into all of this mess. Taikrin tugs to free her hand as well, rolling off Z'yi to flop onto the stone floor with a groan. "Ugh." Reluctantly she levers herself into a seated position, taking a couple tentatively deep breaths. "Don't reckon I broke nothin'," she admits, finally, after giving the casted fingers a bit of a wiggle. "Again." Now that inventory has been taken of her bruised-but-not-broken state, she levers a narrow-gazed glare at the bluerider. "No thanks t'yer cheatin' ways." See, if she accuses him /first/ then he can't accuse /her/ first. That would just be silly. She still hasn't registered that she's being laughed at. Yet. It's only a matter of time. "/My/ cheating ways?" Z'yi jerks a thumb at himself, unconciously mimics Han Solo. "/My/ cheating ways? I think you should be looking at yourself there, little Miss Balls!" He actually sounds affronted this time, levering himself to a more upright position only to fade back again. Got up too quick. Head spinny. A groan; "I can't believe you just did all that." Because it's /all her fault/, obviously. The candidates start off in fresh peals. "/Yeah/ yer cheatin' ways, gettin' th'dragon in on it!" Taikrin rolls forward to sit on her knees, jabbing a finger of her good hand at Z'yi. "An' tryin' t'kill me too! You Weyr types are /always/ tryin' t'kill me seems like!" She's working herself up into a right froth, though there's an undercurrent of amusement to her voice, not rage. Not yet. "Or maybe you was so eager t'get a feel of /my/ tits--" Not that she has a whole lot to speak of. "--y'thought maybe y'd do a little /extra/ bit there!" "Me? The damn fool was taking /your/ side, you hairbrained idiot!" Z'yi doesn't even bother getting up, just vents his frustrations at the ceiling. "If I wanted you to be dead, you damned well would be right now, and--" There he /does/ straighten, and a dangerous gleam is there, the manic edge between hysterical laughter and a fist in someone's face. So he delivers the next comment in a very carefully cultivated emotion-throttled voice: "I'd rather feel your ass up than your tits. More there, at least." Ha. Ha! Taikrin scrabbles to her feet at that laughter, body pitched instinctively into a defensive stance -- though her left fist is balled up tightly, just in case. "Yeah, whatever you say." Quick flicker of glance is directed at the blue, more to mark his position than anything else, then back to Z'yi. "I'd like t'see you try, big boy." Same threat as before the wrestling bout, and a similar delivery, but the thread of amusement is very rapidly drying up. "Try that, too. Best ass you'll ever feel, 'cause it'll definitely be th'last." Reaction desired gotten, Z'yi smirks triumphant at Taikrin and flops back on the ground. "See that, boys?" Voice raised. "Perfect way to rile up Miss Balls here. Or maybe I should call her Miss Ass." And there he goes, snickering like a teenager again, at his double entendre. Taikrin is being laughed at. It's not something that goes terribly well in the best of times, and /certainly/ not something tolerated when she's got fight-or-flight reflexes triggering all over the place. She stares, flat-footed, jaw-dropped, completely poleaxed at this reversal, for several seconds. And then she's moving, swiftly, to tackle Z'yi with an inarticulate cry, her left fist swinging wildly towards his shoulder in a way that is neither terribly powerful nor terribly well-coordinated. Oof. That blow lands, slight as it may be, but it's moreso the impact of Taikrin that sends Z'yi to coughing, her cast having the improbable luck of thwacking him in the gut. At least it didn't land lower - that wouldn't have been pretty. "Empty night," he curses aloud, "Stop!" The word is barked out simultaneous for right hand coming up in an attempt to capture her wrist. Those candidates may fall off the ledge at this rate, by the way. "Taikrin, holy crap, child. You aren't going to make it through weyrlinghood, should you Impress, if you can't handle that," he's hollering if she's still struggling against him, maybe a bit more moderate in his tone if she's not. Taikrin struggles only a little, really, once she's got her blow in and made her point. In fact, she's quite still as the adrenaline rush fades and the magnitude of her transgression sinks in, though she's still panting for breath. Were it not for the fact that she'd just tackled Z'yi, the way she lays silently against him with her wrist captured might be mistaken for intimate. At least, until she opens her mouth to offer sullenly, "If I wanted t'kill you, would'a just booted yer junk an' ran." "That would be if you wanted me to kill /you/, I think." Z'yi's tone, exceptionally dry. "Are you done with your hissy fit?" He tucks his chin to look at her close-up, not letting loose her wrist just yet, apparently making sure she's quite through before letting her go. Hey, paranoia hasn't killed him yet, right? Any reaction that may have naturally occured over having a pretty young woman up against him is understandably thwarted by Taikrin's previous threat. He repeats his earlier concern, too: "Are you all right?" Those candidates over there? Not laughing anymore. Maybe looking a little uncomfortable, even, like 'wtf is gonna happen now?'. Taikrin is sullenness incarnate with her muttered, "...yes." She pulls back and away, though not with enough force to break any kind of grip. "'m okay." Z'yi's face might be /right there/ but she quite determinedly lowers her gaze to avoid any and all eye contact. A moment of quiet, then, belatedly, "Didn't hurt you, did I?" Z'yi could probably have handled all of this much better than he did. It's all P'ax's fault, it is. (It's always P'ax's fault, for whatever reason. Or W'chek's. ... Or both.) "Nah, I don't think so." Probably is going to have some bruising, *somewhere*, though. Maybe the outer lining of his stomach. It's a good thing he didn't barf redfruit all over her. Wouldn't that have been pretty? "All right, all right. Everyone get everything together, and we'll run you all back down to the bowl." He's not moving to get up just yet, though. Taikrin wiggles back further, if she's allowed, to perch on her knees /besides/ Z'yi instead of on top of him. Her jaw is set firmly enough that she might be in danger of cracking a tooth should she keep it up. "... good." Soft, now, is her voice, and tinged with the same embarrasment that is keeping her cheeks flushed pink. She scrubs her good hand through her short tufts of hair in an obviously nervous gesture, then moves to prod at the ribs along her right side. "... don't think I broke none of 'em again." Beyond her attempt to sit independently, she doesn't make any other move to get up and go, either. She is, of course, allowed to move off as much as she so desires. Then, with a ponderous sort of motion, Z'yi's gathering himself up to sit upright. He prods briefly at his last couple of ribs, then his shoulder, and shrugs. "Nothing's falling off." That seems to be his threshold of going to the Healers these days. The candidates bustle in the background, and Z'yi considers Taikrin for a long moment. "I reckon you won that one," he states, as incongruous as a comment could come by, perhaps. Taikrin staggers carefully to her feet, her exhaustion apparent in her poor balance and graceless movements. "Huh." A grunt is her only response, at first, to Z'yi's last statement: she seems to be lost in studying her cast, to judge from the intense focus she's fixed on it. Finally, though, words spill out of her in a low-pitched rush: "If yer gonna press charges could y'maybe wait 'till th'morning 'cause I ain't even been out two days yet an' I was really hopin' t'have a beer still a'fore they send me back up t'Crom an' th'mines 'cause we ain't allowed an' it's been more'n two turns since I got t'have one--" There's a baffled moment, Z'yi staring at Taikrin for a long, long time. It likely is unnerving, such a big man with such an uncomprehending stare for more than the normal few-second look. His reply is gruff, not nearly as composed and eloquent as he would like. "Kid. It don't work that way." Beat. "We don't do our people that way, here. You're," and here he squints over at Isforaith, "You're one of us now." Still gruff, as if anything else would betray too much emotion. "Hell, kid, I'll buy you a beer myself. Get on the damn dragon." The damn dragon looks absurdly pleased with himself, all things said and done, and the three other candidates are already up and clustered on the foremost neckridge, to leave *plenty* of space for Z'yi and Taikrin. Aaaand snap. Just like that, Taikrin's jaws clamp shut again on the deluge of words that threaten to emerge. "It don't?" Her gaze raises, reluctantly, to eye Z'yi suspiciously. "I am?" She's not about to press her luck, though: she moves towards Isforaith when bidden to do so with barely a sideways glance. Given the broken arm and probable bruises forming on her torso, she's a bit awkward in clambering up, but she does manage -- and manages even more astutely to avoid the very existence of the other candidates. "Uh." She's very quiet, and even once she speaks, the words are hushed enough that one might have to strain to hear them. "... thanks." Give a man a time to berate his dragon, think about the situation at hand for more than three seconds, and Z'yi's reply to that last so-quiet hushed statement is, "Don't think about it." Then, pitching his voice in a much more ominous manner, "You hear that? Don't even /think/ about it." Yeah, they won't be talking about it, the way the three of 'em cringe at the violence promised in bluerider's voice. The trip down to the bowl is a swift one, and it doesn't take long for everyone to bail off of Raith: Isz will be good to his word, if Taikrin doesn't throw a fuss about it, and that one beer may just turn into six, with the way Z'yi is. And if anyone has anything to say about it, down at the Snowasis, well, they can talk to the big bluerider's scarred knuckles. Because, as he'll likely remind as he returns the maybe-sloshed Taikrin back to the dorms, High Reaches takes care of their own and she'd damn well better get used to it. But oh, PS: don't go around hitting /other/ people, mmkay? That could be... problematic. |
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