Logs:Where The Cards Fall
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| RL Date: 8 November, 2014 |
| Who: Jadzia, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The day after the Igen trip, Savroveth loses Alix's green's flight, and Jadzia seeks out R'hin. He gives her an assignment and alcohol instead. |
| Where: R'hin's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 3, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Nimae/Mentions, Alix/Mentions, E'nest/Mentions |
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| It's the evening after their fun at Igen and Alix's shining green has risen and been caught. She wasn't caught by Savroveth, though, despite him giving up a damned good chase for the privilege. The first of many desperate chases, no doubt. And now, not even fifteen minutes since the green was claimed by someone else, the edgy brown is dropping his rider off on R'hin's ledge. He takes off again as soon as Jadzia's feet are on stone, which is as soon as she starts heading for the bronzerider's door to barge in without even one knock. "Did you know?" she's not quite yelling, but sounding pretty not happy. Agitated, even. Leiventh does not darken his own ledge; instead the bronze is sitting in his usual perch up on the rim. Whirling eyes have taken in the rise of the green without interest; rarely does the older bronze seem to stir at the rise of a green. The door to R'hin's weyr is open, and the hearth has been burning for long enough that the air has started to warm inside. The Wingleader's shed his outer clothes, including boots, and stands barefoot, in pants and shirt, next to the hearth, a glass of wine in hand. The weyrling's sudden arrive -- and outburst -- earns a slow chuckle. He's laughing. At her. Laughing doesn't temper the weyrling's agitation. In fact, it seems to stoke it quite nicely. Jadzia slams the door behind her, probably not for effect, and starts to close the distance between herself and the bronzerider. Her tight fists, which she might have been considering hitting him with, loosen so she can point at him accusingly instead. "You did. You knew she was proddy. You asshole." She's really good at saying that last word. She's probably called a lot of people that. Lots of practice. R'hin's hands come up, defensively, as she stalks towards him -- or at least, the one that's not holding the glass does. "I didn't," he says, though there's a enough of a hint of his usual amusement that it might be difficult to tell whether he's being honest or not. "You think I'd let a proddy greenrider out in the midst of a gather, while under my watch?" His brow furrows for a moment, and he reaches to press the glass into one of those hands, if she'll let him. "Have some wine. It's very good," with a note that is almost regretful. She doesn't trust that amusement. She might not even like it when she's more in her right mind judging by the look she gives R'hin, all suspicion and some uncertainty. "I don't know. I could see it. You seem like the sort that sets things up just to see where all the cards fall." Jadzia doesn't manage to get too worked up by that idea once there's alcohol in her hand, though. She looks at the glass before taking a deep drink that might be painful for someone who appreciates good wine to watch. It is, indeed, discomforting for R'hin to watch such good wine gulped down without regard for the quality of it. There might even be a little wince visible, but he doesn't protest aloud, instead easing past her towards his drinks cabinet. A bit of rummaging, and he straightens, with a bottle of something a little stronger in hand, making his way back towards Jadzia. "Perhaps," he allows, of her accusation, "But I wouldn't put you -- all of you -- in that situation. E'nest ought to have noticed," and there's a hint of something darker briefly in his voice that suggests he and the bluerider will have a conversation, if they haven't already. He waits until she's drained her glass before offering to refill it, pale eyes fixed on her. It won't take long for Jadzia to finish the glass and she's eager to let him fill it all the way back up. She doesn't seem to care what he refills it with, either, so long as it's more alcohol. "He wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for you," she continues her accusations, sounding a little less angry now, but maybe not entirely clear on who exactly she's talking about. "Is this how they feel? For days?" she asks, turning to pace away with her drink through the weyr, gathering her hair up with her free hand to pull it off of the back of her neck. R'hin obliges, filling her glass nearly to the brim, before setting the bottle not too far out of reach. His brows go upwards at the if it wasn't for you, but he doesn't inquire after the comment immediately; instead, he's reaching for her shoulders, with the intent of easing off her jacket. Of course, that requires her to consent, since it'd be impossible otherwise. "He won't be that way with every green. But, yes, it can be... uncomfortable," the bronzerider concedes. Jadzia takes a drink so there's less danger of inadvertently spilling any of it. That would be a horrible waste of any booze. "The greenriders, I mean," she says, hesitating once he's trying to help her with the jacket she must have forgotten she was wearing. She lets him, moving the glass from one hand to the other to let her arms slide out of the sleeves. She turns to face him, standing still for now but only restlessly so. "He's not taking it well. What do you do when he doesn't get what he wants?" The gesture is gentle, R'hin sliding the jacket off and casually resting it over the arm of the couch. Gentle, too, is the way in which the bronzerider brushes hair away from the nape of her neck, not-so-coincidentally as she did unconsciously only moments ago. "Let him sulk," he says, first, with a low-throated chuckle, pale eyes settling on her face. "Put up with it. Drink lots of," his head bobs towards her glass. "You can't help them to feel better. You can help you feel better, which in a way helps him." There can be no doubt that Jadzia is very aware of R'hin in those few moments. And perhaps, too, that she's not sure what to do about it. So she's moving again, wandering her way around the weyr and taking a drink before she continues with, "I don't think getting drunk will help him very much. I'm always drunk." She might not have meant to say that. "Or do you mean I should find someone to help with that? I've been that person. For you guys. Us, I guess. I'm one of you now, aren't I." When she moves away, R'hin's gaze follows her, although he moves to the sideboard to collect a second glass for himself. While he fills it from the same bottle, he asks, "Is it the losing that bothers him? Or you?" A twitch of shoulders, as he casually settles onto the couch, in a place where he can continue to watch Jadzia prowl around his weyr. A low-throated chuckle precedes his, "Yes, you are." Jadzia looks over at where R'hin has settled on the couch, but she doesn't stop her pacing and drinking. She's considering the question, though, because now that she's thinking about it, she might not be sure about the answer that comes to her impulsively. "It bothers him. He doesn't care about her specifically. He just... wanted her. I wanted her. I just... want." The weyrling takes another gulp of her drink and her path starts heading her back towards the sideboard where the bottle sits. The replacement alcohol that R'hin selected is more suited to gulping, and so the Savannah rider doesn't bother with savoring it; he gulps a few mouthfuls, pale eyes still tracking the brownrider. His voice is a shade rough when he says, "He'll forget. They forget." Her, perhaps not so much. "It's... not something you'll ever get used to, really. But you learn to cope with it. You... did well, yesterday." She's finished with this glass within a few moments of pausing at the sideboard. Jadzia reaches for the bottle, but then she's hesitating part way through the gesture to look over at the bronzerider. "I guess I know why so many of you are pricks now," she offers, even managing something like a smile, if only briefly. "I almost went after that guy. I might have if I wasn't wearing that sharding dress." They aren't very good for mobility. Jadzia finally decides to pour herself another drink, and then she's angling herself toward the couch with it. That earns a genuine, pleased laugh by way of response, the bronzerider in question replying, "Welcome to the asshole club. I'll give you your card later." R'hin's still chuckling under his breath as he takes another gulp. "I liked the dress," the Savannah rider retorts, adding as she walks closer, "And I bet you could've kicked his ass even with the dress." A beat. "You heard the Igenites talking, yesterday?" if it's a test, it's a poor time for one. Or perhaps a deliberate time for one. "You do seem to like them. Or do you just like seeing women that don't like wearing dresses in them?" This is a little more teasing, much more relaxed. Some of that alcohol must be sinking in. And it's not next to R'hin that Jadzia tries to settle once she reaches the couch, but rather straddling his lap. If he objects, though, she's easily enough guided to one side even if her attention will remain heatedly single-minded. "Something about the senior rising." The casual shrug from R'hin suggests that he's likely as partial to one as the other, though he does, after a moment's grin, add: "People can be at their most interesting, and honest, when they are uncomfortable." He moves his glass to one side rather than endanger it, though he doesn't seem to object to Jadzia's choice of location, his free hand resting lightly against her hip as he looks at her. After a beat, he prompts: "And?" Clearly his mind is on... other things. Or trying to be, anyway. The bronzerider won't have to worry about her spilling her own drink on him, either. Jadzia takes a drink, but she's careful about where the glass is even after she's got a forearm resting against each of his shoulders. She watches his mouth more than his face, eyes only glancing up to his at that prompt. Her mind is definitely on other things. But she's trying to focus on what he wants those things to be. "A bronzerider. Southern. Do you know who?" She certainly has R'hin's full attention, mouth quirking briefly, as if aware of her attempts to focus. He rests his glass on the arm of the couch, his other hand settling at her waist, to help steady her, presumably. "I'd hazard a guess they were talking about her weyrmate. She's trying to stack the deck -- as does almost every goldrider." A beat. "Do you think it would be wrong to, in turn, attempt to stack the deck further?" "Her weyrmate is a Southern bronzerider?" Jadzia frowns for just a moment. "Why doesn't anyone just pick weyrmates from their Weyr? Wouldn't that be easier?" This is probably an unrelated frustration, but it makes the brownrider growl it under her breath all the same as she leans in closer, hips shifting just slightly. "You want her weyrmate to catch?" She might not be following properly, but she's trying and it's the thought that counts right now. R'hin's initial response is a low-throated chuckle. "Life is rarely so simple. Just ask our Weyrleader." His hands shift against her waist as she leans forward, but his eyes remain steady on hers, voice even. "No. Having her weyrmate win gives Southern an advantage. Having a High Reaches bronze win would give our Weyr an advantage. Drink up," he reminds, as if she might've forgotten. This requires a few moments of intense concentration, during which Jadzia follows through with the reminder to drink. It's not usually something she needs to be told twice to do. And it has the side effect of her sitting up a little straighter, then leaning to set her glass aside before she's righting herself to look at him. "How do you do that? Set a-- stack a deck in Reaches' favor? How do you even pick who to stack it for?" Intent, pale eyes never leave her while she's drinking, R'hin silent until she's done. With a low chuckle, he answers, "Ten percent planning, eighty-five percent luck, and five percent dirty tactics. Which, in the end, only gives us about a fifteen percent chance, but it's fifteen percent more than those who do not." His gaze wavers momentarily; he's looking at where she's put her empty glass, and in its place he puts his half-full one. "You pick people you envy. People with ideals and morals, but also loyalty. They're hard to find, but they can be found. Some call it cheating, but I call it forward planning." That Jadzia is feeling the alcohol is pretty obvious. She's flushed and the way her limbs are responding is a little slower. It also probably makes the way she leans forward to brush her lips against his jaw more awkward than hot. She's not so far gone that she doesn't pull interesting things out of his words, though. "You envy people with ideals and morals and loyalty?" When she leans forward, R'hin's hand brushes against her hair, the gesture gentle, neither encouraging nor discouraging. "Don't you?" he asks, in a low voice. "It's human nature to envy that which you lack, or that you aspire to. You haven't," he reminds her, in that same low voice, "Finished your drink." You know, the one he swapped over. "I envy people a lot of things," Jadzia admits in her own quiet voice. She glances over at her drink, a little confused but not one to let these things go to waste. "Do you have a man in mind?" she manages not to completely slur as she reaches for the glass to finish her drink. She even asks curiously, "Are they exclusive? She and Southern guy?" "As do I," R'hin admits, without a trace of embarrassment or hesitation. "There's some possibilities, but I need to scope out how they might feel about such an endeavor." A little smile appears while she drinks, and it lingers as his head tilts back for a moment in thought. "I'm not sure. Perhaps you can find out?" As he tucks some of her hair behind an ear, he appends, "Tomorrow. You look tired." She's starting to feel tired, too. That might turn into passed out once the rest of this glass hits her, but there's time enough for her to slide down beside him and curl in more familiarly than she ought to. Jadzia doesn't set the glass aside, but it's empty now so it won't hurt anything when it tilts over in her slackening grip. "I'll go say hi," she assures him, voice starting to sound a little distant. "Tomorrow." R'hin doesn't much seem to mind, or at least if he does it doesn't show. His arm settles in familiarly around her, legs stretching out now that he's no longer pinned down. After a moment, he mindfully rescues the fallen glass from her loose grip, setting it with its empty match on the arm of the couch. "Sounds like a good plan." She can probably feel, as much as hear, the deep breath the bronzerider takes before he murmurs quietly, "Savroveth will feel better tomorrow." There's only a murmur of acknowledgement from the brownrider, which doesn't necessarily means she's still conscious of what's being said. And soon enough, Jadzia isn't conscious at all, relaxing meaningfully against the bronzerider. R'hin doesn't mind an impromptu overnight weyr guest, right? If he does, he might be out of luck. |
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