Logs:Wing Woman
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| RL Date: 20 July, 2015 |
| Who: Jo, Yesia, Tacuseth, Aeaeth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: There's gifts and courtship for Tacuseth and Aeaeth. The same can't be said for their oblivious, chaperoning riders. |
| Where: Yesia's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 5, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Language |
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| Jo's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr "Tac, No." Jo's probably said it for the tenth time already from him asking. She tosses the folded pink monstrosity on the table. It's dastardly PINK and shiny and satiny with white little beads sewn into the fabric, depicting a peaceful lake scene when unfolded. What a convict is doing with one of these, probably one doesn't need to guess. « Aeaeth needs it, babe, » Tacuseth tries to appeal to the charmer in his lady Jo, the blue dragon facing into the inner sactum of the weyr to watch her. « Not to mention, ya did promise to fix her rider's ledge, didn't ya? » "Yeah, a LEDGE fix, not a gift-givin'-" Jo cuts it off, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That shit's not even ours, Tac! After all it took to get the damn thing-" « And, you don't even use it, » Tacuseth's memory serves him that much. « You'll get another. Karmonth's knows where anything is. Help me out here. Help us out, » he reiterates the last part. "It's meant to be used as a bargainin' piece," and there's a glare thrown in there. « Then use it as a bargainin' piece, » is Tacuseth's logic. Grumbling with a few curse words thrown in for good measure, of course Jo eventually caves. It's hard for her to deny the blue male in her life anything, anyway. This wasn't the first time Tacuseth wooed a green dragon through gifts, much to the convict rider's annoyance. Yesia's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr And so, it's no wonder that into the evening on the same day, Tacuseth reaches out to Aeaeth and his rider. « Looking for something pink? » comes his shadowy greeting, not yet landing on her ledge. « I bring gifts and company! » Just what a young green would want to hear, right? Gifts! Company! Aeaeth's mastered the art of sunning on her ledge without the trouble that comes with that puddle of water, seemingly bottomless. Spring showers and sunlight mean it's turned green too, with buildups of slick moss on the edges, but she keeps her tail away and her head near the edge of the ledge, her eyes ever vigilant for something Probably suitors, if the immediacy of her « Yay! » is any indication. She scoots aside to leave a landing strip and confirms in technicolor, « I'm always looking for something pink. » It's clear that Tacuseth is pleased that Aeaeth is glad to see him as he drops to the ledge and snaps his blue wings back. « Your gift awaits, » he woos with smoothness as his rider, Jo, dismounts with an arched look going towards her dragon. She takes in the puddle on the ledge in question, moving away to check out it's color with a firmer frown. "So, what....am I s'pose to give this over for a ledge clean?" this question gets directed towards Tacuseth aloud, stepping back to him to pull the garishly pink monstrosity free from his saddle. And, well, she doesn't go barging into Yesia's weyr just yet, seeming to actually be hesitating as she tucks the linen under one arm and looks toward the inner sanctum of the weyr. The glint of evening hits off the linen she holds as the blue sends towards the green, « I didn' tell her anything, as promise, » - giving the desert-hued glow of being trustworthy. All the more to make himself appear eligible. « Wait, what's she doing? » Aeaeth wants to know as Jo goes to that puddle, and her words are what really get the green dragon in a huff. Aeaeth's wings pinion in offense, and she makes a low, distressed sound at Jo's question, lunging forward to put her head over it, for good measure. « No! Yesia's inside, tell her to go inside. She can leave that blanket though, since it's mine. » And at once Aeath's mind is twining enticingly around Tacuseth's shadows in highlights of green and blue, which will be good enough until she can actually do that. Her eyes are on the blanket, and inside, there's a bit of scuffling. "Aeaeth, what's wrong?" Tap tap tap. Looks like the human half might be there soon anyways. Jo continues to study the ledge with a frown before something said between dragon and rider has her turning towards the inner weyr. "Tac, what're ya--?" she starts to say as Tacuseth is suddenly there before her and nudging the blanket with his snout. "Hey! What ya mean-? Leave it out here?" Yeah, she's look incredulous. She's looking towards Aeaeth now, then the pink monstrocity she holds, then the green dragon again as if in indecision as the blue dragon wraps warm shadows around those colors, intensifying them as he sends, « I told her to just drop it here. Don' understand why that doesn' make sense to her. » Makes sense to dragons, anyway. And before Jo can drop it or argue any further, Yesia's voice can be heard from within. "Hey, Yesia!" she makes her presence known with a hard look going to both dragons. With another look at her blue, she finally drops the blanket to the ground before stepping towards the weyr. Aeaeth looks like she's just about ready to handle this herself - Jo would look great with a hook hand if it means she'll get her present - but then Jo drops it, and the green makes a little squeaking sound not unlike the sounds her rider makes when she sees the littlest bit of corner fall into the water. Up she snaps it with her teeth, but careful, her mindvoice vibrato exasperation. « They're so silly sometimes. We know what we're doing. We chose, them, after all. What do the shinies make? Curl up with me and show me? » The last question comes only after she's set the blanket down, and no, in a pile she can't see it. Damn it, Jo. Inside, there's a strangled sound and then pattering steps quicken. Presently she pulls the curtain back, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the convict on her ledge. "Hi?" is definitely confused. "What are you doing here?" Jo watches the antics of one green weyrling dragon with open interest as she hears the squeaking sound with a snort and look to her blue dragon. "So I'm yer wing woman?" she asks a loud as Tacuseth - wings tucked close to his body and all - moves to try and help spread out the blanket so that they can see its scene properly. « They should rely on us more, » he readily agrees with her. « We know what they need. Do you like it? It looks like our lake, » as in, the lake shore. « Let's spread it out! » he offers to her offer of curling up, openly pleased while Jo stands before a peeking Yesia with her arms folded across her leathered chest to her query before answering, deadpan, "I think I'm s'pose to be in there-" and she nods to indicate Yesia's abode, "with you." There's a tint of suggestion in there before she adds, "Guessin' yer not the one askin' for the blanket," or her over, but that likely doesn't need to be added. "Gonna let me in? I'm unarmed," she has to add, slowly lifting both arms up briefly. All those claws and teeth are more likely to rip it, probably, but dragons know best and Aeaeth wants to see the scene badly enough to risk it. She tenders the order, « Careful, careful. The lake is my very favorite place. I don't want to ruin it, » as she shifts around, nosing at the blanket, using her paws without using her claws as much as she can, anything they can do to get it out so they might lay upon it in peace. Yesia's in a fuzzy robe, and ever more suspicious when she looks at her dragon. "Aeaeth, really? I --" That she's not apoplectic with rage, and indeed seems resigned to this fate probably contributes to the sigh she heaves when she pulls the heavy drapery aside and invites Jo in with a flourish, explaining, "I don't know what she told you, but you didn't have to come. The ledge is fine. Someone told me it can't really be fixed, so we just have to ride it out until we can move into a better one." Her hopes on that are clear in her snort. Inside, the weyr is warm despite the lack of a fireplace, and it smells faintly of flowers, and cinnamon. Tacuseth seems to take careful aim in unfolding the blanket dropped by his rider, mostly using his snout as well. While doing so, « Has yours been...thinking those thoughts again? » he asks as he works - much to Jo watching the dragons at work with a thin-lipped look. Well, watching them is rather short-lived when she takes in Yesia in that fuzzy robe. While Yesia talks to her green, the convict rider is openly checking her out before stating, "Without the robe on, we'd be even." Nakedness and all. Either way, she saunters in and takes a look around before responding to the last. Her chin lifts a bit as she sniffs the scents of flowers before she says, "'N here I thought I was called over cuz I was needed," she drawls, turning to look back at her. "I think our dragons wanted to spend time together," she adds finally, a touch wry. "I've been duped into givin' up that blanket they're playin' with out there. Ya have anythin' to drink?" « Sometimes, » Aeaeth acknowledges dismissively. « She thinks yours is scary, and dangerous. And I think that does not help her to think less. » All useful things, of course. « Wait, we got it, » and indeed the blanket is flat enough to make out the scenario, and Aeaeth lets out a wistful sigh as she bumps up against Tacuseth gently, settling alongside him. « It is the best gift I have ever gotten from anyone! » Have other blues been bringing her gifts? Probably not, but she's not forthright about it. "I didn't call you," Yesia says, denying any needs and crossing her arms over her chest, and drawing the curtain back in place with a last suspicious glance at the pair. "I'm not taking it off, you're still --" and she stops, because the last time she lobbed insults she wound up on the losing end. "They can do that without us," she says practically, and then points at the table. "There's klah. You can have some." « Mine wouldn' hurt her, » Tacuseth seems easy to state - as if this isn't first time he's had to reassure other dragons on his rider. But then Aeaeth is pleased, and then, so is he. The shadows lighten over desert sands with ease as he sends in return, « Then it was meant for you, sweets! » bumping her back gently. Meanwhile, Jo continues to be wry, watching Yesia's actions before dropping, "Still scared of me, darlin'?" Her tone's a little playful there before adding, "I'm still what?" She seems eager to play that game again, but she answers to the last on their dragons with an arched, "Evidently not. I'll take the klah," but she reaches into her jacket to pull out her flask. "I'll just add a lil' somethin' extra. Ya can have a taste, too," she adds, the flask tipping in her direction with an enticing tilt to her words. Where Aeaeth seems much less concerned about their riders, extremely content to cuddle up against Tacuseth and gaze admiringly at that blanket, she is also willing to say, « And you brought it! Which makes you the best, too. » Yesia's nose wrinkles as she takes up the pot, at least courteous enough to pour some for Jo before she takes her own mug up again. "I'm not scared of you. Even if you're still a criminal and probably a murderer and probably a thief." The probablys are probably meant to soften the blows, so that Jo doesn't get angry at hr again, but it's hard to tell. She certainly looks unsettled with the bluerider in her weyr. When she sees the flask, she sighs. "I don't really entertain much. And I don't drink, except wine. Everything else is too...burny." Tacuseth seems to glow in praise. « Stick with me, and I'll show ya plenty more where that came from, » he sends, settling down with Aeaeth with his wing draping over her. « Nothin's hard to get for us. » It's a cocky boast, one reminiscent of his Jo - who's currently walking towards Yesia and just so happens to brush by her to get the mug of klah. "Yer not scared," she says, "but ya think I'm scary." Brows lift and fall at that, her tone playful and cocky. "I'm also quite the lover, too," she adds to that list as she unlids the flask and pours some liquor into the mug. "Quite the fighter. Quite the 'rider." The flask tilts Yesia's way again. "Relax, weyrlin'," she drawls the words slowly. "Ya have nothin' to fear from me. Ya should entertain. Pretty girl like ya should have plenty of friends. Plenty of lovers, too. Perhaps the later will come once Aeaeth starts her glowin'." Her tone is low, almost smoothing. As for drinking, belatedly, "There's more to life than wine. This burns a lil', but it's almost sweet. Istan. Try it." « Really? » Swirls of gold. « It's hard, for us to get things. I think it's because we're still weyrlings. You should teach us, someday. » A content little sigh; Aeaeth fits under that wing just right. « I think maybe that would make Yesia happy. » "I never said you were scary!" Yesia's voice has raised an octave in her affront. Any other insult she has is lost when Jo brushes her and she steps back, looking annoyed as the bluerider lists off her (dubious) accomplishments; she's indeed put out enough that she executes a get it over with gesture, rolling her wrist like she might encourage Jo to finish talking and shut up about it. But there's a flush that crawls up her cheeks for the rest, unbidden. "I'm trying," she says of friends, though maybe less, because since her movement into Cirrus she's not been seen bothering many people at all. A wary look at the flask. "I like wine. It's sweet and it doesn't hurt. What's that?" « We'll be friends, you and I, » Tacuseth makes declarations like his rider. « We'll teach whatever you wanna know. » There's a pause, his mind pulled for a moment before it returns and he sends, « It seems yours is not happy often, is she? » The question comes as if given not just by him as he cuddles happily with the green. "Ya don' have to say it," Jo remarks on scariness, watching her as she drinks the spiked klah. "The way ya hold yerself in front of me says it more than whatever comes from those lips of yers." And yes, dark eyes linger on those lips in question before meeting her gaze. On friends, "Or maybe yer just holin' yerself up in this weyr, not havin' to deal with anybody," she notes in response to trying, looking around. "When's the last time ya been out with someone, eh? The last time ya laughed? The last time ya danced or been fucked? It won' burn much," she adds abruptly of the drink in her flask. "It's a liquor. Redfruit sweetenin'. Don' wanna trust me?" She steps towards her then, reaching out a hand, palm up, between them, silently asking for her hand with that small barely-there curve of her lips. « She is very happy when we fly. » And that is all, apparently, while Aeaeth is not particularly forthcoming about anything else, for quite some time, except, « She is happy with me, too. Very happy. » Yesia makes a scoffing sound, one that's not convinced even if Jo's words are wholly accurate. The questions don't much except for a flicker of emotion that is on the sadder end of the scale. She catches it a half second too late, buckling back down on annoyance and making it stay there with sheer force of will. "None of those are any of your business," is in lieu of an actual answer. And in lieu of her hand, Yesia sighs in annoyance and gives her the mug of klah, which is bordering on cold and pretty much ruined anyways; a bit of liquor won't make it worse, at this point. "I don't trust you," Yesia says. "I don't trust anyone here, except Aeaeth." « We love flyin', » Tacuseth crows, sending Aeaeth images of exotic places he has been. « It's good for them. » "Yer determined to have me, have everyone, looked at as the enemy," Jo doesn't look put out by Yesia's answer to her words hitting home. She catches that flicker of sadness with a slight furrow of brow, and the last gets a quiet, "Ya forget that I see through ya, darlin'." She takes the mug and tips her flask into it, spiking it up before handing it right back. She won't relinquish the mug to her right away, holding it as she states, "Come out with me sometime. Soon. I'll pay for everythin'. We can go where I want, or, we'll go where you want. Then ya can tell me why ya rather be so alone." « I've been there! » Aeaeth says, sending back an image of Ista, with the waters glowing in rainbows she illuminates them with. « That is a nice place. The waters so warm. » Yesia's fine brows go up, her hand wrapped around the mug that she can't take. "You sound like H'vier," is clearly meant to be an insult, based on the way her pert nose wrinkles and she is almost sneering. "I don't want you to pay for anything, because then I'll owe you something. And I'm not determined to lock everyone out; I'm determined to not let anyone have the ability to make me happy. Or unhappy. You whisking me away somewhere isn't going to help with that. Thanks anyways." « South is nice, too, » Tacuseth says back, warming the image of Istan beaches. « I like Ista. Mine likes the south more. Have ya been yet? » Brow lifting, "H'vier," Jo echoes that familiar name as she offers the mug back to her. "What did he have to say 'bout it?" Her tone's neutral and casual on the man, and it's the rest of what Yesia says that has her asking, "What do ya think I want from ya? I don' barter sex if that's what yer thinkin'. I'm not one of those." She sounds a little offended, but maybe not since she's asking after it, "What will help with that?" « South, » sighs Aeaeth into the warmth. « I should go south. I think Yesia would like it, but... » She doesn't say that Yesia would like anything but 'Reaches, but the suggestion lingers on the edges, unspoken. "He said he wanted to take me anywhere I wanted to go, and that he'd be a perfect gentleman, and that we could talk, and we did," she has to add the last, it seems. "And he said I shouldn't care what anyone says about me, or what they think or say. And so I don't, but I'm not as old as he is and I can't do it perfectly, yet." A shallow shrug of her shoulders and Yesia moves away with her mug, to settle in the big chair, gesturing at the other sparce furnishings; despite her hostility, it's apparently an invitation to sit. "I don't know what you want. You didn't tell me when you got here." « If yours can learn to trust, » Tacuseth sends on the south, « we can take you. » He sends the image of white sand beaches and real blue waters. He even sends what the heat is like there, warming over the mind like desert winds in the south. « She can be happy here, » he responds to what's unspoken, while Jo snorts to all that H'vier has told her. "'Course he did," she says, seeming to successfully suppress rolling her eyes as she moves to sit somewhere across from her, giving her space. Seeming to concede, "Very well," she states with a brief incline of her head. "It's not so much what I want," she is simple in saying - this is a woman that seems quick to drop truth no matter how brutal. "It's what you want. If it's 'bout me bein' here, ya'd have to ask our dragons," and she gestures with her mug back towards the ledge. "I ain' a woman that forces anyone to do or say anythin'. In case ya haven' noticed, I'm pretty awesome." Her ego is, anyway. "Perhaps I want to get to know ya. But, ya'll never know with that nature, darlin'." Her tone is challenging, watching the younger woman before she drains her mug clean. Aeaeth's tones now, not words; she's reluctant minor pitches, unsettling and uncomfortble. « Maybe, » comes the concession eventually. After a moment, she reiterates, a little confused, a little like she's convincing herself, « She's happy with me, though, no matter where we are. » Yesia hasn't taken a drink of her spiked klah, but she does now, apparently forgetting that there's alcohol in it. And then she winces, her mouth dropping open, exhaling like she's just eaten something too spicy. A lowly intoned 'bleh' is almost incidental compared to her next. "It's not about you being here. Aeaeth wouldn't let anything happen, if you tried," for all that green can't get into the weyr. "Do you want to get to know me?" she asks point blank, sounding skeptical. « Took a long time for mine to accept here, » Tacuseth sends, his shadows thinning, looking almost transparent. « Some ways, she still doesn'. For me, she tolerates. But, she likes it here more than she'll admit. » When Yesia takes a drink and makes a face, "It tastes better the more ya drink it," Jo notes, her tone amusing. "And what do ya think I would do to ya where ya would need yer girl to come to yer rescue?" she turns it right back on her, then. "Other than hit on ya, which I have already." Lips perk up a fraction at that. That last, though, earns the weyrling a blithe, "The real you. I don' care about the front ya put for everybody else. But, gettin' to know someone takes trust. It's clear neither one of us trusts easy." She briefly raises her empty mug as a form of salute to it. Static silence as she thinks, internally, or maybe to Yesia; the only sign that Aeaeth's still really there is that she shifts, to press more firmly against Tacuseth for comfort, resting her chin on her forepaws - or are those his? - and looking at the blanket again. It made her happy before. « I like it here, » she decides at length. "Because it kills the tastebuds on your tongue," Yesia determines, resting the mug on her knee. "You could try to murder me, since you're allegedly a murderer. Or, I don't know. You probably won't do anything." She breathes a sigh out of her nose. "You wouldn't like that person. And you haven't given me a good reason to do that. All you've done is...try to deconstruct me, like I'm some puzzle." The static silence, Tacuseth seems to accept - just being there with his wing covering Aeaeth, content to give the comfort she needs. On killing, there's only the mere soft snort from Jo on that matter as she remains watching Yesia. It's the last that she answers, however, with a quipped, "Ya are a puzzle. Most folks are to me. I deconstruct folks. I like to make folks uncomfortable. Make'em look at themselves. Make'em see a different way to livin'. Perhaps all that makes me a bad person, too, but I don' give a fuck." Straightening up, "I don' much like the one ya toss out now," she notes on the real her. "Who ya wanna portray to'em. To me. I have nothin' to prove. Ya either want me to, or ya don'." She gets to her feet then, setting the mug down and putting the stopper on the flask. "That's not the best way of getting to know people," the greenrider observes softly, ever the expert on how to engage in those particular actions. But she's quiet for most of it, her gaze dropping into the mug, eyes distant and thoughtful. It seems like she might let Jo go, then, except, "South. Aeaeth -- wants to know if you'll take us south. Maybe you'll see someone worth liking, there. Or maybe not. I don't give a fuck." She lacks the dismissive way Jo says it, but the words are there anyways, half mocking. "Or - Tacuseth could teach her the references. I can go on my own." "Maybe not," Jo is quick to admit, still challenging. "I'm awesome, not perfect." Standing, watchful, when Yesia speaks of the south, there's a blink being the only indication of expression before her words are being thrown back at her and a snicker escapes and cracks the surface. "If ya really want to go on yer own," she says that evenly enough, "then Tac can teach her the references. Despite that bein' a bore. Otherwise, we can take ya there. Aeaeth'n ya. If ya can stand to be in my presence for that long. Deal?" It's an impasse at best, the convict rider pocketing her flask and straightening up her riding leathers, her face composed to its usual devil-may-care nonchalance. "Clearly," Yesia says dryly. Her concession is one she might deny or regret later: "I don't mind your company, when you're not being...aggressive. I wouldn't know where to go or what to do there without someone, anyways." And outside, Aeaeth heaves a content little sigh. « She should really listen to me more, » is tired, but not malcontent. « They are so so silly. » "With a smile, that would have been called a tease," Jo notes on that first bit with a pointed look. On aggression, there's a low chuckle as she runs a hand through her wild hair as she looks towards the ledge and says, "Yer a gentle lil' thing, aren'cha? Hmmm. Don' recall when I haven' been aggressive 'round ya, but, I can back off." She looks her way then, to add, "If I make ya that uncomfortable. Can' promise not to poke holes in yer snotty attitude, though." There's a chuckle for that one as she finally steps away towards the ledge. "Thanks for the klah. Think I better peel my dragon from yers and get him home. Let us know when ya wanna go South." There's agreement from Tacuseth on their riders being such a silly lot. « We'll just have to teach them ourselves, » he says with a mindtone of long-suffering heaviness. As if such a task could take forever. « In time, they'll see that we have their best interests. Mine gets it. Sometimes. » "You haven't, most of the time. Sometimes you slip." Curled in her chair, and with self-admitted lack of entertainment experience, Yesia does not rise as Jo dismisses herself. Rather, she takes another sip of the klah tentatively, reacting only marginally better and setting the mug on the side table. "Ruined perfectly good klah, but you're welcome. Aeaeth really likes him. But she likes everyone." So Tacuseth should not feel special. "I will. Maybe...next seven. Aeaeth says she wants to test the waters." « Mine will come around. I know it. She maybe will even come around to yours. That would be nice. Just in case. » Of emergency. Or of glowing. "My mind gets addled 'round pretty women. Shuck me Between," is Jo's expressive response with hands lifting up along with her eyes in dramatice fashion. It's short-lived, however, in favor of frowning at the mug in question. "That's perfectly good klah, ya meant to say. I can say the same on Tac likin' everyone. I have no idea where he gets such behavior from." None whatsoever. Then, grinning, she's gone out to the ledge with a backhanded little wave and a wry, "Ya know how to call us!" And she's knocking the blue on the hide to rouse him from his perch beside Aeaeth, making sure not to step on the blanket as he prepares to launch. Once the pair drops from the ledge, « Keep her close, darlin', » he sends in his wake, the shadows dissipating. « If they don' end each other. Just in case. » Draconic dark humor, even, for the last. Where Yesia is relieved inside, depositing her ruined klah somewhere else so she can get a fresh one; and Aeaeth is clearly bummed when Jo arrives, but untwines since she must. « I will, » she promises, watching them go, and when she lays back down to watch them wing away, it's with her head at the perfect angle to look at that blanket again. It really is her favorite thing -- not counting Yesia. |
Comments
Alida (01:49, 4 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
D'aaawwww! Delightful to watch Tac and Aeaeth. And funny (and thoughtful) to watch Jo and Yesia. :)
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