Off the Heezy.

[OOC] Vignette.

2009-09-23T23:44:04Z

There never is a lot to it when K'aus wakes up after sleeping restfully, as opposed to when he's rudely disturbed from sleep by his nightmares.

The morning after his night in Nenita's weyr, he simply knew what time it was, that he had things to do, and that he should wake up. His eyes opened, he blinked the last hazy remnants of sleep from them and then squinted into the darkness to make clearer the shape next to him in the bed.
Sometime during the night they drifted apart, which didn't surprise him, but she wasn't too far, just an arm's stretch away. Far enough that he could make out her face once his focus adjusted, without the complications of his eyes crossing. She still slept.
He wanted very badly to stay and stare at her until she felt it and woke up, but before he could get comfortable with the idea a familiar creak resonated within him.

We have sweeps, Ehrudith reminded him gently but gruffly from outside in the bowl.

Rather than voice his acceptance of that reality, K'aus only nudged back what might have been 'yeah, yeah' if he'd bothered, and carefully began the motions of getting out of bed without waking her. She'd be awake soon anyway, weyrlings had shit to do too, but why rob her of a precious half hour more, or more?
His clothes were a little hard to find. His shirt was over there, balled up and inside out. Somehow his shoes had made their way a good three feet from each other and in the dark he couldn't really figure out where the second one was, but luckily he nearly tripped on his pants in the hunt for it, which meant one less thing to worry about. After standing in the middle of the general area of where he'd found everything else, he thought of the weirdest place to look and got down on his knees. Sure enough, there was the other shoe, under the bed, obviously.
Once he'd pulled it out he almost got back up, but then noticed something else. Something... small. And thin. With a bushy attachment of some kind.
His mouth curved when he realized what it was, and after a stretch he also pulled out the black mask with the feathers.

Now dressed and with his hair in some kind of order, whatever his hands could manage, K'aus puts a knee on the bed and leans over to first push her dark hair off of her cheek so he can leave a kiss there, then leave the mask on the pillow he'd used. He also uses his belt to make a curve beneath it, so that when she wakes up she'll see his smiling pillow-face, and maybe that will creep her out a little. Hopefully.

[LOG] Stalker.

2009-09-23T23:43:03Z

Log might seem weird because I'm awful and forgot to hit the button for our second half. Oops. Assume the obvious happened.

Nenita's weyr looks empty from the initial glance in. But further investigation would reveal that there's some splishing and splashing from the back of the cavern. The alcove that the bath occupies is no longer wide open as a divider has been set up to keep out any prying eyes. The little movements of water stop and eventually the sound of someone coming out of the pool is heard and the subsequent silencing of any drip-drops.

While that divider is probably really good at giving Nenita some privacy while she's all soapy and naked, it also works against her. She won't see, for instance, that K'aus has taken his liberties and come into her weyr. Safriath might see him and sound the alarm, but by then he's in and waiting in the area outside that partition. He's so close in fact that she might run into him coming out, as he's standing there like a wall in his own right, his hands in his pockets and his hair the usual tousled mess atop his head. The addition: a black mask with feathers growing out of one corner.

Maybe it's fortunate then for him that Safriath isn't there in the weyr. No alarm is sounded for Nenita and so she is in fact surprised when she comes around the corner to stumble into K'aus. Startled is a good word two and a little squeak pops out of her mouth before she silences it with one damp hand. Once that's over with, the mask is given a good long look before she makes a face and walks straight past him and into her bed chambers. There's a robe laying out for her and she changes into it without any seeming concern for whether or not he's decided to follow her in here.

He wouldn't really be doing himself right if he /didn't/ follow her. She's given a few paces though before he does, so he's a few strides back when she reaches her bed and that robe. But K'aus eats those up with calm patience, easing his way into the space behind her and ducking his head to very methodically blow on the nape of her neck.

The robe is shrugged onto her shoulders and she pulls the sash tight around her middle, drawing it closed with something close to determination. Like she's making a statement by doing this or something. Though he can't see it, the blowing on her neck does draw a reaction. She closes her eyes briefly and then rolls them upwards, rolling her shoulders. "I'm not paying any attention to you until you take that thing off of your face."

Behind her his mouth curves. Thus far K'aus hasn't laid a finger on her, hasn't spoken, and might not plan to do either. It might feel like an eternity to her, how long it takes him to come to a decision. She might sense him move, might see a shift in his shadow, his hand comes up. A moment later he tosses the mask onto the bed in front of her so she can see it. "You're no fun," he claims.

"If that was true you wouldn't be here." Nenita says confidently, shooting a glance and smirk over her shoulder at him. She moves forward and reaches for the mask on the bed, plucking it off her comforter. It's slipped into one of the oversized pockets that happen to be on her garment before she turns around.

"You're full of good points." Even if that's only been her first of the hour. He's waiting there for her when she turns, his hands clasped behind his back and his black eyes tipped down along with his chin. A tuft of his overgrown hair droops to shadow the look he gives her. This time at least she won't find his face broken and bleeding. "I'm not gonna lie I'm a little put out you didn't invite me."

She drops back onto the edge of her bed, pulling the robe around her. "You've been a little bit busy, from what I hear along the vine. I didn't think it would be right to rip you away from your vigil down at the house of ill repute." Nenita shrugs then as she looks up to watch the lack of expressions on his face. "I figured when you were done or taking a break with whatever it is you're doing, you'd come around. Not like there's a lock on my door or anything."

While it might be common knowledge that K'aus has been spending an awful lot of time at the tavern, for Nenita to know it, or more relevantly for her to bring it up against him, actually comes as a small surprise. He tilts his head back to stare up at the ceiling and nods to himself. Yes, this is what being caught feels like. The look he gives her now is tolerant. "Bitter isn't really your color, babe. Should I check in from now on, do you actually /care/ that I'm so far away?" Poke. Prod.

"I don't think there's anything bitter about it. Do you? I'm just not going to go down /there/ and start delivering invitations to my weyr when you're so occupied. And no, I don't think that you need to come checking in with me." Nenita regards him with a raised eyebrow and adds on, "And you're a friend. I didn't realize I had to do that, figured you'd just come when you wanted. Invites are for people who aren't normally allowed in your home after hours."

"I actually had no idea I was invited," mutters K'aus, looking around at her weyr as if he's only just noticed he's in it. Which means he didn't care if he was or not, and breaking and entering isn't below him. Since she's sitting and he's standing, he sets them on the same level by taking the spot next to her on the bed and lacing his fingers in his lap. "I wanted to come sooner," he tells her after a long drawn-out pause. "And my stay at the-- house of ill repute, which really wasn't fair of you, is up. I've had far too much of their questionable dealings and honestly I'm sick of it."

Nenita is still giving him that raised eyebrow for a few more long moments. She listens while he speaks and eventually her gaze will drop down to see his fingers laced across his lap. "I don't think it was unfair, I know what goes on down there. Were you just playing darts while enjoying your freetime?" She asks with a little twinge of amusement tugging at her voice. The part about being tired of questionable dealings garners a look of surprise and she leans her forehead into his shoulder. "For now? Or for the long term?"

Playing darts. K'aus's brain is far too devious a machine to let this one slip. If Nenita believes he was being laid all day every day instead of doing the things he was actually doing, then that is very good for him. "They're good at what they do," he says, which is cryptic and vague, and it was meant to be. When she leans he drops his chin in a silly attempt to try and catch her eye, silly because it's practically impossible at the moment. "I'm in your cave. And I can't leave without my mask, so."

Nenita believing he was getting laid all day every day by prostitutes maybe not such a good avenue of thoughts to help propogate in her mind. She makes a face which he may or may not be able to see (it's mildly disgusted), though perhaps he feels the shifting of her forehead while she smoothes the look out again. Very seriously and with no move to give him his mask back, "You know that that doesn't answer what I just asked you."

Women and their questions. "I know." Probably not what she wanted to hear. K'aus knows that too, which is why he seeks to interrupt her should she tell him so. "Of those two, the second one." Long term, then. "I came here from there. My stuff is out on the ledge." So literally, right from there. "Any more questions?"

My stuff is out on the ledge. Whose ledge? Her ledge? The reaction that garners would be much more appropriate on the face of a young man who's girlfriend just announced she was pregnant, she married him while he was passed out, she's moving in /and/ mom and dad are outside waiting to meet him for the first time. So quick she is to look up and try to see out past the chambers they're in to the ledge outside. "It's going up to your weyr, right?" It's all rather comical. But she can't stop at just the questions she's already asked. "Are you done getting your ass kicked?"

Give him a second to cherish her in that moment. The look on her face /is/ priceless, he's grinning suddenly when she finally speaks, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. "No. I am moving /in/ here. I'm moving so far up in here, you don't even /know/." His head tilts so he can try and let her in on the joke. "I mean c'mon sweetcakes I thought it was the right time in our relationship, you disagree." A deep breath erases the humor from his face and puts him back in with the blank look. "I think so."

His responses prompt a light slapping of her hand on his arm and an exhale of her breath. Without any bite she informs him, "You're so annoying sometimes." When Nenita looks at him again she's smiling just a little even as she moves over to press her head into his shoulder again. Because the next question has her maybe not wanting to look at his face when he gives her an answer. "You think so?"

A verdict that K'aus takes like he knows it. Just before she leans again he does first, but his lean puts him back a bit on both arms and kind of makes him even better to tilt on like she is, just now. He looks over at her again, this time to press his mouth to her hair so lightly she might not even feel it. "I can say everything's gonna be fine if that's what you want," he offers graciously.

If he's going to lean back onto his arms, she takes full advantage of the position and makes herself suitably comfortable in the new arrangement. At that gracious offer though she lets out an exhale of air and presses her lips into his sleeve before she talks. "If you think that's what I want then you can take the one possession you've moved into my weyr and leave with it." Meaning of course, that mask that she has stashed away in her pocket.

Which is perfectly fair, all of it, her taking advantage and her response. And really, K'aus wouldn't have expected anything less, in fact he probably would have been disappointed had she done any different, said any different. "Then," he pauses, to make sure what he says will have meaning, "I think so." Which is the truth, it must be. "Hey you meant annoying like in that sexy 'can't get enough of you' way, right?"

There's a dissatisfied sigh into that sleeve she's pressing into. Her fingers find their way onto his shirt where they worry at the fabric and play around with the edges. "I haven't seen you since the last time. When you didn't want to tell me what was going on. When you only told me a little bit. And your note." So maybe Nenita is a little put off or hurt or /something/ over this disappearing act that's been going on that involves him hanging out at whore houses. "No, not really. But you can believe that if you want."

Since she's blocked his try at lightening the mood he sighs again and leans heavily on the arm she's tending to while he lifts the other hand to massage the bridge of his nose. "The fucking note." Maybe he forgot. Maybe not. He slides his fingers down either side of his mouth to his chin to produce scruff noises, then drops that hand entirely. "If you knew... you wouldn't like me anymore," K'aus finally decides.

However he means that first comment in his head isn't known to her and she seems to have chosen to believe it's the 'he forgot' version of events. Nenita has begun to peek up over his shoulder at him, though her mouth is still pressed down. Her lips turn into a little frown before straightening again. There's silence after he announces what he thinks her opinion would be on the unknown subject. "You don't know that."

"Exactly." Without really looking at her, but turning his face just slightly in her direction, K'aus sort of opens himself at least physically. It's better than a wall against her. "I could be wrong or I could be right and I sure as hell don't know if I'm ready to find out." He tenses like he really is very worried, but then he gestures vaguely with that hand. "I mean who else am I gonna scare with masks."

Nenita's fingers twist around in his shirt a little more before they finally let go and pat his stomach. Then they keep patting his stomach. And it may soon become very obvious that this is some sort of thinking mechanism because it stops very suddenly and she shifts, putting herself into a position to wrap arms around his neck and shoulders, where she buries her face. "Alright. Maybe I'm better off."

The first pat is fine. The second pat is weird. The ones that follow distract him until he looks down at her hand with the most perplexed look on his face. He's looking at /her/ when she finally stops, /his/ hand lifted away from the rest of him entirely as if to give her aimless patting a wide berth. It finds her arm not long after, when she clings to him, his other hand pressing firm to the small of her back until his arms slide into more comfortable positions around her slender frame to hold her close. "Just give me a little while. Just a little while."

"Is it something bad? Or something embarassing or something just... I don't know. I don't know that I want to know if it's something bad." Nenita murmurs into his neck and turns her head, delivering little kisses where her lips land next. "But I do want to know anyway." The indecision about the whole knowledge issue is evident and maybe it is better that for now, nothing is known outright. There's another sigh and she slips her hands up to his hair to play with the tips.

If this is the kind of treatment he's going to get for not telling her things, the odds are he's just fine with not telling her things. K'aus remains as secretive through her questioning and her indecision, through to her final decision. Still, he doesn't tell her anything. He lifts a look to the ceiling again while she kisses him, while her fingers toy with his hair, while he breathes her in. Finally he moves his fingers to the neck of her robe to pull it down as far as he can on one of her shoulders so he can start kissing her there, wherever he finds bare skin.

Yes, perhaps it's not the best route. To indulge someone physically while trying to get them to tell you their secrets. Her kisses come to a pause when he begins to push her robe down, but there's no resistance. There's even a little lift of her body to aid in the pushing of his fingers. She begins to slip her own deeper into his hair, running through it as she starts her attentions to him all over again. This time maybe with a little touch of earnestness to them. Just a little.

She's only wearing a robe, he's only wearing a baggy short-sleeve and pants. His hands fall to the task of untying the belt around her waist and then opening her garment for further ravishing. She'll have marks later, if not from his teeth then from wherever he pulls her skin into his mouth to bruise it. With his breath warm in her ear K'aus murmurs something that sounds like, "can we".

Nenita is only too happy to go along with all of this. It even goes so far as to do the same to him, nipping lightly with her teeth and sliding her hands away from his hair and up his shirt. Her fingers are just trailing along the tops of his pants when he asks his question. Her hands freeze and she takes in a breath only to answer his request with "I have to tell you something."

'I have to tell you something' is a lot like 'my stuff is on the ledge'. She's pregnant. She's engaged. At least it won't be like that time in Igen, at least Safriath is a guarantee that Nenita is female. These things run through K'aus's mind like ticker-tape, leaving him in a lurch that has him staring at her. Quickly though he comes back together and lifts his eyebrows, his hands paused just inside her robe, on their way to doing something naughty certainly. He should get an award for how calmly he manages to say, "Okay."

Due to her reaction to 'my stuff is on the ledge' she's probably not engaged to anyone and she's probably not pregnant either. And well, it's probably a good thing she doesn't know about any weird incident in Igen involving someone who may or may not have been a woman. "I might have made this bet where I don't have sex until the don't have sex rule is officially lifted or I have to sleep with the someone I made the bet with." Nenita then makes one of those "classic" mock-wincing faces a person does while waiting for the perhaps not pleasent reaction of the person they're with.

She's waiting for a reaction that K'aus does not provide. What she just said is like the farthest thing from what he was thinking, not only is he not as traumatized, he's also a little stunned. But the narrowing of his eyes implies deep thought, or perhaps some reflection on something that's already happened. "That's a pretty popular bet," he assesses after a long moment. He also holds up a finger. "Just so we're on the same page, you made this bet with someone you'd rather not actually fuck."

No reaction might be bad. Or so the continued look of apprehension on her face seems to suggest. But finally her expression is going from that to surprise and maybe a little touch of suspicion. "What do you mean it's a pretty popular bet? Is this some sort of craze that I happened to stumble into?" And that has her maybe not looking all that happy. "No, I'd sleep with him. It's just that maybe in hindsight realizing I'd have to sleep with him if I lost as sort of a... mandatory thing isn't looking that good. It's sort of well, I don't know. I'd rather not now." She admits, this conversation taking a turn for the strange considering he has his hands in her robe as this is going on.

K'aus apparently has a great amount of control over himself then. From groping to conversation with just a simple flip of some mental switch only he has access to. His hands have taken up comfortable places on her naked hips, no contact lost, while he shifts his eyes to the side and tries to look ahead into the future of all of this for the right things to say. "Loe mentioned something like it once a while ago. Some weyrling kid. I can't remember who." Focusing on her again, he smirks. "But I bet we're talking about the same guy. So you don't wanna fuck him, tell me who he is I'll get you out of it."

It's mention of the headwoman's name that really seems to get Nenita. She blinks a couple of times as she stares blankly at K'aus. "/Loe/? /Loe/?" It's almost like she can't believe that that was the person he said. "Ch'son. That's the weyrling kid. Oh, oh. I am so annoyed." And she's so irritated by this piece of news that she actually sits up in the bed, though she doesn't shake of his hands. "She /lied/ to me. She told me that she didn't know. Pretended to be my buddy as she squeezed me for information. Oh, oh. We'll see how much she likes playing little games like this in a few more months when I graduate. I'm so angry I could spit." Her dark eyes narrow as they look across the cavern towards the far wall, contemplating.

Well now /K'aus/ is a little pissed off at Loe. Look at this lovely mood, all ruined. Nenita doesn't have to be careful of his hands, they've moved of their own accord, first leaving her and then closing her robe and sort of tucking it back into place while she rants. A look down between his legs confirms that yes, he's still in trouble, and with an impatient clench of his jaw he looks up at the ceiling instead. Women and their /devices/.

She sighs and shakes her head. "I feel like an idiot." Nenita glances down at the brownrider, her eyes trailing down to that spot between his legs and then going back to his face. It's then that she really realizes that he's tucked her robe closed for her. "I'm definitely an idiot. I shouldn't be getting involved in games like that this. Am I twelve?" It's probably one of those rhetorical questions and it's asked as she drops down to the bed next to him again. Her fingers trailing up and down his leg.

It isn't until she sits again and her hand starts doing that thing it's doing that she has his full attention. It really isn't that difficult at the moment. With half-lidded eyes K'aus watches her face, his words rolling out of his mouth like lazy things. "I don't think twelve-year-olds know how to do that." That. The leg thing. The leg thing he expresses his appreciation for by leaning in to briefly bite her neck. "I can get you out of that bet," he breathes, very close.

Nenita moves to roll over so that she's now laying on top of him, the lower half of her body pressed against him suggestively. "You're right. I don't think that twelve year olds know how to do this either. At least they shouldn't." And if that pressure increases just a little, it must be on accident right? Her hands are back to playing with his hair again and she looks down to address his offer. "You could..."

It's very easy to go along with it when an attractive woman climbs on top of you. If you're not in a position to accomodate her, you get into a position to accomodate her. K'aus shifts just so so if there /is/ a little pressure he's in a good place to feel it. "Ah." He feels it. "I could," he agrees, chin tilted up for her neck, so his hot kisses and scrapes of teeth find their marks. Quickly enough she might be surprised he loops an arm around her and flips them both so it's her on the bottom. His fingers tangle with hers and drag their hands above her head. "Or we could just spoon all night," he adds roughly.

Nenita makes noises appropriate for someone who's being pleased and there's a giggle as he rolls them over. She rolls her eyes up to watch as their hands are pushed up along the blanket and down again to glance at the robe. By now it's all sorts of askew and her gaze comes up to meet his heatedly. She leans forward as far as she can to try and kiss his lips, but if that's a failure she'll be turning her head to kiss at his arms which are much closer. "What if I'm nervous?"

It is a failure, but only because K'aus is taking his turn at being a tease. All it takes is a little jerk up to play keepaway from her, but he's focused again when she reaches her question. And even though they're both in very compromising positions, even though she's a willing female and he's really ready to take advantage of that, and even though he's been thinking about this since that aborted night all that time ago, he pauses and fixes her with a serious look. And he asks, gently, "Are you?"

She makes a plaintive noise when he tips his head away from her and so her lips do end up on his arms. Her legs adjust around him, sliding up against his pants in long motions. "Yes." Nenita admits letting her gaze come back to him in her own time, settling there and exposing a mixture of nerves and some other unlabeled feelings that are all floating about.

However difficult she's making it to actually concentrate on anything but the lovely things her legs are doing, he makes a very real effort. Her affirmative freezes him in that moment, in looking down at her, stretched out beneath him, in hearing her voice repeat that answer over and over in his head. It's probably been a long time since he's bothered, since there's been call for it, but K'aus actually meets her in the middle with all of her exposed feelings, her honesty. A little reluctantly, but still. "Me too."

Nenita leaves one hand in the captivity of his, but the other she wiggles and squirms it until it's free to come across and touch his jaw. She leaves it there in a sort of paused gentle caress until she takes it back again to allow it to rejoin the other one, fingers moving through his to be firmly laced together again. "It'll change."

It's almost like when her hand rejoins his his fingers are a little bit tighter. Maybe it was just that one squeeze. During that caress he was still, some of the tension from beneath her hand transferring to the knot between his eyebrows. Now, after, he's much the same, taken to leaning on his elbow to take some of his weight off of her while he considers that. There isn't a place here for a lie. "It always... changes." Pause. "Personally I kinda think it might be worth it."

She chews on her lower lip, worrying it quite a bit. Her legs have been keeping up that sliding motion until recently, when they slipped to either side to find a comfortable stationary position. "Are we ready for it to change?" Nenita asks carefully before pushing on into a second question, one that's asked with more hesitance. "Would I be like everyone else to you?"

One thing is and will always be very clear: K'aus isn't fond of questions. He isn't subtle about it even now, when pissing Nenita off would result in a definite lose for the evening. His forehead drops to her shoulder, drooping completely; at least he keeps his groan from leaving his throat, where it might be too quiet for her to hear. It's only briefly that he remains that way, right after he's meeting her eyes again and taking a deep breath. "If there's one thing I can ever promise you it's that you won't ever be like anyone else to me."

He might not like them, but it hasn't stopped her from trying to gently wheedle things out of him in the past. Nenita once again is wiggling her fingers, even if it's a touch more difficult since he's got that slightly tighter grip now. Once that's successful she'll be bringing them down to his face so she can try and prop his chin up a little more. "Good." If the tiny bit of manhandling she attempts goes well she'll go for a kiss again but if he moves away to tease her, well. She'll probably be a little pissed this time.

His eyebrows have come up again. Good? But she doesn't seem to have any follow-up questions, nor does she seem inclined to leave them both unsatisfied. If there's even a glimmer of hope here, K'aus will leap on it, and it would be stupid to deny her again. She gets her kiss, just as she planned, and his eyes close and his head tilts, his now freed hand straying to the doings of his pants to /un/do them because no matter what happens from here on, that's suddenly very important.

[LOG] Business.

2009-09-17T17:52:13Z

The Lucky Seven, Ista Weyr(#700RJ)
The main, double doors that lead in to the tavern are, as a rule, left open, leading into the wide main room of the tavern. Directly across from the entrance, stretched across the long back wall, stands the focus of the room, indeed the entire building; the bar is made of a deep, red-brown wood and polished to a heady shine and behind it shelves stand with rows of clean glasses and tankards of all sizes and shapes. To the left of the bar is a staircase that allows access to a mundane upper story, a single hall lined with modest rooms for rent, and to the right is an arched doorway leading to a darker gaming room. But most of the action happens out in the middle, in among the haphazardly arranged tables and their allotted chairs. Though there are a few feminine touches draped around, a sage green curtain here or a coral red tablecloth there, when the tall room is filled with people there is no mistaking the testosterone-driven atmosphere of the place.

The tavern's business never really picked up tonight, an unfortunate turn of events for the tavern owner who just signed away ten percent of her profits to a couple of blackmailers. Those who remain at the bar can all be called lingerers at this point, and there are very few; just those three loners at the bar, each one lost in his own thoughts, a table of quietly conversing friends and a pair just picking up to leave remain. Maybe because of this, the staff seem sparser, too. Only June and Ruesse are immediately visible, the latter tending the bar while the former is cleaning up. June's gathered a large part of the dishes and bottles from the table she's at now, but she hovers over the last mug, squinting at a sizeable crack running down the side with a drawn, displeased set to her mouth.

In comes K'aus. There's no dramatic opening of doors or stopping in the arch to strike a pose. He just shows up, looking really disheveled and a little bit dirty and sporting a cut on his lower lip. He does stop just inside, not to pose but to look carefully for a certain redhead. She's easier to find than usual here in this lack of a crowd, he does find her. Quick, long strides take him to her; he stops, his black eyes intent on her face, on her physical wellbeing, as if he could take note of that from out here on this side of her clothes, and then his dirty hands take the mug away from her, then the rest of the dishes, and then her hands. He wants to tow her away to the stairs, up them, into a room, it doesn't matter.

His fluster transfers to June, her eyes widening as soon as she notices him and the state he's in. The mug is surrendered with only half a glance, she's too busy processing his sudden appearance, that split on his lip. "What's ..." she begins, and he begins his tow, throwing off her train of thought as her feet follow by default. "Are you okay?" She finally gets out a full, worried thought, only to be interrupted by Ruesse, prompting simply, "June?" June waves the concern away with a snippet of a frown, then turns that same expression on him as he pulls her to the base of the stairs.

Not only to the base but up, also. Up the stairs, slowly so she doesn't trip in her lady shoes, to the doors. To the one door. There's a sudden small moment of panic when he reaches it, his room; he drops her hands but gives her a look like 'stay' and rummages in his pockets, both at once. The relief in him is so obvious when he pulls the key out as if he's very happy to see it didn't get perhaps taken from him. Once he has the door unlocked he opens it and ushers her through, giving the area one more paranoid glance before following. Ruesse will have to hold down the fort on her own or with another sister, this one's been commandeered. Inside, once the door is closed, K'aus turns to her and without delay pulls her to him so that he can put his mouth to her shoulder; his hands find her hip and the side of her face, respectively.

June stays. Her look is searching, utterly questioning as she watches him fumble, but she stays and she's quiet all the way into the room, all the way to being pressed against him. Almost instinctively, her own hand conforms to a curve of his back, comforting and firm. He gets a handful of seconds only, before she speaks again, her tone reminding but gently so. "K'aus." She needs nothing more, he should know no matter the situation. For one, he still has a question he hasn't addressed, and she doesn't like her unanswered questions to remain so for very long. Also, if this is meant to be another of his more routine visits, there needs to be marks exchanged before things progress much further.

His name is all it takes to bring him back down. Oh right. Over her shoulder his eyes wander and his hand moves to cradle the back of her head, his index finger wiggling in her hair but not enough to disrupt it. After a moment he can pull away and he does, releasing her and taking a step back to disentangle them both from each other. K'aus looks down at his hands, notices them, then at her, squinting as if to check on if he left marks on her or not. While doing so he starts to speak, sounding a little distracted. "You didn't tell me about your new friends."

June stands her ground and lets him retreat, arms crossing idly while he gathers himself again. With her expression relaxed as it is, he may find traces of her weariness; it's been a long night for her, too, apparently. Her reply will lapse a bit, but it comes a few puzzled blinks later. "I don't know who you're talking about," she admits, shaking her head as if that could reinforce her claim.

"No?" K'aus briefly tongues the cut on his lip, wincing all the while. "Huh. No? Really?" His head tilts to one side and his expression is one as if in deep thought. "That's interesting June, and not in like the wow, interesting facts kind of way but in like the huh, that's interesting because I just got done in a meeting with some really nice men in an anonymous room-- they were also anonymous-- and one of /them/ told me that they put some guys in here." He's meeting her eyes again when he adds, "Like that kind of interesting."

June doesn't like the way he's talking to her. Or maybe she doesn't like what he's saying. Either way, her brows knot faintly to show that dislike. It takes her a moment more after he finishes speaking to come to a realization, the delay spent on a few more helpless head shakes. But suddenly, she wonders, "Are you talking about those bastards from tonight?" And her frown only deepens. "Well, I might have told you before, but seeing as this is the first time I've seen you since..." Dry and pointed though it is, she rushes right on through it; it's not the most important point right now. "What happened to you?" she demands elaboration.

"Wait, tonight?" That doesn't make sense and K'aus isn't being really subtle about it. He holds up a finger as if that might deter her from asking more questions right away, but she does anyway so he just deals with it. "Wait, they came tonight? He said he had them on you, like they'd been here longer than that. Fucking sneaky bastard." Where was he? He stops rubbing his finger along his upper lip and gives her a look. He might not want to answer her. "I told you. I was having a meeting." A look at her face tells him that's not good enough. He gestures with his hand. "I was coming here and some meathead grabbed me out of the jungle there. And I woke up in a room, and then they took me to another one, they told me to keep the dragon quiet. They told me what I needed to know and I told them what they needed to know. Did they do anything to you?"

June strives to teach him how questions should be answered, giving him a straightforward and simple, "No," only a tilt of her head after he's asked. And then she explains. "I thought he might for a bit, but I guess he wanted money more. Sleazy shit, threatened me then offered me protection for the tavern. So I'm paying them off now." And all the while, she's moving to the nearest chair, already propped out from the table, and slumping into it. As she finishes her part of the story, she props her elbows up on the edge of that table and drops her forehead into both waiting palms. It's an indulgence of only a moment, she straightens and lifts her gaze to him again, arms dropping to her lap.

While she's sitting, K'aus puts his hand over his mouth and the other on his hip, striking a thoughtful pose there in the middle of the room. He is like this for a while, staring at nothing, rubbing the scruff on his chin and around it, until finally he comes around and focuses on her. And meets her gaze, since she's offering. "They didn't hurt you. And they didn't kill you. Which means you're more inportant to them alive, and they didn't want trouble from the Weyr. They need you. They must need me alive too or I wouldn't be, dragon or not." A pause to collect his thoughts again.

June begins to shake her head in a slow, ponderous way, but she waits until he's finished before voicing her contradiction. Calmly, she says, "Dead women don't make money. That's the only reason I'm important to them, I'm a source of income. I don't know about trouble from the Weyr, maybe that's part of it. But it's definitely more about the marks with this sort." Her gaze has wandered, but she chooses now to return it to him. "That doesn't explain you, though."

"Sure but think about it I mean-- sure, scrape some money off the top of some tavern somewhere, but in the long run how much is that gonna pay off? There's gotta be something bigger there. Maybe it's Ista, I have no fucking idea. The rat would probably know." K'aus is looking at her again now too, both hands on hips, shoulders slumping. All of him is kind of slumping actually. "He wanted a name. I gave him one. He told me where Kozec is gonna be." And then something dawns on him. "And there it is."

June misses the dawning, the slumping, all of it, she's too caught up with what he's saying and drawing down a frown in response to it. "Where he's /gonna/ be?" she asks, that deceptively calm voice slipping over the stressed word. "They told me he'd already been taking care of." Her inward fuming begins to show some outward signs, her nostrils flaring to let out a hot huff as she shifts in her chair.

"Really?" K'aus is genuinely interested, not to mention a little confused, about that. He crosses the room to join her, seating himself with some care in another chair and relaxing his arms atop its. "Why would they lie to you," he wonders aloud, sliding a lazy look over at June. "They'd lie to me to get me out of there. But why, I know who they are. What they look like. They said Fort." He's running his fingertip over his upper lip again. "It would be Fort."

"I don't know," June answers frankly, simply after he wonders at her, though it seems more like she's just too distracted by fuming quietly to think of goon motivations. With an elbow on the chair's arm, she braces her chin and stares at the nearby wall while she listens, which she is doing, she proves when she asks, "Why would it be Fort?"

"The Hall is there." Simply. K'aus perches chin in hand and transfers his attention to the ceiling or as high up as he can get, which means he's staring all out of focus again. "I thought they would've used me because I have the dragon, dragons are useful. But they come with too much baggage, I get that. Still, if Kozec's alive, if they were lying to you and not me, and if he's at Fort, then that's where I should go."

June lets that sink in for the span of a slowly heaved breath, head nodding vaguely but not in a way that says she agrees with him. At least not fully. The reason for that comes in the doubt she voices. "And if they're lying to both of us?"

He takes a breath, lets it out slowly and looks at her. "If they're lying to both of us then we know something. People who aren't in a corner of some kind don't need to keep people alive. They need to lie to those people even less. They should have other hooligan stuff to do." But seriously. "If they're lying to both of us he's alive, he's just not at Fort. I'll find him, June. Dead or not."

"You're just back to square one," June comments pessimistically, though she tosses that aside with the breathy, "It doesn't matter," that follows it. "You go to Fort," she tells him, as if the decision were only waiting on her approval. "They're in a corner, they don't want trouble, then they're not going to let him act up if he is still around here. Meanwhile, I just have to deal with ten percent off the top." A situation that still ruffles her feathers, her tone clearly displeased despite how collected her words may be.

"You deal with ten percent off the top until we can figure out who the fuck these guys are and how to get rid of 'em. How's that sound?" K'aus can't really help it; June is being kind-of amusing. He smirks. Poor thing. "I'll go to Fort with your blessing then. Tomorrow. First thing. And we'll see what we see. And don't worry about those guys, June, really. This is only a temporary, you know, glitch."

He'll excuse June if she doesn't look entirely convinced. She shoots him a single look full of as much doubt as such a short and otherwise serene look can contain, then focuses on the table, head shaking lightly. "We'd have to get rid of all of 'em, every single one. We don't, they spill what they have on me and I risk losing all of it, not just ten percent." Her eyes return to him, her lean looking almost defensive now. Yes, they have something on her, let's just leave it at that.

She's looking defensive, for June; he's looking sympathetic, for K'aus. "So we get rid of every fucking one of them. I find your lack of faith in me disturbing. I think you're forgetting what I have invested here. I told you the story right, I said the words." But there is that little thing there on the table now that she put there just now, that he inspects with all the delicacy and tact he possesses. "What do they have on you?"

His little speech does inspire a bit more confidence, or at least
relaxation as she allows herself a sigh and abandons her slight lean to
let her back meet the chair's again. Her alertness, if not her stiffness,
returns even with all that delicacy and tact he musters and she stares
across at him for a moment. Perhaps because of that delicacy, though, or
the fact that he just reminded her about how much he's shared with her, an
answer actually follows it. "Not much, but what they have could be big.
It's..." But she pauses and breaks onto another track altogether, the
relative hurry of her words the only assurance that she'll eventually get
to the point. "Look, I didn't mean for it to end up this way. I went
through all the proper channels, I talked to the Weyrleader, he knew what
kind of services my girls and I provided when everything was settled. But,
I don't know, it all got lost in the shuffle of the leadership change, I
guess. So they don't know. Not the Weyrleader. None of the goldriders, not
even the youngest one, as far as I know. Not even the headwoman. And I get
the sense they wouldn't like it, if they knew, maybe enough to pull the
rug out. So I left them in the dark." She turns her head aside slightly,
not happy about the things that necessity drove her to, but there they
are. "And now it's coming back to bite me."

While she shares he listens, his eyes solemnly attentive and speaking for
the rest of him. There's a change in his expression whens he mentions
'services', but it's like a rubber band resuming its shape before its
stretched and he's back to staring blandly. When she's done he takes
another breath, a reminder for himself maybe that he's still in the chair
staring at her. "So nobody knows people buy sex here. And maybe that is a
problem, but I think if you wait long enough, let the interval set in,
these jokers might start singing a different tune. Especially if suddenly
the Seven is the top profit gainer for the Weyr."

June twists up a small smile when he outlines a top gainer future for her
tavern. "That's what I'm hoping for," she tells him. "I pay them until I'm
in a position where their information doesn't mean as much." And then her
hand swings toward him in a brief gestures. "Or until something happens to
take these guys out. I'll take either." And her smile, on the verge of
fading, perks at the edges again.

For being included, for being her 'something happens', K'aus gives her a
small smile. It's strange how unruffled he is after being knocked out,
taken, questioned, knocked out again, dropped. But maybe he's freaking out
in other ways. "I just want you to know you shouldn't worry, no matter
what happens. I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you or the girls."
His eyebrows lift, this part is important. "You believe me." It's hard to
tell if that's a command or a question or a simple stating of something he
believes to be true.

June takes it as a question and answers it as such. After a thoughtful
pause. "I believe you'll do everything you can to make sure things are
alright," she says, giving it a confirming tone even though she follows it
with, "I just worry about the things that aren't in your control." Her
smile flattens wryly.

"Well then." As if this is some great deflation of her trust in him, of
his ego. "That's very honest. But June." K'aus is sure to have her eye,
and he doesn't return her flat smile, doesn't smile at all this time, not
for this. Quietly, "It's gonna be okay."

June meets his seeking gaze and holds the eye contact steady while he
speaks. Hardly a beat passes after his last word before she offers him a
conclusive, "Okay," as if she's making a deal. A deal to let him handle
things. Except that deal's already been made, so it can't be.

It can't be, but he takes it as maybe a reaffirmation. He takes it as
/something/, doesn't reiterate or bring it up again, and in fact becomes
an entirely different person. Or rather he stays the same person but
pretends. "You can go if you want." He's reaching down to the floor for
something, a book when he succeeds in finding it, which he opens. "I know
you have a lot of cleaning and sexing to do."

There's a flicker of a squint at the corner of her eyes, but June stands
with his permission anyway, taking time to shake out her skirts. "Not so
much sexing, this time of night," she notes, voice mildly joking, while
she settles her hem, "just the cleaning." She doesn't leave just yet, but
hangs at the tableside to ask, "Do you need anything? Ice, or... a whole
lot of alcohol?" She's eyeing the cut on his lip as she shrugs gently,
then her eyes lift again along with her shallow smile.

"That might take longer." Cleaning. Over sexing. Of course. By now he's
got his nose in that book, at least as far as the metaphor goes. He's
actually holding it a good distance away and it might be because he isn't
actually reading but it makes for a nice prop, or it could be because he's
an old man who can't read without his glasses. Either way. When June makes
that offer he replies very simply, "No." And furrows his brow.

Everything is taken as normal, until that furrowed brow appears. Noticing
it, June gently lofts her brows and drops her head into a slight tilt. A
second later, she drops a single, slanted nod from that angle and turns to
the door without another word, letting him have some quality time with
that book he isn't reading.

[OOC] Vignette.

2009-09-09T02:44:01Z

Black. Blacker. Blackest.

The pounding in his temples started behind his eyes, he remembers that. He felt it, he just didn't want to pay attention. But as it spread it arrested his concentration, focused his attention almost hyper-actively on the throbbing pain.

His eyes opened.

Darkness. Trees. Where the fuck was he.

Ehrudith, he called, weakly.
Where the fuck are you, boy.

With some effort, an otherwise unnecessary amount, he lifts his head to squint. Things are familiar.

I'm outside the Weyr. I can see... Well, might as well just show him.
I'm coming.
No. No, I'm fine.

Too proud? Sometimes. Too stubborn? Sometimes. Really fucking concerned for June's safety, suddenly? Most definitely.

Who fucking took you?
I can't tell you.
What.
You're hungry, you never ate. Go do that would you please.
Keraus--
Fucking go, dragonface, let me see the girls a sec.

The way to the tavern is familiar, he finds it easily. When he passes where he was when he was bagged he stops to look around, just in case anything's there that might clue him on in-- /something/. It's too dark to see. With a frustrated growl he moves on.

He's through the doors. Where is she.
There...

[LOG] The boss.

2009-09-09T02:34:42Z

Jungles, Ista Weyr(#730RJ)

The jungles of Ista Island seem to stretch on forever: wrapping around the Weyr's ground, bordering the beaches and sprawling out across the rough, hilly terrain. The undergrowth is thick with ferns and shrubs that encroach greedily on the narrow footpaths and the wheel-gouged alleys of wagon roads. Beyond the relatively open space of tree trunks and snaking vines, the jungle canopy obscures nearly all of the sky. Intermittently, the forest gives way to open clearings where the path nearly disappears beneath the lush plant-life.

Worn channels cut through the undergrowth to head up to the plateau and down to the main beach of Ista Weyr while other paths meander off toward more secluded stretches of shoreline.

It's a bit more difficult to, say, walk through the jungle from the beach than to walk into your weyr from the ledge, but K'aus makes the trek without complaint, and has been doing so every day for at least the past few. The sun is starting to set so he's in a bit of a hurry because without glows or some other kind of light and without at least some daylight a walk through the jungle is even /less/ fun. Soon he's in the clear, the tavern is up ahead, he can see it. He's already unbuttoning his shirt in anticipation of being indoors.

Another man is headed back from the Lucky Seven, perhaps turned off by the relatively low numbers of customers there to carouse with at this early hour. He gives K'aus the customary chin-tug of 'I see you but do not really care to greet you' and goes on his way. At least, that seems to be his intention, but as soon as they've passed each other on the road, the man's standing behind K'aus with a knife pressed to his throat and another arm wrapped around his chest to keep him still. He moved almost impossibly fast. "Keep a level head," he advises. "And don't go calling in no cavalry. I think we should talk."

K'aus doesn't even bother with that much, he settles for a blank stare at the other man as they pass that then refocuses on the path ahead. That same lack of reaction greets his new situation, his mind taking note of the knife first and the arm second. Good at following orders, he does stay still, he keeps a level head. And in the growing darkness, he stares at nothing. "Wait..." What follows is a silence. If they could see the beach, they would see Ehrudith sinking back onto all four paws and closing his mouth. He's back with, "Okay, all done."

The man's got his chin halfway over K'aus shoulder, so he can see those eyes, and watch them fade in and out of focus. "Good. Let's talk about what's gonna happen next." He lowers the knife slightly, as a gesture of good will, but with his speed it could probably be back at K'aus's throat in the blink of an eye if he chose. "You tell your dragon not to panic. I'm going to knock you out. He keeps his mouth shut, you're gonna wake up in an hour or two. Get a few things off your chest. If he doesn't, and I see anybody I don't like headed towards me, you don't wake up. Tell me when you've told him."

"You're the boss," K'aus mutters, and lets his gaze shift to the side and droop slightly. It takes perhaps longer than might be expected, this communication, this talking down of dragon, but finally he returns to the here and now and says flatly, "He'll go away."

"Good." Then a hard blow lands at the back of K'aus's neck and the world goes black. When he wakes up, he'll find himself in a cramped hallway, stuffed into a rickety wooden chair with his hands tied behind his back. There's a different guy lounging by the door at the end of the hall, behind which the sound of a sharp male voice can be heard from time to time. The lounger glances at K'aus to see if he's awake, some kind of periodic check-up he must be required to perform.

His captor would have had a hard time with his dead weight, as if even in unconsciousness he wanted to make things difficult. Now, bound, locked up, K'aus blearily comes around and lifts his head from where it had been lolling to the side and winces when he discovers his new kink. His squinted eyes search the room, a very thorough examination that ends with him finding the only other person here with him. "Wow you must be pretty high up in the ranks, watch the unconscious guy."

As soon as K'aus moves, the lounger straightens up a bit and raps his knuckles on the door behind him. There's a pause, but then the voice behind the door starts up again: evidently in no rush to answer the call of the recently awakened captive. "It's money," the lounger answers flatly. He'll ignore any other sallies until the door opens, and the guy who knocked K'aus out in the first place comes back to look at him. "All right," he decides, walking over to K'aus. He grabs his shirt collar and yanks him to his feet, whether or not the recently unconscious man is ready for that yet. "You're gonna talk to my boss. I recommend you keep a civil tongue in your head." Because he's very helpful, this bruiser. He drags K'aus towards the door.

A small smile greets that. Yes, it is indeed money. Irony. Once the door opens his smile grows until it might be considered shit-eating. His eyebrows come up as well when he's approached, when he's grabbed he looks about as innocent and undeserving as they come. His feet don't fail him, legs untangling and cooperating probably just on autopilot. "I'll consider your recommendation very seriously," he replies, though there's a tension in the corners of his eyes that might suggest a growing apprehension.

"Good," the bruiser says again. This time, it isn't followed by him knocking K'aus out. Instead, he brings him through the doors into the modest study of what must be somebody's villa, though the drawn shades prevent any identifying features of the landscape from telling /where/ this villa is. Standing next to the desk up front is a short man with a round face, flat-featured, and a twitchy demeanor. The boss.

The boss narrows his eyes at this specimen that just came through his door. "/You're/ the guy who cut a man's face up and shipped his fingers around like fucking birthday presents? Hit him in the gut," he orders his bruiser, who promptly does just that. "I should cut your dick off and fucking feed it to you. You sick fuck."

The boss receives much the same kind of look from K'aus. This is the boss? His narrowed eyes and up-twitched mouth say it all. But he erases the expression from his face so that he might look as bland and cool as he wants to-- right in time for being hit in the gut. His hands are tied so he can't use them to balance himself when he doubles over, so unless that bruiser has a good grip he's on his knees in no time. The sound he made is quick and over, a strangled, pained sound; there are ribs in there, ribs that aren't totally healed. He breathes heavily and sags, and he also manages to rasp, "Happy birthday."

The bruiser caught K'aus, but he doesn't need instructions the second time. He socks K'aus a second time for being a wise-ass, and this time lets him go down. The boss knew this was coming and waited for it as his due; when the rider goes down, he approaches and looks narrowly down at him. "Your little messenger boy's already dead, rider. You're just making me want to add to the body count. Hey, does this fucking guy have a name?" he asks his bruiser suddenly. Without waiting for a response, he turns to K'aus and slaps his sharply. "You have a name?"

The second hit knocks the wind all the way out of him, breath gone. K'aus lands hard on his knees and almost slumps the rest of the way over onto his face. Which would be a real shame, because then he wouldn't be able to enjoy that slap. And there's nothing like being slapped by another man to really rile you. But riled or not, he keeps his cool, closes his eyes briefly before lifting them up to look at the boss. His lip bleeds, just a little. In a low voice he answers. "Brown Ehrudith's, fourth position, Riptide..."

The boss turns on his heel in the middle of that answer and strides back to his desk. "I said /name/, asshole," he reminders the brownrider. The bruiser's hand hovers nearby, fingers open, but it doesn't move and if he knows K'aus's name, he doesn't supply it. They're both waiting on K'aus to say it.

There wasn't really a lot of hope of that working. Still trying to catch his breath, K'aus takes one look at the threat of the hand hovering just there and, despite it, hunches his shoulders protectively and repeats himself.

The hand shoots into action, before K'aus is more than a word into his recitation, but blessedly, it does not hit. It grabs the neck of K'aus shirt and hauls him up to his feet again. The boss is standing in front of his desk, leaning back on it, his dark eyes crackling with malice. "Maybe you're thinking to yourself, I've got this big lump of dragon attached to me like some kind of I don't know, safety charm. Maybe you're thinking I care." He snaps his fingers and the bruiser shakes K'aus by the neck of his shirt. Pay attention to this part. "What you should be thinking is, who's going to guard that pretty prostitute while you're here?" So he did do his homework.

So he doesn't get to finish, darn. A wince accompanies his trying to get his feet under him, when he does he's standing not at his full height but at a slumped half-mast. His head tips back so he can look down his nose at the boss. The stuff about the dragon earn no reaction, very likely it's all spot-on; when he's given another shake his jaw tenses like he wants to do bad things to that hand, but what follows wipes him of all signs of life. He's staring again, blankly, which isn't exactly a tell but it could be if someone's paying attention. He thinks fast, probes the cut on his lip with the tip of his tongue and says, "I think you and your men are laboring under a fallacy. You misinterpret my dealings. Who said I give a shit about a bunch of whores?"

The boss stares levelly at K'aus for a while longer. That answer wasn't worth acknowledging, so he continues his own story. "I've already got men in the place, watching those girls for me. It's not that fucking hard to hide a couple of lowlifes in a whorehouse. If they hear things aren't going well with you, they might just take their anger out on those girls. So do you still wanna fuck around, or do you want to tell me your fucking name?"

That's a lot of information to process. Doubtless, K'aus's mind goes to a lot of different places all at once. There's a frantic energy in the way he passes his eyes back and forth in front of him like he's reading a book or something, and finally he picks himself up to stand straight and lowers his gaze to the floor. That way they might not see it go all unfocused. Aloud he says, "My fucking name is K'aus."

"Don't use your dragon," the boss says softly, ignoring the name. That glance down may have been crafty enough to hide the blurring of his vision, but it doesn't stop the boss from knowing K'aus has a telepathic link and expecting him to use it. "I'll have to go to extreme measures if you use your dragon. You tell him to be quiet. Right now." The bruiser shoves his hand under K'aus's chin and forces it up, so they both can watch his eyes. "No tricks," the boss reminds him, his tone still dangerously soft. "It only gets worse if there's tricks."

His eyes close until the hand under his chin, he must know what it's for because he opens them again, looks at first the bruiser out of their corners, then at the boss directly ahead, there. "Let's move on from this part. So you have a couple of thugs leaning on June and her girls, you have me. You also have two less men in your employ, technically only one, but it isn't like the other one's much good now, you're welcome for that. I know what I want, you know what you want. You can't kill me or else you have more trouble coming your way than I'm worth." Which might actually be true, but in the 'how much does Ista want him' sort of way.

"Now this son of a bitch wants to do business," the boss exclaims, jumping off his desk. He strides up to K'aus and shoves two fingers in on either side of his jugular, which is just immensely uncomfortable, and relieves his bruiser of the task of holding the brownrider's head up. "Keep it on business, you time-wasting son of a bitch. You try to get smart with me again and you'll be so fucking sorry."

K'aus's head stays fucking up. His immediate reflex is to swallow, painfully, past those fingers, which is too damn bad. His eyes are half-lidded again but very very focused indeed on the boss's face, inches from his own. His voice comes out thick. "I maimed your man, it's nothing personal, I just want Kozec." And again, in case it missed its mark, "I just want Kozec."

"You went the wrong fucking way about it," the boss says. He pulls his fingers out of K'aus's neck. "I don't like it when people fuck with my guys. Maiming a guy who didn't do shit to you? I didn't like that." The boss shakes his head and takes a half step back to eyeball K'aus from a distance where he can see, and evaluate, the whole man. "You can't have Kozec. I'm not going to fucking hand him to you, you sick, stupid fuck."

Probably the sudden wolf-grin K'aus puts on wasn't one of the reactions the boss was expecting, but there it is anyway, along with, eventually, some slightly maniacal laughter. "Oh right, sure, I'm the sick fuck. You know what your guy did, he fucking raped and brutalized a young girl and left her to die alone in the woods. So me, impressionable guy that /I/ am, I'm only trying to create an homage, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." When he's denied his temper spikes, so does the volume of his voice. "If you don't fucking give him to me I will come after every single fucking one of you until I find him myself."

The boss waits there, unimpressed, while Kozec's crimes are laid before him. When K'aus starts to yell, however, the other man pulls himself up and roars him down. "You touch another one of my guys, I don't care if it's even by accident, I'll fucking /break/ you. You don't think I can do it, you just try me, you son of a bitch, you watch what I find to fucking break you." During this exchange, he's advanced back on K'aus to get right in his face, and when he's done, he spits on the brownrider. His bruiser's fallen silent, but his grip tightens, in case any of this is enough to tip the already crazed K'aus into full psychotic mode.

Hardly one to back down, K'aus is just as pissed off as he was a moment before the boss drowned him out. Already struggling in the bruiser's grip, once spit comes into play he only makes a low, growled noise and starts jerking around, trying to get free. He thrusts his spit-smeared face at the boss's, his eyes slightly crazed. "I don't have anything to fucking lose anymore you fucking prick."

The boss's upper lip pulls back in disgust at this spit-smeared lunatic. Reading that expression, the bruiser hauls back on K'aus's arms, removing him from the boss's immediate vicinity. He's managed to hold on to the man, somehow, despite all the twisting efforts to wrench free. "Then kill yourself and get out of my fucking hair," the boss suggests. "Or shut up for a second and listen, you son of a bitch."

Though he's still obviously roiling with rage, he manages to bite down on it, to keep it in his mouth instead of let it come out in more hateful, angry words. Shut up and listen? Fine. But don't think that K'aus isn't going to glare sharp, vengeful daggers. He does speak, in a tight voice that growls. "Be a dear and wipe my face for me." Somebody.

The boss shrugs at this request, which is enough of a permissive gesture to prompt the bruiser to bring a handkerchief out of his pocket. He swipes it roughly over K'aus's face and is done, folding up the napkin so the spit's on the inside and tossing it away for disposal later. "I'm not giving you Kozec. You want him, you can have him, though. He's a fucking hassle, a goddamn liability. I got rid of him. He ever sets foot on my island again, I'll wipe him out. You ever lay a hand on my fucking guys again, I'll wipe /you/ out and say he did it. You got that? K'aus?" He spits the fought-for name out with disgust.

K'aus closes his eyes and tilts his chin up for his wipe-down, then grimaces and swallows. It's quite possible he wants to throw up. "Tell me where he is," is his next 'request', made with steely jaw and hardened gaze.

"Between Barnacle and Podunk hold, in the motherfucking wattle and daub hut. I'm not tracing the bastard. But you want to know what I know about it," the boss says, "you tell me something I want to know."

Those eyes roll. "Fucking cute. I know about a lot of shit. How about you tell me what I know that you wanna know about." K'aus gives another half-hearted jerk in his captor's grip and gives the bruiser a sideways glance that's all murderous.

The bruiser doesn't even bother to meet K'aus's eye. He's done this hostage thing so many times it's boring for him, especially now that the fun parts - where he gets to threaten K'aus or beat the shit out of him - seem to have stopped, and he's reduced to a face-wiper. The half-hearted jerk is easily restrained. "I want a name," the boss says. "Some fucking storeworker. Blond hair, smart mouth. Raggedy looking, tall motherfucker."

A name. This is another one of those moments that K'aus takes to scan the inner walls of his mind for details, for a plan. For tricks. He's very good about keeping his gaze clear though, no misunderstandings here, and looking the boss in the eye. "Yeah I think there's a guy like that. His name's Vladilen, why, what do you want him for?"

The boss makes eye contact with his bruiser, and a perfectly silent exchange is carried out. Most likely, they are remembering Vlad's name. Noting it. "None of your fucking business. Kozec's probably headed for Fort. Lots of fuck-ups going there lately."

Just like boss and bruiser make mental notes, K'aus makes one of his own, just there. Fort: check. "And just to be sure, so they're on the same page and everything, he opens his mouth again. "One day I might kill you."

The look the boss gives K'aus is thoroughly unimpressed. He doesn't even have to gesture at his bruiser, who knows that this conversation is over, and rounds it off with another knock to the back of K'aus's head that sends him tumbling into black-out land. He'll wake in a heap on the jungle path leading to the weyr, with a killer headache and sore ribs to remember his visit by.

ETA: The word 'fuck' was used 31 times in this log. XD

[OOC] Vignette.

2009-09-05T22:47:24Z

It's dark in the ship's under-deck area. Dark and oddly damp, moist, sticky. There is no ventilation here, no port holes or even so much as a square cut into the hull to let in fresh air. Ista's humidity collects densely in the close space and drips from the gloomy rafters overhead.
An oily green light opens suddenly on a small, old table, a modest collection of glows held in the cup of a tattered basket. There is nothing new or fine here and if everything isn't dirty then at least most everything is. In short, it is the ideal place to keep someone whom you do not want to find comfort. To scare them, to beat their will down into the musty old floorboards.
There is a man in a chair next to the table. Small details become clearer about his situation: he is bound with his wrists to the arms of the chair; he is gagged by a dirty old sock; he is staring with wide eyes. His wide forehead is sweaty and greasy, there is a flop of hair matted to it. He's very likely a good looking man under different circumstances, when he's clean and he isn't terrified.
He also isn't alone.
Once again he tries to communicate with his captor, his muffled pleas stopping very short of actual coherent syllables.
He receives only silence in response, the other man staring down at another table, upon which a number of shiny instruments has been spread. His back is to the man in the chair.
Eventually he selects a cruel looking scalpel-like tool and holds it delicately in his hand. He turns finally, and it's K'aus's black eyes that bore into the man in the chair. He approaches him, picking up a stool along the way and dragging it over so he can sit there with the device plainly visible. He speaks.
"If you had answered my questions before we wouldn't be here. I just want you to know that."
More muffled pleas. K'aus lifts his eyebrows and remains as coldly unreachable as he has been. There is a partition between himself and things like sympathy, pity.
"It's really too late for that. This," he holds up the scalpel, "is where we're at now."
A quiet, sobbing moan.
The dragonrider very calmly pushes the stool away and stands to lean over the other man. The impossibly sharp edge of the blade gleams once in the sick light.
-----
An hour later the door leading into the room opens.
The man who took K'aus's money walks down the short stairs to enter through it. He looks at the chair, at the man in it, at his face; he looks at the messy sheet covering the floor. He turns away from it all to vomit quietly in the corner.
-----
The next day a man is delivered to the people who will care. He is horribly disfigured and missing two fingers.
Those show up the day after, to two more recipients.
-----
In his room in the Lucky Seven, K'aus sits in a chair and calmly turns the page in his book.

[LOG] Sharing is caring.

2009-09-03T00:47:19Z

The nice day has turned into a nice night, a breeze cutting through the summer stickiness. The doors of the tavern and all of its windows are thrown open to encourage the draft, much needed with the press of bodies thickened by visitors from the tithe train. A large party has just abandoned their table to stumble off into the darkness, so June sweeps in to clear the mess they've left, gathering emptied beer bottles in between the fingers of one hand and reordering chairs with the other.

June is distracted then, so she probably doesn't notice K'aus come in. One of the other sisters might but he isn't here for them, and if they try to intercept him he will politely (for him) brush them off. He isn't interested in a table, except for the one she cleans; he isn't interested in a bottle, except for those she's collecting. "I can help with those," he announces, and maybe she noticed him before he's suddenly there, at her side, already trying to take the bottles from her.

June's momentum keeps her going around the bend of the table after he's been spotted, at least until he steps in to impede it. The bottles he's going for are smoothly drawn out of his immediate reach, though, pulled tight against her side. Gently, with a quiet little smile, she insists, "It's my job." And then she continues, nudging the chair next to her under the table with a swift scratch of its legs. "And you're a customer." Even if he isn't exactly paying for anything right now.

At this point he could say something about how he might consider himself more than a customer, but didn't they have like a whole discussion about that and stuff? And he /is/ here on a mission, sort-of, and he knows how she is. K'aus holds up his hands, fine, and takes one of the chairs she hasn't pushed in yet. There. "I'll need to see a menu and you really should talk to someone about cleaning up around here," he mutters, scooting himself in so he can lace his fingers up top. He turns a blank, innocent look up at her.

June watches him take that seat, a smile springing up only when he's settled and speaking again. "I'll makes sure and talk to the owner," she assures him just as softly, glancing at him while she leans over the table in front of him to snag the last two bottles. "Anything else I can get you?" she asks more seriously, leaning a hip against the table while she waits out his answer, bottles dangling from her fingers and clinking faintly.

He's running his palm over the table's surface next, then inspecting that and making a face. "Hm?" He glances up just in time to see the lovely view her leaning over has afforded him, spends a mature moment staring, then meets June's eyes. "Yeah, actually." K'aus's lean is much less provocative and more for the appearances of sharing a secret. "How about some story time. You and me. One of those rooms. I promise I can make it up the stairs this time."

June considers the proposition of story time with a slightly squinted gaze, but that disappears easily enough after a softly heaved breath. "Alright," she assents, nodding once before she pushes off of the table and heads off in the direction of the bar. "Come get your key," she tells him over her shoulder before she's stepped too far. She doesn't wait for him, though, she just trusts he'll follow while she continues on in the task she had before he came.

'Alright' is all he needed to hear to abandon his chair with a sudden shove back and even hastier standing. And as he is very much himself, K'aus doesn't bother to push his chair in when he's done with it, instead he follows along on June's heels. Fast forward to a few moments later, after he's acquired 'his key' and used it on the usual room upstairs, thankfully it's vacant. Once inside he goes to one of those chairs and re-seats himself, clasping his hands loosely in his lap.

When June joins him upstairs she's minus a few empty beer bottles and plus one full one, the usual just for him. She slides it down onto the little table in front of him, then takes the bed for herself, at first just sitting on the edge, but a moment later she lowers herself back to lie perpendicular across the bed and stare at the ceiling. "So are these my stories, or are you planning on treating me to one of your own." The dryness of her voice brings out a subtle humor. She knows already.

K'aus thanks her for the bottle by not assaulting her with questions or comment until she's made it known she's ready for either. Only after she's taken her place there on the bed, and it's almost routine now, he opens the beer and takes a drink, swallowing during her rhetorical. "Oh gee I don't know, I hadn't thought about it beyond that there are things here that we don't know. What was that, this Kozec guy beat you?" He'd never think of wasting time; that would just be wasteful.

June shifts to get comfortable, little leans or nestlings that all end up with her snagging a pillow from the top of the bed to place under her head. "He did," she tells him when everything is all settled and she's comfortable. Her eyes slant over to meet his before she lets them slip closed. "I told you that he was a bad sort of client. That's what a bad sort of client does." Most of her is comfortable, but something is missing. Ah yes, the shoes, those come off with a tiny one-two kick soon after she finishes.

He was a bad sort of client. K'aus's eyebrows come up. That what a bad sort of client does. K'aus's eyebrows come down. They bunch up, actually, over his suddenly very intent gaze, which does not want to leave June. "Is that-- what the fuck." Pain or no, he shifts to lean his elbows on his knees and lets the bottle dangle from one hand. "So some guy beats you and that's just a bad sort of client, Junavie, come on." He lets that sit, then adds, "How long ago did he do it. How long ago did that fucker bring you into a room like this one and lay his fucking hands on you like that."

The use of her full name cracks an eye open and in the pause that follows she abandons her repose altogether and props herself up into a nearly straight sit. "First of all," she says, maintaining a level head despite all the cussing, "calm down. This was... over four turns ago. And yes, he was a bad sort of client. They may be rare, but they happen." All of it is delivered as soothingly as she can manage, considering the subject. "It happened, and it's over."

"It isn't fucking over, for fuck's sake." K'aus is standing now, with only a bare amount of struggling to actually get out of the chair, and gesturing with his bottle. "Look, I get that it's scary and I get that it's fucking awful but this guy is fucking /here/, okay, he's done horrible fucking things and he's /here/. I'm not crazy, okay, I'm not fucking crazy."

June's gaze follows his rise, remaining steady and calm where he doesn't. "I know that you're not crazy," she assures him first. "But what happened to me happened a long time ago and now that he's here, we're taking every precaution to make sure it doesn't happen again. Getting upset isn't going to help anything, so you need to calm down, or I'm done talking." The ultimatum is like a balm, cool but to a mitigating effect. One hand lifts and gently pats the bed next to her, an invitation to a calmer posture.

"You know I'm not crazy, well that makes one of you. All those people on the dock, they thought I was crazy. I'm a lot of fucking things but I'm not--" She pats the bed. K'aus isn't all that opposed to the idea, or else he wouldn't, after a brief spat of reluctance, come to join her there after he sets his bottle down on the table a little more roughly than necessary. His weight on the bed is heavy, his shoulders slumping and his hands between his knees. His eyes squint. "There may be a detail or two you don't know," comes after a while.

Well, he's sitting now, but he's still not quite as calm as June would want him, so she summons her sagging energies to pull herself to her knees on the bed and maneuver around behind him. "I thought that might be the case," she admits as her hands settle tenderly over his shoulders, their kneading beginning gingerly at first. He could still be breakable, after all. "Go ahead," she encourages when she's firmly settled into place.

/His/ hands dig their heels into his eyes while she puts hers on him from behind. It's likely that even if June's touch does hurt him he won't say anything, it's a welcome distraction regardless. And because he's already dug himself in this deep and because if this isn't the proper setting then what is?, K'aus takes a deep breath and unravels, his voice is low and rough. "The girl he killed, she was this harper. She wrote songs and she'd like sing them-- anyway. She was posted just outside Bitra right after it started falling again, Thread, but there were these people there, they had the whole place nailed down, these really dangerous, bad people. And she went, even though I-- someone told her not to." There's a small pause before this, "I met him, I was, I lived at Fort then. That Kozec guy. I knew what he was doing. I told her not to go. Shit, I can still see her face." He's covering his with both hands.

June is just a pair of hands, manipulating his much-abused muscles with a touch that gradually warms to firm but never quite gets there. Then comes her voice, a murmur from the silence that he sinks into, "K'aus." She doesn't continue on into any other empty-seeming expressions of sympathy or condolence, the utterance of his name is heavy with all the heartbreak she could otherwise express. Still left without the few threads needed to stitch the whole story together, she waits a beat and asks quietly, "Who was she?"

K'aus remains as-is, bent and leaning on his knees, head in his hands with his fingers splayed in his hair. One or more of her massaging rubs nudges him this way or that, his foundation a little unstable at the moment. There's no chance he didn't hear her question but it's a while before he answers it, his hands moving from to his mouth and then to his lap again. He turns, just enough to look at her over his shoulder. There is a very mysterious leak in the corner of one of his eyes. "Her name was Marin."

The revelation has power enough to interrupt the massage entirely, June's fingers falling ineffectual against his spine. She knows that name, knows what it means. A deep exhale plunges into the space between them, pressing heat through his shirt as she lowers her forehead to bump against his shoulder blade. It takes her a moment to summon words, but they come eventually, and simple though they are, they remain full and weighted. "K'aus, I'm sorry." Her hands find their way again, but the massage is derailed; she just cups her palms against the bend of his lower back. She continues, "I'm sorry I said..." but the attempt is aborted weakly with another stiff breath.

June is allowed the solid span of his back, every inch of it, to lean on or rest against however she pleases. Her apology lowers his eyes, lifts his hand to the one tear, or something like it, to catch it on his fingers and stare down at it, completely mystified. "It's fine," he says quickly, clearing his throat when his voice proves to be clouded. Awkwardly he keeps his gaze down. It's taking him a second. "I found her in the woods. Off one of the caravan roads. I don't know what happened or how they got her out there."

June abandons her post altogether, gathering herself back to his side where she sat to begin with, or near enough to it, since her legs remain curled on the bed. Her hands conform to the sides of his jaw and provide a gentle guide to draw his gaze up to her, though she's not insistent enough to force the issue if he resists. Earnest eyes seeking out his, she asserts firmly, "No one should have to see that." A beat, and she adds, "No one should have to... deal with that. Especially alone. No one." Her hands fall out of necessity, to keep her at the angle that allows her to maintain eye contact. "I can't imagine," she mumbles when she settles into that propped position.

She'll find him as pliable under the guide of her hands as he's ever been, which is to say very. K'aus's eyes are slow to move with his chin, dragging a little until they meet hers like she meant. He swallows, his jaw gone slack in her gentle grip. It isn't until she releases him that he speaks again, as if that was all that was holding him back. "This isn't about me, June. I'm what, some stupid old bastard with a complex, I've been dead for a lot longer than she has. But she was good and innocent and she didn't deserve to die like that." She'll find his hand sneaking in to take one of hers, to fold it up in his bigger palm. "You didn't deserve what he did to you."

He begins to speak and June moves her head subtly, a shadowed hint of a head shake. But whatever mote of disagreement that's there, it's buried beneath the rest that he has to say. "It doesn't matter," June replies to the last, eyes dropping from his finally, to follow the movement, unimpeded by her, of his hand. "It happened, and I was lucky," she adds rationally, voice retreating from the emotion-laden tones she'd dropped into. "I'm still here," she says, a touch of hesitance joined by a dart of a glance before she continues, "thankfully, and I'm smarter." A heaved breath, then, "He's not going to do it again." Empty promises, maybe, but comforting ones all the same.

Her dart of a glance finds him still watching her as though the thought didn't affect him. If not for the very subtle tension in his jaw she might never know. "Still here," he agrees absently, he too dropping his gaze for the sight of their hands, his long fingers curling protectively. "I told her we were gonna be safe and I was wrong. I couldn't keep her safe at all. But I promised her, after, that I would find him and make him pay and to hell with anything else. Between you and me we know what's up. So no. He's not gonna do it again." Even if they are empty...

June says nothing more in response, expressing her agreement with a silent nodding of her head, strong at first and trailing off into nothing. Her gaze drops from a listening attentiveness to their hands once again and, so gently, she extricates hers, reclaiming it to put it to a more suitable task, which happens to be stroking reassuringly up and down his back. A failed attempt to speak, maybe, her next breath is a heavy one before she settles down into a more even, contemplative rhythm.

He has nothing to do with his hand now so he jerkily assumes again that lean from before, elbows on knees, and stares ahead while she rubs the tension out of him. Even if it doesn't wholly work it's appreciated and June receives small things like that deep sigh as proof she's doing good. K'aus's voice comes again though. "That was almost ten years ago but I don't think I've ever not thought about it. I don't tell people. The people who know what happened aren't here. She's deader than dead and that's my fault, you're supposed to keep people alive in memories or something." His fingers lift to the chain around his neck to pluck at it idly while he mulls. Next is, "Do you wanna talk about what happened to you?" While they're at it.

The massaging bent of June's one hand gradually leaks away until it's just a trail of fingertips and nails, tracing an unpredictable pattern over his shirt. This may be because she's got only a small shred of attention on it, the rest directed squarely on his face. She nods understanding at what he says, replying with the small, soft-voiced comfort, "You still remember her." When the subject turns to her own difficulty, she's quick to find an answer for him, a simple, "No," and an explanation follows nearly as easily. "It was a long time ago," she adds with a measured calm, "and it's not something I'm proud of. I was taken in as easily as Valenia back then." The jaded thoughts sour her expression just a tad, lips pursed gently and her eyes gaining a harder squint.

That isn't good enough, so says his eyes rolling indifferently, but K'aus doesn't argue verbally with her on the subject. And when June answers him he turns sort of and his back straightens under her travelling fingers, all so that he can look at her and lean on his arm, hand planted in the bed in the small space between them. Also calm, his dark eyes watch her through that explanation, up to the change in her expression and through that as well. Eventually he bends his leg between them too, which will interrupt her attentions, and takes a breath. "Is that why you were so weird about me in the beginning? You know, like before I totally persuaded you and paid for your good mood and saved the day that one time. Did you think I was another one of those guys?"

June's hand falls away from that contact easily when he turns, ending up limp against her tucked knees, and her eyes lift effortlessly to meet his gaze, expression tweaked back to calm composure. "Yes," she answers after a beat and a blink, clarifying soon after. "But every new guy is one of those guys until he proves me wrong." She shrugs lightly for that precaution, that simple fact of her profession, then adds, "Fewer nasty surprises that way."

"I can see how that would be preferable. The... fewer surprises part, I mean." K'aus's blinks are several and quick and he clears his throat again, this time for no apparent reason. They sit there like that, he with one foot on the floor, leaning on his arm. And then, "I don't know what I did to earn your trust June but I wanna keep it, I'm not gonna fuck up again. So listen, I was thinking about this, if I stay here and there's trouble then I can actually do something about it. So maybe for like a month, how much would that cost me."

Though she may be warding off the nasty kind, June isn't quite as immune to the littler surprises like the one he lobs at her just now. Only silence comes from her parted lips as she blinks over the idea, until she can formulate the two words, "A lot." Another glance at him affirms he wants an actual figure, so she lifts her gaze to push numbers around on the ceiling, returning shortly with the total. "At the normal rate," she's quick to add. "But that's a ridiculous amount, I would never charge that much for you... doing us a favor." The jury's still out on how much of a discount would cut into that total, but the calculations are surely filing through the back of her mind, along with considerations for rules and protocol, for her gaze glazes over and wanders a bit with the effort. "What about Ehrudith?" she wonders idly in among it all.

There's no startled surprise when she comes up with that total, only a blank nod and K'aus's gaze unfocusing a little as well. He too is delving into the figures within his head, sorting through numbers, remembering expenditures, adding. "I just need a room," he adds, distracted, when she mentions 'favor'. "Maybe not a month, maybe even just, I don't know, like a few weeks." Which sort of sounds like a month. Her concern for the dragon brings him out of his inner workings to stare at her. "Kind of you to wonder, he'll stay on the ledge or on the beach, whichever he feels like as per his usual. I used to like stay at the Hall sometimes, uh... Harper Hall, anyway he's used to improvising. So you come up with a figure," this part is soft, "and let me know."

June's gaze wavers when he mentions the Harper Hall, but it lasts only a couple of seconds before she realizes it's only compounding the awkwardness of the moment and draws her eye back. She leaves his past where it should be, though, and concerns herself with matters more under her control. "We, ah. Normally those who stay in one of our rooms," and she slips into businesslike tones, a pitch like she would give an other potential spender, but with a softened touch, "also get meals, laundry service, a modest drink allowance, included. If they want them." She tilts her head, eyes dropping more thoughtfully than awkwardly, this time; they flash back up to meet his as she says neutrally, "It'd be the same for you." Of course, if he opted for just a room, it would be just a room.

"I can get food from the Weyr, I can definitely take my laundry to the Weyr, even if the thought of you or one of your sisters touching my underwear gets me a little excited. Even if I'm not actually in them at the time." Consider him opted out. But, "I like drinks though. And I don't really see bringing the bar down as an option, sadly. So I'll take those. And I'll pay for extras." And K'aus will pause as well, meeting her eyes and giving her a little half-smile that just barely makes it. His breath hitches on this, "You tried to be my friend that night and I just fucked you. I don't know what's wrong with me." She's heard that before. "But I'm sorry for being a prick. I'm just not good at this stuff."

June rolls her eyes briefly for what turns him on, levity peeking through in a loosening of the tension around her mouth. The change doesn't last, a certain alertness returning to her expression when he brings up that night. "Don't be sorry," she returns smoothly, the wry, subtly-tipped smile that sprung up when he called himself a prick still remaining. "You had some good points. And I was drunk." Not an apology, exactly, but there's some hinting at one in the undercurrent of her voice.

If he can't be sorry then she doesn't get to be either. "Okay so we both fucked up, deal." Finally he responds to her smile by giving her another one, he even lets a laugh come through his nose. It's a special talent. His teeth are showing while he chews on his lip before he adds, "Hey listen, while we're making deals do you mind not mentioning any of this to anyone? I mean I don't want anyone knowing I'm some sad sack of shit on top of everything else. Except you. You can know." She won't use it against him. /She's/ earned that trust. "But nobody else. It's... it's my thing, you know?" K'aus watches her face carefully. Does she? "I won't tell anyone about your thing. Here, pinky promise me." There's his pinky.

June listens to him without a shift in expression, and he'll have to find his way along without any little reassurances from her end. She waits until he's done to soften her lips into something more resembling her normal smile and to nod faintly. "I wasn't planning on telling a soul," she assures him quietly, looking down at his pinky for a second before moving to hook it with her own. The sight of their well-aged fingers engaged in the childish gesture is what finally pulls a bit of laughter from her, just a noiseless stirring of a chuckle as she watches the shake, shake, release.

"Okay good." K'aus bends his head down to keep eye contact while she laughs, his eyebrows lifted and his smile growing subtly. "If I catch on that you're breaking this really serious vow really awful things are gonna happen to you. Like maybe I'll never /speak/ to you again." Awful. His hand drops. He's quiet. Until. "It's kind of true what he was saying earlier. About me... protecting you and the girls." His hand flops weakly. He looks down at it. "Ah, I should probably go," sounds a little bit disgusted and precedes his getting up from the bed to stand over her and scratch the back of his head. His other hand fishes around in his pocket and comes up with marks.

"Really awful things," June mutters in an understanding echo, nodding her head gently over his example, feigning sobriety over the awfulness of it all. That sobriety sinks in deeper with what he says next and she gives up her smile in her attempt to come up with a response. Before she can, he's standing, brushing it all off, and she moves to follow him. He'll find his marks-sorting covered with her hand and guided back to the level of his pocket. "Don't worry about that now. Take it tonight," she says, other hand tossing a short gesture at the bed, "and I'll come up with a fair price for you in the morning. Go down, have a drink. Keep watch." The last is added on with all importance, her eyes steady on his. It is an appreciated effort, no matter what he thinks of his guard dog capabilities. "We only have so many eyes."

She accomplished pausing him at least, though he's a little reluctant to put his money away. K'aus squints his eyes at her, directs them at the bed when she gestures at it, back to her again. His head tilts radically to one side. "Is this like a charity thing, you feel bad for me so you're letting me off the hook. 'Cause I'll have you know sweetheart that there's nothing pathetic about me." Wait. He thinks that over and doesn't bother not being obvious about it. "At least not in this moment in time." But he listens, repockets, and squares his shoulders before bending his knees until he's at eye level with her. "Fourteen last I checked. Eyes. Up it two more then, we'll see how we do."

June drops her chin a bit, but keeps her eyes on K'aus, showing him just how much concern she has for charity. "It's a concession made for a friend," is how she phrases it instead, which is surely what she'll call the inevitable cut in rate he'll be receiving. She smiles shallowly when he drops to her level, running a look over his face before she responds, "We'll see," and turns for the door, telling him casually while she's opening it, "Don't forget to lock your door. When you're gone, when you're sleeping." A friendly reminder from his friendly innkeeper.

He's standing at his full height again as soon as she turns away from him. He's also in the middle of giving his new room a look over, like he's only just now seeing it, and maybe he kind of is, when she gives him that friendly reminder. A few blinks follow, his brow furrowed, but K'aus doesn't look concerned beyond that. A little perplexed, "Gotcha."

The noise from downstairs floods into being again with the opening of that thick door. June stands with her back to it, holding it open for him to lead the way out, and in doing so she catches the oddness in his expression. "What?" she asks simply, allowing her own brows to slant gently downward.

Caught! "What?" K'aus reanimates to perk his eyebrows at her. "Nothing." Quickly. And since she's opening the door for him and everything he won't make her wait around. Once they're both outside of it and it's closed, he gives her a pointed look while he aims the key at the lock, looking away only when he needs to to actually insert it. See? He remembered. After that he walks with her down the stairs and into the tavern proper, where he takes a seat at the bar and orders up his usual. Home sweet home-- for a price.

[LOG] Way back.

2009-09-01T22:06:53Z

Skinner's done his work today, luring the members of a recently arrived tithe train over to his market. As a result, the place is bustling, the shopkeepers busy talking up their wares and roping in customer after customer. So what's left for Skinner to do? Apparently not much, because he's just strolling the periphery, pausing here and there to listen in on a sales pitch without comment. He looks pretty pleased with himself, though.

The girls of The Lucky Seven have been keeping to themselves a lot more lately. Midday outings are rarer and when they're taken, they're taken in tight groups, so when June appears in the bustle, her sisters aren't far behind. They lag, just now, because Valenia has been snagged by a particularly convincing peddler hawking lovely little trinkets and knick knacks he's carved from wood himself. Danta hauls on the younger girl's arm, but lacks the firmness it takes to break that kind of absorption, so she just hovers, keeping one eye on each of her sisters. June notices the distance her wandering has put between her and the others, so pulls her pace to a stop at the last stall on that edge, people-watching while she waits. When Skinner falls under her idle gaze, she smiles warmly and inclines her head to persuade him to come closer.

The lucky girls aren't the only ones laying low. If for nothing else, K'aus has been trying to avoid people asking him questions. Questions are annoying. As for how he's found himself to be here, in the market's vicinity, for the first time since he came to get his cards read, well. It's no secret he keeps close to the Lucky Seven, there's been some speculation about his relationship with the female proprietors; they might not realize it, but he's trailing after /them/ today. Trailing, limping-- same thing. His face looks better. Valenia's preoccupation brings the group to a slow stop and he struggles to compensate and look like he isn't stalking them all. Look at that thing there, it's so interesting. He painfully tries to let himself be engaged by someone trying to sell something and watches June and her brood out of the corner of his eye.

Surveying his own handiwork gets a little dull after a time, so Skinner's perfectly happy to take that smile from June as an invitation. Putting on a bright smile of his own, he waves as he walks towards her. "Good afternoon, lovely ladies." His smile extends over the sisters hovering nearby, even the distracted Valenia. "Finding things you like, I hope."

The watchful shadow that is K'aus seems to go unnoticed during all of their wanderings through the stalls. But in the lull provided to Danta by Valenia's overdose of curiosity, her observant glances become searching ones that stop and drop as soon as she's scouted out the brownrider's new location. The two younger sisters take no heed of Skinner, thanks to their distractions, but June gives him the attention due to the proprietor of the market. "Finding nothing, I'm afraid," June answers him, removing her gaze long enough to exchange a look with Danta. "When are you going to bring someone who can make a decent instrument?" And she passes another quick inspection over each of the stalls, including the one K'aus busies himself with. Returning to Skinner, she adds cheerfully, "The harpers here want an arm and a leg for one."

Fact: K'aus is not sneaky today. It isn't even necessarily for lack of skills, but it probably is, but mostly he just gives up. Can you blame him, after several minutes being pitched a sale he isn't even the slightest bit interested in? After another minute or two he finally lets his eyes do the walking. They're on June so the rest of him turns in her, and Skinner's, direction. Which means he leaves that poor vendor without a word. Luckily there's still Valenia, on which he preys next. Poor Val. "Hey," the brownrider says when he approaches.

Skinner's eyebrows go up in a show of sympathy for June's inability to find the things she needs. "As soon as I can convince someone who makes a decent instrument to come out here. Or, as soon as you tell me what instrument you're looking for and commission me to find it for you." Cue the sparkling teeth. His eyes flicked towards K'aus somewhere in that conversation, making note of the beat-up brownrider's approach, but it doesn't keep his attention long.

Valenia, so focused on the clever brainteaser puzzle the vendor is demonstrating for her, starts at K'aus' simple greeting. Her eyes fly up to him and a second later she's calming herself with a smile and a breathed, "Oh, hi." Danta greets him, too, in her own way, with a glance that lingers to catch a moment of eye contact and a curt smile when it's caught. "What are you doing out here?" Valenia wonders innocently at the brownrider. "I mean, there's no reason you shouldn't, it's a nice day, I don't blame you. Just, are you looking for anything?" The peddler perks too; wooden brainteaser anyone? Danta takes advantage of her sister's break from the sales pitch to tug on Valenia's arm again, which does it's job in getting her to meander a few steps in the correct direction. June meanwhile chuckles softly at Skinner's response. "It's not urgent," she tells him, "I'd rather your cut come from them and not from me." She inclines her head at the nearest stall, in the process casting a glance at her sisters plus one, finally joining up with her again.

K'aus stares at Valenia while she speaks as if she is a very mysterious little sprite creature. His hand has come up right before she stops speaking to perhaps use a finger or two on her lips; squeeze them together, take them off, something. But she's done, his hand pauses. "I'm always looking for something," is his super helpful answer. His eyes move past her to the older redhead and he adds, "Excuse me please," before he wades through sisters in order to get to June. He addresses her thusly, "You're harder to keep track of when you aren't seven people. Skinner." There isn't a lot of mystery in who that last part is for.

Skinner stretches his arm up the inside of the stand next to him, leaning his weight against it. The merchant's on the other side of the stall, trying to sell wooden brainteasers to K'aus and Valenia, so he's too busy to mind. "Hey, I get good prices, June. And good quality. Just think about it," he ends with a wink, because his pitch has been cut short. "Hey," is for K'aus. One of those words piqued his interest, though, and his gaze shifts to June with an arched brow. "Keep track of?"

Valenia stares at K'aus as he walks on, confusion distracting her while Danta guides them along after him. Poor Skinner's sale is on the edge of being sealed when K'aus comes and June's consideration and her reply are both cut short. She turns instead to pass a quick assessment over the brownrider's feature, responding dryly, "I'll work on getting some chains, lock us all together, how's that? It's nothing." She returns to Skinner without so much as a transition. "A certain... unsavory guy is hanging around the tavern. K'aus is keeping an eye out for us, is all." Simple as that, though the way Valenia's eyes skitter around the group is telling. There might be more to it than that.

June has a way with words. 'Keeping an eye out' instead of 'blatantly stalking', for example. K'aus looks from Skinner to the redheaded sister and back again, a bland smile in place for her lovely explanation. It means he doesn't have to say anything, and he likes it that way. Except he /does/ have something to say, still, to add to that. In the usual flat voice, "Strange coincidence, this guy causing all this trouble. See now I would've thought a businessman would have more keeping him busy than harrassing women. In a bar." His eyebrows knit and he turns to June without looking at her. Playing the forgetful sort, "What was his name again, June, wasn't it like-- Kochek or... Korev, help me out here."

"Miss? Miss?" The woodcarver tries to get Valenia's attention back on his puzzle boxes, and Skinner glances that way. Now that this little group has stopped to talk instead of buy, they're blocking business for his merchant. "Let's mosey on," he suggests brightly, unwrapping his arm from the stall and stepping back. He takes himself out of the flow of traffic entirely, in fact, leaving the little circle of his market stalls. His attention moves to K'aus. "No offense, man, but you don't look like you're up to the part of the whole hulking bodyguard thing. What happened to your little girl?" Skinner asks June, holding his hand up to indicate yea high. "Piper."

Valenia and Danta's heads are both turned by the peddler's address, but June's eyes are stuck in the mild confusion brought on by K'aus' feigned forgetfulness. She answers eventually, with a low and wary, "Kozec." She's quick enough to return to Skinner, though, especially when he's inquiring about her girl. "She's still around," she replies while she moseys on. Even Valenia, after a tossed apology to the stall vendor, follows suit. "I've been letting her stay at the Weyr, lately, if it's going to be a slow night. But she's still around."

Snap of fingers. "Right." Glance at Skinner. "Kozec." And consider K'aus swept up with the rest of their little group to walk close at June's side with his hands in his pockets. Just never you mind the last phases of the limp he has yet to completely shake and the calm little smile he gives Skinner for his comment will be calm and confident instead of just calm and accepting. "I do what I can. Say there Skinner," all feigned innocence, "don't... /you/ know Kozec?" Because let's not change the subject here.

"Sure do!" Skinner replies, all brightness and cheer. If K'aus is going to fake dumb, Skinner's going to act like he really is. After looking around at the girls, he lands on Valenia and beckons her closer. "If somebody's bothering you, June, then it doesn't sound like you're having slow nights. Why not put Piper on high alert so Bruises here can rest easy?" A wink goes to K'aus for his new nickname.

Eyebrows startled upward are drawn right back down again when June turns to catch Skinner's response, when it turns out to be a cheery affirmation. The other two are visibly baffled by this revelation, too, suggesting at least partial knowledge of the villain of the day. Valenia just blinks blank surprise at Skinner's beckon. "Because that somebody happens to get his kicks from hurting girls like her," June answers, tone still serene, though her eyes snap. "How exactly do you know this Kozec?" she demands, still not moving her burning gaze away from Skinner for a second.

All smugness, K'aus tilts his chin up and purses his lips. Well, maybe not /all/ smugness, there's some trouble in his expression when Valenia is brought into the light of the issue, is used as an example. An example that perhaps hits a nerve. His dry, "Oh they're just business associates," is aimed up.

Skinner reaches out for Valenia's hand, to cure her confusion by giving her a little tug towards him. Given the new nature of this conversation, though, he doesn't insist, if she holds back. June's hard stare demands an answer first. "Kozec and I go way back. Not pleasantly. But I knew him in Bitra, well enough not to be surprised when Bruises told me about his girl. Don't tell me he came after Val?" An arched brow travels from younger redhead to the older one, his fingers giving another little twitch to keep calling Valenia towards him.

The fact that Skinner admits to rather unpleasant terms with the man called Kozec does much to dull the sharpness of June's stare; he even shakes the stare off for a second when he refers to 'his girl' and she shoots a glance Bruises' way. Valenia is won over by the familiar tug and, comforted far more than her two sisters by the explanation Skinner gives, she even has a small smile for him when she sidles away from Danta and toward him. "He bought me a few drinks, yeah," the younger redhead gives her own account of things. "I thought he was really nice until June told me, well..." A glance for her older sister as she allows herself to be drawn right up next to Skinner and lets her arm idly fall to his waist. "... what happened. And what he said. I felt horrible. He just didn't seem like the sort, you know?" June herself doesn't have much to add; she silently crosses her arms and keeps up her study of Skinner's expression.

Silently receiving June's glance, and returning it, K'aus holds her gaze steadily while he addresses the answer from a second ago. "If there's a-- history with you two, I think you'd see it as like a good decision if you elaborated a little. Considering your current company and the fact that this guy's a fucking fiend." He's watching Skinner now, his eyebrow up all expectant-like.

Skinner lifts his arm so Valenia can fit herself in at his side, then wraps it around her shoulders. His expression is all for her, listening to her uncertain account of meeting Kozec and offering a squeeze when she's finished. "Devils never do," he tells her. Keeping Valenia under his arm, he finally checks back on K'aus and June. The show of sympathy was just for Val, and there's none left over. "You mean, did I go around attacking women with him? No. I owed his boss money, and Kozec was the guy who tracked me down to show me why I'd better pay it back. That -" he tilts his head, focus retreating into the distance, "was painful. Never default on a loan, sweets," he advises Valenia, returning to the here and now to impart this sage advice.

Valenia greets his sage advice and the silly idea that she would have loans to default on with a single chuckle to hesitant to develop into a true laugh. June, after all, is still very soberly conversing with him. "But you're still doing business with him," June says, guiding him to the next elaboration she wants to hear from him.

Just consider K'aus another interested party. June's just asked the right question so he keeps his mouth shut and waits for the answer.

Hesitant though she is, Valenia gets a wink just for being a sport and laughing along. "I don't carry grudges," Skinner answers her sister, with a shrug. "I've still got business with his bosses, and I'm out of debt. Mind you, I hadn't seen Kozec again until just recently, even though he's been here a while. He must be bored."

June doesn't even try to fault him for his easy forgiveness, she just goes on to say, "Well, I do hold a grudge." For the offense of talking to her sister, apparently. Still, her ruffled feathers are significantly smoothed by now, the calmness in her voice less cold and her manner less stiff. "Do me a favor, and if you see him around my sisters or near the tavern, let me know." His acquiescence is already assumed, she's turning her gaze first to Valenia, then on to K'aus.

June might be quick to be smooth but K'aus is holding a grudge as well and he is not so easy. "So let me see if I have this straight," he says as soon as there's a clear space in which to speak into. His arms have since folded and he looks down at the ground or not while he sums up. "So this really fucking dangerous guy just happens to show up one day and you meet up with him and have a little talk, sorry for interrupting that by the way it looked like you were really hitting it off, and you neglect to tell anyone? Does anyone know?" A glance is given Skinner upwards, his chin tipped down. Then on to June, then lastly onto Valenia, who unfortunately seems to be the target for what he says next. "He's a killer." On to Skinner again, "Wow you really dropped the ball on this one."

Skinner's eyebrow goes up the longer K'aus keeps on talking, but before he responds he shoots Valenia a look. Like, can you believe this? "Don't be so damn dramatic. Kozec beat me up when it was his job to beat me up. I don't go screaming my head off about business as usual. You're the one who says he killed somebody, so if you want people to know, go tell them." His eyes flick towards June, who gets a humorless twist of his lips. "I don't know what to make of you right now, June," he tells her, dropping into conversational tones.

K'aus is still just a little bit too scary for Valenia, with his dark talk and recent violent brawls, so she pulls a Danta and drops her eyes meekly to the ground when K'aus pins her with his. June doesn't involve herself in this particular line of questioning, she merely observes from the sidelines until Skinner decides to address her directly. "Oh? And why is that?" she wonders as if she were pleasantly asking about the weather, though the arch of her eyebrow indicates more interest than that.

Skinner's reaction actually pleases K'aus if the tilt of his head to accompany the little smile he's wearing again is any indication. Apparently he doesn't ruffle easily past ruffled, which he obviously is or he wouldn't be here, would he. "Maybe it's because you're not humoring him. You're not laughing this off. Maybe he's a little worried about this guy, and he /should/ be. C'mon, June." Imploringly, his dark eyes find her green. In a lower voice, "Kozec is capable of more than just harrassing your girls." Also read: please believe me. Valenia's reaction to him is noted and he reaches his hand out but maybe too fast for skittish females. "Hey."

Skinner nonchalantly twists Valenia back from K'aus's fast-reaching hand, because hey, he's got her now. Chill. "Because you know what K'aus thinks of Kozec." No nickname this time. Apparently he does know the brownrider's name. "And I know why I don't care, but you I can't figure out. You seem to care. I know I'd like Val to be safe." She gets a squeeze and a smile at the mention of her name, the smile used as an excuse to peek at her expression and see how she's doing over there. "But what, you couldn't get a better watchdog than K'aus? Can you even walk without limping yet?" he asks the man directly, his eyes sparkling with amusement at the sudden thought.

Normally, Valenia might be all a-giggle with two men vying for her attention, but right now she just glances back and forth between them, expression apologetic when she gets to K'aus, since she really doesn't mean to snub him, really really. It doesn't stop her from finding a smile to meet Skinner's when he looks back down at her, though. June spares a glance for her limping watchdog and begins her answer before she's even turned back to face Skinner. "Kozec and I go way back, too," she reveals matter-of-factly, as long as they're sharing. "Way back to when he came into my old tavern and decided a beating was payment enough for a quick lay." K'aus can defend himself, so she lets him do that.

"I think it's cute you try so hard to rile me, I have loads of other tricks" says the watchdog, who then puts on a broad, wolfish smile. That was almost an undertone, since it sort of precedes June's admittance, which leaves K'aus in quite the quiet state of shock and staring at her. Apparently he hadn't heard that part before.

Except it was an explanation from June, not a defense from K'aus, Skinner was waiting on. He gives the brownrider a short glance for trying to offer said defense and doesn't comment on it. "Well, he /is/ a bastard," Skinner agrees after June's revelation, but he doesn't sound surprised. "And that'd be a good reason to take precautions." His fixes flatly on the tavern owner.

June inclines her head in a slow nod at Skinner. Which is why she is. "So like I said," she prefaces, uncrossing her arms and giving Valenia a little gesture of curled fingers. "If you see anything. Let me know." Val leaves Skinner's side with a parting pat to his back and gravitates toward June like a gathered chick. Danta, in her subtler, more silent way, steps around behind June as well as they prepare to take their leave of the trader.

The girls are preparing to leave; K'aus simply hugs his arms and watches the flock gather together. Eventually he does say, "This was fun. We should all get together more often." Which might sound a little ominous, and that might be unintentional. Maybe. The brownrider assumes a direction for his own exit that the girls might not take and uses it. As he limps away he gruffly yells, "Shut up." In case Skinner wants to make any snarky comments about his wellbeing.

Skinner had fixed a look, complete with lifted brow and mischievously sparkling eyes, on K'aus's limp, so when the brownrider cuts him off he can't help but bark laughter. That would be all, except he calls after June, "Let me know if you decide you want that instrument!" Then he's slipping back into the crowd, headed in a different direction, to check up on sales near a different stall.

[LOG] Reunion.

2009-08-29T06:10:07Z

Kitchen, Ista Weyr

Double-hinged doors, clearly labeled with large signs reading 'In' and 'Out' bring a person into the kitchens of Ista Weyr. The stone-cut ceiling is fairly low compared with other areas and has heavy beams of wood secured into it. From these seemingly decorative carved rafters hang various pots, pans and other useful kitchen items that sway gently back and forth whenever one is grabbed. The back is occupied by two fairly large sized spits, various cooking hearths and the ovens. A curtain covers a wide passageway leading down to the storage caverns.

Islands of marbled counter space occupy most of the middle of the room, obvious patterns and work triangles starting to indent comfortable wear-marks into the floor. These islands are used for kitchen prep with cabinets built underneath them for organized and labeled storage. On the left are the deep, wide sinks and more cabinets, these with carved wooden fronts bearing common sights of Ista such as intertwining tea leaves and various decorous fruit and flower vines. In whatever free space remains on the right, there's a scattering a small tables for the errant passerby or kitchen worker to sit at and grab a drink or quick bite to eat.

It has been a few days now since she saw him in the infirmary, since she left him the note. There's probably been talk of what happened that day on the docks that landed a dragonrider the only victim in the infirmary. The members of K'aus's wing have been steaming, shooting suspicious glances here and there and talking amongst themselves at meals. He's been holed away, hidden from the world, until tonight, his first time out since the order to stay /in/. And he chooses to spend it here, in the kitchen, at their table. She would have gotten no notes, no word, she'll only find him sitting, facing the way she'd come in with, wearing a black mask over his eyes and part of his nose with a flourish of feathers sprouted from one corner and his hands laced in plain sight.

And she comes to dinner, same time as all the other times. Her meal has already been taken from the living cavern. It's easy enough to spot K'aus and the mask that he's wearing. Even with that on, she knows that it's him. After all, the rest of his body isn't any different visibly than it normally is. Nenita puts the plate down and drops down into the seat across from him. She puts her fork into a piece of meat and then chews on it while staring at him. After swallowing, "This isn't helping your appearance any."

He's staring back evenly, calmly, through the gauzy black material stretched over the eyes of his mask. She'll see a splinted finger and the scabbed cut on his lip for now as the extent of his injuries. And just because K'aus is hiding doesn't mean he's going to be quiet about it. "I just can't make you happy, can I. Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

"Absolutely not. I'm a miserable creature that will never be satisfied." Nenita tells him as she forks some more food into her mouth. She narrows her eyes and tries to see through to him on the other side of the mask. Without a second of hesitation she reaches forward to try and grab a corner of it, "Is this for a medical reason or strictly cosmetic?"

"I might have gone with a different assortment of words," K'aus mutters, watching her as blankly without eyes as he likely would be with them. All of her peering will get her nowhere, there isn't a lot to see beyond the black, and that's probably why she's going to-- yeah, take it off. He was probably expecting that. A very careful lean away from her determined hand keeps him just out of reach. "No, I'm too hideous. No, no."

"Correct assortment of words or not, I'm going to be especially miserable if I fall into this food." Nenita swipes with her hand, basically a snatch at the mask. But her attempts are in vain, since her arms are short and he's leaning away. "Oh well. Since you're so hideous..." She drops back in her chair, picking her fork up again to renew the eaing.

"See this is like a fun game." Listen to all the enthusiasm in his voice. Once she's resumed doing things that don't require him to avoid her, K'aus relaxes and tilts his head, looking a bit like an inquisitive birdy. "So," drawn out, "catch me up. I feel like I hardly know ye."

Nenita eats her food, staring across the table at him. This is maybe very similar to the last time. The attitude anyway. "Well, since the last time I saw you've I've developed a strong aversion to men in masks." And it seems like that's a true statement as her eyes track up the mask, lingering on the featers in particular. "This is a terrible game."

The only part of his face she's allowed is his mouth; it flattens expressively for all her comments. He tsks at her. "You certainly are complaining a lot for someone with no broken bones currently actually /in/ their body. Am I to believe nothing of note has occured since I saw you last, what about that kid that annoys you all the time."

Nenita lifts her eyebrows. Asked very seriously, "K'aus, have you ever met anyone with broken bones that they keep /outside/ of their body? We're not insects." She picks away at the rest of the meal and eventually pushes it aside. "Ch'son? He's been quiet recently." So nothing to note, at least not in the arena of her clutchmates. She gets up, dragging her chair over to his side, fingers reaching again for the mask. "You can make me happy, very happy, by letting me see. If you don't let me see I'm going to start acting childish and probably leave."

While Nenita's sarcasm might offend or annoy someone else, K'aus's reaction is a small, tolerant smile and he puts his chin in his hand. Isn't she precious. "You're really letting me down here," he'll have her know, and soon after she's moving. He straightens in his chair to watch her, turns a little bit in it so that when she sits next to him he's facing her more than he would have been. This time when she reaches for his mask he doesn't budge, he doesn't say anything either. He just lets her remove the only thing existing between him and her. There is a line of maybe five stitches curved up over his cheekbone, a vague wrongness in the bridge of his nose and there's still some faint bruising there and around his eye.

"Yeah," Nenita starts with a scoff, "I'll try harder next time." It's without any really meaning to it as she's far too busy now pulling this thing off of his face. The mask is dropped without ceremony into her lap and with eyes slightly widened she takes in the sight before her. There's some rearrangement of her legs now, she tucks them under her so tha she can be moe height appropriate with his face. Kneeling now more than sitting on the chair. Her fingers come out to trace all of the places that are wrong, the stitches and bruising. She's careful around that part of his nose that seems out of place. The breath she was holding in gets exhaled. "You look better. You look a lot less like shit."

Apparently she can have the mask without any objections but K'aus does look like he wants to say something when her hands move for his face. It might have been a word of caution, please don't hurt him, but more likely he would have said something to stop her for entirely different reasons. He doesn't though, and his lips are no longer parted while her fingers wander and he breathes evenly. His eyes undergo a subtle narrowing when she delivers her verdict. "You know you really shouldn't sweet talk me."

"Oh?" Nenita is busy still with her fingers, going back to the original places and then to his jaw, tracing and feeling. She presses carefully, a silent request for him to turn his head just a little so that she can make sure no damage has escaped her eye. "Next time I'll be more brutal." Finally she takes her hands away from his face, dropping them into her lap as she settles into the chair again. She touches his knee, evidentally loathe to break that physical contact yet. "What happened?"

She'll meet no resistance in any of her silent urgings this way or that, he is exercising quite a rare show of patience. When she's finished he adjusts to meet her eyes and keeps his voice low for their closeness, as if they're sharing secrets. "Apparently I'm kind of an asshole. Who knew. It's no big deal, I was out of line, said the wrong thing. I'll know better next time." K'aus takes a deep breath in and traces /her/ face with his eyes. "You were there with me."

"That doesn't sound like the truth. That doesn't sound like what I've been hearing." Nenita says in turn, searching his face thoughtfully. Maybe she's looking for something that'll betray the truth to her, but it's unlikely there's anything there. She wiggles her legs, scooting further on the chair until she can press her knees onto his legs. When he brings up her visitation there's a matter of fact, "Of course." in response.

Oh, really? say K'aus's eyebrows, which have gone up mildly like he's oh so interested in the alternative to his story. She might find something there to be suspicious about, in his passive expression, but beyond the most subtle of gives he isn't big on tells. When she moves closer he curls a smirk and tilts his head. "Of course." She might miss or notice the wince when he bends to take her legs in his hands and pull on them. If he has his way he'll have one for either hip and she'll practically be in his lap. Maybe more than practically.

When he winces, she winces and bats his hands away. Her legs come into place easily and she moves forward. It's enough to be considered exceptionally close but not enough for anyone in the kitchens to drop dead of shock, hopefully. If not, well, they probably had it coming. "I want to know what happened." Nenita insists again, even as she gets herself comfortable and rests her hands on his legs. "The rules start changing this month." As if this is maybe something of an important sidenote.

It's certainly not in K'aus of all people to worry about what anyone else thinks, even if it's more Nenita's reputation at risk than his own by far. The kitchen is a perfectly fine place to be seen with a girl in your lap or just outside of it and nobody can tell him different. He's lifting his chin when she's talking, looking down his nose at her until suddenly he isn't anymore and he's meeting her eyes directly. "I told you what happened. Which rules?" There's so many. For her.

"Don't treat me that way. Giving me some shit abbreviated version, abridged as it is." Nenita continues to keep herself balanced by leaning her hands into his legs, finding a firm grip there on his thighs. "I'm not the general public." Now that their eyes are meeting directly, she's on level with all of those other things. Dark eyes land on his stitches, examining them before answering the other bit. "These rules." The ones about sitting on other peoples laps in public. Like leaning in to brush your lips onto another person's mouth. Which is what she's doing.

He's giving her a faintly appraising sort of look while she finds that bit of his anatomy to grab onto and then narrowing his eyes at her while she looks him over again. She isn't the general public. No, the general public often don't sit in his lap and kiss him... Oh, wait. Perhaps if he wasn't a little big concerned about her falling right out he would do more with his hands than simply keep hold of her legs but he isn't too preoccupied to press his mouth into hers and turn what might have been just an innocent little nothing into an anything-but something.

When he presses his lips into hers, maybe she can't help it if there's just a little delighted noise from the back of her throat. Nenita squeezes his legs again before letting go just so she can loop her arms around his neck, obviously for safety precautious. She'll indulge in his lips for just a little while before breaking the contact so that she can lean away from him. Simple she utters, "So." and looks on at him, waiting for a response.

That little noise might have ruined the whole thing if K'aus had less self control over himself. Instead of laughing like he might have he only grins wolfishly into their kiss and leans into her when she puts her arms around his neck. Unfortunately he isn't as responsive beyond that, maybe he's anticipating when she can speak again and-- expects a response. When they've come to that part he takes a deep breath and regards her with hooded eyes. "What difference does it make? What's the answer you're expecting?"

With her arms looped around his neck, she plays idly with the hairs on the back of his neck. They're flipped around by her fingertips while her eyes remain on him. What he says, whether or not it really is a dodge, certainly seems to come across as one to her. Her expectant face changes, lips pursing together now before speaking. "I don't know what difference it's going to make. I'm not looking for a certain kind of answer other than what really happened." Her hands stop playing, "You don't have to tell me anything. But I'd like you to, because I thought we'd moved past this. Avoiding talking about a subject. You didn't like it when I pulled it on you."

How is he supposed to keep resisting when she's being all logical and remembering things? He doesn't notice that she was playing with his hair until she isn't anymore; his eyebrows tilt downward. "What really happened... hm." She makes it sound so easy. K'aus removes a hand from the task of keeping her balanced and uses it to play with some of /her/ hair, rolling a strand between his fingers and tugging on it very gently. "I did something bad and I was punished. And I can't tell you everything. I don't want to. There's too much."

When he pulls on her hair, she glances down at the strand very briefly. "Break it apart, tell me some of it now. Just a bit of it." Nenita looks at him again, leaning in to press her lips against his forehead. In a quiet voice, "Tell me the rest later in pieces. Then it won't be so much, it won't overwhelm any one time that we're together." None of it is posed as a question or a request like it normally would. She moves away again as her fingers pick up the air playing from before.

The tension that was building there on his brow eases beneath the gentle press of that kiss and K'aus's eyes drift closed. Just like pressing a button. While she's close he nudges the tip of his nose up into her chin. Her proposal does sound appealing, and so easy, and it really shouldn't be hard. If what he had to say was uncomplicated. His extreme reluctance suggests it isn't. "I don't know where to start," he confesses after a great and lingering silence within the core of the kitchen's bustling, or not, activity. But, "Someone did something. Something very bad. And I got very angry. But not as angry as everyone else got."

The press of his nose to the underneathe of her chin results in her dipping her mouth down. She touches her lips very carefully to the bridge of his, careful not to apply too much pressure to that likely sore area. In the end, her forehead ends up against his where she closes her eyes during the silence and listens when the little bit comes. At 'everyone else' her fingers tighten in his hair a little, an involuntary reaction. But what he says at least sounds more in line with what she's likely been hearing from gossip. "Did they do something bad that day or did it happen before?"

So then they will remain very close. He won't complain. It might be very soothing indeed and a welcome change, all this gentle niceness after-- well. Did they do something bad? "It wasn't... them. It-- ah." That's a breath, and K'aus shifts beneath her very carefully. It might seem like he won't say anything more after that, his eyes have closed again, but if she's lulled into that assumption he'll surprise her. "There isn't any right or good way to tell you without telling you everything. Everything I say sounds so fucking insane."

She's silent then too, like she's done with demanding anything else from him for the evening. Nenita just moves forward and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. And she'll stay that way for a bit, "It hasn't sounded insane so far, just very vague." There's a pause again before she pulls away, giving him some space before this maybe becomes too sappy and cloying an experience. "You don't have to say anything else tonight, not if you don't want to. But I want to know the rest, later."

What a relief when she isn't looking at him anymore, when she's done asking questions, even if only for now. Maybe it's that even more than that she's being so sweet that K'aus appreciates by putting his hands on her hips and his mouth to her shoulder. His eyes are open over it and focused on nothing. "I know," is muffled and close. Right after, he looks up at her and leans back in his chair; his mouth twitches at the corner. "Hm." His gaze slides to the side once he's realized or remembered something and he reaches for the mask that fell from her lap to be stuck between his leg and the arm of the chair. He reapplies it to his face and tilts another look up at her.

That terrible mask is back on his face again. "Damnit." Nenita mutters under her breath. And that sweet, caring version of her fades. Instead her eyebrows draw together and she bats at the feathers now poking out over his head, her expression an mixture of amusement and fatigue. With an exasperated sigh she rolls her eyes and unhooks her arms. She puts her hands down on the chair and works on pushing herself away. To get herself in a position where her legs are together and not sprawled so carelessly around his hips.

Her displeasure amuses him, so says the sly smile. She can't see it but his eyebrows have lifted, as have his eyes, as if he could watch her playing around with those feathers. Except he can't. Giving up, he focuses instead on trying to make it as difficult as possible for her by remaining absolutely still. She's on her own. But whenever she does manage to gather herself he murmurs, "Where are you going?"

Luckily for Nenita she's at least marginally coordinated, so him refusing to move doesn't hinder her anyway. "A girl has to make an exit sometime. And since the dashing brownrider I was talking to moments ago has been replaced by this masked bandit, I think now is as an appropriate time as any." He's spared at least a little smile before she pushes her seat back and gets up, leaning over the table to pick up her dishes.

"I see." She's allowed her space, he doesn't follow her or stop her, doesn't try to make life more difficult for her. Maybe he isn't bored enough. While she's busy with her dishes and that kind of thing he hopes to get up himself without attracting her attention. There is a fair amount of wincing and one breathed syllable of ow but other than that it's a quick affair and he's standing straight and tall and trailing his fingers along the table while he approaches her; they stop when he does. "Night," he offers.

If she glances behind her and sees that brief struggle, she'll never say. She's allowed her space and he's allowed his pride, isn't he? The dishes are gathered and by the time that she too is straightened up, he's gotten to his feet. Nenita lets one little finger come out to brush his hand before taking it back to hold her plate in a better grasp. "Good night." She turns to go, but pauses just once to shoot out, "Don't disappear again. I might have missed you." If there's no move to stop her, she'll make her exit out the swinging kitchen doors.

[LOG] With the fall...

2009-08-28T01:09:04Z

Even midday this time of year takes no prisoners. There isn't so much heat yet since the sun has only had so much time out, but the humidity is more than enough to make up for it. For most, indoors is the only option for escape and pity any of the population whose job takes them outside. Dragonriders have it tough as well, especially the ones with the weyrs so high up their noses threaten to bleed. Like K'aus's. It only gets hotter further up, but luckily his home is shielded by the sun and by most of the heat by the outcrop of rock above the ledge and the thick blanket of heavy curtain spread across the entrance. Ehrudith is dozing outside of that, his great head tipped over onto its side.

June has been out in that unfriendly humidity for a while, from the look of her, as she's helped down from the young blue on transport duty today. Ehrudith will have gotten a short warning of someone coming and now he gets a smile of greeting, a hasty nod from the redhead that someone turned out to be, though the rider and dragon pair both remain coolly indifferent to the brown's presence. Once she's steadily grounded, a round-bellied basket is handed down to her and then, job completed, the rider and his mount prepare their departure. June protects her hair with a covering hand as the wing-spawned wind whips at her curls and stands eyeing the heavy, drawn curtain. After a hesitant moment, she clears her throat delicately and addresses Ehrudith, "Have you let him know I'm here yet?" She watches him expectantly, as if for a response, for only a short few seconds before she drops her eyes and, over a puff of silent laughter, shakes her head lightly. Back to waiting.

Indeed, there was a warning. Ehrudith's weary response is the opening of one eye to regard the approaching blue. He doesn't bother to move, the other dragon is small enough to fit. But when he sees who the passenger is he rouses himself further, even going so far as to adjust into a more appropriate sprawl than before. Some exchange must occur between the two dragons for Ehrudith's regard is there briefly, then on June when she stands there alone. Neither curtain nor brown dragon budge, but she might be surprised when her question does indeed earn a response. It comes in a low rumbling like very heavy rocks shifting and a tapping of his taloned finger near her. A second later the curtain does move, K'aus, in boxer shorts and a loose short-sleeved shirt, sweeping it open with one arm and lifting an eyebrow at what he finds. June and a basket. It could be he's had stranger things happen to him. After a moment, "Well that makes sense." He steps aside, widening the opening and silently offering her in. /He/ still looks awful, there's still an ugly bruising around his eye and the cuts on his lip and cheek, his other hand is pressed to the ribs on the opposite side as if he could hold them together from out here; one of its fingers is splinted.

June's gaze darts away from that tapping talon and the brown to which it's attached as soon as the curtain moves and then roves over K'aus and the various injuries he presents, cautiously curious as if he were some contorted anomaly at just another of Ista's sideshows. "What does?" she inquires just as her look meets his eye again and she starts forward to accept the offer of entry. Once in, she finds her way across to the bar and leaves the basket atop it, freeing her hands to smarten her heat-tossed appearance. A hair-smoothing and forhead-swiping later, she plants a hand on her hip and sighs lightly.

He doesn't form a reply until she's inside and, with a look exchanged with the dragon standing sentry on the ledge, he follows. The curtain closes behind them with subtle movement. K'aus is limping still, it's a limp that carries him slowly after her but he stops short of actually following her to the bar. Her brief ritual is allowed to go uninterrupted, it's only after she sighs that he says, "You being here with a basket." Of course. The couch is near to him so he leans his hip on it and takes a careful breath. "If this is the part where I ask you what you're doing here then okay, I give. What're you doing here."

When he mentions it, June drops a look at the basket, considering it while he finishes. "I ran into the girl who was bringing you food, thought I'd save her the trouble since I was headed up here anyway. Not that you're trouble," she gives it a half-hearted attempt, the other half dry sarcasm. Still without an explanation, she returns her gaze to him and orders, "Sit down. Lay down. Whatever you need to do. You look like you'd crumble if I touched you." Which she has no plans of doing. Her eyes drop away, sweep the interior of his cave while she finally pulls out that explanation he was asking after. "A guy. I knew him once, I guess you could say, and he's trouble. He was at the tavern last night."

There goes the eyebrow again. Even when she adds that he isn't, maybe K'aus she was right about the trouble thing. And of course it would be her telling him to do everything but that would inspire him to cross the weyr (cave) and approach her and the basket with a lingering look at the former before he turns to investigate the latter. He's in the middle of rooting through the contents one-handed when she comes to the issue of her visit, an issue that pauses him, watching her again. A tension forms between his brows and angles them over his suddenly very intense gaze. "He... /is/ trouble. Not was." Now instead he uses both hands to ready them both a drink, and hands her a glass half-full of clear brown alcochol. She might be talking during this.

"Is." June confirms it easily, adding after a moment, "In general." She leans a hip against her corner of the bar and rests an elbow on it, watching him and his preparations idly. "Though he was once, too. That's not the point. He's here now and he's made me think I need to... take some precaution. Not that I expect you to help just now." A gesture emcompasses his injuries and broader situation, then drops to the glass he's offering, her fingers just curling it to her unsipped for now. "But. I need a knife." Her eyes drop to the side for a thoughtful second, then return. "Several. Maybe. And," she utters with a concluding tone, "for some reason I thought you might know a little bit about what I need." The corner of her mouth grows pointed, a half-hint of a smile at his expense.

In there, at 'just now', K'aus gives her a pointed look like 'hey'. Just never you mind all these ouchies, he's obviously still in prime protecting condition. When she has her drink he takes his and while she might want to delay the first sip he finds no reason to agree. Half the glass is emptied in a few swallows, the sound he makes after a rough but pleased one. She's at her smile by then so he looks at her evenly and presses his mouth into that line she knows so well as if in spite of it. She should get ready for something like a lecture. "You need a knife but you don't need me, which leads me to think you need /several/ knives, maybe even seven of them. Which makes me think maybe you plan on taking care of this guy by yourself. Selves. Which goes against our agreement." Pause. "Who is this guy," he has to wonder, that would have June of all people seeking weapons.

A lecture. It drives June to drink. Or at least to take a drink, her huff of breath muffled into the glass as she indulges in her first sip. "A former client," she answers without hesitation on the swallowing end of that sip, "and not one of the good ones. I'd introduce you, but I doubt he'd accept the invitation to this little cave here and, well." K'aus isn't leaving this little cave of his. Another drink is slipped in, only a brief pause before she continues, "You being locked up here, however good the reason..." She's made no secret of her disapproval for his recent erratic behavior toward unsuspecting sailors, but neither has she just come out and spoken it like that. "Doesn't exactly work with our arrangement."

"Hey I'm not locked up." Cue a futile gesture with his glass at the curtain. See? No doors, no locks. She doesn't need to know he's under certain orders, and even if she did know /that/ she also knows he'd disobey them in a heartbeat. She isn't getting out of this one so easily. "So he's a client and he won't be visiting. I get that. But whether or not I'm stuck up here right now, that says nothing for tomorrow." He takes a sip, swallows. "Or the day after." Another gesture with his glass. "In fact I see plenty of days in my future where I'm not here anymore. So what's this guy look like, what's his name. I'm guessing he isn't from around here." There is a casualness in the way K'aus is asking these questions, in the way he's been behaving about this whole troublesome ex-client business, that suggests he isn't that concerned. Afterall, it's just some riled guy. Right?

"Fine," June relents, tilting both her head and her glass at him gently along with the allowance. "You can... do whatever it is you do." Free reign given, she lifts a sip to her lips then sets the glass aside, unfinished, crossing her arms in its absence. "But until you can get out of your hole, I still think I should find some knives for us. Just in case." A beat is allowed for that point to percolate, then she informs, "The guy is... He's tall, lean build, darker hair," she begins, her eyes wandering off into a remembering blankness as she recounts the details of some riled ex-client. "Handsome guy, too handsome for anyone's good. Strong, square features, you know the sort. His name... I don't remember so much. Ku-something? Maybe I've blocked it out." A moment later her attention returns to the here and now on the fall of a shrug and her eyes go to meet his.

There was a grudging allowance in the lifted eyebrows and quirked mouth of a moment ago, if June wants knives K'aus can give her knives. In fact there might have even been an instant compliance, his keeping up on his end of this new deal they have, some moving for some hidden cache of weapons somewhere, but it never happens. Nothing happens in fact, and when she's returned from her memories and is looking at him she'll see him staring back at her with the most blank rendition of a dark and growing anger. Maybe if she'd stopped at the description, maybe if she'd only given him the vague recollection of a name, maybe if it had only been one or the other of those things, he wouldn't be teetering on the border between suspicion and dreaded realization. In a flat voice, "It wouldn't happen to be Kozec would it."

June blinks, her words coming slowly. "It sounds familiar... yeah. You know this guy?" she demands. That's the cue for her own suspicion, shored up by sudden presumptions of cahoots or collusion, and June's brows slip gradually downward into a frowning set.

There's a problem with the combination of being kind-of strong and really tense, if you're not paying attention it can have startling results. So while he might not be able to actually /reply/ to her, K'aus gives June her answer by clenching his glass so hard that suddenly a large piece of it breaks and his thumb slips into the new gap and he curses, "Shit," and drops the thing spitefully on the bar so he can inspect his soon-bleeding hand.

June starts at the snap of the glass, her eyes dropping to it immediately. "... the fuck," she utters low under her breath, anticipating the ooze of blood and rousing herself to action sooner than K'aus himself. There's got to be a towel or scrap of rag somewhere in this bar and she peers over the counter, slides open a drawer, then another before she finds one and whips it out. A corner is wrapped around the thumb when she brushes in to interrupt his inspection. "Press on it," she tells him, giving him an example with her own firm grip before she and her hand retreat back to a waiting, cross-armed pose, inquisitive peering lifted from the makeshift bandage to his face.

While June is making herself actually useful, K'aus bleeds on himself and mutters a string of profanity that would frighten some people. Who knew some of those words even existed. Surely they shouldn't. Focusing on her face when she takes care of his situation and watching her intently even while she's pulling away, he numbly obeys her and really fucking presses on it. There is a smear of blood on his shirt, his other hand is smudged here and there; what a mess. He's since been staring down at the makeshift bandaging and the dark red and taking deep breaths. Eventually he takes one more and heaves it out. "It's gonna be okay."

Wherever he's looking, June watches his face, all but staring, her faint frown dropping back into place gradually as his silence goes on and on. Not that what he says does anything to ease the expression away. She doesn't really respond to it, she just directs them right on back to the topic they broke away from. "So who the fuck is this guy to you?" she wants to know, voice calmly steeled.

There's no way out of this without pissing her off or telling her too much and K'aus is slowly coming to realize that. Still, he stalls and stalls, not daring to look at her because what if the tone in her voice is on her face as well? His eyes search the empty space they stare into for something, anything, he's good at getting out of things, this is just another thing. But ultimately there really isn't any other choice that would work as well as the truth, maybe not even the whole truth, and he rests his elbows on the bar with his hands above his head and leans his forehead into his wrist. "He killed a girl."

Nothing much changes with June, when he shares that snapshot of truth. If he'd look, he'd find the same closed-off stance, the same deepened frown, though it's no longer directed at him, her eyes passing a glassy, wide stare over his hunched shoulders. "He killed..." she repeats, vacantly whispered while the realization sinks in. There's an audible catch in her next deep breath and then the air comes rushing out of her desperately. Anxiety seeps all the way to her feet and sparks a few paces that turn her back on him, though not completely. "He was... sniffing around Valenia, and he... I /knew/ he was rough, but..." The fragmented narrative musings trail off and it's then that doubts like weeds begin to infiltrate her immediate belief. With a pivot she brings her gaze back to him and asks, "How do you even know this?"

June is allowed her fragments, she's allowed everything sinking in with no pressure or forcing from him. She'll know eventually or she won't, K'aus is only giving up all control of this, for this, and having a very small breakdown there on the bar. Don't mind him. His eyes close on Valenia's name as if he should have seen that coming and now regrets that he didn't. She won't have to wait long for her answer. "I can't tell you. I just... know."

"You just know," June echoes, clearly dissatisfied with that response, though quietly so. But it's all she's going to get out of him, even she can see that, so she abandons her displeasure and returns to a more demanding worry. "This isn't... it isn't the normal sort of trouble, K'aus. I don't think you should handle this on your own. I'm going to go to Loe, ask for the Weyr's protection." Not that she's about to run out on him and do that right now, she's standing her ground and staring down the back of his head.

After those past few moments spent in hiding, K'aus comes out from behind his arms and straightens with a wince that slows his roll a little. He gives his hand a quick glance to make sure it isn't oozing past the rag and then takes a breath. "You're right." That was easy. Too easy, as he demonstrates. "You could go to Loe and tell her there's a man here who did something bad. And she might believe you. And maybe even Fayre and the kid would believe you. And then what, they kick him out? Send him somewhere else? Do you think the people who loved the girl he killed didn't try telling someone?" All casual conversation, this, while he moves finally to leave the bar, to go to the dresser.

June turns her face aside as he goes on, throwing her gaze and the sour moue her mouth has become into stark profile. She can't resist tracking his movement, though; when he goes her eyes follow and eventually she has to pull her chin up again to see where he's going. "You have an alternative." There's question in her voice, sure, but the scales are tipped to the side of flat epiphany.

"I'm not sure yet. He wants to be a bad man and as luck would have it, I have a notable amount of practice in the field." One might guess he'd be going for one of the drawers; no, K'aus lowers himself carefully to his knees and leans his shoulder into the hulking piece of wood and after being very stubborn it slides across the uneven floor an inch at a time, making an awful noise the whole way. There's something behind it, as more is revealed it proves itself to be a crevice, a hole in the wall large enough to contain the trunk that he pulls loose and drags out into the open. He reaches under the corner of the nearby rug for the key to the lock and once it's opened he begins taking things from it. Long things wrapped in cloth.

June looks on with a faintly disturbed curiosity, brows hovering at a confused level between high surprise and low reproach. But she doesn't move to hinder or help, she doesn't move at all until she sees what comes out of that trunk. Then her steps draw her along nearly the same path he took earlier, and while she goes she voices one objection. "I don't want you getting yourself killed over this." When she reaches him, she hovers nearby, close enough to view the items he pulls from that wrapping cloth but not enough to touch them.

Her concern is met at first with silence, K'aus busying himself with setting those long bundles out, one by one, one next to the other. They're all the same size within an inch or two either way, the longest one as long as June's forearm and the smallest maybe three inches shorter than that. There are four of them when he's done, and three more that are much smaller, about as long as a kitchen knife. He settles back on his heels and looks at them arranged on the floor and then up at June. "I die, he dies." After holding her gaze for a sober moment after he beckons her down with his good hand, which isn't all that good with the splinted finger. But still. Whether or not she's going to join him on the floor, he's unwrapping a bundle to show her it's a knife. A sharp, shiny knife that he hands to by its blade.

June seems far from soothed by his theory of death as a means to an end, and she meets his sober gaze while letting out a hot breath. She allows him to distract her with the knife, though; she untucks her arms and sinks onto a spot of the floor next to him, her kneel concealed by the pool of skirts around her. Her grasp as she takes the handle speaks to the fact that she's used to holding a knife, at least, if not using one. She examines it seriously, moving the blade to glint this way, then that, then tells him, "Too big. We have knives when we're at the tavern, we need something portable." Gingerly, she takes the blade by its blunt edge and returns it to him.

And he watches her calmly, unmoved while she settles, then while she examines the knife. As if he's done this plenty of times before, with her, and this is all perfectly normal, regardless of what's actually going on in his head. When the weapon is deemed unfitting he takes it back like an appeasing salesman and flips the wrap over it. Since most of the others are of the same size he neglects them and goes right for the smaller brand. This next one he shows her would do the trick. Their closeness is intimate, the knife held between them, and K'aus tilts his head a little. When he speaks it's in a low, secret murmur, just for them. "Tell your girls to aim for the belly, it'll be a bigger target and it'll bleed more."

June's fingers curl around the new blade and she nods over the different feel, the lightness of it before looking back up at him. She's tranquil during all of it, but her voice reveals just how much control is keeping her that way; it's an agitated tone, cruel and hot, ill-fitted to her high voice, that encompasses what might have otherwise come off as a joke. "And it has the added advantage of being close to his dick if you slip." Dropping her gaze, she flips the knife into a stabbing hold and out again before going to return it to him. "You have seven of those?"

K'aus's eyes wander. No matter the context, the thought of knife and dick... Luckily he has her next move to distract him, and it does, and maybe not in the good way. A woman who's just mentioned cutting into someone's junk should not then be wielding a sharp object so very near to your own. He's only too happy to take it back from her and give a quick, "No." Because there are just three there on the floor, alone once he replaces the larger bundles. "But I'm a man of many resources," he adds confidently, sliding a glance sideways, "I think I can acquire four more."

June leans forward a bit in her kneel, planting palms on the stone floor while she utters, "Okay," in a pondering tone. She delays a moment longer, head turned to the side as she runs her eyes over the three little knives left out. "Get me four more, then," she tells him decisively afterward. "And sheaths and straps for all of them. I'll reimburse you," she promises matter-of-factly, raising her gaze again.

Four more. And sheaths and straps. K'aus takes this down mentally and is nodding along up until she reaches the part about repayment. Another glance over, this one sharper and it lasts longer, not at all brief. "No, you worked for that money." And nevermind that some of it she might have given him could very well have been his. "Besides," and with he turns back to the task of closing the trunk and locking it, leaving the little knifes out, "I've been saving up for this." He shoves it back into its hole and with an uttered word of pain stands. June will have to gather her new toys herself, he only has the one hand anyway. Speaking of, he's plucking the rag away from his palm to look at it. The bleeding's stopped, the cut must have been shallow. Without a care he tosses the blood-stained square of cloth over his shoulder and leaves it.

A protest is readied on the tip of June's tongue, but she bites down on it when he adds what he adds and watches him mutely instead. She'll follow him in standing eventually, but only after she's interrupted her probing gaze long enough to gather what's now become hers. One knife, two knife, three, all bundled, and then she's up. He's the subject of another scrutinizing look, but that can't continue while she takes a stab with her next question, so she drops it to the knife wrapping as she pulls it tighter, makes sure the knives won't fall out. "Who was she?" Kept weightless as possible considering the situation, her question might as well be about the fabric her fingers fiddle with. Once it's out there, it's safe to look up again, but June does it slowly, carefully all the same.

While she fusses he begins to move further away, perhaps his intention is the bar or something, his shuffling limp is aiming him there. He makes it a few steps before she asks her question. Maybe she will notice that he falters, a pause of sorts, before recovering and acting like nothing happened and, following her lead, as if this is a very easy thing to talk about. Because it must seem as though it is. K'aus does reach the bar to find the bottle they left there and since he ruined his glass and it's too much trouble getting another one he just drinks straight from that. "She was just some harper, she was young I think."

While she fusses he begins to move further away, perhaps his intention is the bar or something, his shuffling limp is aiming him there. He makes it a few steps before she asks her question. Maybe she will notice that he falters, a pause of sorts, before recovering and acting like nothing happened and, following her lead, as if this is a very easy thing to talk about. Because it must seem as though it is. K'aus does reach the bar to find the bottle they left there and since he ruined his glass and it's too much trouble getting another one he just drinks straight from that. "She was just some harper, she was young I think."

June puzzles. She puzzles over that pause her attentive eye catches, puzzles over her her missed mark, puzzles over whether it was missed at all. But if that's all he wants to give her, she lets it stand unchallenged, in the end. Easing back from the searching squint, she nods. "I'm going to let you get back to healing," she informs him, letting a hand trail over the back of the couch now that her readjusting is finally finished. "Call me a ride?"

He gives her one of those tight-lipped smiles and holds his cut hand up like ha, very funny. Next he busies himself with aimlessly searching the bar for bits of the glass to clean up and even finds some to throw into the broken belly of the glass itself. Among this he tells her, "Done." That easily. Not so quick to let her actually leave though, even though they probably have a moment or two together before her ride does come and thanks for Ehrudith being out there to alert them, K'aus wanders back over to where she stands and stops perhaps uncomfortably close. Given their history, perhaps not. The touch he aims to her cheek is aborted when his hand comes into view and he turns it away from her, giving it a frustrated glance before dropping it and settling with meeting her eyes. "It's gonna be okay, June." And, quickly on its heels, "Hey slip me a little tongue would you please, I haven't gotten laid in like a year up here."

June holds her ground no matter how close he comes, moving only to tip her chin slightly to maintain eye contact with him. For his aborted touch she has just a dart of a glance and a sympathetic curl of a smile, which passes through a moment of limbo only to emerge a bit stronger in response to his request for a kiss. A meager, dry levity works its way into her words as she draws closer, her cut-free, splint-free hand conforming to the curve of his neck. "Just don't tell anyone you got a freebie. I have knives now," she warns. She pauses a breath's distance from him, flicks her eyes to meet his for only a second, then nudges her mouth onto his. She could be thinking of it as his last from the kind of heat she pours into it, using even the press of her body to pull him into the effect of it all. She even treats him to a gentle scrape of teeth across his lower lip at the end, just before she pulls back and lifts her lashes to look at him again. "Good enough?" she wants to know, though an assurance in her tone says she's pretty sure it is.

The narrowing of his eyes is her answer: he'll be quiet about it. And there's a little curve to his mouth when she takes it, right before, and then there's just warm, his eyes gone closed and the less wounded of his two hands finding her hip when she presses, because she presses, because maybe he's a little surprised by the intensity and because maybe he gets why it's there. She shouldn't need to ask at the end, the noise he makes, desperate and needful, somewhere in there is a dead giveaway. All too soon she's pulling away and he's relishing every second she toys with his lip with a wince. She may have found a sore spot; he may have liked it. Answer: "Mm." And more, he looking into her eyes with his half-closed, his mouth opening-- Whatever meaningful thing he was about to say, and it would have been, is replaced smoothly with, "Your ride's here." Indeed there is a sound of wings and paws outside on the ledge.

June tilts an ear toward the ledge when he alerts her of the transport's arrival and so is there waiting for the sound when it does come. Her hand slips down, skimming his chest on its way back to her side as, presence confirmed, she turns back. "You'll let me know what happens?" she wants to know before she goes, though she's poised to do just that.

"Probably not," K'aus answers honestly, but he knows June and after considering he adds, "Maybe." Because that is a lot better. "Have fun with your knives." And that really isn't.

It isn't ideal, but it will have to do. June squints at him, flattens her lips at him, all for the span of a blink, then answers with a simple, "Will do," and turns to go. He'll see her roll her shoulders gently and toss on a careless little smile before she steps out onto the ledge and is obscured by the curtain that falls closed after her.

[OOC] Sort-of.

2009-08-26T18:12:04Z

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath is pressing, pressing, pressing. Pushing on the walls of his mind, trying to burn though. This is much different from the times she's slipped in quietly to make conversation. Now she's trying to make a hole like strong acid on wood, to drip through into his thoughts.

Dragon> As vulnerable as that, as wood to acid, he is taken by surprise by this sudden onslaught. As with times before it only takes him a second to realize whose this growing hole is, and that much more to react. Gold she is, but young she is, and he is ancient and only so patient. One word, along with the creaking of old things, << No. >> (Ehrudith to Safriath)

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath may as well have been slapped in the face. Her reaction to being told no is poor and she treats the hole she's been working on appropriately. Or what's appropriate to her anyway. She leaps into it, searing away at the sides before pulling back suddenly and retreating to wherever she came from. She'll be back.

----

She's done it.
K'aus looks up from his book and from the floor where he's stretched out on his back, better for the ribs, and gives the dragon his attention.
What?
The little queen. She seems to have found her way.
He smiles to himself and lifts the book up so he can read it without having to move more than his arms.
Be a dear and let me know when she comes back around.

[OOC] Vignette.

2009-08-24T04:31:21Z

The first time he saw her...

It hadn't been uncommon when the Interval began for some of the more mature riders to take up 'hobbies' outside of dragonriding. His cynical thoughts had always turned towards the logic of well, he'd be dead before Thread ever fell again, what's the harm? And besides, he had a small cache of marks saved from over the years to afford a small payment to one of the Harper masters who'd been a journeyman and before that a candidate and before that had been a kid at Bitra, same as K'aus. They'd known each other, they were friends-- sort of.
At first he'd only been interested in law and logic and history, and he showed great promise in these things. Every free day he had was spent at the Hall, after a while, and it was that abundance in visits that led him to meeting her.

They had a class together during the new term, a general education lecture for math. He sat in the front, she sat next to him. She even smiled at him, and when she spoke her voice wasn't like angels or a choir but it was smooth and soft and the way she used it, he wasn't surprised to later find out her specialty.

"I'm Marin."

Dark little Marin, with her wild hair and her big eyes.
He told her who he was and then they didn't tell each other anything else because class had started, but afterwards she asked him if he wanted to stay and study with her.
He'd said no. He hadn't even been polite about it, and he never really was. And she never really cared.

They would have class together and run into each other in the halls, she always with a friend and he always alone.
It wasn't until a month later that he let himself see her.

There had been a storm earlier that day and Ehrudith had advised against trying to get high enough for Between until at least the heavy rains slowed. Normally, K'aus would have balked at the idea of staying longer had they been visitng anywhere else. But this was not anywhere else, the Hall had become like a second home.
After dinner everyone had stayed together in the big room with the long tables to be social and to wait out the storm. They sat in groups seperately, the writers in this corner and the teachers at their table; K'aus was alone, of course, trying to drown out the din and thinking seriously about finding some guest room or something to stay in so he wouldn't have to listen to the noise. His hesitance was on his side.

The musicians had a section to themselves. They sat around at a wide round table and plucked out vague tunes and then suddenly there was one solid string of music, a violin and a flute. And then there was a voice.
It was sweet and clear and very obviously soprano and, when he sat up in his chair to crane his neck and investigate, he saw that it was Marin's.
She sat on the edge of the table with perfect posture and an expression of such clear love on her face that he almost felt guilty for watching, but those seated around her, either playing an instrument or not, didn't have the same reservations. They all stared up at her while she lifted her voice up through the scales and down again and then transitioned smoothly into an old song about love and sadness.
K'aus didn't realize he was standing until someone came up to steal his chair. He stayed to listen and to watch for a very long time, even after a young man's voice joined in with the dark-haired girl's. And even when he retired that night, not to his own weyr but indeed to a guest room, her voice haunted him well into his restless sleep.

...he remembers.

---

"...go to whoever can find me one of Kozec's men and bring him to me alive and conscious."
It's been a few days since his beating at the docks and he still has trouble standing straight, and standing straight is the only way to go. He should be in the infirmary or in bed, he's under strict orders, but instead he's here, in the belly of a particular ship, with four particular men.
They all stare at him around the shitty little table and then stare together at the little pouch in the center.
"I trust you gentlemen deal in modern day currency. Skinner can vouch for me, I will pay. Obviously only after I've assessed that who you bring me, if you do in fact bring me someone, is who I need him to be. And if you're especially good there might be more little projects in store for you in our future together. Think on it."
Very deliberately, K'aus reaches to reclaim the little pouch and pocket it, and then he turns with some effort to make the very troublesome trip up the small set of stairs onto the deck of the ship. He isn't followed, and he trusts he won't be. They know how to find him.
The good thing about sailors is you're never really going to see the same one twice. The gang that kicked him to within an inch of his life aren't in port and he might never even see them again; his way onto and then down the docks is a quiet, uninterrupted one. Ehrudith waits on the beach, waits until he sees his rider before speaking.
Tread this line carefully boy.
K'aus smiles an eerie smile and picks his way carefully along the beach towards the Weyr with the dragon padding along behind him.
"I know what I'm doing."

[LOG] Plotting.

2009-08-22T02:35:36Z

An air of boisterous high spirits buoys the crowd that's stuffed into The Lucky Seven this balmy summer evening. It's an oddly more female crowd, too, especially with that corner table full of young women enjoying flaunting their girls night out among all of their eyeballing male counterparts. Several points, such as the line of barstools and the game room, holding the modest poker tournament of the week, seem to draw people magnetically, leaving most of the chairs and tables abandoned, at least until people get too drunk to stand.

Like just about every other man in the room, Skinner's made his attempt to horn in on the ladies' night action over there. Like every other man who's tried, he's been shunted off, but he plays it like he expected (and asked) no more than a minute to enjoy their company, so at least he leaves on a good note. And better yet, there are women who do tolerate him here, because it's their job, and he has no shame in seeking one of them out and flopping himself onto a chair next to her. "Evening, Valenia," he says with a tooth-sparkling smile.

The infirmary attendants will notice he's gone at some point, and someone will likely have some words to say about his premature checkout, which leaves K'aus just enough time to make it through the jungle and into the Seven before he's discovered. He limps in, still sporting facial injuries and looking like he needs a good bath, his clothes are disheveled, and he's a little hunched over with his arm around his middle, but the second he's inside he straigtens and tries to put on a composure he doesn't actually possess. The way to the bar is the path he chooses, that is until he sees Skinner. Instant redirection.

Valenia beams up at Skinner when he makes his appearance, calling out an eager, "Hi, Skinner!" a second after her lively gaze lands on him. She engages him in the babbling pleasantries she specializes in, even going so far as to offer him a sip from the colored concoction sitting in front of her, one of her own super-sweet inventions. But as soon as a darted glance alerts her of K'aus' approach, she's excusing herself. "Sorry," she prefaces genuinely, the look she gives Skinner pointed with some vague warning. Something's amiss. She doesn't even pause to fluff her skirts. "I have to, uh, switch shifts with... Livi." No one can accuse her of being a good liar. She remembers to snag her drink, but only just, before she skims off through the crowd.

Valenia's bubbly pleasantries are well-received, and Skinner does dare to try her sugar concoction, even if he does admit, honestly, that it's too sweet for him, sweets. With a wink. And then K'aus has to come and spoil everything! He makes a sad moue at Valenia as she gets up, but he's not mean enough to call her on that transparent excuse. Let her escape. He'll shift his attention beyond her, finding K'aus, and waiting for the man to get within a few strides of the table before speaking to him. "Well, you certainly took the shit end of that one, didn't you?" For all the world he acts as though he's perfectly comfortable here, thank you, but he pushes his chair out just a bit and readies his muscles. If K'aus comes at him like he did for that stranger the other day, Skinner's ready to run for it.

It's probably a good thing Valenia retreats. She's too nice to have to see K'aus close up right now, Skinner will discover that it's a great deal uglier a situation the closer he gets. However, the brownrider's black gaze, blacker still for the bruising around one eye, does follow the sister until it doesn't; he knows she might bring reinforcements and after the incident with the sailors he's more wary of large groups. But it's Skinner he's here for and it's Skinner he addresses, bypassing his rhetorical and going straight for, "How the fuck do you know him, where is he, why is he here." He's stopped at the table, using it to lean his hip and take some of his weight at least off one leg.

Reinforcement, maybe, but June is far from an imposing group. Smiling wide as ever, she emerges from the same general direction that Valenia disappeared in, and sways her way over to the table that's become the site of interrogation, taking measure mostly of K'aus' appearance as she approaches. With a single smooth question, she breaks in, "Can I get you boys anything?" It's harmless, sure, mundane even, but there's something in the way she looks at each of them during it that's a reminder: she's here, she will be watching.

However much more gruesome K'aus appears from close up, Skinner doesn't seem to notice. His gaze doesn't leave the brownrider's, but there's nothing to be read in his face right now, either: his thoughts are screened. "He's a business associate," the salesman answers simply, then turns to meet June with a smile. "Some beer and pretzels?" he suggests, spreading that smile wider and turning the charm up to 11. Wordless reminder gets wordless answer: I'm behaving normally.

K'aus is staring down at Skinner and seething so very angrily under the surface when June approaches. And in her lies the reason for his 'good behavior', it did still before she even came into the picture. Without looking at her he says defensively and perhaps unnecessarily so, "I'm not doing anything wrong." But Skinner's made an order and there are people here, and he's sort of trying to keep a low profile at the moment, so he chooses the available seat, probably the one Valenia just abandoned, to carefully lower himself into with a wince.

June says nothing. She nods simply at Skinner's order then pins her gaze on K'aus. It stays there even after his little defense, an intent warning as she turns to go. It had better stay that way, nice and knifeless. A minute later, she returns unobtrusively at Skinner's elbow, planting the requested beer and small bowl of pretzels onto the table before turning to other business.

During that minute she's away, Skinner leans his elbow on the table. As in, he might still run if K'aus lunges for him, but he's no longer poised for it. "So what was that all about, anyway?"

Meaning K'aus cannot, for he chooses not to, answer until June goes away again. When she comes with the order he looks up at her, steadily pinning her under his stare whether she notices or not, it doesn't matter. And when she's gone again he looks across at his companion. Now that Skinner has his beer and pretzels, "Not your problem, my problem. Your /business associate/, what's his name. Where is he."

"Nuh-uh, man," Skinner replies, reaching for the pretzels first. He pops a few of them in his mouth so he's crunching while he continues, "I'm not just going to drop information in your lap and wander on my merry way. I know this guy. He knows that. And now he knows you're looking for him, saw me with him. Actually, I'm a little hard pressed to think of any reason I should get involved at all."

Perhaps he has more comprehension of Skinner's character than might have originally been known, for his reaction doesn't surprise K'aus. He just stares at the young man and presses his hand to his midsection while he sits up straighter in his chair. Leaning over is impossible, as much as he might like to, so that'll have to do. "I have reason to believe he raped and murdered a girl and left her body in a forest." Small pause. "Does that qualify."

Skinner's eyebrows go up. "No." Flicking pretzel salt off his fingers, he forms a fist to tap over his heart in a few rapid beats. "Nothing there," he explains, reaching for his beer now. "But, I can see why you'd want to go after him. Yowch. What would you do if you caught up to him again?" Skinner wonders, lifting his beer bottle. "Kill him?"

It's ironic that /K'aus/ should play the guy with /something/ there. As without expression as he has been, he watches every move Skinner makes with dulled precision, his eyes moving a little slowly. Kill him? "Or something," he replies flatly, swallowing. A light sweat has started to break out on his forehead.

Skinner's in no rush to get back to this conversation, so he finishes a long drink of beer before answering. "Well, you might want to think a little more about that before you go tracking him down again. Probably gonna come up," he surmises, eyebrows lifting again.

There's a reason why you're supposed to stay in the infirmary when you're told to stay in the infirmary. If you aren't really fully recovered or you're weaker than you realized, say, it might not be a good idea to take a long walk through the heat when you were probably dehydrated to begin with. There is a weariness that is starting to present itself, but K'aus pays it no mind. "Whether or not I'd kill him doesn't matter unless I know how to find him." He closes his eyes. "Don't count your eggs before they hatch."

Whatever business it was that took June away from them, it takes her near enough to K'aus and Skinner's table, a flitting flash of color that mingles inconspicuously through the surrounding area. She happens to be passing through behind them, a rag draped over wiping hands, for those last few snippets of, for lack of a better word, conversation that passes between them. It necessitates a pause. She leans to place her hands on the table and, eyeing them both equally, says with an amiable smile that will tip no one off, "If you two are going to talk about killing," and her gaze falls pointedly on the brownrider of the pair. Whatever the context of their little talk, he has a reputation now. "Could you at least do it upstairs where no one can hear you?" There are a few of the other patrons peering curiously, just now, but they're far too far away to be the overhearing parties she speaks of.

With his eyes, Skinner follows K'aus's struggle to maintain his composure. When June steps up, though, he redirects his gaze to her with another wide smile. "Sorry you had to hear that," he responds, trying to pluck June's hand off the table so he can kiss the back of it. "But I always did want to go upstairs." He bounces his brows, his grin shameless, then waves a hand at K'aus. "How about you get this guy up first and set him up where he's more comfortable? I keep thinking he's going to fall out of his chair, over there." Not to mention that them going up at different times won't look as, er, questionable to the people who know what those rooms upstairs are sometimes used for. "Just let me know when you're done," as he assumes it will be done, for apparently K'aus's input doesn't matter.

And really, why should it. He's barely even here anyways. But since there's nobody coming to collect him it's a good bet Ehrudith hasn't called for assistance so he can't be that bad off. Yet. Trying to keep his focus on June's face, K'aus puts together a coherent response. "Your customers have heard worse." Which could mean /anything/. Without waiting for the help that might or might not even come he puts a hand on the table and uses his grip there to pull himself to his feet and then begins alone the first few steps towards the stairs.

"Just takes a few marks," June answers Skinner distractedly, letting him take her hand and do what he pleases with it. Her eyes switch so quickly over to K'aus, gaze waiting there already before his quip and thinning on him when it comes. Without another word, she straightens and pivots, by all appearances leaving the injured man to find his own way up. But she'll find him a handful of aching steps later, the rag in her hands replaced by a dangling key. Her expression may be taut with disapproval, but she's not without compassion; she takes his arm and slides herself under it, making a prop out of herself just as they reach the bottom of the stairs. "Heard it about ten times just tonight," she lets him know, her voice diluted to an unusually firm variant of her low tones. "At least. What happened out there." She can't need to specify more. Ruesse, stationed at the top of the stairs, frowns heavily, baffled at them, until June's short shake of her head dampens that expression.

And they are indeed aching steps-- painful to take, painful to watch. K'aus is settling with the fact that he is to climb the stairs alone and is in fact approaching them with a kind of bent, forced resolve and his chin down. So when June joins him he is appropriately surprised and watches her with a kind of mystified reluctance about the whole thing but she slips in anyway. She speaks, he listens, replies with a tightness in his own voice that has a lot to do with the physical exertion that his body is not okay with and a lot to do with pain. "If you don't know the answers... you won't be able to give them to anyone if they ever ask." They're reaching the top of the stairs now, and Ruesse.

June passes a look up at him, entirely displeased, entirely wary, but she says nothing more and continues to support his climb. Ruesse, likewise, says nothing, just gives the pair a quick glance then goes back to her idle people-watching. June brings him as far as the first door, then leaves him to lean while she unlocks the handle and swings the door open. His hand is taken, manipulated into a palm-up position, and the key is dropped unceremoniously into the shallow cup of it. "Bring it back when you're done," is the cool direction she leaves him with before turning to descend again, to notify Skinner of where the brownrider's located.

And Skinner obediently heads upstairs, but he gives the brownrider a bit of extra time while he pauses to charm Ruesse (whether or not she's willing to be charmed). At last he has to excuse himself and get back to business, striding into the room June told him about without so much as a knock first. "You decent there?" he asks K'aus, that little chat with Ruesse all it took to restore him to his usual irreverance, after those few minutes down there of him being serious.

'Decent' consists of sitting in one of the two little chairs on either side of the little table that this room comes equipped with, along with the bed and other appropriate furnishings. And of course it is K'aus's particular brand of sitting, slightly slumped, a little bit sweaty, like it takes him a great deal of effort /to/ sit. When Skinner enters to join him he glances up and takes a deep breath that hurts. "Your idea of decent and mine might vary slightly."

Skinner looks from the sitting K'aus to the bed, his eyebrows arched. "Your idea of comfortable and mine might vary slightly." There's really no point in wasting resources. The salesman flops himself onto the edge of the bed, scooting upright against the headboard, and folds his hands over his stomach. "We're back to the whole killing thing, right? I'm just saying if you're not sure what to do with the guy, there isn't much point to looking for him. And less incentive, by the way, to my trading you good information if you're going to fuck up again."

"I didn't say," and the strength returns to K'aus's voice just in time for, or perhaps just plain for, this, "I didn't know what I wanna do with him." To make that very clear. His black eyes find Skinner and stay there, an all new rising up of dangerous thoughts burning in them. "I said I didn't know if I would kill him. If I plan to. I don't know that. You know who he is." Again, this next part is especially clear. "And I can pay."

Pursing his lips, Skinner rolls his eyes up to one side and considers. "I like money," he admits, returning to K'aus. "But I'm sure you're more useful to me than that. I'm just trying to figure out how. Unfortunately, I know you're not Mr. Has a Lot of Influence with the Weyr, and I don't think free dragonrides whenever I want them is really quite enough." He smiles cheerfully at the thought.

More useful than money? News flash. "I'm not." K'aus would be the last person to argue that point, knowing himself so darn well and all. But, "How about we pretend like I do have influence, for a sec." The brownrider puts his head to the side, slouching and staring. "What's your biggest wet dream, what would put the cherry on your little sundae."

There we go. Skinner flashes the other man a rare sort of smile - quick, not flashy - to let him know that he considers this new approach productive. "I need protection for my merchants. They're coming in and out all the time, loaded with stuff, and I've already had a couple of slum bitches try to take advantage of that. Better, smarter ones will follow. I've been working on the holds, but -" he flicks a finger at K'aus, "dragons are faster. You could fit it into your sweeps or something, but I want oversight."

"Fine." It's very easy to assume that fitting an extra trip here or there into his routine would be a small price to pay to get his hands on Skinner's stranger. Even if it could put him in a situation later in which he finds himself under someone's thumb. Right now, K'aus isn't thinking about that. "So we look out for your shit. Anything else?"

Skinner's silent for a second, as if waiting for something more from K'aus. When it doesn't come, he shrugs. "That'd be enough. I'm not convinced you can actually supply it. You and your brown aren't going to do enough, alone, so unless you've got the sway to make a wingleader or two go along with it, or you've just got so many friends you can organize it yourself, I'm still waiting for an offer I can rely on."

Impatient but calm by force, K'aus examines Skinner very evenly through a thin veil of hazy discomfort. Finally he takes a breath and speaks again. "If I can take over a wing and incorporate your merchants' circuit into regular sweeps so the rest of the wing doesn't have to know, what then."

Skinner shrugs and stretches a hand out, twiddling the fingers like it's the most inconsequential thing to say, "Then his name is Kozec. Finding him shouldn't be too hard: it's his job to be found. Waystations. Docks. Anywhere on Ista where there's enough people that he won't stand out, but they're too busy to take much notice of him. If you follow." Skinner crosses his other arm behind his head, and brings in the one he was just twiddling so he can dangle the fingers in front of his face.

It's with a new hungriness in his gaze that K'aus accepts that information and stores it in the tight place that is his brain. Kozec. Locations. Name to face. "Thank you. What I'm going to say next is important." There's a small pause for his own benefit. "If you know anyone who might be willing to do some dirty work for pay, I would appreciate if you convinced them to meet me downstairs in four days. I would also appreciate your help in keeping this asshole on the island."

This Skinner has to think about. His eyes narrowed slightly, he brings his hand in to rub over his moustache and keep his mouth covered. "First of all," he decides, splitting his fingers, "not downstairs. June and I get along, and I'm not going to spoil that by bringing whatever it is you're plotting smack into the middle of her business. Second, tell me what it is you're plotting. You can just sketch it," he offers, moving his hand away for another loose wave before it drops comfortably on his stomach.

"Plotting," K'aus repeats, coughing up a choke of laughter. His grin is pointy and white, a sudden split in his face that probably hurts. "I wouldn't do anything here, for fuck's sake. No. I just wanna talk to some of your friends if you have the kind of friends that wanna hear what I have to say. This is how it's gonna go. I'm gonna be put away for a while after what happened, until they figure out the guy I randomly attacked is gone, which they'll probably assume after a week or so of not seeing him. They're gonna make me stay in my little cave while they sort out what to do with me. I can't wait that long, I need someone to do a small part of my job for me, that's all."

Skinner shakes his head. "Not downstairs, not unless she okays it. My business relationships - more important than this thing with you." He quirks an eyebrow, an unspoken 'got that?' behind it. Then he drums the fingers on his stomach. "I wasn't done telling you about this guy, either. I mean, good to know that a name and some directions were good enough for you, but I charged that much for a reason. Kozec's part of an organization out here that doesn't like people fucking with its members. If you're going to do anything to him, make sure it doesn't trace back to you." He pauses, then pops up a toothy smile. "Or me. That'd be even worse."

"It's too bad you already gave me a name." Which might be regarding Skinner's 'business relationships'. Right around 'I wasn't done', K'aus is gathering his strength for the reverse of sitting down, which might actually be harder. It's hard to say, he's good at pretending. "It won't matter," he's saying through a pained grunt, and he's standing. While trying to catch his breath from just that little amount of activity, "If it traces back to me." He pauses there, standing and clutching his ribs, the area around them, and considers his reluctantly achieved accomplice for a moment before he's limping towards the door. "We're done here. I'll send you a thing when I need your services again. And I'll talk to June, don't worry."

Skinner tips his chin up, watching K'aus. "That would make it easier," he agrees, since the brownrider doesn't seem to care if things trace back. He springs another smile on K'aus as the man hobbles past, while making no move to help him or - indeed - even leave this comfortable bed. "You got it. Four days, huh? I'll see who I can scrounge up." Which doesn't sound like a guarantee of the highest quality, but does that even matter? Skinner waves a hand after the other man, then puts both arms behind him. "See you." And he'll be staying here until June kicks him out.

[LOG] The Stranger.

2009-08-20T22:03:40Z

Backstory: About ten years ago a girl named Marin was found dead in a patch of woods off one of the used roads leading into Bitra Hold proper. Now, not a lot is remembered of the occurence, except that she'd been attacked and brutalized violently before she was killed by one or more men. He or they were never found.

Docks, Ista Weyr(#450RJ)

Like fingers stretching out to sea, Ista's dockyards provide plenty of room to berth the ships that ply their trade here. Stone pilings support the wooden planking, the whole sturdy and well-worn from the constant traffic of the sailors and dockworkers that come and go with the tide. Thick posts march along both sides of the docks, rising half a man-height; from a few of them dangle salt-swollen and sun-bleached ropes. The ocean murmurs and slops at the pilings, rarely stretching itself to make the planks more than damp. A short distance to the east lies the Sandbar and out across the water distant shapes outline the small islands that dot Ista's famous black sand coastline.

The tides are gentle, the winds good, and the docks are therefore overrun with ships coming in this afternoon. With all the loading of unloading of goods (for the bigger ships) and fish (from the humbler ones), hectic activity is the default in this place, and it's people who aren't busy that stand out. So there's Skinner, standing out like a sore thumb, at ease on a big crate that nobody's gotten around to moving somewhere else yet. A tall, lean man with a square jaw has claimed a different crate just across the narrow pier; the two are facing each other and appear to be having a conversation, though their voices aren't pitched loud enough to be heard over the bustle.

The docks are a frequent pasttime for K'aus's brown and by association, K'aus. Every so often the dragon will sit on the beach with his hindpaws splayed out alongside him and his wings drooping, to watch the comings and goings and all the little humans doing all their little things, and he is fascinated. And because he is not so inclined to sit and stare at basically nothing for hours, K'aus finds other things to do to entertain himself. Like wander up and down the dock itself and poke around and generally make a nuisance of himself, asking stupid questions and being an idiot on purpose. He's further down from Skinner and his companion, whose back is turned to him.

Skinner's conversation takes a small turn, still inaudible, but visible through the slight change in body language. Skinner's eyebrows go up, and his shoulders straighten. The stranger leans his shoulder forward and makes a small, whirling gesture with his hand. They're both silent for a moment before Skinner breaks it with a bark of laughter that /is/ loud enough to be heard on the docks, and then he leans forward to smack the other guy on the shoulder. Said other guy turns his head to look at the place where he was touched, his lips pulled back in a strangely feral smile that still dimples his cheeks disarmingly, and for that moment his profile is visible from K'aus's angle.

It happens that easily. Skinner's laugh attracts his attention, he's looking when the other turns his head-- bam. It's slow motion and it's too fast, that profile is all K'aus needed. He's striding down the dock and pushing people out of the way without a care for where they go, one of them even topples over the edge into the water at the side of a boat. After that it's like Skinner doesn't even exist, the dragonrider has reached them and grabs the stranger up by his shirt to haul him to his feet, all in an effort to get a good look at his face. K'aus's is so completely dead it's scary.

Since he's facing the approaching K'aus, Skinner's the first to notice him. Something about that single-minded walk strikes him, and he looks more than a bit surprised even as he tries to inject a bit of normal behavior into things by greeting him, "Hey." He gets no further than that: K'aus hauls the stranger up to his feet and the stranger goes easily, his hands lifted up and his eyebrows finely arched. "Whoa. I sit on your stuff or something?" He glances back to check the crate.

By now some of those sailors are starting to react. They fall into one of two categories: they got shoved or they're friends with someone who got shoved. It's all the same, and they start to approach the scene, but get a little cautious when the brownrider starts manhandling someone. K'aus's hands make fists around the front of the stranger's shirt and keep him close. There are things battling for territory within the sudden cold anger in his expression and he completely ignores Skinner. One of his hands detaches and goes for his belt, for something that until now was somehow hidden from view; it's the handle of a small, cruel looking knife, the blade of which is then pressed to the man's throat.

Skinner spots the knife the second K'aus moves his hand onto it, and has jumped off his crate even before the blade reaches the guy's throat. No, he's not coming to help: the salesman slides back towards the crowd of sailors, remaining close enough to the front that he can act if he chooses to, but certainly taking himself out of range of this dispute. "What the fuck!" one of those sailors exclaims, and a cabin boy near the back bolts away to find help, or report the incident, something! Everybody else just watches warily, and with a mounting hostility that's directed squarely at K'aus. The knife wielder.

The stranger tugs his chin up when that knife comes near, but his eyes remain fixed on K'aus. There's something there - just a flash, surely invisible to anyone but the man he's looking at - some spark of recognition. But that's not how he plays it. "Hey, hey," he says, putting on a good show of innocent terror. "Whatever it is, we can talk it over, huh?"

On the beach, Ehrudith has approached as far as he's able. He stands, wings folded, still. But if the spark of yellow in his gaze is any indication, he's ready. A dragon in any fight is tipping the scales too far one way, besides he needs to concentrate. His hand is steady, his jaw is clenched and K'aus's eyes burn black death into the stranger's face. He presses the blade of the knife in a little deeper, not deep enough yet to draw blood, when he sees that flash of recognition or something. It's enough. "Did you scare her like this? Was it good for you?"

The stranger flicks a look back over his shoulder, like he's begging the crowd for help. A pair of big men do start to move forward, but an old tar stops them by flashing a hand out. "He'll use that knife before you get close enough to do anything," the old man warns, and the two sailors stop advancing. They crack their knuckles, though, frustrated and clearly wishing they could take it out on someone. Like, say, K'aus. "I've got no idea what you're talking about," the stranger insists, his eyes widening at the touch of the blade. He pulls his elbows back, moving his still-raised hands out and back a little bit. "You've got me confused with somebody, please don't hurt me."

There's madness in the way he looks at him, too singleminded to realize the crowd's being played against him. But though the desire is there and so strong, he does nothing with that knife he hasn't already done. On the beach, Ehrudith takes another step; his rider's chin jerks. "I know what I'm doing, don't fucking /tell/ me this isn't right." And now he's talking to himself and not painting a pretty picture for the sailors surrounding them. It's too easy to side with the un-crazy guy. His fingers unclench and tighten again on the knife's handle and he puts pressure on it.

It's the crazy that does it, that and the inexperience of a young dockhand. This lad's had a hoisting hook in his hand since this commotion interrupted him at his work, and the words of the old sailor haven't done anything to dull his stupid courage. The hook's not very sharp, but it is heavy, so he chucks the thing at K'aus's back, where the brownrider can't see it but the stranger can. Taking advantage of the brief second's opportunity, the stranger pulls violently away from the knife and shoves his foot down at K'aus's instep, then brings those dropped elbows forward to hit him in the gut, conk his head, or block that knife-wielding arm from coming back in. Whatever comes to him. And the crowd, seeing this motion, roars happily and advances en masse, rapidly, led by the two burly guys who're now roaring for violence. In half a second, they'll engulf the pair.

Ehrudith makes a surprised and chuffing noise and rears his head when the hook meets K'aus's back, knocking him forward and down, breathless. The stranger's already made his move, so the blows that follow make their marks here, there and there, but the brownrider hasn't dropped his knife. He's in the process of trying to suck air into his lungs, all of it completely knocked out of him, and keep his balance, when the crowd converges on the both of them. The arm he puts out to ward them away won't do any good.

No, it won't. Somebody grabs the arm and twists it painfully, and somebody else grabs his other arm to wrench the knife away from him while he's winded. Then it's just a crazy mass of punches and kicks thrown in at random, and K'aus'll be lucky if he blacks out and gets to miss it at all. As for the stranger - he takes one look at that mess, then slips quietly back onto the main part of the docks. With everybody's attention on the brownrider - and those who can't get close enough to beat him up themselves are cheering for those who do - only a few people notice the stranger, and nobody stops him. By the time the mob around K'aus has dispersed (and it doesn't take that long to beat the shit out of a person, though it might feel long), the stranger has disappeared. Here's a mystery: with Ehrudith standing guard on the beach, how did he get away unnoticed? But he did. One of the big guys deals K'aus a few farewell kicks for good measure, then drags him behind a crate where the sight of him won't have to bother anybody.

The stranger is allowed past Ehrudith likely only because the dragon is so entirely focused on two things: making really pissed off noises at those sailors and trying to keep K'aus alive inside his own head. The commotion the dragon is making is bound to attract some attention; he is in turns taking rushes at the crowd that don't get close enough to actually put him in contact with them but do send up great waves of sand, and roaring in huge sudden barks of sound. There is a law amongst dragons-- do not harm humans. K'aus, suffering, has given up. He obediently lies there slumped against the crate where he's left, his arms hanging and his head lolling. He's bleeding from a few spots on his face and there might be a broken rib or three, maybe a damaged finger. It's hard to say.

Called by Ehrudith's angry barks, a blue dragon from Riptide flies in to find out what's /wrong/ with the brown. It doesn't take much figuring out before his rider's gone trotting off down the docks, looking frantically for her wingmate. "Ah, hell," she exclaims when K'aus finds him, and kneels at his side to keep watch over him and scan the wounds. Another wingmate's already been drafted to find and bring a healer: whatever these folks think of K'aus, he's one of their own. They'll see to it he's looked after.

[LOG] Old married couple.

2009-08-19T16:13:02Z

Kitchen, Ista Weyr

Double-hinged doors, clearly labeled with large signs reading 'In' and 'Out' bring a person into the kitchens of Ista Weyr. The stone-cut ceiling is fairly low compared with other areas and has heavy beams of wood secured into it. From these seemingly decorative carved rafters hang various pots, pans and other useful kitchen items that sway gently back and forth whenever one is grabbed. The back is occupied by two fairly large sized spits, various cooking hearths and the ovens. A curtain covers a wide passageway leading down to the storage caverns.

Islands of marbled counter space occupy most of the middle of the room, obvious patterns and work triangles starting to indent comfortable wear-marks into the floor. These islands are used for kitchen prep with cabinets built underneath them for organized and labeled storage. On the left are the deep, wide sinks and more cabinets, these with carved wooden fronts bearing common sights of Ista such as intertwining tea leaves and various decorous fruit and flower vines. In whatever free space remains on the right, there's a scattering a small tables for the errant passerby or kitchen worker to sit at and grab a drink or quick bite to eat.

Their place, the usual time. Their notes were swapped earlier today, K'aus wasting no time between then and now. Whenever she shows, and she might be late but they never do decide on a specific time, she'll find him already here. He's probably been here for an hour by now, not that he seems to mind the wait. There's an empty plate in front of him, an empty plate that suggests he only just recently had food. Any longer ago than 'just recently' and the evidence probably wouldn't be here anymore. By now he's reading from a leather-bound notebook, his glasses perched low on his nose.

Definitely late for dinner and when she comes in, Nenita merely greets him with a little wave before slipping off to bother the workers for something to eat. Once arrived it doesn't take her long to rustle something up and slip into the chair across from him. As if this is all too familiar and normal she simply begins to eat, sparing just enough time to utter hello and smile before taking to task the small meal in front of her.

He might have totally missed that wave had it not been for the motion of it catching his attention more than he actually /sees/ it happen. A little puzzled by her change of course but quick on the uptake, K'aus waits patiently with his thumb keeping the notebook open until she joins him. And then he waits some more, because now she's chewing. This really is all very familiar, too familiar in fact. He speaks up, flipping notebook closed and setting it down; one hand dangles lazily off his bent knee. "This is bullshit."

She swallows whatever bite of food she has in her mouth. Then with carefully raised eyebrows and a curious expression, Nenita casts a questioning glance to the notebook. "Your book? You should probably stop readiny it if it's making you upset." Another fork finds it's way into her mouth and she continues to look at him, seemingly oblivious to the call of obvious bullshit.

"Is that sarcasm? Are you actually trying to be sarcastic with me? Me?" What might have been an attempt at lightening the mood by poking back at her turns. K'aus seriously regards her, his head tilted and his eyes intent. "Are we back here to this? You're not gonna talk to me?"

Nenita chews slowly on the food as she considers him. After swallowing, "Yes. And this is getting dangerously close to turning into one of those annoying veiled arguments that old married couples have. Next thing you know, one of us is going to accuse the other of not washing the dishes with enough frequency." She pushes the dish off to the side and considers him, "I think that you want to talk about it. And I think that I'm not sure that I want to, for a variety of reasons."

"The only way this is gonna turn into one of those annoying arguments is if one of us," and here's a pointed look, "avoids actually dealing with the issue. I ask questions, you answer them, we talk. Unless you don't want to." Which she may have briefly touched on already. But K'aus is on a mission, and if he's good at anything he's good at being direct. "Here's another question, why don't you wanna talk about it."

Nenita takes a breath and sends a cursory look around them. She then stands and moves her chair closer, once done she sits again. "I don't understand why you're worried." Her tone lower so that the entire kitchen doesn't overhear them. "I didn't get in trouble, no one knows. I don't feel awkward," Probably at odds with not really wanting to talk about it, but she's swinging for it anyway it would seem, "I just..." She shakes her head, fingers tapping on the table. "Is there something that you want to talk about?"

Indulgent, K'aus adopts a secretive sort of ducking down posture when she makes the first move towards an attempt at privacy. He's leaning on the arm of his chair between them, his fingers over his mouth while she speaks and an ear tuned in. His lips have become oddly protruding by the time she's come to her question. He holds up a finger. "Okay, how about this. How about I pretend like I don't have any reason to believe you're not feeling awkward. Because I'm feeling a little awkward," he admits.

"Why? Why would /you/ feel awkward?" Nenita looks at him with obvious disbelief, her eyes narrowed as the head shaking begins again. The finger tapping has paused in order for her to really consider him. "You don't feel like...?" She trails off as the glance up and towards any potential watchers happens again. "I know what a man looks like after his dragon has lost a flight, K'aus. You didn't catch me unawares or unprepared."

This time he doesn't join her in being paranoid. His was all fake anyway. "I didn't catch you unawares?" No, not believing that either. "So you were down there minding your own business and you knew I was gonna come molest you, really? Really." But they're deviating from his intentions. K'aus closes his eyes and makes a nix that gesture with one hand. "Look." He looks at her. "Don't misconstrue here, I'm not sorry it happened."

"I don't think that's what I said?" Nenita rolls her eyes around, as if someone could maybe verify this for her. "I think I said that you looking like that wasn't exactly a shock to me. I'm a not a lamb in the dark. You didn't molest me and don't think that any of that occured because I couldn't say no to you." The agitated tapping of fingertips begins anew and she leans back in her chair, away. "So then you're not sorry. I'm sure as hell not sorry. No one got in trouble. If you don't want things misconstrued then get to the point of what you want here, because I think I'm missing it." Purposely or not.

Her attitude is confusing him, it's only too obvious. And while she might hike up the defense, K'aus is as calmly patient as he ever is, as in control of himself. His usual, a far cry from the creature that encountered her in the store room. "Why are you getting so defensive?" Trust him to call her on it.

"Because you're questioning me. Like I'm hiding something." Nenita shrugs her shoulders. When she runs into the deadend of calm, he can probably consider the defenses officially raised. She's not simply leaning back, considering him with the uplifted 'brows again.

"Okay, so I'm questioning you." There really isn't any point in denying it anymore. K'aus nearly pulls his glasses off, just transfers them to the crown of his head instead, and rubs his eyes. "I don't think you're hiding something. But look, you're younger than you act. You're dealing with all this new shit and I'm supposed to be the person you can talk to. If you feel weird you should talk to me. I don't want you not talking to me."

"That's not okay. I don't invite you to our place and question you. Give you the eyeball." Nenita pulls down on the lower lid of one of hers before crossing bare arms over her chest. Acts more mature? Hmmm. "How old am I? How old do you think that I am?" Nenita asks, like maybe this might be something important. "Getting groped in the dark isn't something new. And sometimes people like to keep secrets, makes them feel safe." She looks away, staring off at the dishwasher. The weyrling is painfully silent until finally the arms uncross and she goes to touch his hand, tentatively. "I'm not refusing to talk to you. But sometimes talking doesn't solve all your problems, it just makes new ones. And I really don't want anything like that with you."

She receives an eyebrow for her arm-crossing and all that precedes it. Really? His mouth opens after she questions him regarding her age but she's still going on so he closes it again and narrows his eyes at her. His fingers tap on the table, sure sign he's anxious to get a word in and it's battling with the obvious wanting to give her her turn. During that silence would be a perfect time to interject and he doesn't, her last words are still ringing in his ears. And maybe he's just about to say something when she reaches out. His hand stills. K'aus takes a deep breath in through his nose and levels a look on her; out comes the breath. "You and me are never gonna have those kinds of problems, sweetheart. It ain't in the cards. There's nothing you can say to me that's gonna make me ever think about giving up on you."

Maybe it's the look; or the breath after it or maybe it's the little inconsequential 'ain't in the cards' comment that slips out from between his lips. Is it the stilled hand? It could be any number of things that causes her to closes her eyes briefly before opening them again and smiling, one that looks genuine enough for all intents and purposes. Her lips press together while she's quiet. And rather than go for the typical 'Thanks for the support blah blah blah' that she might default to, another route is stepped onto. "Why?"

Maybe that isn't what he was expecting, but if he's thrown off by that so-simple question K'aus doesn't show it. It's his hand, that would be silly. But, "Why what?" He did say an awful lot.

There's a look, it says: Really? And Nenita doesn't repeat the question, probably because she feels that he knows what she's aiming at. But that hand of hers does withdraw, going for the food she abandoned earlier. Now she begins to pick at it, dividing her attention between the plate and him.

She returns to her plate, K'aus pretends like it doesn't bother him for like a whole minute. Then he breathes, "Okay," and collects his notebook. Next he's standing.

"I can count the amount of times I've walked away from you first on one hand." One goes up and there's four wiggling fingers, her thumb pressed to her palm. It's offhanded, it might even be a little bit of a low blow if viewed in the wrong light. But she makes it when she looks up and sees that he's standing and collecting his things. That he's leaving? Yeah, under her skin a little bit.

"I don't do," he pauses, looks at her fingers but carries on anyway, "games. I don't like them, they make me angry. If you wanna play one then you should find somebody else who wants to play one with you but that's not me." K'aus takes his glasses down and folds them in one hand, then uses them to gesture mildly at her. "See, this is how I know something's going on in your head. You're never like this."

"It's not a game. It's facts. Make it five." The thumb goes up. Nenita drops her fork down on the table, causing a loud clatter before she gets to her feet. The comment about how she never acts that way gets a pause from her. She takes a breath and then pushes the chair in with more care than she put that utensil down. The dishes are left where they are, also unlike her. She flexes her fingers stiffly and makes to leave. But not before mumbling, "You're right."

She's allowed a step or two before she'll hear two more items joining her fork in the same uncareful clatter and feel his hand on her wrist. K'aus pulls on her once he has her, and look, there's a table. Her body might bump into it a little more roughly than he meant, the noise it makes earning them both an older woman's attention. He meets her gaze and smiles wanely, throwing up his other hand in a 'what can you do?' gesture.

Nenita for once becomes irritated at that confining grasp of his hand, shaking her hand to get her wrist loose. When she bumps into the table she lets out a breath. "This. This is what's going on in my head. You decide when we meet, you decide when the encounter ends. You touch me, I feel shit that I don't like fucking feeling on a normal day. The one time I take advantage of it, of /you/ really, you want to talk about it. Put me on the spot. And when I just want to leave so that I can bury my head in some sand someplace, you won't let me. And that woman is watching us." If her hand shaking could be considered fighting, it stops so that she can eyeball the older person in the background. "And I'm tired of feeling like people are trying to cage me and train me and make sure I don't break."

She shakes her hand and he winces but clamps down. Which is exactly what she's about to rally against. Nenita has /all/ of K'aus's attention, there's no way he could look at anything else, hear anything else. The expressions on his face, and they are animated, go from confused to incredulous to vaguely regretful all in the time it takes her to say everything she's been keeping from him. Suffice to say, when she's done, he's stunned. Speechless even. She mentions the woman and he looks again, just in case there's been a difference. There hasn't. She'll see his eyes move, feel more than anything else the shallow breaths he's taking like he might be unhinging. And then he's looking at her, their faces not all that far apart. His mouth relaxes. "First things first honey, I'm not trying to cage you, the only kind of training I'm personally interested in is the kind where I'm preferably on my back and we're both naked and believe me," is it hot in here? "breaking you would be the fun part. Now, here's the deal. We never talk about this again. I won't bring it up. You start deciding where we meet, when we meet, you can decide what I fucking /wear/."

That woman is probably going to have words with "someone" if something about their physical positions doesn't change. Hell, she might have words to say no mattter what, she looks like a busybody. But Nenita has stopped the struggling, given in to the clamped down pressure of his hand. Like his, her own face begins to go through a series of visible emotions, the type the result in your cheeks turning red and the eyes opening a little wide. Though maybe some of what he's saying isn't too much of a surprise. She bites her lip and then exhales, relaxing there and tipping her forehead forward, relieved. "It was really that easy?"

"What can I say." K'aus looks down at the top of her head since that's all he's being given. His hand finally lets her go, maybe only because he remembered he was still clinging to her too tightly. The fingers find the table behind her and he touches that edge while giving lady over there another wary look. "I'm a decision-maker."

When her hands are free again, she leans back onto the table and lets her hands find placement. They slide over very casually and brush against his, "You don't owe me anything. Your score settled." She begins to straighten up slowly, looking over his shoulder briefly before settling her attention back onto him. "I owe you like two, I think. Is that fair?"

Fair? Between then and now K'aus has gotten a little lost. Not that it matters, he's just given her full control. Shifting so he doesn't have to move his hands away from hers, he leans on his arms and bends one leg slightly. At eye level with her now, he forms a word with his mouth before he actually says it. "Okay."

There's a look for his word forming and then she laughs, a low throaty type of one. It happens before she shifts her leg. It bumps into his bent knee before finding its new location. "Okay." Nenita repeats before going to duck under his arm, quietly, "And I'm personally very interested in seeing what sort of training you have in mind, involving your back, that could actually break me." It's an obvious tease, a lead on. A game? Possibly, but not the same sort they were semi-engaging in before.

His knee doesn't buckle and he doesn't look down. He knows it was her, who else would bump him? But all his attentiveness doesn't matter because she's just going to duck under his arm and he's going to watch her under the same, until it gets too awkward and he turns around to lean back on the table like she was only a moment ago. His reluctant smirk suggests this kind of game is the kind he's willing to play. "All in due time." If she's on her way out he's not going to interfere this time.

There's still those plates on the table, those dirty dishes. Nenita takes them into her hands and casts a sly smile up at him. "Sure. Of course." Those things collected just like she would on any other day, like nothing unpleasent had even transpired. Heading in the direction of the sink, she waves her hand over her shoulder. "Good night, K'aus."

He already has his stuff back, glasses and book, by the time she's collecting dishes. And he's already walking out of the kitchen by the time she's cleaning them up for him, for them. Maybe he just doesn't think to say it, but K'aus doesn't thank her. What he does do is call, "Night," over his shoulder.

[LOG] Relationships.

2009-08-18T23:34:33Z

June took his marks and sent him upstairs to the last door, to the bigger room with that predictable little key on its little chain. She also left him with a fair warning, that it might take her a while, for a reason she doesn't specify, and he may have to wait for a bit. He does, and for more than just a bit. There's a long space of nothing, in fact, before her knock sounds on the door. She seemed a little tipsy in the bit of conversation they had downstairs and now she seems, if anything, moreso. He'll find a smile laying in wait for him to answer her knock, though he won't have much time to notice it before she grabs a handful of collar and drags him into a kiss. It isn't just her low laugh that makes it sloppy; she also rotates in past the door, pulling him about with her and keeping her lips sealed against his as much as possible. Only when she's in the room fully does she release him and, with a sly glance and an unmuffled chuckle, move over to a side table to unburden herself. Balanced in that other arm are many treasures to be sure: a bottle of amber liquid, two glasses, and, stuffed in one of the glasses, a deck of cards. Certainly not the usual beer.

Far from patient, K'aus has a hard time waiting in a room by himself for, what, almost an hour? It feels like it. Part of his impatience comes from his short attention span at least today, as demonstrated by his wandering around the room looking in drawers and then, shamelessly, under the bed. Like he might find something there. Of course he doesn't, and he's in the middle of that last leg of his time killing when the knock comes. The rest, his answering the door and seeing that smile, the kiss, the laugh, happens with him on the receiving end and acting like it. Has she ever been this-- friendly? When she moves away he stands there watching her, his lips still parted, his shirt rumpled around where she grabbed him. His hand moves back to close the door behind him, trusting it's still where he left it, and he follows her as far as the edge of the bed, where he sits and looks her over. "Is that gonna cost me extra?" Her greeting?

June laughs again, still that low, almost private sound, as she finally removes the deck of cards from the glass and slaps it onto the tabletop. She turns to tilt a glance at him, eyelids drooping a bit and her cheeks flushed in her buzz. "If it did, I would have gotten the marks first," she tells him, her words, at least, still crisp enough and still heavily friendly thanks to her booze-boosted mood. Her hands move up to take care of her hair, loosing her curls and the small braid that was wound around them today. That task won't take her long, however, so she lines up another, asking simply, "Drink?"

She so totally would have. "Yeah, that's true," he realizes. He's sitting bent forward some on the corner he's claimed, hands clasped between his knees. And he's thinking about this new June, regarding her and her flushed cheeks and her hands while they undo her hair. That part especially distracts him, since now the whole volume of red curls is loose and shines in the light and-- "What? Yes." Drink. Blinking, K'aus conjures up a small, blank smile, just a neutral curve that he shares with her. "You're in rare form," he has her know.

Those distracting curls are shaken out one final time to double-check their pin-free status, then June transitions smoothly into pouring him some of that, it will reveal itself, spiced rum. Not expensive, to be sure, but it seems a step up from their home brews, marks-wise. "I can get drunk once in a while, too," she teases amid the minor clinkings, "you don't have a monopoly." Further explanation comes when she turns, a drink for each hand, for each of them. "It's been a good night. I won a dart game for, I think, the first time in my life. And we're getting a lot of people drunk." Including herself; she takes a first sip from her glass after handing off his, then drops herself down to sit next to him. "I'm not tired at all," she muses randomly, a notable fact only because of the late hour.

"If you're usually tired," when he comes calling, "I'd never know." It's almost like he can't take his eyes off her, can't look away from this drunk June. Even when he lifts his glass to take a drink, to discover it's not what he was expecting, K'aus is watching her over its rim. His fingers cradle it like a lover's hand. "We get drunk for very different reasons," he notes, thinking over and comparing the ones she's just given him versus the ones he knows as his own. She wins a dart game, he remembers horrible graphic images. "So business is good." It's a guess, but it's an educated one, and he takes another drink.

June glances, sly again, away from her drink and shrugs, leaving her usual status in regards to sleepiness a mystery. After that look falls, she rearranges herself, pushing herself back against the slanted pillows at the head of the bed, though she leaves her sandaled feet dangling off the edge. Better able to face him, now, she meets his fascinated gaze. "Yeah, well. You're you," she comments amiably, attempting to hide a chuckle behind her drink. She fails and only ends up spilling a drop of rum on her chin, a drop which she laughingly wipes with a single finger and licks away. "Business is good," she confirms with emphasis, "it couldn't be better." Only an intake of breath, a short excited gasp of sudden remembering, indicates she's changing the subject before she does. "Do you want to play a game?" She moves her glass-heavy hand toward the table. Cards.

K'aus is still dwelling on what her finger was doing only a moment ago when she switches subjects so smoothly. The gasp does very little to clue him on, sadly. Now that he's back in his own body and not co-inhabiting her digit, he lifts his eyebrows like he's missed something and briefly checks what he heard while he was away. First, "I am me," because she shot a little barb at him and he's only just realized. Second, cards. Right. While chewing on his lip, the brownrider scoots closer to the redhead, probably closer than he needs to scoot, leans over her on an arm to exchange glass for deck. "What are we playing? Go Fish?"

"Go Fish," June cheerily concedes that as an viable option, slipping in a sizeable swallow of rum before she adds, "Or we could play twenty-one. Or poker." She slides her glass onto the table, exchanging it for the card deck, which she settles into her grasp with an easy, unconscious shuffle. "We could play strip poker," she suggests with more of her usual, subtly bewitching manner, though she breaks the effect it has with the angling of an eyebrow and the short laugh that follows it.

"Poker with two people..." Isn't an appealing prospect, says K'aus's trailing off all meaningfully. And even when she ups the ante, aha, with the addition of the concept of /strip/ poker he's slow to rise. Taking his glass back, more for the feel of it in his hand than anything else, he considers with his mouth pushed out. "While normally the idea of being naked with a woman with almost no effort from me involved would probably be all I'd need-- I mean, aren't you tired of seeing me without clothes on?" Really, considering all of their 'visits'.

June counters his question with another question, lifting both of the brows at him now. "Are you saying you don't want to get naked?" It's posed as seriously as she can manage right now, which is still a pretty good approximation, if you can ignore the smile tugging its way, bit by bit, to her lips. Her hands idly ruffle the cards together over and over, an motion that's been so ingrained into her muscle memory it's like blinking. "We don't have to play," she offers generously, indifferently, as she slouches more comfortably into her propping pillows and moves the shuffling to over her stomach.

"I'm saying that if we're gonna get naked, we should probably put the cards away." They might interfere, get in the way or otherwise be a bad idea. Just think of the papercuts. "And I'm thinking that if you brought cards, you wanna play cards. Which is darling." Because they're usually... well, not playing cards. While she's shuffling, K'aus pulls himself ever closer to her, to the middle of the bed until he's across from her or would be if she were sitting. It'll be easier for when she deals him in. "There really isn't any reason for someone to want to play cards, poker specifically, aside from a) they want to win money, which, well, you've already got mine, or b) they wanna talk."

Darling, the word knits a tiny frown over a tensed glance, the expression fleeting and already disappeared by the time she focuses on her shuffling again. As soon as he's close enough, June hooks a leg over his knee, her other tucked underneath. "I brought cards," she explains neutrally, "because I don't feel like sleeping, and you don't sleep anyway. I figured we could do something other than stare at the ceiling. Before, after, whenever." The shuffling, with alternating holds, continues without a deal in sight. They've returned to the territory where he calls the shots again and he hasn't called for a deal.

Nor will he within the next few moments, since he's thinking about something else. Something he shares with her, after his wandering eyes travel down his own leg to his knee, to the point at which the two of them are touching, the only point for now; then to the cards; then his glass. K'aus's expression changes, bemused would be appropriate. He speaks slowly as if he's forming his thoughts into words impromptu-like. "This is probably the weirdest relationship I've ever been in, romantic or otherwise. I mean I pay you for booze and sex, and here we are in a room with the door closed... with a deck of cards."

June's eyes return to him when he speaks, the card rustling going on just as easily without her watching. She recognizes the humor in this atypical relationship between them, but only with a smile and a single chuckle. Her shuffling stills and after a few straightening pats from her fingers she lifts the deck over to its spot on the table again. From there, she sits up even further, using the hook of her leg to help her straighten towards him. She'll grab his collar and draw him into a kiss for the second time tonight, gentler this time, and with nothing but the angling of her body guides him downward with her. More sex and fewer cards to go with his booze.

Still pondering the curious case of their arrangement, K'aus doesn't realize right away that her intentions lie elsewhere suddenly. It takes her using her physical attachment to him to get close to sharpen his focus, his dark eyes half-lidded when she takes him by the shirt again. This time she's gentler, this time he's more prepared and able to respond, which he does. And her manipulation of both of them has him stretched atop her in seconds, shifting to put himself comfortably in the niche between her legs and using an elbow to keep most of his weight from crushing her. While it could be easily assumed things would progress normally from here, he ruins the typical order of events by pulling his mouth away only enough so he can say low words at her. "Are you gonna be pissed about the cards, you can tell me honestly."

June's eyes, drifted closed somewhere during that slow-sinking fall, flash open when he pulls away. Is there a fire? Flood? No, just a question. She blinks through her moderately slowed reaction time, digging a bit for the honest answer and bringing it to the surface. "No," she tells him finally, pausing to stretch a hand down and shove free the last strap of her sandal that her feet couldn't free on their own. "It's your time not mine," she explains when both her gaze and her hand returns to him.

That is an honest answer. Maybe too honest. Still, she's right, he did pay. And somewhere in the back of K'aus's mind, despite that small thought that worries at him, that justifies it all. So he gives up on the issue and rejoins their mouths that quickly, the hand he can use at the moment traveling down her body. For two people so obviously accustomed to each other and to the steps, the declothing process doesn't take long. However, what comes after is a little more involved. While normally he might only draw things out as long as is necessary to please them both, tonight lasts quite a bit longer. Afterwards, he at least is on his back and trying to catch his breath, his hand draped lazily over his stomach and his eyes on the ceiling.

June lazes for a moment curled up next to him, bare back slick against his ribs, tumble of curls propped against his arm. When her sides cease to heave and her sighed sounds of contentment taper off, though, she sits up, moving only so far as the edge of the bed so she can reach for the table. No, it's not the cards she goes for, it's one of the glasses with liquor still at the bottom. She takes a swig for herself then turns to offer him one, planting one hand on the other side of him to make a sort of tent over his lazy hand.

There might be that moment of curious looking when her hand goes for the table, cards? No, glass. Her offer is appreciated, he's sitting up as much as he has to, or can under her tent, to take it from her and steal the last two swallows. The empty is returned, his stretching brushing him against her, hot skin to hot skin, and he falls back in with the pillows, a very comfortable crowd of them in fact. K'aus shoves his hand into his mussed hair and scratches his fingers around in the mess, his other hand drifting to fall backward against her side.

June deposits the empty glass and turns a brief smile at the prompt of his drifted touch. She takes it as an invitation to rejoin him, which she does shortly after it lands. She's a trifle more uncoordinated than usual as she slides down next to him, but she makes it without mishap, taking up a close mirror of his position rather than that little-spoon curl so customary in their post-coital ritual. She stares at the ceiling with him for a while, comfortably quiet, before her voice, low and soft, slips into the silence. "There's nothing saying we can't be friends on top of all this," she notes out of nowhere, her voice having gained a dullness, a sluggish bit of slur, somewhere in the time it spent in moans and murmurs.

Whether or not it was invitation, K'aus accepts, and welcomes, her company. It might not be obvious, but the little things, like his shifting to give her some of those pillows to lay back on and his arm moving closer to his body, that give him away. The quiet that persists after she's resituated herself lulls him into, if not sleep, then a sleepy state. His eyes are almost closed actually when she speaks, drawing him out of what might have been unsconsciousness in a minute or two. He rolls his head on the pillow to look at her and blinks several times. His voice is the usual low, husky one of after. Lacking a more intellectual response, he settles with, "What?"

His response draws her laughter up, it begins, privately, low in her throat, and grows to a full lazy chuckle. She draws her far hand up to drape it over her now closed eyes. "Nevermind," she mumbles over the end of her obscure amusement, and maybe it's an indication of just how inebriated she is that she expects that to be the end of it all. With one final muffled laugh at herself, she's quiet.

Which leaves him confused, all of it. Her reaction, her dismissal, her seemingly complete and sudden stillness. Again, K'aus takes the time he's been given to reflect back quickly on what she said, to try and recapture her tone, what it could have meant. Of course, it doesn't help, even if he understands now, has a better idea what to say, she's probably asleep. And even if she isn't, he assumes that she is so she might as well be. With a troubled look on his face he scratches idly at his collar bone and finally shifts to roll over onto his side, turning his back on her.

For a long time, she might as well be; June stays where she ended up, either staring at the backside of her wrist or leaving her eyes closed. She gives him just as much time as before, maybe more, before she gives in to her restlessness and stirs. Achingly slow, she slides herself from the bed and into the gauziness of her dress, forgoing the complication of underwear for now. In addition to the padding of her feet, his ears may be able to track the splash of more rum meeting a glass, the slight groan of boards as she seats herself on the benched windowsill, the slip of cards against each other as she pushes them through the quietest shuffle she knows.

Of course /he/ isn't going to sleep. It's too early or he hasn't had enough to drink, something like that. He's staring straight ahead while she moves and dresses, when she pours herself another drink, when she sits and when she begins to shuffle again. His hand passes over his face, scrubbing in particular around his eyes to wake them up, and he sits up without the care and slowness she put into use. There's no reason to sneak and so he doesn't. The sheet's gathered around his hips, held in place in a fist, and he grabs the bottle she brought and shuffles on bare feet over to her bench and her window, takes a seat on its other end and clears his throat.

June is surprised when he rouses himself and both shuffling and drinking are put on hold while she watches him go through the stages of joining her. She's sitting sidesaddle, leaned against the curtained window, leaving plenty of room for him on the other half of the sill. The cards are dropped to her lap, braced in a cradle of fingers inches away from her drink. His throat clearing surprises her further and it's only after a moment of blinking under raised eyebrows that she responds to it. "I told you I wasn't tired," she defends herself lightly.

"Despite my best efforts." K'aus lifts a glance at her, his mouth quirking to the side. He shifts then, getting a leg to bend beneath him to form a lap of sorts that the sheet pools in, leaving knees bare but decency intact. Without asking or saying so he stretches a hand out to steal those cards from her so that he might carry on shuffling them himself, though he's not nearly as skilled as she is, Bitran or no. "You said before we could be friends," he reminds her, now that he has his chance. "I guess I missed that we weren't. Which doesn't really surprise me, I mean I'm not good at being friends."

June watches the cards go into his possession and keeps her eyes on them while he speaks, an easier focus for her fuzzy mind than his face right now. "No, I thought... I mean, we w-- are. I thought. It's just, what you said. As if we should be fucking or nothing. And I... I don't know." She drowns her confusion in a blindly-grabbed swallow of rum, which is sure to only bring more on. She lets her head roll back after that drink, letting her gaze be pulled up with it, landing it on his face.

This might be the one instance in all their time together that K'aus is the soberest one of them. He should probably be feeling a little uncertain right about now, but it doesn't show. "Oh yeah, that again. What is it about the fucking or nothing thing that's so awful? It's easy, it's fun, nobody gets hurt. You aren't the first person lately to have a problem with it, which is why I'm confused." He can shuffle without looking too, as he shows now by looking at her, but he's slower that way, clumsier. "So what are your... terms." He's very careful about that word.

June dips for another sip, coming out on the other end with a sigh to settle her weightless thoughts. "Because that's how it all is," is her explanation, "and it's not all that fun. Because if we're friends, it seems like it should be fucking and something. Not always, just..." That thought escapes her and flits away and she's too distracted by what he says next to chase it down. "Terms?" she questions the concept, puzzled by it. "For being friends?"

But what she said stalls his explaining. 'How it all is'. Whether or not she meant it as he interprets it, he's stilled completely by the feeling he gets. The cards are paused in his hands, mid-shuffle, his eyes are focused intently on her face, on her expression. Not the first time he's been forced to think deeper than he might want to, K'aus lets his gaze drift listlessly to one side while he does so. Finally, "I get it." Does he though? "Nevermind what I said. But isn't friends and fucking like... Isn't that what people who are together, involved, isn't that what they do?"

A shadow of a frown jumps unpermitted to June's forehead and she replies, lazily fervent, "No, fuck that. There's no... obligation, or... anything. It's just treating the person you're fucking like they're good for more than just... fucking." She seems to realize she's using that word a lot, but after that short pause she gives up caring about it. Her eyes cut away after she's finished and, distractedly, she raises her glass again for a hearty swig that finishes it off. She doesn't seek more yet, just stares at the unreachable drop left in the bottom nook of the glass.

There's still that whole bottle, the one he brought with them to their window. When she's done with her glass he pushes it slowly across the small space between them, to the middle, where it stops. Then he redirects his attention to whatever lies outside that window, whatever he can see in the darkness, which is more likely his own reflection. After that long moment he takes a deep breath and lets it be a sigh. "So what do you want?"

The bottle pulls June's attention slowly and keeps it while she considers the advantages and disadvantages of another refill. His next question tips the scales firmly toward the advantages. "Want?" she mutters the repeat to herself, as if baffled by it. "Nothing," she states decidedly after a few seconds of thought, her thinned gaze trained on the interplay of bottle and glass to make sure there isn't any spilled. "Nothing," she repeats again once a finger of the liquid is safely in the glass. "I was just clarifying and I honestly couldn't care less about the cards, about playing them with you. I don't even know," she adds, giving her head a tiny shake before looking up at him again, "how this turned into a full blown talk. I just thought we were beyond the usual shit, and turns out we were, just that you said... but it doesn't matter. I don't want anything," she reiterates in case he didn't catch it the first two times. That was too much talking, she has to calm her voice with a sip from her refill.

She couldn't care less. For some reason, K'aus gives her a sharp look that watches her careful pouring without spilling. But she's allowed her full say and he doesn't interrupt her even if he very much wants to say some things. They can wait until she's done and when she is, during her sip, he gives her his response. "You wanna know what's even worse than a woman getting upset about something stupid?" Apparently her answer isn't necessary, he's going on. "A woman who gets upset about something stupid and pretends like she isn't upset. You wanted something outside of sex did you not, is that not why we're talking? And then we're talking and that's not what you want? Forgive me, I'm just trying to get this all straight."

June is taken aback a bit by what he comes back with and comes up from her sip blinking. "No," she corrects him, voice calmed from the firmness it had before, "I'm really not upset." She sets her drink down on the sill and plants her hands next to it, leaning in as if that could make her point clearer. "I'm really not. I have no reason to pretend that. I thought you said something, thought you thought differently. I wanted to make sure if you did. And I'm just... saying things." Frustrated by her lack of clarity she gives another minute shake of her head, eyes tracking to the side as if she could read back up a transcript of what she said, see where the miscommunication might lie. She takes a settling breath and, staring at the curtain still, says, "I don't want anything specific. Nothing like a relationship. I'm a whore," she admits frankly, without bite, "how fucked up would that be? I just think it'd be fucked up at this point if you saw me as..." and she stresses, "... just a whore." She's not making sense even to herself, though, and she reverses her lean, falling back against the frame and letting her head clunk softly against it as she takes her turn to sigh.

She's really not upset? He's really not convinced. And less convinced as she goes on to say things like 'pretend' and 'saying things'. And yes, she's had a few drinks, and he hasn't, and maybe that's making for an uneven playing field, as it were, but K'aus isn't big enough to let it go. Especially not after she's gone and dropped the 'w' word, /twice/. Since he's usually the one of them to use that epithet and since she's all done, he steps in. Slowly, though. This is a mine field. "I think it's really unfair to call yourself a whore when I'm not really in a position right now to argue that you aren't." His downward glance brings into light his halfheartedly concealed nudity. "Not that I definitely would if cirumstances were different. But look, the thing is, if you're a whore then I'm the mark. That's how this works. I'm just some customer, right? And beyond that I'm not even /trying/, I mean I don't even pass for decent on my best of days. Really, I'm being serious. You wouldn't even look at me straight before I paid you that first time."

"You don't have to argue," June tells him,, a hint of a smile sneaking up at her soft-snorted breath. "I am, it's part of what I am." She lets him have his say, gaze and hand both wandering, while she listens, for her glass. It's brought to her, curled in to rest over the haphazard cleavage the tossed on dress reveals, but not sipped from just yet. "Maybe not," she concedes honestly, pausing with her eyes on him to parse that thought, to build enough steam to continue. "But that's the thing. You shouldn't be just," her stress all drains into that word, "a customer at this point, either. I don't think of you as a mark and nothing when you're not, it's not like that. Fuck trying or not, doesn't matter."

Despite their picking apart their characters, K'aus wears the expression of the patient, attentive debater, taking her points as she makes them and doing so neutrally, and then making his own. "But I do pay, see, we participate in a financial transaction, there are services rendered." At this point he realizes what he's arguing /for/ and drops his train of thought momentarily, and his gaze, so he can stare at her hands and reestablish the line he's drawn in his head. "There has to be boundaries with us, June. There has to be-- a way of doing things, the same way you made very clear the first time we were together. If we don't have that then things get blurred, things get confused, shit gets messy." He's looking at her now, very serious. "And if I'm the reasonable one in this little piece then we're in some serious fucking trouble."

"I know," June says of boundaries, simple as that, though there's more than basic whore's reflex behind the tone. He may be so serious about the sentiment he finishes with, but June can't help but laugh. The attempt to stem the response to the simple smile that first appears is a doomed effort; a laugh emerges without any of the usual building chuckles, though it remains soft, understated. She turns her head to the side to enjoy the brief moment of humor, forehead pressing against the glass through the layer of curtains. From there, she tilts a look over to him. "We would be, wouldn't we? But it's okay, I have a feeling reason'll come back as soon as I sober up." Which won't be anytime soon if she finishes that glass. She does, straightening to drink; it takes just a quick swallow to do away with the rest. "And don't worry. Rules are still there, friends or not. They're there to make sure there's no mess."

These are things he can agree with. There's probably a small part of him that's very much missing the calm, level-headed June he knows so well, right now. Still, K'aus is all too willing to hang out with slightly inebriated June, too, so though he follows that glass up and back he doesn't comment on it. It isn't like he, being him, has the right anyway. "No mess," he repeats, because that part especially is important. "We're still, I mean I'm still gonna be here and all that other stuff still stands. I'm still gonna be just as pissed off if something happens to you or the girls and you don't tell me."

June sets her empty glass down; or rather, she gets it approximately on level with the windowsill and releases, giving it a short thud-and-skid ride before it comes to rest. "I know," she tells him, the words subtly calmed by that reassurance, as she rearranges herself into a more relaxed posture. She drags her feet up to the space between them and, bent knees draped with the fabric of her skirt, burrows her cold toes underneath his leg. "And if I don't tell you why I need to go between suddenly," she adds for him, a trifle teasingly. It's been a largely taboo subject with her since she apologized, but drunk June has no problem with it. "I still have two undelivered letters, you know," she comments, the transition from heavier topics to lighter talk completely eradicated in her current state.

Her knees won't be bent for long, not when she's so willingly given him her feet. She'll find his hands are warmer than his legs and whatever security his thin sheet provides, once he has her ankles in his lap he wraps his long fingers around one foot, first, up from her heel to her toes. K'aus rewards her tease with a sly smirk, ha ha very funny. Drunk June has very little problem with a few things, it would seem. "Two undelivered letters, two trips Between to some farm or sty or wherever, no problem. I said I would so I will. You just say the word, kid." Imitating her from before, he goes ahead and leans back against the part of the wall he has access too from their seat and tips his chin down to concentrate on what he's doing with his hands.

He may be disappointed by her response to that impromptu massage. She watches her feet go into his possession with a blink of confusion before she realizes his aim and when his fingers begin to work their magic, there's no hum or moan or proclaimed gratitude. She simply relaxes into his grip, a swallow followed by a heavy puff of breath her only indication of contentment. "Kid?" she questions him a delayed moment later, arching an eyebrow at the endearment. "I am not that much younger than you," she protests lightly, smiling lazily.

"But you are younger. Everybody's younger than me," K'aus informs her helpfully, looking up from his work to meet her eyes again, a gentle if not emotive change in the line of his mouth. "I like 'em young. Old people remember too much, I don't wanna talk about stuff I've already done. I wanna talk about naughty things. I want some pretty young thing to look at, call me daddy." That part might just be for shock value or, more likely, to amuse her. "I want someone to stay up all night with me and still be breathing when the sun comes up. I wanna drink and fuck until my dick rots off. And then maybe I'll retire to just the drinking."

It does it's job. "Daddy?" June repeats, the word rich with an undercurrent of laughter that surfaces so easily soon after, sending her eyes closed for a moment. She doesn't let it distract her from the rest of what he says, though, and she reattunes herself when his voice picks up again. "Someone /much/ younger, then," is what she surmises, "someone who could be your kid. Someone who can take care of you when your dick rots off." She borrows his phrase, but it sinks in a second later. "That sounds disgusting. I don't want to hear about that when it happens." How's that for the boundaries of friendship?

/Now/ he grins, toothy canines and lines around his mouth and eyes; he even snorts. "In all seriousness I can't be too careful, any one of them /could/ be my kid." Not that the thought's stopped him thus far, habits or life or otherwise. A deep breath and his hands work easily the arch of her foot. "I hope none of them are, every time I see one of those little ones or a girl that looks a little bit like me. But my imagination runs away with itself sometimes. I always say I'll take 'em Between, no problem, I don't really see why any of 'em would refuse. Who wants a kid with me, y'know? Eh, I dunno." Awkward silence.

Awkward silence, awkward phrasing. June stares at him for along moment across the length of her legs, blinking slowed by the alcohol coursing in her veins as they speak, and then asks curiously, "Do you want to have a kid with you?"

Another glance at her, very brief, then back down. "If we're still being serious, and if you're drunk enough you might forget later... I did. Once. When, uh. When Thread stopped falling I figured I could relax, I mean it's what, decades before it would happen again, plenty of time to settle down a little. And I was with someone, and I knew she would want 'em eventually. And it isn't like it would have been hard making it happen." K'aus's attentions switch over to her other foot, her ankle the first to receive them. "But things change." And hesitantly, like he isn't sure how she might react, "Do you wanna have a kid with you?"

Is she drunk enough to forget? June shrugs. Who can tell. But he goes on anyway, so she pinpoints him with what focus remains to her and listens. Her mouth presses out a letter 'm' and second later she gives it sound. "Mmm." His question will require more elaboration, but it doesn't take her long to summon it. "Not right now. I'm very anti-reproduction right now, as you can imagine. And I haven't ever. Val thinks that every woman secretly wants a baby, but I'm not so sure." She shrugs again. Who can tell.

Can he imagine? K'aus's lifted eyebrow says neither yes or no to the point. "Is it secretly? They're usually pretty vocal about it. Pregnancy's kind of a big deal for a lot of people right now, isn't it? We're in an Interval, we're worrying about where our next tithe's coming from, it might not be the appropriate time for procreation is all I'm saying. People like you and me might be the wave of the future for all we know. How about now?" What? "Are you tired?"

"Wave of the... underpopulated future," June adds, the idea tickling her into a quiet, singular chuckle as she gazes at her toes, moving them in an uninterrupting wiggle. His question draws raised brows and she stares at him for a beat with eyes that certainly seem sleepy. "Some," she answers. "More. You make me tired," she concludes, finishing it off with a strong smile.

There's something about the way he looks at her when she says that, 'underpopulated', that suggests the idea suits him just fine. But he keeps that opinion, if it does in fact exist, to himself. K'aus pinches one of her wiggling toes gently between thumb and forefinger and catches that sleepy gaze with his, which suffers from neither alcohol buzz or exhaustion, for once. "I'll take that as a compliment," he says dryly, shifting her feet from the bend of his leg so he can stand. Keeping his sheet hitched with one hand leaves the other unoccupied and it's that one he gives her, for help up that he doesn't look willing to take no for.

Those feet fall gently off the sill and find the floor again, though June doesn't seem to anticipate how this will require her to sit up straighter. She does so reluctantly, but lucky for her she doesn't have to maintain it long. When K'aus extends his hand she gives it a short look before she fills it with her own and lets him haul her up. "You haven't had hardly anything to drink," she notes, with an air of protest. Apparently she hasn't imbibed enough to prevent her from keeping track of his own intake and therefore willingness to sleep.

Haul he does, but that's as far as his helping hand goes. She's not entirely on her own to the bed, but he doesn't babysit her either, he has a sheet to take care of. It almost got away from him too, lucky thing he snatched it together in time, now he's circling the bed to find 'his side' again, to reclaim a lounging pose with most of him propped up by pillows. "I think you had enough for both of us," he quips, fingers lacing atop his stomach. "Go to sleep, I'm buying." Literally.

June can handle the short trip to the bed, she's a big girl. But first she pauses long enough to slip her dress' straps off her shoulders and shimmy out of it, which will give him plenty of time to get settled before she joins him. One knee and then the other finds the bed, then she pulls herself up to his level, remaining up for the moment it takes to tilt his chin to her, to plant a placid kiss on his lips. Wordless thanks, perhaps. Only then does she turn over, back to him, and stretch out the entire length of the bed to finally attempt sleep.

[OOC] My life.

2009-08-16T06:04:52Z

Sorry if I'm breaking the barrier between fantasy and reality, but I thought I would post a picture of me so there's a face for the... player. You know. Also I'm hoping this might inspire you guys to do the same Maybe. So.

[LOG] Urge.

2009-08-16T01:10:13Z

Storage Caverns, Ista Weyr

A wide set of stairs leads down to an open space, likely used for unloading and loading shipments and large items. Off to the right is a rather broad passageway, and the smell of delicious food wafts in from that direction. Heavy wooden double-doors lead to an airy reception area, complete with a desk and several little work stations. Bright cheerful tapestries hang on the rocky walls and a round, threadbare carpet is spread out in the middle. Beyond them is a tunnel leading off to the various storage caverns.

The original tunnel branches off into several others, each leading into its own cavern, and all are set up in the same general fashion. Tall, wide shelves run along all of the walls, with more of the same going down the middle, repeating as often as space allows. Each is stacked with a number of boxes, bins, and various containers, some more tidy than others. Larger items are kept in the back of the cavern, some covered with sheeting to protect them from dust or the moisture of the island weyr. Heavy items in boxes are packed and kept on the floor, and the lighter, smaller things placed towards the tops of shelves. The door to each unit is labeled with a large sign on it. The areas that see the most traffic tend to be the clothing, linen, furniture, tools and children's sections.

It's night and stores are closed. There's no one down here at this house and all of the little sub-rooms are locked up tight and the atmosphere is quite dark. The reception area is really the only place left for the odd comer to hang out at. And so Nenita has, having taken up a place at some workstation. Her feet are up on the desk which has an open glow basket on it. There's a piece of paper in her hand that she's straining to read in the dark and an open bottle of wine placed to her lips. It's obvious she's not expecting any company tonight.

It's too late then for K'aus to find whatever he came looking for, for why else would the man be here, now, when everyone's already gone home from work? Considering his tense, quiet urgency, the thing on his mind probably isn't supplies. Indeed, when he strides in he looks around with intense, hungry eyes from one desk to another, not seeming to see Nenita at first, and moves on into the next room like a hound. A few moments, and some quick searching, and he's back, pausing in the middle of the room and pulling hard on his hair. "Fuckfuck... fuck..."

The appearance of someone down here nearly gives Nenita some sort of heartattack. After all, is it really /okay/ for her to be out like this? In the dark someplace? After getting over the initial jolt that her body makes, she takes a (deep breath) swill from the bottle. Silently she watches K'aus as he moves through the room that she's sitting in and passes into the next only to return again. The paper in her hand gets slowly lowered to the table and she holds the wine out. "Thirsty, doll?"

Her voice startles him for some reason. It shouldn't, he knew she was here. And when K'aus turns to look at her and more importantly her bottle he looks torn, as if she holds the key to his salvation... but she's waiting on the other side of a wall of fire. If he goes through he will be in trouble, but it might be worth it. There is an invisible line between them, he hesitates on his side of it. The urges responsible for the feverish darkness in his eyes win out eventually and he comes forth to take the bottle from her, his fingers grazing hers hotly.

If Nenita were someone else, someone less experienced in the ways of how things are at a weyr, she'd likely be nervous. She might even pull away from the heat emanating from his fingertips as if they were truly hot coals. But this isn't something new to her, so there isn't even a flinch when he brushes against her hand. She releases the bottle to his possession, leaning casually back in the chair and observing his burning features in the cool light of the glows.

It might not be salvation, but that bottle certainly receives a warm welcome once it's his. Tipped back, the two of them lock mouths and he drinks deeply, his throat moving visibly. Just when it might seem like he's set to drain it bone-dry he stops and swallows and pants for air through his mouth, air that came too slowly through his nose a second ago. The next moment hangs, K'aus trying desperately to collect himself-- and failing, as with a glance at Nenita he approaches her in her chair.

While he's locked in that desperate, passionate kiss with the bottle she pushes her paper to the side. She moves also the pencil that's there, along with a slate ledger. Perhaps her time here wasn't all spent in delinquency, drinking booze. Once she's finished arranging there's a glance of her eyes upwards to see where he's at in satisfying his drought. When it becomes plain he's approaching there's a hardly a look of surprise on her face. Nenita doesn't make a move to accommodate him nor does she move to keep distance.

If she isn't going to move then he's going to have a very easy time of reaching her, of taking her hand and pulling her to her feet by it. While there's certainly plenty of call for rougher handling he's gentle, completely at odds with what his eyes are saying he'd like to do. Once she's standing, and he will get her to stand, he pins her to him and tips his head down to-- not kiss her, though he aims for it at first. His mouth moves instead to her jaw, his breath warm on her skin; K'aus doesn't touch her, he only breathes on her.

That he actually makes it to laying a hand on her, brings finally an expression to her face. One of surprise evidentally. There's a quick, sudden intake of air as he presses her closely to his body. With her chin tipped up to him, there's a flash of uncertainty until he passes her lips and instead goes for jaw. Only he doesn't, he just breathes on her skin so near to pressing down onto her. Her hands come up from her side to press on his body, fingers tangling up in his clothes.

She'll feel him in the sensitive little nook right behind her ear, next, the tip of his nose slid up a little the side of her neck. K'aus's eyes aren't closed, they're open but hooded, and hot, and possessed. They remain frozen, poised in that tense pose, as if time stopped completely and forgot all about them. They're frozen, that is, until suddenly they're not, he is backing her up against the desk she only just sat at, moving his hand to her thigh to lift it, to urge her onto the workstation's edge, must be, since that's the only place she can go.

That one little intake of breath goes from one to two and then more than that while he plays along the side of her neck. With her fingers still wrapping into his shirt she finds herself being pushed to that desk, taking up the space that her things had only moments before. Her thigh accomadates the push of his hand and it lifts while she rests her weight onto the edge, tipping her head up to catch whatever expression is on his face.

No longer necessary where it's at, the hand on her thigh moves up to her hip, to take her by it and pull her against him. By some miracle of coordination he ends up between the niche her legs make, heat rolling off of him in waves. Instead of pull away when she tips her head, K'aus only takes advantage of the new exposure of her neck; she'll feel the scruff on his chin before his teeth graze her very gently.

She moves her legs around his, her feet hooking gently behind his calves. He's a man looking to unload the heat that envelopes his body and she's a woman looking to melt the thin layer of frost coating her. So it's only natural that she allows her chin to stay up, neck exposed to his teeth. Nenita parts her lips just barely at the feel of them, pressing herself closer at the guidence of his hands. Short breaths have had their place taken by deeper ones. Her fingers disentangle from his shirt to rest at the loops of his belt, slipping into them. Eyes closed and voice pained and regretful, "We can't yet."

That gentle bite moves to her shoulder, through the material of her shirt and it doesn't matter, she'll feel it. Urged on by those breaths both little and deep and by her hands, K'aus's fingers dig up her side, heading for very inappropriate placement when she speaks. They stop, it might be funny how quickly and how perfectly still they become, there just under her breast. For a second it might seem he isn't going to listen, he's teetering on that edge, but he does. His hand breaks away from her, splayed harmlessly, then he leans on his arms with fists pressed into the desk on either side of her, and rests his forehead in the curve of her neck.

She does feel it through the shirt, a hint of gasp coming through those parted lips. And at the feel of his hands coming up her side, the pressure of his hot fingertips against her prompts the lift and pull of her legs onto his. A movement that had she not spoken mere moments before would have been clear invitation but now is just the frustrated reflexes of someone so close to something they can't have. When his hand breaks away and he instead rests his arms on either side of her she lets a long breath. Then she lifts her arms to drape them around him, pressing her face against his shoulder.

This isn't 'Don't touch the weyrlings'. Somebody somewhere would have something to say. Sagging against her, his shoulders and back lifting and falling again with each deep breath bringing him closer to calm, K'aus swallows and tries to clear his head and blinks. She might feel his eyelashes on her skin. At some point he moves a hand to the back of her head, fingers in her hair, to cradle her there against his shoulder, but only briefly. He pulls away, taking her hiding spot with him, but only so he can sort-of force her head to tilt back so he can kiss her, good and thorough.

There's a desperate little noise when he begins to pull away, taking the warm spot of his shoulder from her. Nenita's fingers flex, pressing to him as that distance between them starts to grow again and it's evident that she doesn't want him to be doing what he's doing. Until that is, he's doing something else that just about makes up for it. She returns the kiss, eagerness to be more thorough than they're being. When they break away she presses her forehead against his at least briefly before he can make some sort of escape.

Except escape isn't exactly on the agenda. As torturous as it is being here with her and unable to do anything, at a time when doing something is all he can think about, at least it's sweet torture. And Nenita is calming and gentle and familiar. She's more than allowed her lean when their kiss is no more, he's reciprocating by closing his eyes and threading his fingers through her hair as best he can. If anyone walked in on them like this, foreheads together, breath a little uneven, K'aus between her legs... There's trouble there. A small, frustrated groan escapes him.

At first her forehead is pressed into his, but then she adjusts so that it's her nose against his. And then there's further adjustment until she's pressing her lips and face against his scruff and nuzzling gently his jaw and neck. There's a sudden flex of her fingers wherever they are and she starts to pull her head away again. Nenita gets as far as, "K'aus..." before trailing off and trying to press her lips up to his again for another kiss. Just another before staying there like they are becomes too dangerous of a situation, for more reasons than they obvious.

His arms move to encircle her tightly, allowing for only that little movement she's opting for until she draws away from him and he relaxes his hold. The face she sees when she looks at him is tense, his lips slightly parted, his eyes unfocused. When she kisses him again he breathes in through his nose and wanders the lines of her body with his hands. They can't stop anywhere for too long so they roam like nomads, clutching at her through her clothing in places. K'aus is nursing on her lower lip at the end until a lift of his chin takes his mouth safely away from hers and puts his gaze up on the dark ceiling.

There are physical responses to the places his hands roam and now and again the sound of a pitiful little wanting moan. When he finally lets go of her lower lip, she sighs, almost wistfully and drops her arms. They go behind her to allow for some support so that she can dip her head back and look up into the darkness of the cavern. Her gaze doesn't remain their for long, eventually coming back down to look at his tense, yet unfocused face. She reaches her hand out to gently touch his jaw.

Her newest touch coaxes him down from that tall place, back down to her and the room he's physically still within. It reminds him he is not something else, he is on the ground, he is human. His focus comes to find her eventually, while he's leaning again on so-tense arms and fists, though he keeps his chin up to prevent actually bumping noses with her until he's turning it down to nudge into her fingers, to turn his mouth to them so that they rest there on his lips.

She presses her fingers to his lips first, then carefully traces the edges of them lightly. Nenita watches, not unaware that the focus has returned to his eyes that he's likely regained near full control of what he was so close to losing himself to minutes before. "You're going to leave soon." It's not accusatory, not said with any sort of bite. Just what she thinks is the likely scenario about to occur, tone tinged with a sad awkward note.

K'aus closes his eyes on that sad, awkward note. Like he could make it go away if he stopped seeing it. But every second that passes that he's given to coming back into his own head brings a new sense of clarity for those past few minutes. For how far he, they, went. It isn't in him to feel chagrin, and he definitely doesn't have any sense of responsibility to her beyond that of the role he's taken in regards to her life. Still, she might get the definite feeling she's right while he remains quiet. Her fingertips will find his mouth an unhappy line. He swallows, speaks for the first time; she'll feel his lips move. "Not until I know you're okay." With this, with him, with life.

It's there when his lips turn into the line, the unhappy one that her eyes go somewhere else. They glance away from him, not in a place he's already looking, but a whole new one. Some point off in the darkness they settle while he slips back into his same old self, the one she had to have seen coming. Without looking, Nenita's fingers move and her hand slides comfortingly along to the side of his face. "I'm okay." Her feet that had been hooked around his legs loose and come free, heels hitting the desk. There, her hand comes away from his face too finally.

It's over. Just like that. He's leaning on fingers now instead of fists, the urgency has subsided. K'aus has returned to himself, is in full, or at least normal, control. And yet there's still something in his eyes when he watches her looking away... He studies her face, all those parts of it he knows so well now, and leans in to leave a lingering kiss there on the top of her head. But after that he is pulling away from her, hands the last to follow. One or two of the buttons on his shirt have come loose, either by his own doing earlier or by her tangling fingers and he doesn't fix them.

Her sights remain on whatever distant point has taken her attention from him, even as she slides carefully off of the desk. Nenita is soundless as she takes the paper and the ledger, along with whatever else she had with her and tucks it under her arm. Only once her possessions are in order does she send her eyes his way, daring to smile at him after it all. "Thanks for the fun, sorry it wasn't more satisfying." There's a sly wink of her as she slips off to the side to move around him. "This doesn't count as anything, you still owe me one. You might even owe me two again."

Since she's leaving, he's staying. Otherwise there wouldn't be a point to leaving at all. Maybe after she's gone he'll be able to relax and listen to Ehrudith's voice in his head and deal with it like he wanted to when he got here. Nenita can move past him without further harrassment, K'aus stands there like a good boy and keeps his hands to himself. "Make it three," he mutters on her way out.

[LOG] Queen to B4.

2009-08-12T18:13:32Z

ETA: I DID make an Ehrudith icon.

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath has disguised herself as a ship, though she's a much more splendorous one than the others that currently occupy Ehrudith's docks. Dark, lustrous wood form her body and her prow is a representation of the sleekest dolphin jumping through waves. A grand mast rises up from the polished deck, impressive sail snapping in the wind amongst the smaller ones. She creaks gently through the calm waters, pulling into port without the slightest warning as if this was entirely natural. She waits there, waiting to see how long it will take the dockmaster to notice the out of place vessel.

Dragon> The rousing of his attention is like the breaking of dawn. Slow in coming but sure, and once it's risen it's sharp and bright. From a distance he inspects this new addition to the fleet tied to the dock of his mind, all sails and masts bobbing in the gentle lap of the ocean. At first the creaking of wood and the rush of the water are the only sounds, and then, once he's discerned who this strange and beautiful new vessel contains, his voice rumbles deep and low from the depths, from the sky-- from everywhere. << Aha. >> (Ehrudith to Safriath)

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath sends her anchor overboard, allowing it to catch in the weeds and rocks under the water as it sinks into the sand. << What do you do here? Where do they go? >> She asks in reference to all of the other ships that surround her. Her sails begin to roll up, ropes tying them securely into place while she makes herself at home.

Dragon> Since she's going to get comfortable he will try to become accustomed to her presence. It might not be all that often someone seeks him out, finds him, stays. << They go all over. Wherever they want, wherever they can. >> Wherever's he's been. The things he has control over, the rhythm of the water, the pull and push of the wind, nudge at her within this realm and all is peaceful. After a small hiatus he returns in the gentle breeze. << He would like to know if she needs him. >> (Ehrudith to Safriath)

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath floats up and down in the waters of his mind, accepting easily the roll of the ocean under her. << Do you ever lose any? >> She asks, shifting attention to contemplate each one of them. They're considered, some garnering more attention than others. << She's fighting them. She's been very frustrated lately, like something caged would be. >> Her focus once again moves, to inspect the sky overhead and to see if she can find the point he resides at the most in this little world of his. << She feels like she does. But she won't ask him and I won't for her. >>

Dragon> To Safriath, Ehrudith projects, << So do I ask him? >> It's difficult to tell where he is in all of this imagery, he's too everywhere. He lives in every detail, every chip in the paint on a hull, every grain of sand that hugs and holds her anchor, ever splinter in every board in the dock that stretches on forever with no real start or end. Some of his ships are newer, painted brightly with their white sails and sturdy masts; others are aged, yellowed; others still have seen so much time they've become nearly decrepit, holes in their sails and in their bodies. << I don't remember. >>

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath considers, then dismisses. << No. He can be there after. >> It's one particularly decrepit yet large ship that garners the most interest from her. The captain's quarters are peered into. She slips beneath the decks fluidly, investigating small personal cabins. She goes to the hull, to where things could possibly be stored. << What do you keep in here? Anything, ever? >>

Dragon> To Safriath, Ehrudith accepts that with ease. If K'aus does not need to be brought into this then so be it. But, << I will put him on hold, >> wryly. While she pokes around that poor old ship his presence can be felt in a very omnipotent way. There might even be a ghostly feeling, like he's following her. << Memories. Secrets. Little dragons. >>

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath turns a box over, to see what's underneath it. At his suggestion that he keeps little dragons in there, she mentally scuffs at him. If one invisible presence could roll their eyes dramatically at another invisible presence, that's what she would be doing right now. << Can you show me a memory? Or tell me a secret? About this one? >> She asks, not demands, perhaps realizing even at this young age that not all can remember so very well.

Dragon> Obliging, if not enthusiastically so, Ehrudith inspects the bit she's inspecting with a knowing eye. << Ah. >> They're in the most tarnished ship in the lot, she's poking around in the most minute of details. The memory, or story, comes slowly. He is like an ancient being. << There was a boy from a broken family. He believed nobody would ever care for him and he became bitter very young. No matter how hard people tried to convince him otherwise, he would not be convinced, and he turned his back on the world. >> (Ehrudith to Safriath)

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath shifts uncomfortably amongst the objects of the ship. The sad story brings up a surge of emotion from her. The images he's produced for her are turned around in her mind and finally placed down carefully again. She wraps the ship up in a swathe of her rich velvet, to comfort and soothe the bitter boy that exists but doesn't, down there in the hull with her. << Where can he go from there? >>

Dragon> To Safriath, Ehrudith projects, << He has choices. To redeem himself in the eyes of the one who matters or to banish all hope of goodness and faith. To become the person he needs to be or to take the easy path to loneliness and darkness. >> That she might be too young for the kind of emotions she's feeling is apparently not a concern. But then he is neither sire nor weyrlingmaster's dragon. There is no attachment like that here, but she is the youngest queen and he is a fighting dragon, her old grey knight. << We all have choices. >>

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath is unfortunately, too young to understand these matters of black and white, redemption or condemnation with any great degree of success. But it's obvious that all of this is being taken and packed away into the treasure chests of her own universe, safe and sound to be reflected on at another time. << Is he lost now, amongst the choices? >> She's thoughtful as she suddenly abandons this ship to enter one of the newer ones. One that is somewhat smaller than the one she was in previously, the sails pristine white with red flags.

Dragon> To Safriath, Ehrudith follows like a salesman, hovering a respectful distance just behind. << He was born lost and alone and he's lost to this day. But there is always hope. >> Such an optimistic sentiment does not suit him but maybe his attention has turned with hers to the newer ship, like a child amongst the others. << If he chooses to see it. >>

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath settles herself across the deck of this one. She's examining every last detail, as if each one is so very important to her. Her thoughts on the lost boy are halted for now while she sinks below, this time to investigate the galley and crews quarters. A portside window is found and through this she looks out onto the water. << What does he need to see? >>

Dragon> Drifting, floating, he follows. He pokes around with her, he shows her this, see? And looks out the window she's found and sits with her. << The way for him has never been easy, but he sees only the easiest of two paths. The right thing is never the easy thing. >> This is old wisdom, she can have it. << If he could only get past his own hurt and anger and guilt, he could live again. >> (Ehrudith to Safriath)

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath here in this boat is much smaller than the Safriath out in the real world. She's able to lay down in the hammock of this room, much like a person would. She swings in it gently, imitating the feeling of the waves. The question in response is a long time coming, she doesn't rush her responses to him. << Does he need her, sometimes? >>

Dragon> He remains as incorporeal as he has been, though one might argue that his shape is the world, perhaps. Still he is known, a strong presence here in the ship's cabin that takes up the swing of the hammock when it stills, so she might still enjoy it. << I can't say. Even for you. >> Because there are just some secrets a dragon has to keep. (Ehrudith to Safriath)

Dragon> To Ehrudith, Safriath certainly doesn't like being told she can't know something. And that's easy to tell in the heat that envelopes her, at least momentarily. But she's not in her home, she's in his. So grace and tact overwhelm and the initial emotion is not allowed to rule. << Perhaps that's true. For now. >> The hammock is enjoyed for some length of time, before she slips out of it and above deck. She observes the view of his ocean before returning to her own ship. << In time, I'll return. >> Her vessel backs out of the dock, in a way that is wholly unnatural for a ship with sails, turns and sets off in the course of her home.

Dragon> It's clear he does not shy from her heat. Gold she might be, but she's also young and, yes, in his home. His territory. His ocean. Following her out the same way he followed her in, the sense of Ehrudith pauses on the deck of the ship and watches her depart. Out of the corner of her awareness she might see him for who he truly is, a very vague shape on the dock. (Ehrudith to Safriath)

[LOG] Makeup.

2009-08-12T18:01:17Z

Southeast Bowl, Ista Weyr

The afternoon light reaches far across the bowl, dancing dust motes captured by its rays. Despite the hard-packed ground and constant traffic, Ista's ever-present greenery still makes a valiant attempt to grow, bright color peeking out of crevasses and angles. High above and to the north the caldera's craggy walls stretch for the sky. Dragons tend to cluster around the entrance to the living cavern in the far southwest corner of the Istan bowl, or along the southern wall where other entrances lead to the infirmary and inner caverns. The bowl continues off to the northwest, stretching nearly half a mile past the queen's ledges and hatching caverns to the corrals at the tip of the bowl.

Afternoon is a busy time for the Weyr. Lunch is being served in the cavern, many people are on break from work to go enjoy it, and those riders who have early sweeps are just coming off-duty. K'aus falls under that last category, just landed from a long morning and still in the process of dismounting. Ehrudith, of course, waits patiently while his rider does that, and still while he strips off his gloves and removes his helmet, those and other things stuffed into a handy carry-bag attached to the straps. Next K'aus unzips his jacket and stands still for a moment to let himself air out before going inside.

It's not unusual, should they have some errand or another at the Weyr, that the girls of The Lucky Seven will stop in the living cavern for a bite to eat. What with June's red 'do and the puff of hair that is Livi, they're hard to miss on this relatively usual errand day, even in among the rest of the weyrfolk filtering leisurely in from across the bowl. Chidiree, that slip of a thing, might be harder to notice, but she sure notices K'aus as they pass as near as they're going to get to him just now, on their way to lunch. She gives him a strange, puzzling sort of look, but then turns back to the conversation her sisters are carrying on, alerting neither of them to the brownrider's presence.

It's with hands on hips and his head down that K'aus somehow manages to find the small group of Lucky girls in the corner of his peripheral. There must be something inherent about him that he can pick things out of left field like that. Normally he would be only too happy to let them go, unwilling for a confrontation to occur, and so it seems he will, despite Chidiree's odd looking at him, a glance he returns with just as much strangeness involved. He's paying so much attention that he misses completely the small group of children being led out of the cavern by their nanny, all like ducks in a row. One of them, a little girl with black pigtails, is straying a little further behind, struggling to keep up with her little stuffed toy in her hands. All at once she takes a little tumble, tripping over her own feet and landing on her knees. A delayed moment, then her face is all squished up and she's wailing. She isn't far from K'aus and the noise pierces his ears, turns his head. Automatically he approaches her, bends to his own knees to right her while the other children all crowd around and the nanny frets.

The piercing wail turns many heads in the surrounding area, and you can count June's among them. Her eyes fall rather indifferently to young girl, gaze softened by a mere mote of concern, but her interest gets a quick boost when she sees who's the one to help her up. The girls will pause to take in the rest of the scene while the fretting and the calming runs its course, and somewhere in there, June tells them to go ahead. There's a little bit of eye-rolling from both of them and meager attempts at arguing the case, but in the end they do just that, leaving June a standing rock in the stream of lunch-going folk that has started up again. She doesn't stare at the brownrider, but her eyes just keep on returning. And when K'aus' nurturing moment is over, her feet seem to be drawn, too; she edges closer and takes it upon herself to break the tense ice between them. "One of yours?" she asks, voice dry but carefullly so, a tiptoe of humor.

Children fall and get hurt, or they just get scared, it's never the end of the world. And though that nanny looks on as if she's ready at any moment to pry the poor child from K'aus's evil hands, there's no call for it. He's gentle, kneeling on one knee before the little girl and straightening her out, tugging on her little dress and wiping hair back from her eyes and tears away from under them. He reaches for the stuffed toy she dropped and folds one of her hands around it, all with a very neutral, disengaged expression on his face that seems to mystify her. When she's set to rights he stands and allows the nanny girl to reach for her hand; the gaggle start moving again, the child looking over her shoulder at him once. June's approach is quiet enough that he doesn't notice, when she speaks he looks over quickly. /He/ has no reason not to reply. Seriously, "It's entirely possible." His hands find his pockets and he stands there and looks at her.

June, too, hides her hands, hers disappearing beneath crossed arms at her waist. His answer, serious as it is, conjures an amused smile to the redhead's expression, though it's a bit wan and easily displaced. He looks at her and she, after a meager beat of meeting the gaze, looks elsewhere. With a fair chunk of the Weyr's population coming and going, she has plenty to distract herself with, enough so that she hasn't yet exhausted her options by the time she speaks again. "I feel bad," she states evenly to the air she faces, tucking her lips in tight after she says it. He gets a quick glance, just a check to see his expression or if he's still listening, then her gaze falls groundward. It may be a sheepish as June gets.

When she checks she'll see he is in fact still listening and, for her admission, he's allowed the barest hint of patient acceptance to come into his expression in the form of his slightly furrowed brow and forced mouth-line. While she looks at other things and indeed anything else, K'aus looks at her. Considers her, even, and all her apologetic mannerisms. A lesser man would probably take advantage of this opportunity, possibly remind her of why she should feel bad. Surprising then maybe that he turns out not to be that guy. "I don't want you to feel bad."

Surprising then, definitely. June's lashes flash up, bringing her green gaze with them; it lands squarely on his face and stays there. "It sure seemed like you did the other day," she counters, leaving the bite that might be there entirely somewhere else for now; her tone is carefully modulated, tuned to be a trifle softer than usual. She's still tiptoeing.

A tiptoe around K'aus is not a tiptoe wasted. But whatever has him in such an easy if not good mood, be it just an okay day or exhaustion, almost negates the reason for her careful manner. In that same emotionless voice, "Look sister, if you wanna call me on reacting in the moment then go right ahead. Truth is, I was pissed off. I was freaking out. Maybe I did want you to feel it then, but now? There's no reason you should still feel like shit."

June shifts uncomfortably as soon as he reaches that 'sister' address, pulling her arms even closer to her, folding them even tighter. "I guess not," she mutters, seeming entirely unconvinced, looking away again. It's a moment more before her gaze finds its way back. "I thought you'd still be pissed at me," she comments, ever-so-slight emphasis placed on the 'still.' Her stare probes with curious little flicks; is he?

If he inspired that shift in her stature then so be it, K'aus isn't repentant. Of course it's also entirely possible that he doesn't even realize, and anyway, she's looking at him again so he tries to focus. "Oh I get it." Does he? It's really become too hot for his jacket so he starts shrugging out of it, all the while preparing his next words. "Maybe I would be if I was a different person, I can't say. But being me, knowing what I know about life, grudges are a waste of time. Total fucking waste. But if you want me to be pissed, I'll be pissed."

"No," June answers readily, that same shadowed hint of amusement surfacing again and sticking around this time instead of being buried beneath a pile of earnestness. "No, I think I like you better this way." Her eyes track idly down to follow the loss of the jacket, but return to meet his when the task is over. Perhaps it's this new indifference of his that's made the next thing that comes out of her mouth possible. Not that it's effortless; there's still a hitch of reluctance before she says, "I am sorry."

"Yeah well." She likes him better this way, K'aus was never trying to oblige her so he can't take the credit. His jacket falls down his arms and he holds it, paused by what she says next, her apology. Since he wasn't expecting it, hadn't everything else been apology enough?, he doesn't react right away. Instead he sidles by her to the bag hanging from Ehrudith's body, to stow away his jacket for now, but he turns to say, "That's fine." Because maybe he isn't used to being on the receiving end of a sorry, maybe he doesn't feel he deserves one, or maybe he's just feeling a little awkward. Hopefully it isn't all of the above, poor man.

A tiny smile perks the corners of June's mouth, though, with his back turned now and her beginning to drift away from him, he may only catch a vague impression of it in her voice as she speaks a lighter, "Good." She takes a few meandering steps, but pauses again, turns on some whim. "Oh. Danta's doing fine," she tells him. She seems to think better of that impulse a second later, though, eyes darting away from him again as she gives her head a tiny shake. "If you... wanted to know." With one last, semi-squinted glance, she resumes her slow pace.

She's leaving. He's letting her. It's entirely possible he had an agenda for the rest of his day, she too, and they've both said what they wanted to say, or in K'aus's case what they were expected to say, so there should be a nice tidy little bow on the whole thing. But when she adds the bit about Danta he pauses in his turn, stares at her. Beyond that, she'd never know how hearing that news impacted him. He's as calm as ever when he replies, "I'm glad to hear it." Maybe 'glad' is a stretch, maybe he's never been 'glad' about anything, but there it is. He has nothing else to say so he does turn, to go into the cavern for the lunch he's been waiting for all day.

[LOG] Trouble.

2009-08-09T23:21:34Z

This scene takes place in the same day as the last one, after it.
Garden and Pool, Ista Weyr(#456RJ)

From bowl to waterfall, the gardens of Ista stretch out across the plateau. Nearest the bowl are the practical plants--the herbs and crops and an orchard of fruit trees--but the closer to the stream one ventures, the more fanciful the foliage becomes. Lush dark leaves, flowers as big as a hand, jungle creepers hanging from old-growth trees--like most of Ista, the plant life grows rampant here, everything outsized and richly green. The streambanks in particular are impressively overgrown, until every rock is moss-covered and pockets of still water in pools on the banks teem with algae.

Only the waterfall itself seems to have escaped the onslaught of flora, cutting a channel through the rock and falling toward the pool below. The craggy cliffs leading downward post a number of places to sit and swing your feet, or to wade in the shallow puddles that collect in dips in rocks and around the edges of the water. For all the cliffs and their outcroppings, however, the best way down is still the steep, slick stairs switchbacking down the rock face.

Late in the afternoon, right after a rather stressful morning and midday, K'aus took himself on an errand to a certain place for a certain bottle of a certain something. He then took himself to the beach with the dragon, but that was no good because people were there. So /then/ he took himself to the garden to sit by the waterfall and drink, and that's where he stayed, where he is right now, with the sun only just now in the very earliest stages of going to sleep. Twilight.

Loe doesn't have a drink. As she comes wandering to the garden, it's a small bag she has in her hand and into it, periodically, she reaches to pull out a grape and pop it into her mouth. She's heading for the water's edge, not paying too much attention to who may or may not be around. She stops there and slips her feet out of her sandals, just ready to put her toes in the water when she looks over to see K'aus. So she stops.

Not that it matters. He's already seen her, he has the advantage. But it's been long enough since he acquired his poison of choice that by now he's acquired a very nice if slightly ineffectual buzz. That kind of thing tends to loosen up a person. Too bad K'aus's brand of 'loosened up' involves a lack of staring and... that's pretty much it.

Loe hesitates there, trying to decide what to do, trying to determine her approach. Then, with her toes, she picks up her sandals, transferring them to her hand so she can saunter, yes saunter, over to where the brownrider sits. "I've been looking for you," she tells him, the faint lift of her brows already awaiting his response, or possibly just commenting her own surprise that she should say such a thing.

Through his slightly fuzzy internal vision K'aus looks up at the headwoman with his body leaned back and the bottle dangling between his knees over the edge of the pool. Then away, at his naked feet in the water, at the hairy lines of his calves up to where his pants begin in a strange rolled cuff at his knees. On the back of a big sad sigh he says more than asks, "Why." Like 'why me' kind of why.

She drops the sandals there, near him, and takes a seat right beside him. The bag is offered across to him. "Grape?" she says, her smile growing. "Are you still..." Loe pauses there, still grinning even as her eyes narrow to search for the word. It doesn't turn up. "Whatever it is. Whatever had you walking out on me?" At least she seems over it; her mood seems rather good tonight.

"'Me'?" K'aus supplies like a genuine smartass, glancing over to regard and reluctantly accept his new companion. Her offer draws his eyes but instead he holds up his bottle by the neck. "I lack the patience." Ha. "What do you want, woman." Which is kind of like 'headwoman', only, you know, not.

Bottle beats grape. That's fine, she sets the bag aside and goes about rolling up her pant legs, far more neatly than K'aus's have turned out. "You do," she agrees. "Sometimes." The woman seems undeterred. "Sharing?" she wonders with a nod toward his drink.

Of course. Intrude on his location, instrude on his personal space, intrude on his booze. As accepting as if he'd asked her out here, K'aus hands the bottle over with a stiff arm across his chest and his head tilted down.

As much as her good mood is unfazed by his bad one, Loe's not oblivious. She takes the bottle, takes her drink and hands it back. "What's your trouble?" she asks rather lightly, dabbing a drop of liquor from her lip.

He takes it from her with about as much care as he used giving it, fist curled tightly and then all at once loosely around the neck near the mouth. Like he meant to strangle it but then thought better. But then he has to let go anyway, so he clenches his knees around it and flashes both hands at her over and over. Ten ten ten.

She eyes the fingers. What's this about? Huh? Palms. Fingers. Ten fingers. Ten. Questions. Loe snags herself another grape and then props herself on an arm so she's close, so close, to his shoulder. "Fine. One of the ten. What's your trouble?" she asks again, quiet words delivered with that quietly sly smile.

Fine. One of the ten. "I don't like having arguments with people when we both know I'm right and the only, y'know, the /only/ thing keeping them from admitting it is... whatever, something." Back to the bottle, K'aus takes a deep drink and artfully ignores how close she is. Once he can, "What do you want."

"Pride?" Loe supplies for 'whatever, something'. She looks like she'd like to say something else, of perhaps ask something else, but instead she bites her lip and smiles. "Who said I wanted something?"

She really should be careful with those questions. Sadly K'aus doesn't see that lovely attractive lip-biting, he's too focused on something playing on the inside of his mind. In fact when she answers his question with a question, even if he did prompt her to, he looks a little bemused. Oh, right. "Okay. Why were you looking for me." His glance over comes with lifted eyebrows. Better?

"Mm." Why was she looking for him. That's what he's asking. "It can wait," she decides. Loe lowers her bare feet into the water and lower her head to his shoulder. "Relax." Not a question. "Breathe out."

Not to the point of annoyance but still slightly unsatisfied by her answer, he takes a breath like he might sigh and that's when she rests her head on his shoulder. Always with the contact. Though he might bristle internally about it, K'aus does as instructed and lets that breath out when she tells him to. He had to anyway, so they both win. But after that he has to say, "Just spit it out, would you please."

Loe lets him bristle. She just swishes her feet slowly in the water, kicking gentle currents about. She doesn't lift her head. "It must have been a bad fight." Which is probably not what she was supposed to spit out.

No, it probably wasn't. She can't see it maybe, but K'aus's eyes lower as far and as best they can to try and look at the top of her head there. On his shoulder. Eventually, as his reply unfolds, he relaxes and acclimates himself to this closeness. "It was stupid. Pointless. Fights are supposed to be for something, either you're trying to win or if there's no winner then there's a greater good. That's the point. Otherwise you're just... talking."

"You don't like talking," Loe surmises. Head still rested on his shoulder, she reaches for and eats another grape. And around that grape she muses, "I wonder why." She chews a bit, he can probably feel the flex her of temple against his shoulder. "You're awfully put out over something that's pointless."

"I don't like talking when there isn't a point. I've been listening to myself talk my whole life, frankly I don't know how you can stand it." Whatever little nudgings and and flexings he feels, K'aus is steady as a rock and just as patient about being one for her leaning. "And you're awfully interested in something I obviously don't want to talk about."

A beat of silence passes. She's formulating her responses more carefully tonight. And tonight she says, "Maybe I don't mind listening to you talk." She lifts her head from his shoulder and settles back on her straight arms, looking ahead and watching as she lifts wet toes from the water.

He wasn't expecting, hasn't been expecting, any of this. But he /really/ wasn't expecting that. Now that she isn't so very close he can look over at her with that slightly baffled look on his face. Whatever he's going to say, it starts with a 'w'; it's easy to tell because his mouth is poised on the brink of a 'w' for a drawn-out moment. "Why are you here." There.

Loe looks over him with that smirk tugging her mouth awry. "I wanted to put my feet in the water." She slaps a sole lightly on the surface in illustration. "And eat grapes." She pulls another one out and hands it toward him.

This time around a grape doesn't sound so bad. He plucks it between two long fingers and transports it to his mouth to be eaten. K'aus chews in silence, swallows. "So this is how this is gonna go. You either tell me why you were looking for me and we move on with our lives or you don't and we just sit out here, which would be a real shame because I think at least one of us should leave every encounter between, well, us, as satisfied as possible.

Loe goes to say something, with all her usual readiness, but she stops, closes her mouth. "I'm waiting for you to get over the argument you don't want to talk about." Yes, that's it. She eats another grapes, smiles and speaks with it tucked in her cheek, "I'm a very patient woman."

Oh. After thinking it over K'aus decides, "That's stupid." And remembers his bottle, keeps it company some more.

"All right," she says, not fighting him, not arguing, not asking any questions. She just gives in. "It's stupid then." But Loe doesn't move; she just stays there beside him and swishes her feet some more.

Which makes ripples and little wavelets that push up against or tickle at his legs. In a way it's like they're touching, a detail he dwells on. "Fine. I'm over it." Just like that? Maybe it is possible. Maybe he really just wants her to get on with it.

Loe turns to look at him. Just like that? Maybe she doesn't believe it. "Show me." How? She doesn't specify. She pulls a foot, just one, out of the water, setting it on the pools rim and waving her knee back and forth. "Show me you're over it. Do something." She smirks at him again, eyes shining eagerly just to see what he might come up with.

Do something. She makes it sound so easy. He knows better. K'aus looks over at her, eyebrows subtly drawn up when he notes the look on her face. No-good. But if she wants to play... Slowly, smoothly, he begins a gentle lean in her direction that will bring him close enough for a kiss-- and then he aborts it by tipping himself over like dead weight into the water. Splash.

He leans in and Loe's brows go up just a little more for every inch. And then he tips, fully clothed, there and suddenly gone, in the water. The splash hits her and she lets out a screech, but it's a laughing one, brightly laughing. And she's wiping water from her face, blotting it from her clothes and grinning at him. "That was something." She'll readily, cheerily, give him that.

And he'll take that, when he comes up again completely soaked, obviously. His hand pushes his hair off his forehead and up in a strange tuft just there atop his head and he reaches for the edge of the pool, his arm is his anchor until he folds both and rests his chin atop them. The rest of him floats below the surface. "Your turn." She said.

It's Loe's turn. Turn for what, exactly? She doesn't ask, and she doesn't hesitate. Instead she's getting to her feet and backing up from the edge of the water. Maybe it looks like she might leave, maybe, but her shoes and her grapes are still sitting there. And then she dashes for the water and leaps over K'aus's head to make her own hearty splash, fully dressed, in the water.

It wouldn't surprise him if she left. He's at a disadvantage, he's gotten wet for nothing if she walks away. He'd accept it as her move. A glance envelops the fact that her stuff's still on the ground and that's really all he has time for before she's running at him. He ducks! and she goes flying over and completely drowns him with her splash. When she comes up she'll find him shaking his hair out of his face.

Loe comes up grinning. It would be a giddy sort, but it still has that wry twist to it, a hint of cards she's holding close to her chest. "Better?" she asks him, swimming toward him and toward the pool's rocky edge. "Ugh! It's hard to swim in pants."

Hard to swim even if she has his hand to hold onto? She can if she wants, he's offering to tow her in to the edge. And though he doesn't smile or grin, there's an easiness in the lines of his face that wasn't there before. "Will 'better' coerce you into telling me what's going on?"

Loe takes his hand, lets him haul her to the edge so she can hang on to the rock. "I hear you fancy yourself to be the Weyrleader," she tells him, breathless for the swimming but grinning still. She wipes a bit of wet hair from her wet cheek.

His distinct lack of reaction might be a tell. K'aus watches her hand move against her cheek with an air of detachment. "Either you've been talking to a girl or you've been talking to the kid." The look he gives her is purely expectant. Well?

Perhaps he'll be less detached when that hand then moves to his shoulder, using him as one anchor while her other hand uses the pool's rim. Beneath the water, one foot rests against a craggy bit of rock, but the other kicks slowly back and forther, keeping her moving. "The kid. You don't like him?"

Again, her rock. "That's an interesting point to reach, I'd guess you have some kind of problem with him. Personally I think he's a kid, he has no idea what he's doing. A benefit for me."

"You'd guess wrong," Loe tells him, not that it alters her expression. "You think antagonizing him is going to work in your favor?" She lets that 'swimming' foot graze his leg beneath the water.

Like a creepy little tentacle. He doesn't respond unless you'd count his turning his other shoulder in against the edge of the pool so he can face her. She has to kick her leg to stay; he only has to hold himself in place. "I think we have a shared favor. I think I'm the only person in the joint who wants to actually see him succeed, not only because I have investments here. We're talking long-term goals here, sweetpea."

"It doesn't sound like it. It sounds like you want to walk all over him, consider him..." Loe doesn't pause to think on the word; she pauses to slip her hand further, so that it's her arm resting on his shoulder. "Negligible. A kid."

His arm moves too, to circle her waist. Not only that, it serves a purpose, to give her a little help in keeping afloat. It also puts them rather close. K'aus doesn't seem to mind that. The details of his face are easier to see close-up, like the droplets of water clinging his eyelashes together, the beads on his cheeks, the individual hair folicles, the lines around his mouth when he smiles slyly at her. "I bet you'd love to know what's going on in my head."

"Actually, I hadn't thought of it. Though I was surprised to hear your strategy for getting a promotion." Loe sinks against him just a bit, complete with all those bunchy, soaked clothes. She lifts her chin. "You can explain if you want," she says with a shrug and a grin that's just a little more smug now that he's smiling slyly back at her.

"Would you like to hear the details? The gritty, mechanical details? My brain is a machine." And so is the rest of him as well, suggested by the fact that he's keeping them both steady now with just that one arm. "Eh, drop it. Either he's gonna cave and I get what I want with the added bonus of knowing he's a pushover or he's gonna be the guy we want him to be and smack me down a peg or two. Both of those are acceptable. I just have to try harder in scenario two than I do in scenario one. I suppose you two talked about me."

Loe looks intrigued. But then he explains and she pouts at him. "Or you could help him. If you want him to succeed, you could help him instead of fucking with him." She leans in just a little bit, like she means to tempt him with her lips. "Wouldn't it be better all around if he thought of you as a friend instead of an enemy?"

His eyelids droop when he looks so obviously at those lips. Watches the move. Not distracted away from a reply, "You wanna hold his hand, darling. I wanna kick him in the ass until he gets better." A lull gives him a good opportunity to bump the tip of his nose against hers. His voice has lowered significantly for their closeness. "But I guess that's where you and me differ."

He gets his nose bump, but she pulls back just a touch afterwards, if only to smile at him without going cross-eyed. "How, exactly, do you plan on kicking him in the ass?" Loe wonders, a touch archly.

"Well. You know the answer to that already. Or else he never would've talked to you." K'aus's arm shifts around her, hitching her up after she's drifted low. "He did, didn't he."

The hitch has her sucking in a breath and she eyes him, the faintest hint of wariness behind her low, wet lashes. "I think he could use your help. If you really want a promotion," though she lifts a dubious eye on that point, "You might not want to behave like an ass." Just in case the insult stings, she arches against him just a bit, almost nothing at all.

Almost. In the moment following her move he pauses before his to consider her, his black eyes moving from her mouth to her eyes. His chin tilts up. "He sent the fleet when he could've sent the messenger," K'aus comments wryly.

Loe blinks a little and lifts her chin to match the tilt of his. "Hm?" she asks wordlessly. And maybe he feels her leaning in a bit more.

"You're overkill." There. Blunt enough? K'aus takes a deep breath that might be a little unsteady and traces the lines of her face with his eyes. "This is the part where you leave," he guesses. She's said what she had to say, presumably, and she's doing that thing where she gets close to him. Experience tells him where this is going.

"He didn't send me," Loe says, quiet now that they're so close, that he's so busy studying her face. "Do you want me to go?" She doesn't bother with faux-innocence or fake, melodramatic pouts, it's delivered evenly. But one other thing: "Does that mean you're going to play nice?"

A question worth thinking about. He does, with his head tilted slightly and his eyes not on her mouth but a little lower. Her chin maybe. K'aus's answer, "I'm out of practice."

"I have faith in you," she answers, though not without that little smirk. "I think you should apologize." She lets go of the wall and slips her other arm over his shoulder; now Loe isn't swimming at all, just clinging to him in the water. Of course, he probably has to hold onto the wall, lest they both drown.

Fully capable, and if he's getting tired she'd never know. "You mean to the kid." The apology. "I haven't done anything to be sorry for and I'm not gonna make one up. It's cheap. Tell you what I will do, I will tell him that I'm here to help him, that my intentions are good. And I'll do what he tells me to do. And I'll let him know you deserve a raise."

Loe does pout then. It's just a tiny one. "All right," she concedes with the coy tilt of her head. It hardly lasts very long when a smirk is growing there on her lips, shining through despite her efforts. "So, I'm the fleet, huh?" Does she like this notion? Oh yes.

She's appeased, good. The dawning of her smirk inspires his own version. "You're the fucking /armada/," he agrees and embellishes all at once. And that's not all. "I like it here." Him, up against a wall, hanging by an arm; that she's there too, stretched up against him, must be the tipping of the scales.

Well now Loe will just have to smile all the more, tip her head back and laugh while her hair spreads out in the water. Her eye on the sky she asks, "Feeling better?"

"Mm." It's as audible a reply as she's going to get, but it /sounds/ affirmative. With her head tilted back like that her neck is exposed, a fact that isn't lost on him. She'll feel the warmth of the kiss he leaves where her throat bends.

"Mm." She makes that noise too when K'aus's warm mouth finds her throat. Loe doesn't lift her head just yet either, so there's time for more. Meanwhile, she stretches an arm out into the water. "Tell me how I'm the fucking armada."

More? Never one to waste an opportunity if he can help it, K'aus leaves another kiss right below the last one. His breath on her skin, "You're smart," and another kiss, "and wicked," another one, below her ear, and that's as far as he can reach so he stops and pulls back only enough to look at her with his gaze hooded. "Beautiful."

Loe can't hide the way her breath starts to quicken with those kisses and those words. As he pulls back she lifts her head to meet his dark gaze with her own. "And I ask too many questions," she tacks onto the list, the humor barely coming through.

"Curious," counters K'aus, painting over what might have been a negative.

She just smiles, so wide and self-satisfied. And her head falls forward toward his shoulder. "Let's not swim in our clothes again. It was a bad idea. Your bad idea." Loe isn't the sort to let him forget it.

Her head, his shoulder; his mouth, her shoulder. Beyond it, his eyes stare at nothing and around her his arm tightens a little. Adjusting enough to speak, "I don't regret it. If we were both naked this wouldn't be happening."

"I'd say you're having a dream," Loe laughs quietly. "But I think you probably dream of dirtier things." No, she doesn't kiss his shoulder, but he can probably feel the way her lips curve in a smile. And then she's gently peeling herself away from him.

Dreams. "Mm." Again. This time, thoughtful while K'aus tilts his chin down and hides in her shoulder. Just in time for her to start going away, which he accepts. He isn't going anywhere, so he relaxes his arm to let her go.

He isn't going anywhere, so Loe gets out of the pool by herself, saturated clothes dripping madly down her legs, puddling on the stony rim. She starts trying to wring them out and she glances down at him, plainly wondering if he's getting out too.

He doesn't at first, but a glance up and back shows him /her/ glance. So with a small amount of effort he hauls himself up by both arms and gets a knee on the edge of the pool. Once he's standing he drips in silence, save for dripping, and watches her.

Loe narrows her gaze at him, thinking while he stands there so oddly silent and still. "What?" she asks finally, bending to pick up her bag of grapes. She eats one and holds the bag out for him to take one if he likes.

K'aus goes home. Fuck your grapes.

(...ok so maybe that last pose didn't actually happen, but I got too tired to keep going and I'm too lazy right now to think up something better.)

[LOG] Tricksy.

2009-08-09T01:11:05Z

June's been all but unavailable for a couple of weeks now. She may have been glimpsed at the tavern at times, but so often it's passing through on some harried errand or conducting the business of the repairs that The Lucky Seven needed after that storm. So it may be a bit out of the blue, this note that finds its way into K'aus' hands. In a tall, thin, straight script:

K'aus,

I was wondering if you would be willing to do me a favor the next time you happen to have a free day. We have some letters that would be better delivered by hand rather than through a messenger. With as talented a flier as Erudith is, I'm sure it wouldn't take much time at all. Just up to the mainland, Lemos and surrounding areas. Let me know.

Big-J-little-une.

These days, K'aus is not unfamiliar with little notes and letters. In fact he's been on the receiving end of a near surplus of them. This one, though, surprised him. The handwriting is new and it wasn't until he reached the bottom signature that he realized it's June's. Two days after he read it he arrives in the Seven in the morning, freshly bathed with wet hair and dressed in the usual snappy black threads. Rather than walk the length of the room to the bar he stands there and peruses the space, looking for that red hair.

That red hair appears, in just a flash, as June walks through the room on the other end of the hallway behind the bar. If he investigates further, he'll find that room is a small kitchen and the business that has her walking is the setting of a modest breakfast for one. Right now she has he back turned to that hallway he'd have to go down as she pours herself a tall mug of klah.

K'aus's curious streak has already been demonstrated time and time again. Of course he's going to go poke around back there, especially once he's seen June already occupying that room. Without permission he advances towards that hallway, striding past tables and chairs and maybe even some customers, though this early who knows, on his way to where he caught a glimpse of her. She'll hear him, he isn't trying to be quiet, and maybe even see him when he goes past her to investigate. "I didn't know this was back here."

The customers are cleared and her sisters absent, so it's just the two of them, small-seeming in the space made for so many more. In all the large silence, June notices his sounds and turns before he even speaks, recognizing him in the span of a blink and smiling after another. There might even be some relief there in that intial expression, tiny and fleeting though it may be. "You're not supposed to. Klah?" She tilts an eyebrow up with the question, but then returns to filling her own cup. "Tell me you're here to be our courier," she directs, sneaking another glance at him over her shoulder. "I was this close," and her fingers show just how close, that thin distance between forefinger and thumb, "to asking someone else."

Not supposed to. "All the more reason for me to know," says bad-boy K'aus, with a look at her that's quite solemn in comparison. Oh, klah? "I don't see how this is going to work if not." Of course he would be addicted... to caffeine. She was how close? Ah. He tips his head to regard the space between her fingers and leans an elbow... somewhere so he can watch her with the mug and pouring business and collect his words. "The only way I do this is if you and/or whoever else is coming will agree that while you are outside of this Weyr with the dragon and me you are our responsibility. You are under our care and if anything should happen you will let us but probably me handle it."

As soon as she's gotten his affirmative, June reaches into the cabinets crowded above the short counter the klah sits on and gets him a mug of his own. Her eyes are mostly on the level of the liquid streaming into his cup, but when she speaks, she flashes a glance up at him, smiling lightly. "You planning on there being trouble on this little delivery trip?" She pulls the klah pot back at just the right moment, leaving him with a brimming mug and its climbing steam tendrils. She doesn't agree or cut down his stipulation yet, she just leans her hip against the counter and hides her face with a long, slow drink.

"I believe the world is a cruel and unpredictable bitch, I think anything can happen at any given moment and I think," emphasis, "that if something /does/ happen I'd like to know without a doubt that I'm in charge of making it /un/happen." June might be hiding her face but that doesn't keep him from trying to catch her eye and keep her attention on him, at least for these points he's making. Eventually he reaches for the mug she poured him without a word of thanks and sips from it, wincing about the temperature.

June's attention remains in an even stare all through that drink and even after, as she touches the tip of her tongue to the tip of her teeth, a soggy click sounding when she moves it to say, "Fine." That decided, she turns toward the eight-seater table, snatching up a slice of bread before turning again, toward the narrower hallway half-hidden by a jutting wall. "I'll get Danta." And before she disappears completely, she adds, "Stay here." A good space of snooping time later, June returns, sans bread and mug both. The lack of the latter is explained soon, as Danta follows her into the kitchen carrying it before her in both hands, sipping gingerly while she shoots K'aus a few skittery glances. "Mmm," June muses, one hand laying an idle tap on the countertop while she thinks. "Do we need jackets?" she asks the man with all the riding experience.

Her acceptance earns her a small, one might dare say pleased smile. Her mysterious bread acquirement and then temporary exit leaves him furrowed and perplexed. But he stays, she told him to and he doesn't really have anywhere else to go and snooping would take far too much time. Still wearing that eyebrowsy face when June returns with Danta, K'aus looks from the latter to the former with some questions in his eyes. "I brought an extra. One." Since he really wasn't sure how many it was going to be, but could assume /someone/ was going with him. "And gloves, if you have them. Have you been Between?" He takes another hasty sip from his mug before he sets it down.

"Danta can take that one," June decides for them all, "I'll grab another for myself. And the letters." As if it were an afterthought. Down that mystery hallway once more June goes, leaving Danta to answer K'aus' question. "Once," comes simple enough from behind the shield of the mug, not sipped from, just held comfortingly close. "Don't think she has," she supplies for her sister, giving a tilt of her head toward June as the redhead reappears with all of her accessories. "Let's get to it, then," June says, faintly cheerful, handing over a pair of gloves to Danta who loses the mug to take them. June turns her gaze on K'aus, clearly expecting him to lead the way.

So he's left with Danta. Quiet, speechless Da-- oh wait. She speaks. K'aus's eyebrows travel slowly upward, his eyes shifting to their corners. "Oh goodie." Because the only thing better than taking two civilians along for a little adventure is coming to find out one of them may never have gone into a depthless and chilling black void before ever. And June returns, again, and he watches over her doling out of supplies with a casual scrutiny. Apparently they pass whatever requirements he's set in his own mind because upon June's expectant glance he's stirred into motion. Assuming they will follow without being told, the brownrider leads them out of the mystery room and through the main bar area and then out into the jungle. It's a bit of a walk to the beach, but when they get there Ehrudith awaits them all, crouching like a valet. Without preamble his rider approaches a small pile of things laying near the dragon. Two jackets are presented, one of them handed to Danta. It will be big on her, it's an old one of his. He puts his own on and reaches into the pile for a belt. With a built-in sheath. In which is an arm-length knife.

June and Danta follow him dutifully, tidbits of small talk coming from the expected one of the pair. She doesn't overwhelm him with it, just subtly slips in an update on the finished tavern repairs or a comment on the growing sizes of the first weyrling dragons she's ever seen, as if to remind him they're there. June is already slipping on the jacket she's brought as they walk down the sand, so she has time, while the others equip themselves, to greet the dragon properly. "Hello darling," she says in the direction of that large brown head, voice slanted with an effort at familiarity that is almost pulled off. He'll find himself the recipient of one of those firm strokes his rider has known before, at any rate, along the line of forearm nearest her. Danta slips on her jacket, leaving it open, then pauses with wide eyes to stare, full of confused curiosity rather than shock, at K'aus' knife. June follows the expression a second later. "Precaution?" the redhead questions with lifted brows as she readies one hand on the riding straps.

Ehrudith is a patient dragon. Today he was going to sun himself on his ledge and maybe flirt a little with the green in the weyr next door but instead he's going to run errands. Still, when June addresses him he has the grace to respond well to her attention, rumbling deep within himself and tilting a big eye at her. Hi. Danta's surprise and June's lack thereof are both taken with the same amount of flat calm he so often expresses. While he's buckling the belt, "I've always stood by 'better safe than sorry'. It's standard," he adds for Danta's sake, gripping the sheath in one hand and jostling it a little as if in doing so he could take some of the seriousness out of the whole thing. Since June's already on her way up if she has her way he walks up to her sister to zip her jacket for her without a word of warning. "You'll want that tight," he tells her, expressionless, before turning to aid the ringleader of this little project however he can. The dragon helps too, flattening his body and staying perfectly still except for the sigh. Oh, the sigh.

Danta gives that knife another look, then with a tilt of her head dismisses all care of it, looking up to watch her sister begin her climb. She's blinking wide eyes at the brownrider again, though, before long. She has a tendency to look like a rabbit when caught off guard and he'll get to see that up close and personal when he zips her jacket. She pauses, wordlessly staring down at her zipper-covered stomach, and mutters a rather reluctant but assenting, "Okay," for him. Once June is situated and doing up the buckles and straps she must recall the configuation for, Danta begins her own ascent up the sighing dragon's side.

Danta gives that knife another look, then with a tilt of her head dismisses all care of it, looking up to watch her sister begin her climb. She's blinking wide eyes at the brownrider again, though, before long. She has a tendency to look like a rabbit when caught off guard and he'll get to see that up close and personal when he zips her jacket. She pauses, wordlessly staring down at her zipper-covered stomach, and mutters a rather reluctant but assenting, "Okay," for him. Once June is situated and doing up the buckles and straps she must recall the configuation for, Danta begins her own ascent up the sighing dragon's side. Directions will wait until K'aus has made his way up, too; June leans forward to make sure they reach his ear. "First one goes to a little place south and inland of Big Bay. However you can get us there."

Once Danta has reached Ehrudith's shoulder, K'aus begins his climb up after them. All the better for helping them into their gear and ensuring everything is buckled and pulled tight, all while hanging off the dragon's side by one hand around the strap. He's done this before. With that same expertise he pulls himself up the rest of the way and takes the forward-most seat. June's directions come while he's buckling himself in; he reaches for the loose bit of strap that is the 'reins', as it were, and gives her a thumbs-up over his shoulder. Last step: his gloves. And then without so much as a signal he wordlessly urges Ehrudith into action. The dragon lifts belly from the sand with a great push of all four limbs and to either side of them his wings unfurl with a subtle whoosh. More adjustments are made to gather his legs, powerful haunches bunching and paws shifting this way and that on the ground beneath them, rocking them atop him. Poised, with wings held just so, he waits but a heartbeat before sinking into his own weight and springing up again. The sky is gained that easily, his wings taking care of the rest of the work where his earth-bound anatomy does him no good anymore. The beach falls away beneath them and they are smoothly airborne. His wing-tilt turns them on a gentle bank to gain a thermal that sends them further up. Just as sans warning as their takeoff, he thinks about it... and they go Between, where nothing exists, until it does again, those three customary beats later. There is sky and mainland below, Big Bay Hold.

Erudith will feel, and so then, perhaps, will K'aus, June's tightened legs, tightened hold, tightened posture as they slip out of Between. They'll have to go on those vague directions she gave them before the jump, then, while she gradually thaws into the grip of reality again. When she does ease back into her own skin, she lifts an arm to point at a scattering of low hills in the distance. When they're beyond them, she does it again, this time indicating a cothold caught on the slope that leads down from those hills to a stream. More benevolent minds might call it modest. Others, a hovel. It has plenty of space around for a brown dragon to park himself but none of it very close to the building itself; that land is taken up by rusted farm equipment, a herd of scraggly herdbeasts and several red and blonde headed young people staring up at them past sun-shielding hands. A hand on K'aus' shoulder lets him know they've arrived even before June calls, "This is it."

Likely she'll receive no comfort or apology for that rude exposure on her firt-time, at least not during this visit. The wind whips their hair and lends reason to a good squint and the ground passes below them while Ehrudith glides on their air current, he only throwing in the occasional wing beat to keep them at altitude. Each of June's directions are taken easily, their flight path adjusted to accomodate. Once they've come upon their destination the rider passes the information along and the dragon rumbles his understanding, tilting again to bring them down. Perhaps at an alarming rate. Nevertheless, when it matters he takes control of their descent with professional ease and within no time at all he's taken up the free space available with his bulk. Proving just as helpful as before, he flattens to the ground and K'aus unbuckles and scales the brown's side to hang there and offer them help down, following once they've achieved earth beneath their feet. One hand unzips his jacket while the other pats his partner's flank. "This is it?"

June slips down first, doing her best to remain graceful and, if nothing else, at least ripping her gloves off like a pro at the bottom. "Yes," she answers him simply, allowing not a glimpse into the mysterious reason this, of all places, is one of their destinations. Gloves are stuffed in one pocket and from the other come those letters; one is kept and the other two are handed to Danta, who's just followed her sister's descent, looking decidedly more pale and shaky. "Don't want to keep you longer than necessary," June explains blandly after a glance full of concern for her sister, gaze torn away to land on the brownrider. "I'll just run this over to one of them." Them being the passle of kids holding their ground and staring halfway across the field. "You two can stay here." And so she leaves Danta, seeming more and more unnecessary in this excursion, leaning quietly against Ehrudith's side, arms crossed around her middle, eyes staring deep into the grass that tickles their knees.

That is quite against their negotiations and K'aus almost says something to stop June in her tracks before she has the chance to start off for the creepy kids. And doesn't. Instead he just watches her go, his arms folded and held by hands on elbows. Don't think for a second though he isn't watching or that Ehrudith lifting his head to add height and enhanced vision was a fluke. Danta remains though, a detail not lost on him, nor the fact that she looks so shaken up. The brownrider takes it upon himself to wander over to her and tilt his head. For lack of a better something to say, he says, "I'm K'aus." Because they haven't exactly met, and because it's the most comforting gesture he could think of. Then, "What is this place."

"Hi." There's no introduction in return-- he already knows who he is, just as she knows him-- just that simple word. And the faint touch of sarcasm that tints it might be a surprise, coming from docile Danta as it is. Her eyes, a rich brown, meet his for only a moment before skittering off to watch the traipsing of her sister. After forcing a swallow down her throat, she answers, "Valenia's folks. Her real sisters. Brothers. Cousins, second cousins." Her voice trails off, indicating the myriad of relations that that group of people over there could represent. That seems like all she's going to give, but after a moment of staring and presumably some thought behind it, she adds, "Sad-looking, isn't it?" If she cares about the answer, she doesn't show it; she's too busy struggling out of the jacket he so nicely zipped her into, face still pale and containing something vaguely unsettled in the mostly blank expression.

Whether she expects an answer or not, K'aus gives her one after he turns his stare outward, to take in their surroundings. "Yes." It is. Though he doesn't know Valenia all that well, doesn't know any of them for that matter, there's a vague stirring of something in his lack-of expression, some twitch in the corner of his mouth or eye. While Danta struggles he watches, unmoving from his stake in the ground, from where June told him to stay. Eventually no longer able to stand it, and without paying it much attention, he reaches over to blindly unzip her jacket for her. "I'm giving her another minute," he announces to whoever will listen. Ehrudith's reply is a low rumble, his paw flexing into the dirt behind their one present passenger.

Danta moves her hands to make way for his, letting the unzipping happen then shrugging out of the unwanted extra weight. "Until you what?" she asks when the jacket is a heap on the ground. "Gallop out there to rescue her from a lazy milling of farmer's kids?" Indeed, they all do look lazy. The woman-- and she can hardly be called even that-- remains as blank-faced as the baby she holds on her hip, even when June hands over the packet-thick letter. Brushing thin, dark hair away from her face, June's sister glances at him once more, but, as always, looks away quickly, heaving a settling breath.

"I didn't say anything about rescuing. How about this, sweetie, you fly us all over the place, not to mention the teleporting yourself and three other living things from one part of the world to another, and then lemme know how standing around waiting feels." Unfortunately K'aus just isn't putting his all into that bite, what with his attention dividing itself between watching June and keeping Danta entertained-- or something. After another minute he proves he's all talk in at least this respect by /not/ doing any galloping or even interrupting. Instead what he does is comment absently, "This place sucks."

Danta fulfills her role as the quiet one just now, simply shrugging at the rant K'aus tosses her way and leaving him to stew as much as he wants to during that threatened minute. It's not just stubborn silence, though. If he cares to take notice, he'll find that Danta is very quietly dealing with something under the surface, a frown tucked between her brows and her lips pressed in tight. Rather distractedly, she manages to offer a muffled, "Yeah, sorry about that," a few seconds before she suddenly rushes a few steps past him and, with a hasty hand going to her hair, vomits into the grass a few feet away. Meanwhile, June has wrapped up the succinct pleasantries that went with the letter's delivery and has turned toward them again, wading her way through the field.

Still staring off into the distance that June occupies at the moment, K'aus does not notice, care or not, Danta's tense internal struggle. Which is too bad, because otherwise he might have been prepared for when she pukes. At first he must think she's rushing ahead to run after her sister, he releases a hand that might grab her but doesn't. It's around when she bends over that he relaxes, watching the inevitable happen without so much as batting an eye. His concern only presents itself when he asks, upon June's return, "Is your sister with child?" One might not expect such an elegant arrangement of words from him, but there it is.

June, on seeing her sister in such a condition, quickens her step, but doesn't run; there's concern there, sure, loads of it, but very little surprise. At least until K'aus asks what he asks. The redhead slows her step only long enough to favor him with an up-down flick of her slightly widened eyes, a shotgun reassessment. "Probably not anymore," is the frank answer she gives him when she's already turned her back to him, when she's already hovering over her sister, helpfully brushing back Danta's hair and laying a comforting hand along the small of her bent back.

Not a good answer. "Shit." June can take care of Danta while K'aus walks over to Ehrudith. More importantly, the bag hanging securely from his straps. He has to step up on the dragon's paw to get to it and rummage once he's there, but eventually he finds what he was looking for and steps down onto the ground. The one of them that isn't vomiting will notice a canteen in the corner of her vision, his offering. "Make her drink this. It's water." Why /he/ doesn't make her drink it is a mystery, especially since in the next moment he shows no qualms about speaking to Danta directly. Bending to put himself at her level and bracing hands on knees he asks, "Do you have cramps?" very matter-of-factly.

June blindly takes the canteen from him, keeping her eyes on the view she has of her sister's profile. Even though her heaving has ebbed by now, Danta seems quite content to remain doubled over like that, staring down at her mess as if it bewilders her. At least until K'aus bends down to meet her. "No," she answers, straightening without so much as meeting his eye. "Just nauseous." She turns to June and obediently takes a swig from the canteen her sister has uncapped for her. June gives K'aus a look when Danta will not, but it's short, her eyes turning quickly back to gauge the palor of Danta's complexion.

Now, whether or not 'no' is a bad answer remains to be seen. He gives no immediate or forthcoming reply. However, K'aus does meet June's quick look with one of his own that's darkly intense and above all else one thing: unhappy. He's speaking to Danta when he says, "We need to go back to the Weyr," but he's looking at her sister. And with that as the final say, it seems, he turns again from the two women to the dragon waiting for them, already bending and crouching so very low.

June meets his unhappy gaze shamelessly, letting him be the one to break it and only moving from her supportive posture when he's reached his dragon pal. She'll pick up that jacket for Danta and hold it for her, while the darker-haired sister drops a quiet protest, "I'm really fine," between them. June just gives her a pat, nudges that canteen up to force another drink on her, then shoves her hands into her gloves right before she takes to the straps. There's a flicked sharpness to her motions that are normally so fluid, but otherwise she goes along easily with K'aus' directions, as does Danta, who pauses at the bottom to surrender the canteen and zip up that jacket again.

K'aus isn't talking. Not that their departure from Ista was a chatty and pleasant one, he was terse then too, but this silence is so tense it could do with a little cutting. There will be no shirking though, he helps them both up as attentively as if that little incident of a moment ago had never happened, with the same amount or lack thereof of courtesy as before. Once the two of them are mounted he climbs into place in front of them and urges Ehrudith aloft. Up is the same business as before, but this time right before the dragon takes them all Between with him, his rider murmurs the count under his breath. 1, 2, 3. Black, three more beats, then Ista, lush and green below them. The beach is landed several minutes later, Ehrudith fighting a little with a strange cross-current of air that tricks him, and K'aus unbuckles and dismounts halfway to help them down again.

Even with that preparatory countdown, June's taken aback by the jump, her breathing left a bit erratic and panicky on the Ista side. She calms herself long before she's picking her way down the straps, accepting K'aus' help as little as is physically necessary. When she's on the sand, she turns to lift a steadying hand which her sister takes when it's her turn to step down. They shed their riding wear, Danta mincing over to lift the one she borrowed, returning it to K'aus' posession. "I'm taking her to the infirmary," June states, almost challenging him to contradict her now with the pressure in her voice, the fearless flatness in that look. She links arms with her sister and it only takes a light tug to put Danta on the same path up the beach. "You can come and yell at me along the way, if you want," she offers a bit flippantly. For all the unapologetic bluster of June's manner, Danta is another story; her glance back at the brownrider is meek as well as, per usual, fleeting.

Well, since she's going to invite him, and since he /is/ angry, he'll follows, yes, a pace or so behind the sisters, leaving the riding gear, Danta's and his, there in Ehrudith's protection. If he feels like it. But if June was expecting a tirade she will be disappointed for he is a silent black dog on their heels. Along the way he unzips his jacket and pushes its sleeves up in his arms, too warm in it but unwilling to take it off yet. And so the three of them walk to the infirmary, silent at least as far as he's concerned. Once they've reached it he waits against a wall and takes no parts in whatever necessary information exchange between sisters and healers occurs.

Silent too, are the two sisters, though less angrily so. Danta seems positively pleasant, relaxed even, when it turns out, after a bit of walking, that the brownrider behind them isn't going to berate them. Her calm relief is clearer when they reach the infirmary and the serene lines of her expression are revealed as she turns to talk to the first female healer they can find. June has controlled her reactionary irritation so that it's a mere undercurrent at this point, glossed over as she helps explain the situation, using the truth for a majority of it. The healer then escorts Danta to a curtained alcove with practiced professionalism and June is left standing feet from K'aus, arms crossed and draped with her jacket. She turns her eyes on him and stares a beat before hitching an eyebrow high. Well?

Well. Now that Danta is safely stowed away, and surely she must have been what kept K'aus silent for now that she's gone... "Did you have any idea?" he wants to know, before anything else. What he lacks in volume he makes up for in weight; every syllable falls as if the end of the world and his black eyes shift to watch an infirmary nurse stride from one side of the room to the other. Everything is too sterile in here, too quiet, so he pushes away from his wall and exits into the bowl. Since he just asked her a question and she hasn't answered, he apparently means for her to follow him.

June doesn't at first. She spends a moment staring at the corner Danta disappeared into, but when there isn't any motion or moaning coming from it for a few seconds she steps after him. At her own pace, an unrushed but not leisurely one, and heavy-footed, as if she were asserting the rightness of her stance with every step. Like an anchor, she keeps them near enough to the entrance, just near enough to be alerted by a swift nurse should something go awry. She waits again, then, tension sealing her jaw shut, though the rest of her expression is quite blank.

It doesn't take much more than her joining him outside. Every word he'd kept to himself on their way here comes out now, for better or for worse. "When I read that letter I knew something was up. There's no way you'd pick me to fly you around to deliver letters to what, po-dunk farms practically in the middle of nowhere? Look, you have an ulterior motive that's fine, don't we all, but you drag me into something like this again and take my advice, tell me what's going on. You have no idea the kinds of things that could have gone wrong out there."

June might as well be a statue, she moves that much while he speaks. The slow blinking is all that marks her as still alive and alert. When she responds, it's with a calm, stubborn self-assurance in her voice, ceding not an inch of ground. "Wasn't my place to. You figured it out, good for you, but I can guarantee that she wishes you hadn't." And since Danta isn't here to support or deny that claim, he'll have to take her word on it. "You asked to be the one I go to when we're in trouble, well this is the sort of trouble we get into and it's not something that I will ever blurt out without their say so. Even to you. I didn't know it would be that immediate," she admits with a touch of reluctance, "but I doubt it would have changed much if I did. Po-dunk it may have been, but they were people I know." A short huff of breath follows the words before June will clamp her jaw tight and shut up once more.

Then, they will bicker. Neither of them raises their voice, neither of them leaves. It is an issue worth picking at and so they pick. The second she uses his request against him he lifts his eyebrows as if he can't quite believe she /has/ and almost interrupts her. The fact that she continues well past that point stops him, but when she's quiet again he comes right back without enough room for a pause. "I told you to come to me when you're in trouble, not trick me into an abortion. Have you ever done that before, taken someone Between for that? I have. There's supposed to be precautions, a backup plan, not to mention some kind of, I dunno, /medical/ advice. It isn't just a jump and a skip bam, no more problem." K'aus is pissed, there's no denying that. Yet there's something about the way he's looking at her that just screams want for connection, for understanding. He's trying to drill home a point. Like an overprotective father.

"No." The word follows his question almost immediately, bristling with all of the frustration stemming from this plan-gone-wrong. June looks away from him almost as soon as that emotional syllable leaves her lips, a measured breath mending that crack as much as possible. Which can't be much at all, for more slips through, past the bite she puts into the words, "/No/, I didn't know about all of that." Behind the verbal sting, there are improperly shielded, wavering notes of worry and guilt over this unknown danger she may have submitted her sister to. She brushes over them with more ire. "And don't talk to me like I'm some dumb twit who's been told a hundred times, either."

"Oh right June, because some dumb twit wouldn't lie to someone about something like this." Harsh. K'aus knows it. It's clear he knows it when he stops himself very suddenly before that flare of temper carried him further down that path. Rearing back and straightening to his full heigh, shoulders squared, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. After, in a much more level voice, he says the following. "You duped me, you lied to me. You scared me. And then you act like if I hadn't told you to come to me with this kind of shit this wouldn't have happened. You used that against me. But even worse than all that, you didn't trust me. I mean what did you think was gonna happen, you'd tell me what was really going on and I'd judge you, judge your sister? Who are you talking to here, huh?"

June is caught, pinned, and she knows it. Her closed lips tremble on the verge of several more rational responses, but in the end her antagonized state allows not a one of them. She doesn't admit a thing, but neither does she refute any of it. She simply loses the widened set of her eyes with a quick blink and directs her riled stare toward the infirmary entrance. With a huff, she gives up trying to speak altogether.

He isn't looking at her anymore either, he's lowered his eyes. Neither of them speak for however long it takes for K'aus to come up with something to say that will be both calm and reasonable /and/ pissed off. Ultimately he decides on, "Look, I get that I'm a dick, at the end of the day I'm just the guy with the money. And I'm pretty sure there's a damn good reason you and all those girls under your wing don't trust guys just like me, and I'm not saying change that. But there comes a time when pride will seriously fuck up your life, and me... I've seen worse than whatever you've got goin' on." Even if she won't look at him, he does try to meet her eyes. "If there's a next time, you better be straight with me." He's going to leave her with that, he's already walking.

It's such an easy thing, just a flick of the eyes, but it takes June quite a while for her to look over at him when he begins talking again. Her gaze is there waiting for his, though, when he does attempt eye contact, and it doesn't waver after the connection is made. When he leaves, though, she let him have his final word and turns to go, too. Quicker than she came out, June treks back into the infirmary to wait out news of her sister's status.

[LOG] Love note.

2009-08-07T03:56:59Z

Kitchen, Ista Weyr

Double-hinged doors, clearly labeled with large signs reading 'In' and 'Out' bring a person into the kitchens of Ista Weyr. The stone-cut ceiling is fairly low compared with other areas and has heavy beams of wood secured into it. From these seemingly decorative carved rafters hang various pots, pans and other useful kitchen items that sway gently back and forth whenever one is grabbed. The back is occupied by two fairly large sized spits, various cooking hearths and the ovens. A curtain covers a wide passageway leading down to the storage caverns.

Islands of marbled counter space occupy most of the middle of the room, obvious patterns and work triangles starting to indent comfortable wear-marks into the floor. These islands are used for kitchen prep with cabinets built underneath them for organized and labeled storage. On the left are the deep, wide sinks and more cabinets, these with carved wooden fronts bearing common sights of Ista such as intertwining tea leaves and various decorous fruit and flower vines. In whatever free space remains on the right, there's a scattering a small tables for the errant passerby or kitchen worker to sit at and grab a drink or quick bite to eat.

It's a late dinner (surprise?) that finds Nenita at the same place she seems to be carrying out all of her meals lately. No one has ever accused her of being spontaneous or unpredictable. Whatever she was eating is done and finished, the empty plate pushed to the side, the drained cup alongside it. Her legs are up on the other chair at the small table while she reclines back, studying a piece of paper in her hand. Her expression is troubled to say the least as she turns it over. It gets folded and slipped into her pocket. Only to be taken out again moments later, the words on it re-read.

Note or no, summoned or no, K'aus appears in the kitchen behind Nenita like a dark and dreary poltergeist. Minus the possession. But it might be no less scary when his voice sounds suddenly from over her shoulder. "Hey."

Nenita must be very absorbed with whatever she's reading. The sound of his voice over her shoulder produces a sudden jolt of her body upright and a startled squeak from her mouth. She turns around to stare at him wide-eyed before taking a breath and blowing it out. "Oh, it's you. You scared the shit out of me." There's a lack accusatory bite to her voice, suggesting she's maybe not that upset over it. Her feet come off the chair and she tosses the note onto the table. With distracted curiosity, "Roaming around?"

"I prefer prowling," he replies smoothly, rounding her and her chair to claim the seat she just made available. "I was out," K'aus is adding while he sets his glasses and a book down on the table, "I thought I'd come by and see if you were eating late. And you are. What's this." He reaches for the note, is putting it close to his face to read it, all without her permission.

"Prowling. Roaming." Nenita makes a flicking motion of her fingers. Like it's all sort of inconsequential. He's wandering around, which is sort of the bottomline to her point. "I am. It's a note, from someone I didn't quite expect. It puts me in something of troubling situation, I think." When he goes for the note, she doesn't reach out to stop him. Instead she watches him read with raised eyebrows, awaiting the reaction from it.

His reaction is at first the knitting of his eyebrows, tense over his squinted eyes. This is not one of his notes. This is... a Paddy note. Not a Paddy note... "P'draig gave you this?" Though not familiar enough, or quite as willing to sound like a three-year-old, to use the weyrlingmaster's nickname, still he's heard it before. He knows who 'Paddy' is. His fingers flip the note to face Nenita, K'aus's black eyes intent behind it. "What's the deal?"

"I don't have a fucking clue." Nenita admits, seeming a little bewildered by it herself. "We've had sex now and again. Casual. The last time was well before candidacy. Long enough now that I don't really remember it too much." Her eyes flick from the note back up to K'aus again. "And I specifically remember having a conversation. Where my point was 'If things with T'mic go south, don't come looking to me for a girlfriend'. And he sort of blew me off and told me how in love he was with him." Then she points at the scrap of paper. "Then this thing." It's evident that 'this thing' didn't bring her butterflies in the stomach when she got it.

Right around 'girlfriend', K'aus's mouth quirks. Down. "The man sees you every day, he misses you?" Another glance at the note confirms that yes, those are the exact words. "Man even for me this is... almost inappropriate. And that's saying something." The brownrider leans back in his chair and reaches with his free hand for one of her ankles, the objective to pull her foot into his lap. He's still staring at the note. "So this weirds you out," he surmises after that inspection.

"I don't know if weird is the word. It's surprising. And it makes me uncomfortable." Nenita adjusts herself in the chair, allowing him to take a hold of her ankle. Luckily for him she's abandoned boots for sandals, at least for the evening. "What does he miss? Fucking? He has plenty of sex with other people. So he misses... fucking me? I mean. That's just, I don't know. That leans towards like... Missing things that aren't fucking." The note is regarded again. "I guess I need to tell him to back off. Which is even more uncomfortable for me right now. He even knows he shouldn't be writing that. It says so."

She won't be wearing sandals for long. He abandons her ankle in favor of the other one; both feet in his custody, sandals pulled or nudged off, he sets the note down so he can use both hands to rub them for her, one at a time. His thumbs find her arch and press. "Eh, people get sentimental. They don't get the fact that two people can fuck without feeling anything." He is so the right person to give anybody advice about this stuff. "Maybe to him you weren't fucking, maybe you were... making love." Cue a very sly glance out of the corners of his eyes that completely mocks the idea. Serious again, "It isn't really your responsibility to talk to him, lady. Someone else should."

Her toes wiggle around a little when he touches her feet. The sure sign of someone not used to being touched by someone else there. "I care about him as a friend. We share hobbies. He's a good person." There's a shrug of her shoulder, lingering traces of dismay still on her features. "But he doesn't make me feel /that/ way." The mocking glance in reference to love making is given an arched look. But no follow up questioning, maybe she's not that surprised by his feeling on the matter. The worry in her voice now is undeniable. "Like who else? His assistant weyrlingmaster weyrmate? Or his assistant weyrlingmaster fuck buddy? They're all so close. And I'm going to go and hurt his feelings. I'm... This isn't going to go well for me."

It isn't difficult to read the troubledness. It might be surprising how quick to pick up on it he is. While his hands work on kneading her feet, without unncecessary tickling, he tilts his head back to regard to ceiling and takes a deep breath. "So I'll talk to him." There. Problem solved, his attention focuses on what his fingers are currently doing, which would be lacing through her toes.

"You? The guy who tells me he's supposed to stay away from the weyrlings? Is going to talk to the weyrlingmaster about... staying away from the weyrlings?" Nenita seems to have forgotten all about his feet as she looks at him questioningly. "I don't know how well that's going to go over, K'aus." His name coming out of her mouth sounds almost fresh. Like she doesn't say it all that often and it still comes across as being new to her vocabularly.

But he's heard it before. Still, it gets his attention. "The difference there sweetheart is that I've been a good boy. Aside from lunch and dinner with you and this here footrub I've been downright saintly. I've kept my hands to myself and there's no reason why they shouldn't be held accountable," K'aus runs his fingertip up the length of the bottom of her foot, "for theirs."

"Don't you think that..." Nenita trails off, instead making a low squealy noise when he runs his finger along the bottom of her foot. She laughs then, trying to pull that foot back just a little. "Don't you think that I should be taking care of this myself? As uncomfortable as it is?" For the comment about being saintly, she smirks and rolls her eyes just a touch. "Yes, you've been very good. But what would you even say to him? Maybe it would be better from me."

He bites down on his lip when she pulls on her foot, his hand tightening. His. "I have no idea. If you wanna handle it on your own fine, you know I have your back. But if you don't want to I'm just saying, there's other ways to handle it. Talk to Fayre or the kid," Weyrleader? "or Loe. Or just go in there and let him have it. You are a queen. And maybe you should act like it."

The grip of his hand recieves a look, one that's followed by her pulling that foot back some more. Hers. "No, not the Weyrleaders. Not the Headwoman. I don't want him in trouble, he's not /harassing/ me. He's just confusing me." She leans over, going to take that note that he still hasn't returned. Nenita will pluck it from wherever he's got it, stuck in between his fingers or on the table. "And making me uncomfortable. I appreciate that offer. But you're right. Again." That smirk returns when she glances up at him. "I should act like one. Take care of my own shit."

His fingers pinch down. His. "How often I'm right should concern me." And everyone. "So you go talk to him. You tell him what's on your mind." His fingers trail up her leg, reaching as far as her shin before they're back down again. "Tell him what you told me. If he's a friend he'll get it. If he's just a total horndog he probably won't." K'aus, speaking from experience. "And Ehrudith's only a wall in the brain away."

"Maybe it should." Nenita slips the note back into her pocket, out of sight out of mind. Her eyes becoming a little preoccupied with him trailing his fingers up and down her leg. That motion is likely the reason she stops fighting the possessive hold he has on her ankle. "I think Safriath has her indoor voice under control." Meaning she's capable of talking without screaming mentally across the weyr. "She'll probably start bothering him." Then, as if she's just someone casually reporting the news. "Hmm. The other day. Tall, dark haired girl, Ryl.. Rylarien? Rylarie? A name that was kind of long, anyway. She was asking Loe if you guys had a thing going on. If that matters."

"I bet he can't wait. I'll let him know he shouldn't ignore her." Not that a brown dragon against a gold dragon has much chance. And a beat later, "Rylarien," says K'aus on the back of a suffering sigh. The name is very familiar-- unfortunately. His fingers curl around her ankle and give it a gentle little squeeze right before Loe's name is mentioned. Again. But by her, so it's more attention-grabbing. She has his, his head turned against the back of the chair so he can look over at her. "A... 'thing'."

"Like she'd let him. She grabs my attention from the moment she wakes up until she falls asleep again." Nenita watches the reaction on his face, eyebrows lifting in a clear definition of amusement. "Mhmm. She was actually kind of annoying, but I'm not sure if that's just how she is naturally or if she was drunk." As for the mention of a 'thing' there's a gentle shrugging of her shoulders. "Yeah. Asked about a 'thing' then..." And here she tilts her head back, trying to remember accurately. "Scruffy never said anything about being attached to no pretty face and legs. Loe seemed surprised by it."

Further insight into what happened after he left that night do not make K'aus any less suspicious. "Drunk? What a delicate little feather. We barely had any. I'd be surprised too if a stranger started talking to me without actually saying anything. And if 'attached' means what I think it means then... wow. Who talks like that? Like everything needs some code name or something. A 'thing'? What does that even mean."

Barely had any. That brings a surprised look to her face, only to be followed by a clicking of her tongue. "So she's an actress? That likes to pry into the lives of men she just met?" Nenita makes another noise before shaking her head, moving her foot around in his lap while she mulls over the details of the other night in a new light. "I don't know. Probably, she wanted to know if you two were sleeping together. Or seeing each other. I'm not too fond of people that probe into the lives of folks they've just met."

"Yeah I'm getting that," and K'aus looks over at her. Pointedly. "I'm used to it. People have questions and most of them aren't afraid to take you for all you're worth in order to get the answers. And they say I'm heartless." A deep breath breaks up his thoughts. "Loe would have to close up shop long enough for me to get an appointment in anyway." /That/ was negative.

"Asking questions regardless of whether or not the other person is up to answering them? Is often a way of forcing intimacy." Nenita shrugs her shoulders to that pointed look. "Or they're just fucking nosy." She does some leg and sitting adjustments so that she can reach forward and place a hand on his knee. For that rather... inappropriate comment she only has a single thing to say. And it comes gently, not in the form of some cleverly barbed retort, "I'm fond of Loe."

She doesn't need a retort. Nenita's got all the ammo she needs in that one simple sentiment. It and the hand on his knee combine to pull K'aus's eyes away from wherever they'd been staring and whatever they'd been seeing to the weyrling's face, matching her dark eyes for his. "Yeah." Pause. Struggle. "Yeah, me too."

That admittance generates just the smallest flicker of something to flash across her face. A slow smile comes though, a beat after that. It tugs the corners of her lips up a little and the hand that was on his knee squeezes. "So. Is there a problem?" Like maybe she expects there to be one with his pausing and 'struggle'.

As easily as her touching it had flipped him on, Nenita's squeezing his knee flips him back off again. It's like a fun button. "I don't see how it matters? I'm nowhere near the kind of guy people should be around, I mean really, for some reason people wanna, like, hang out. But there's things going on in my head that just... and I don't know." But that doesn't make any sense, and they are in their special place. And he does have her feet. So K'aus takes a deep breath and shrugs a shoulder. "She thinks I'm... someone I'm not."

Does it really work like that? It isn't a squeeze this time. But a gentle rub. She's only now doing to him what he's just done to her. Carefully kneading the spot just above his knees. If she went any further up she'd probably have to move her chair in close or hop into his lap. Neither would probably look too fantastic given the circumstances. "What people? Loe? Me?" Nenita continues her litttle attentions. He's given a curious glance for 'things going on in my head' but the issue isn't pressed. Not now, not yet. "Does she think you're better or worse than you are?"

What he says might not be what she expected. "Every time I'm with one of you it turns into a therapy session. Are you all holding healer cards I'm not aware of?" But K'aus is almost too tangled to back out now, so he fixes that by very gently removing her feet from his lap so she can set them on the floor or put them somewhere else. "It doesn't matter, forget I said anything." Rising to stand, he reaches for his glasses and book and puts them both into his pockets, one to each, and scratches an itch on his cheek. "Look, uh. You talk to P'draig and if you need me I'll come."

If he's going to get up, than so is she. The hand that was being gentle and careful before, very firmly wraps fingers around his wrist. He's not the only one who can be grabby. The other makes as if it's holding a card out in front of him. "We made a deal. A friend deal. That's the one I'm holding, not any healer psycho babble." And then she's loosening her hand, removing it from his arm before the situation can turn from what it is to uncomfortable. For forgetting, her lips quirk. "I can't make any promises that I'll forget, K'aus. But I won't pry." Then there's that most recent offer of his assistance and she fully smiles. "Thank you. But I'm more likely to need you after the fact."

Did she just pull out the friend card? Damn. K'aus looks at it as if it's a real thing, even squints like he's inspecting it as much as he did her note, and quirks his mouth too. She has his wrist, he doesn't pull away so he's stuck. "Fine." Once she lets him go so he backs up before she can grab him again, not like she would. "Whenever you need me, you send a note or have her call. Any time." Those last two words fall like lead weights, as final as he's made them sound. Because he doesn't sleep! He turns from her then to exit the kitchen and run, not for the first time tonight. But he also calls, "Forget it," over his shoulder as a reminder.

She did and she's likely to do it again in the future. When he makes his getaway without even saying good-night, there's a flat expression on her face. Nenita's hands fall back down to her sides where they stay a moment before she brings them up to cross over her chest. After K'aus is out of sight, she blows out a long breath of air. Like she probably has so many other times after he's left her or she's left him. The empty dishes on the table are grabbed up and her sandals slipped back on. "Not damn likely." But he's too far gone to hear her now.

[LOG] 10.

2009-08-07T01:16:52Z

Just after dinner tends to find K'aus relaxing in some fashion after a long day, mostly he'll just linger in the cavern after everyone's trickled off to do something else. Just as common though is a trip down to one of his two favorite (public) hangouts (lurk points) and tonight the lucky winner is the Sandbar with its usual crowd. How long he's been here is a measure of how many drinks he's had and what he's doing. At the moment there's an empty glass on his table and another one half-full in his hand, but that doesn't really mean anything if the bussing staff is up on their game. His other hand entertains a book; yes, glasses.

During this time, Loe tends to, well, it could be anything. Sometime she races around to finish up the day's work, other times she's back in her office, plotting and planning, sometimes she disappears to who knows what solitude and sometimes, like so many, like, K'aus, like tonight, she ends up in the Sandbar. There's no fanfare for her arrival, bare feet quiet on the boards, order placed without incident. Now she stands facing the bar, elbows perched on the counter with her weight pushing her shoulders up. Like a dancer at some of exercise, she stands on one foot, lifting to her toes and setting back down again, over and over while she waits.

K'aus is facing the door for some reason. It's been long enough since someone came or something so he looks up over the words on paper to watch Loe walk through and watches her some more on her way to the bar, not far away. His mouth curls. A beat later he's leaning on the bar next to her, on an elbow like her, and he's setting a piece of coin down when the bartender comes back with her drink. "Hey yeah, it's on me pal. Thanks." But after, besides for as long as it takes to give her that small, polite smile, he doesn't linger. He's returning to his table to sit again, pick up his book, sip his drink.

With her head bowed forward a moment ago, now it turns as she looks at the man who's shown up at her side. Her smile spread, quiet and sly as always, and her gaze slides over his face. Loe is about to say something, but she's too slow and instead she just gets to watch him head back to his table and his book. And she does watch him. A few moments later, her drink shows up and K'aus's marks pay for it. Since he was so kind to cover her drink, one might think Loe would head right over there, but instead she turns her back to lean against the bar and just looks at him from across the room, that contemplative bit of wry smile still lingering on her lips.

And K'aus is a devoted little reader in spite of the fact that he can /feel/ her watching him. She'll see his eyes moving behind the lenses, maybe, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the way he cradles his drink there because maybe the outside is nice and cool and he's feeling a little warm. His throat moves when he swallows and at one point he takes a deep breath and turns the page one-handed. And then, her reward, the corner of his mouth pulls up /so subtly/.

She does see it, or maybe she imagines it, that little hitch in the corner of his mouth. Maybe it's for what he's reading, not for the tingle of her eyes on him from afar. As so often happens, she doesn't get to watch much longer. Loe's approached by a young woman who works in the laundry and now she stands there, sipping her drink, listening to the girl talk and flicking her glance ever so often to the brownrider with his book. Does she start to seem eager to get away from her companion? Why yes, yes she does.

It's entirely possible K'aus cares very little that Loe is even in the same room as him. Maybe all of his reactions have been to the reading material and nothing more. But when Loe is accosted by that laundry girl that little up ups a little more, he's almost half-smiling now. One of the Sandbar's waitress types swings by his table with a fresh drink and sets it down; she receives his tilted back glance while she walks away but escapes unmolested. Surprising. He downs the rest from the glass he holds and replaces it with the new one and so his little game continues.

It's all over Loe's face, not that the laundress bothers to notice. Loe, she wants out, she's putting on a show of being politely interested, but meanwhile searching for the first available exit. And then it comes. The laundress invites Loe to sit with her and Loe apologizes. "I'm actually here with someone. Or, well... he bought a drink so I should probably say hi." Then, moments later, the laundress has returned to her table and Loe is slipping into the seat across from K'aus, drinking, leaning forward and talking all at once. "I almost called you my date. That's how badly I did not want to hear another word from that girl." Terribly unflattering, but there's a teasing twist to the way her smile curls. "What are you reading this time?"

He puts some effort into acting surprised when he finds himself in her company, looking up and lifting his eyebrows all at once. Well hello. 'That girl'-- he looks for her but she's gone back to wherever she came from so he looks at Loe instead. "I can only imagine how hard that would have been for you," he says, tone all dry. The book in question folds closed and finds a place out of the way to be while K'aus takes a drink and answers. "It's the second in the series, same one the other one came from." And indeed it is a matching little book with red cover and undoubtedly somewhere in there lies a black ribbon, marking his place. "So I've never been someone's almost-date. What's that look like?"

"Talking. And probably some intent gazes." That's what the almost-date looks like. Loe delivers the description over the rim of her drink. "Think you can handle it?" Sip. "So what happened? You're sitting alone tonight? Not feeling up to the hunt? Or is the book some sort of lure, trying to pull in some mousy, brainy type." She's restless tonight, even though she's sitting, there's little stillness. She crosses her legs beneath the table, lifts her posture and her chin and scans the room for the mouse.

Talking. Intent gazes. Check and check, he starts with the second one, smiling that little smile and taking his glasses off and tossing them over by the book so he can prop his chin in his palm and gaze at her. Intently. And with eyes like his, he's successful. "Hm. I don't really go for types. They get boring. Besides, maybe I'm waiting for someone. Maybe you're sitting in her seat." Not that K'aus is all that concerned, if that's the case. A girl in the seat is a girl in the seat. "What about you? Am I the best you could do?"

"I'd think types would make it less boring, somehow. Help institute a little variety." She adopts his pose, chin on hand, green eyes staring back him. "Every fourth day, you corrupt an innocent flower. Every seven days you go for one of those tough, tomboy sorts." As for the girl picking this seat. "You bought me a drink. Maybe I'm cheap and easy," she says, all the while her voice soft, in volume as well as tone. "Were you waiting for someone?" She doubts it.

"I'm more inclined to think you're all innocent flowers prime for the corrupting, if that's what I do," K'aus shares with a little headtilt. And again he affects surprise: her, cheap and easy? "If getting you to fuck me was as easy as getting you a drink I think we'd have gotten it over with by now, honey." Finally he breaks their little intent staring contest to lean back and stretch his arms over his head. "I guess you'll have to wait and see. How's that sit with you?"

Gotten it over with? Loe's mouth curves sly again. "That's why it's funny. Because you're quite certain at this point that it isn't at all true." Just before another sip of her drink she tacks on: "Besides, I agreed to this bet." Then comes the drink, then the shake of her head as she swallows. "Wait and see if you're expecting someone? If they show up? What if she sees me here and turns around and walks away? What if she figures she can't compete and gives up? I'm a patient woman. I can wait quite a while."

With his hands clasped in his lap and his posture a little slouched, K'aus sits there across from her and cherishes her a little. Like only the older, bored sort of man can. "What if what if what if?" He's mocking her with her own words, albeit gently, but he smoothes over that with this. "If she sees you here and walks away then I move on, if she figures she can't compete and gives up then maybe she would have been boring. Maybe she doesn't actually exist and you're getting yourself all worked up over nothing. What bet?" Leave it to him to address things as he wants, not necessarily as they should be.

"I'm not worked up. I'm entertained," Loe corrects with the toss of her hair. "I like what if. I like... would you rather." She goes to lift her cup and then pause and frowns at it. "I also like straws." And there isn't one. Which makes her pout a pretty pout just for show, just for her audience of one. She sulks back in her chair. "Oh, I got into this bet with one of the weyrlings on who could go longer. There's no way I'll let him win."

Oh, entertained, of course. The eyebrows say it all. Her lack of a straw inspires a small struggle within his head: to please her or not to please her. Ultimately he must decide not to, or at least not /now/, because he doesn't get up. But he does make a vaguely sympathetic face, just for her, just before he narrows his eyes. "Who could go longer... Wait, without fucking?" If he's right, and it doesn't really matter because it's happening anyway, he adds, "I'm intrigued." And quick, as during that waitress's passing their table he reaches out to pluck a straw from one of the pockets of her apron without even looking and passes it over between two fingers.

Perfect. A straw. Loe leans forward to take it from him, to give him a saucy grin in return. She also puts the straw to her lips to blow a narrow stream of air at him. He can have that too. Then the straw goes in her drink. "Without fucking," she confirms. "Technically without an orgasm involving another person. Is it intriguing?" she asks, dubious that he must really think so.

Delightful. K'aus closes his eyes with a neutral smile in place until she stops the thing with the straw already and looks at her like 'better now?' While idly watching her straw placement he replies. "I find the idea of two people essentially ruling out all possibility of fun for each other intriguing, yes. Why don't you just get married or have a kid or something, it's less entertaining but you'll get where you wanna go. So nobody can come. But technically you can still fuck if the fucking's bad."

Loe's eyebrows draw together just a beat before her nose wrinkles. "Is that the only thing that's fun? Just fucking? I don't see what getting married or having kids would have to do with any of it." She shakes her head, certain he's got it all wrong. "There's no sex -and- no doing something with another person to have an orgasm. You know, to stay in the spirit of the thing." She goes to take a sip, through her newly acquired straw, and then stops herself. "Why I am trying to explain this to you, of all people?" She snorts at her own mistake.

There's a moment right after the 'just fucking?' in which he gives her a very unreadable but very different sort of look. He's still wearing it when she goes on to further explain the terms of this bet she has going on and remains still when she snorts, except there's a little knitting of his brow for that. "And what pray tell is that supposed to mean."

This time the twist of her mouth isn't one of those evil little smiles. It's more like a thoughtful grimace, downturned and hesitating. She looks across the table at him and his unreadable expression, her own eyes narrowing slightly. Then she shakes her head and smiles, quick, effortless, meaningless. "That it's not the sort of bet you'd bother with." Aw, isn't that generous and judicious of her. Diplomatic even.

For whatever reason he grins, big and white with his sharp pointy canines and his smile-lines. Something is very amusing. K'aus shifts too, gripping his biceps in either hand and tilting his head a little. He tries to seal that grin but fails. "You don't wanna hurt my feelings."

Loe smiles right back, though hers is a touch more scolding, like she assumes she's being laughed at, assumes she's been caught. "Well, I always tell people that I'm a very sweet and considerate person. It's not my fault they don't always believe me." And that notion does make her smirk across the table at him. "Are you surprised?"

"I think so. It's hard to tell." What does 'surprised' mean anymore to someone like him? "You don't have to be sweet and considerate with me, sweetheart. I'm pretty sure I can take it and you're only lying to both of us. Let me guess, you can't imagine why you would be trying to explain a hands-off bet to someone who obviously doesn't see anything beyond the next available cunt," special emphasis, "right? Or maybe it's not that, maybe that's too easy, maybe it's something else." K'aus takes his drink as if he's just remembered it and sips.

Loe looks to the side, like she considering the accuracy of this. And then, "Yes. I think you have a tendency to masturbate with live women. Not only is getting laid all you care about, but I don't think you even enjoy it. You probably get more satisfaction blowing your nose." Almost without skipping a beat, "Do you want to get a plate of fries?"

There it is again, that grin. It's entirely naughty and amused and gosh, she's just so /darling/. While his hand swirls the ice and drink in his glass around he says, "If I don't enjoy it then what's the point? C'mon, let's get it all out on the table." His other hand taps knuckles on that very thing before he straightens in his seat and turns to scope out a waitress. Which is sort of a yes. When one is within range he waves her over, makes the order and turns back around to face Loe. K'aus, making things happen, watches her. Intently.

"I guess you just don't know what else to do," Loe answers him with a shrug. "Habit? I don't know. Maybe you don't notice." She watches him, considering something else without saying it, observing without paying attention as he places the order for their food. When he turns back to watch her in return, her expression has gone flat, serious, like she's forgotten to include that hint of something naughty to her countenance.

Again, 'surprise' isn't a very familiar thing for him so he doesn't really express it, but that she's looking so un-Loe does give him reason to pause, to look at her perhaps differently, less weighted and more... probing. It comes off as intense, but he can't help it. His mouth opens, a thought occurs, he narrows his eyes. "How about this. You can ask me ten questions, they can be anything you want, I have to answer them. You can use 'em now or whenever, they can be about anything, about anyone. But whatever I say you have to accept as the truth."

Ten questions, free questions, perks Loe up without delay. That spark of intrigue comes back to her eye, and it looks like she's quite favorable to the rules, at least until that part bit. Then she's cocking a brow at him. "Why does that need to be a rule? Do you think I inherently don't believe anything you say? That I think everything is a lie? And how can you force belief? Even if I said 'oh yes, I believe you' it wouldn't necessarily make it true. I can say 'this drink is red' and I could act very much like that's the truth. But I'd know it's not. It doesn't change anything. Do you want me to lie to you?" She drinks that not-red drink and then adds. "Also, none of those count as part of the ten. That would be lame."

It's a good thing she added that disclaimer at the end because K'aus has been ticking off her questions on his fingers. He's holding up a whole hand's worth by the time she's done and banishes them all while he smirks. That hand reaches for his drink so he can take one and consider. Once he's swallowed he acquiesces. "Fine, it isn't a rule. But if you ask follow-up questions those count as part of the original and limited ten. Better?" Their fries haven't come yet so he takes a deep breath and folds hands in lap again and smiles benignly across at her.

"Better, I suppose. How do we know when they count? Do I have to specify? Or will they all get used up on boring, friendly things like 'what are you reading' and 'how's your drink'? And who gets to choose? Me or you?" Loe takes another drink but, having reaches the end, the straw just makes loud burbling noises. "Do you want ten questions too?"

"I think we're both reasonable enough to know when a question's a boring, friendly question. Small talk doesn't count as part of the ten, and beyond that... I get to choose. Otherwise there's nothing stopping you from trying to find a loophole and there's no question about what's considered boring or friendly. And I think the question," aha, "there is do /you/ want me to have ten questions too." K'aus takes another drink and glances away from her for just a brief look-around. He did say he might be waiting for someone.

"No, I think the real question is... why do you want me to have ten questions. If there's something you want to tell me, why not just tell me?" She lifts her drink. No. Nothing left. She shifts impatiently. "What if I ask ten questions and never get to the thing you wanted me to ask? What if I don't ask any? If there's nothing I want to know?" What if she doesn't ask any questions? Fat chance of that.

What if there's nothing she wants to know? "I really don't think that's possible. Look, I'm giving you ten free questions I can't avoid or lie about," with a muttered 'that you know about', "and you're really looking a gift horse in the mouth here. I don't care if you don't want to play, it's no skin off my back. You need another drink and our food's up." How'd he know? Must be some sixth bar-sense. It urges K'aus up out of his seat and over to the bar to collect their fries and order Loe another thing and him another thing though he only returns with the basket. A beat behind him though, that waitress from before shows up with their drinks and he largely ignores her.

She gives him a look, it's one of those wry smiles that also says 'yeah yeah, make a big show out of how much you don't care. I won't say anything'. That kind of smile. As he walks away, she reaches for his book with one hand and for her pocket with the other. By the time he returns she's pushing his book back into place and sticking a pencil behind her ear. She needs her fingers free to snag a fry. But now that he's back, she just looks across the table at him, studying him, small grin quirked, as the drinks come. And then the waitress leaves, "I think she was checking you out."

"Oh yeah? Think I should fuck her? Would you like that?" Dirty little Loe, says /his/ look. He reaches for a fry, too, and for his book with the other hand. Don't think he didn't see that weird little thing she was doing. "What's goin' on there," he wonders around the fry poking out of his mouth, which he encourages further in by tilting his chin up and using a complicated lip and teeth combination to fold it in.

"Maybe you should. Isn't that what you do? And you walked away from that girl the other night. The one who had your glasses. Are you under the weather?" Loe wonders, lifting a brow. "Maybe you should fuck her. Do you want me to watch? Would that turn you on or do you think it might just make you nervous?" She eats her fry and around it asks, "What's going on where?" And in his book, beside the black ribbon, on the page, in pencil: Loe was here. <3

While he's flipping to that page, "I guess it must not be just about the fucking then," in a wry voice because didn't she just assume that's what he was about? Finding her little note and squinting to read it without his glasses, K'aus looks at her after like 'really?' "You know you don't have to write me little love notes. I'll let you watch. Want me to go grab her? We could all go up to my place, I could strip her down in front of you on the couch, eat 'er out, make her come right there. Do you think that would turn /you/ on?" Otherwise there might not be a point. "Thanks," he adds, closing the book on her <3 and pushing it out of the way like he couldn't care less. Another fry.

Loe lets her eyes cut to the waitress and she considers all of these things that K'aus says. "No," she answers, as simply as if he'd offered her a sandwich instead of a very different sort of dining experience. "I don't think it would. It doesn't sound very... hot. It sounds like... I don't know, after that you might cut her toenails or brush her teeth." She sets her elbow on the table, chin in hand against, eats another fry. "So what is it? If it's not all about the fucking? What's it about? Why waste your time eating fries with me when you could be securing an easy lay?" She sucks a bit of grease and salt off her forefinger.

She can say whatever she wants but K'aus has this knowing little smile on his face. "Maybe I'd brush her hair." She didn't think of that one, did she. And somehow, he makes that mundane task sound like the dirtiest of things. K'aus is chewing on another fry when she asks... all of that so he doesn't answer right away. Swallow, "Before I answer questions 1-42, are any of those your ten?"

"I don't know. Do I need to make any of them one of the ten to get you to answer them?" Loe wonders. She eats another fry and the next one she considers for a second, before eating that too.

He considers, both her question and her and her fry, with his eyes on the table between them. Eventually, thoughtfully, "I don't know what it's all about any more than you do. It's life. It's my life." More specifically. "I like women. I like the way they smell. I like you." Now K'aus will look at her, reach for another fry. "I think you think I'm more complicated than I actually am."

She looks at him, serious again. "I don't think that's true," she says, rather quietly, like perhaps she really is, still, trying not to hurt his feelings. She must think he has them. Loe's eyes drop back down to the fries and she aborts her reach for one more, istead sitting back in her chair again with her drink. Which part doesn't she think is true? She doesn't specify. "What do you want me to ask? When you imagined it, when you thought to offer it, what question did you think I'd ask?"

He keeps eating, mowing down on fries in between her questions and through them, making a little noise for her comment. It doesn't matter to him which part she doesn't think is true, he's said it and maybe his lack of response might be enough to prove them true instead. He's taking a few drinks to wash all the potato down with by the time she's come to her other, sigh, questions. K'aus really is handling them all with the patience of a thousand men. "I didn't. Easy. I thought you might appreciate it, being able to ask me anything you want with a guaranteed answer. Maybe I want you to realize that this is what there is." And he holds his hands up, presenting himself to her. "I am who I say I am, even when I'm not saying. And you're looking for someone else in here and I'm all alone."

Loe takes a breath and she closes her mouth. No more questions. Maybe it was the sigh, maybe that it was her questions that inspired the offer of ten freebies. Either way, Loe goes quiet, except to say. "Sorry." She takes a sip of her drink and pulls the pencil from behind her ear to slip it back into her pocket.

That leaves them both quiet, K'aus looking at the table again and scraping mashed-up fry from between teeth and cheek with sweeps of his tongue. After a measured breath he lets his eyes shift to their corners and notes, "I think people wish there was more to me. I think it would help them... deal with me." Looking at her he adds, "I know what people think about me. I know what they see. Hell, I agree with them."

Loe nods, the slow bobbing sort, the extra touch of a little smile to show she understand, a little sympathy tossing in too.

Sympathy. Wrong move. It, coupled with her enduring silence, does more than just rub him the wrong way, and since his go-to is usually anger... "Great." With a rough shove he pushes himself out of the seat and reaches for his stuff, glasses and book, with grasping hands.

There's a flash of something confused and alarmed in her eyes, but whether or not it lingers is a mystery, since Loe is then looking down at the table, a hand slipping into her hair to cradle her forehead. She still doesn't say anthing, though her other hand makes like it might reach for the book or the glasses or maybe his hand, though the motion is abandoned long before it can become anything other than a little forward shift.

So he's unimpeded and has both of those things in hand quickly. Without another word, without noticing her intentions, K'aus straightens to leave (run away from her) the Sandbar and that waitress behind him.

[LOG] Repercussions.

2009-08-06T01:51:38Z

The Sandbar, Ista Weyr(#447RJ)

A series of glows fashioned as torches line the path and ramp into the Sandbar, making the black volcanic sands of the beach glitter as the star-spangled night spreads across the sky above. Standing on stilts over the water's edge with a broad ramp leading up from the beach, the thatch-roofed building sits well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar and it's smooth surface is etched with decorative carvings of shipfish and flowers and other emblems of the tropical location. Shelves behind the bar are lined with bottles and glasses of various shapes and sizes and hanging in prominent view are slates listing the menu, beverages both alcoholic and not as well as a handful of greasy appetizers provided by the kitchen to the rear of the bar.

The dry spring season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. Tonight, a blanket of clouds dominates the black sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.

Having devoted a great deal of his day to work that ate into his roaming time, K'aus has decided to put himself at a table in the Sandbar with some drinks and a game of solitaire. During the evening he has taken it upon himself to leer blatantly at pretty girls and stare unsettlingly at other men. Right now he is doing neither of those things, he is taking a sip of his brown drink-with-ice of choice and mulling over his next move.

An'dren's not often seen in the Sandbar anymore, but even he needs a drink every now and again. A bright blue one, mixed with some fruit juice but mostly a strange combination of alcohols. "Thanks," he says, sliding a coin across the bar, and turns around to examine the room, looking for an empty table or a party to crash. He'd somehow missed K'aus coming in, but he sees him now; it's only a matter of time before he's headed that way, nevermind what the brownrider is or is not currently doing. His greeting's not much of one at all, just a flat, "So I hear you've been playing Weyrleader."

K'aus must not have seen An'dren either, or he did and he doesn't mind the idea of being caught. Which he is when the Weyrleader finds him: both caught and unconcerned. He looks up from the cards to give the younger of them his full attention, his brows lifted and his mouth slack. Indifferent. "Wow that got back to you fast. I wonder which one it was, the brunette? That pretty little blond thing from Boll? Or maybe the simple country girl from Keroon." His pleased smirk might be hidden behind his glass when he takes another drink, maybe.

"Doesn't matter," An'dren says, unfazed. "I'm letting it slide this time, but there will be repercussions if I hear of you impersonating me again. Which I won't, because it's not going to happen." He doesn't care if there really is a brunnete, a blond from Boll, and a country girl from Keroon. He just cares that K'aus doesn't do it again, and looking down at him like that, expression hard and with all that added height from K'aus being seated, he might actually be serious. He's getting the hang of this whole being boss business, sort of.

He looks up at An'dren with his mouth pushed out. "Hm." And nevermind the sly tilt of it when he looks down instead, down at the cards arranged in various stacks on the table. He turns one over face-up and idly asks, "What kind of repercussions?" Back up to Andy, quite serious, "Have a seat, boss," with strange, irreverent emphasis on that last word.

"That's not important." The invitation surprises him, and it shows, briefly, in the lift of his eyebrows. This isn't how these things're supposed to go, is it? You reprimand someone, make sure they understand, and leave, hopefully never having to have the conversation again. Andy's gaze flicks to the cards and back, assessing, and then he takes the proferred seat -- surprising himself, maybe, because after he sits, there's something a little wary in the way he watches K'aus. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

For his part K'aus puts on a pleasant enough, if not particularly warm smile and slowly pushes the cards into a pile that he can gather together and shuffle, which he does. "Yeah there is. You'll need another one of those, you want another blue thing, it's on me, hey." A glance at the bartender and a gesture at the Weyrleader's drink is enough; he resumes. "So here's the thing, telling new people that I'm you and then going out of my way to disturb and offend them beyond my usual is annoying and sure, eventually it won't work anymore and I'll be totally debunked. But that's not even the beginning of how insufferable I can actually be and to be quite honest it's child's play." Right around then that new blue thing comes along because it isn't all that busy in here.

An'dren doesn't need a new blue thing; he's barely started on the one he has. Still, though, K'aus gets a nod of thanks, but now he's even more wary, fingers playing against the glass, reflecting back blue. And then K'aus is speaking, and yeah, okay, /that's/ why Andy's being wary. His eyes narrow slightly, and when the brownrider's done and the new drink's arrived, he asks, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm telling you-- thanks," for the waitress, and that sly smile again while he watches her go, but then back to business, "I'm telling you because I think you should know that I can work for you or against you. And I want to give you the chance to decide which way this is gonna go." K'aus sets the cards aside and clasps his fingers together in front of him. "It's been a long time since I was anything other than what I am. I want a promotion." His tongue makes a bulge in his cheek from the inside while he watches An'dren closely.

The hand goes still, and An'dren looks at K'aus over the rim of his drink, eyes widening, disbelieving. Then he leans back, a finger hooked around the base of his glass, and shakes his head. "No," he says. "That's not how this is going to work. I'm not going to bribe you to behave. You want a promotion, you're going to have to earn it, not make threats and hope I'm nervous enough to give in." He's just sat down, but he pushes back his chair anyways, its legs scraping against the floor as he prepares to stand. "Is that all?"

"Threats are cheap and pointless, Andy." K'aus's voice has taken on a hard edge, all trace of play gone. And then in the next moment he's smiling again. "Trust me, if I plan on doing something I'm not going to /tell/ you about it for fuck's sake. That'd be crazy. Even for me." He takes another drink and perhaps the Weyrleader's gotten up by now, perhaps not. Either way he doesn't seem to care. After swallowing like he's just had the most refreshing thing in the world he adds, "I'm asking you to consider it. And let me know what you think. And think about those repercussions. Think about how it would make Ista look if you transferred some old, troublesome rider to some poor Weyr to deal with. If any would even take me."

Andy's up, drink in one hand, his other braced against the back of the chair to slide it beneath the table. "I'll consider it," he says, and the way he says it, seems like he's thinking more about those repercussions than the promotion K'aus had asked for. He nods at the older rider, and then he's headed out, one blue thing remembered only because he's already holding it and the second left behind. Maybe the brownrider'll enjoy it; he's paying for it, anyways.