[M'try] Jiella makes M'try mad. Which is not easy to do. So props, I guess.
RL Date: 2/3/10
IC Date: 12/9/21
Dragon> While good morning might be appropriate, today it's << ARE YOU DECENT? >> As usual, there's a pause following Mohraith's loud start to things, all crash-bang-boom in the background like the trash truck on garbage day. << Is your rider decent, I mean? >> (Mohraith to Orisoth)
Dragon> To Mohraith, Orisoth projects, << is at least awake, and seems to have been for some time, candlelight bright and cheery and productive-seeming, despite the fact that he's just sort of sitting around right now. With his usual amused tolerance for the noise, dear god - << I think some would debate whether she ever is, but it's cold, so she's /dressed/. >> Semantics. << And good morning. >> >>
Dragon> To Mohraith, Orisoth is at least awake, and seems to have been for some time, candlelight bright and cheery and productive-seeming, despite the fact that he's just sort of sitting around right now. With his usual amused tolerance for the noise, dear god - << I think some would debate whether she ever is, but it's cold, so she's /dressed/. >> Semantics. << And good morning. >>
Dragon> To Orisoth, Mohraith fails to get the joke, though he puzzles over it in the background for a few seconds. << I think that's what I was supposed to be finding out, yeah. Dressed. >> The other implications... well, M'try can explain those later. << Where are you guys? WE ARE COMING OVER! >> Won't that be fun?!
Dragon> To Mohraith, Orisoth figured that's what was meant, yes. And he'll also leave the explaining to M'try - that's a longer conversation than the other brown wants to have about Jiella's clothing or lack thereof. He presents an image of his unshaded ledge, noting, << She says you should come over, not to mind the mess. >> Clothes. Everywhere.
You launch off of the ledge.
You spiral lower, descending into the Fort bowl.
You glide to a landing on Orisoth's ledge.
Jiella and Orisoth's Ledge, Fort Weyr(#1765RJhs$)
Of modest elevation some distance directly above the feeding grounds, this edge projects outward and slightly upward, flattening out further on to offer space enough for a large bronze perhaps two smaller blues or greens comfortably. While there is no overhang above to impede a landing, neitherdoes it offer any shade, and the ledge is oriented to receive direct rays of sunlight during the greater part of the day.
>> Mohraith doesn't seem fazed or even surprised by the thought of Jiella's weyr with its clothes-everywhere issue. << Ours is mostly socks and underwear, >> he confirms cheerfully, though the image he tries to share of this chaos is shut down reeeeal fast. M'try does not need everyone getting a glimpse of his underoos all over the floor, thanks. Swooping on down and across, crooning a cheerful greeting to a sunning green while he passes her, he lands out on the edge of Orisoth's ledge with a bright, << Hi, bub! >> Like he needs to announce his presence. Again. << SUNNY space you got here! >>
>> As Mohraith lands, Orisoth tries to make some room by backing up, now partially inside. He's intrigued by the lack of imagery, but won't ask, just wondering, << Why not put it all away? She can never find anything. I think it's an excuse to be late. >> Jiella's just coming out from the weyr, combing fingers through her tousled locks - and for that, she gives her brown a narrowed look. Oblivious - or pretending to be - << It is nice. She likes that part, at least. >> He's got the sense not to go sharing images of his rider lying out there naked, though the show is likely free all summer. Not so much now - the blonde is fully dressed and a little bemused. "Morning, M'try. Let me guess - couldn't resist my stunning beauty a moment longer?"
<< She doesn't like the rest of it? M'try likes our weyr. Says it has 'good light.' >> Whatever the hell that means. << And he can sit and spy on people all day if he wants. >> Mohraith adds that without any inkling of understanding that other people might not like his rider's pasttime. But if people like Jiella are going to sunbathe nude all summer... Taking in the lay of the land, just before he slides down to his feet, M'try answers, "That's a good guess, Jiella, but no. It's the lure of your ego, bright and big as the morning sun." One hand gestures flippantly over his shoulder toward that sun, warming up his back nicely and thanks for that, before he adds, "Though I may have a use for your stunning beauty if you're bored enough."
You climb down from Mohraith's neckridges.
Orisoth might be echoing his rider's lack of surprise with the spying when he replies dryly, << Imagine that. Has there been anything interesting? I like to watch from the StarStones, though she is easily bored with that. >> But then, what isn't Jiella easily bored with, aside from herself? And Orisoth, presumably, but one never knows. Sauntering over to and past M'try, she steps into the sunlight, raising her face to it, eyes closed. With blonde hair bright and a rather blissful look on her face, she is quite pretty. Grinning, "Everything revolves around the sun, doesn't it?" That idea has her pleased, for all the potential of being conned into some kind of work has her squinting over at him warily.
"For the record," M'try begins, arms crossed, leaning against Mohraith's shoulder for a second with his head tilted to watch the quite-prettiness, "you don't actually need to put on the whole show for me." The same way he flipped his fingers to indicate Rukbat doing its thang, so he tosses them to indicate Jiella doing hers. "I'm an easy sale, O Center of the Galaxy." Most men are. "But since you're so keen on the sunshine and I'm so keen on getting to the bottom of something..." Nice segue, huh? "Do you want to come to Ista with me sometime?" Tandem with Mohraith's remark of, << Not here. Things seem quiet here at the Weyr specifically. >> Shame.
Clearly confused, "Show?" Jiella glances from M'try down to herself - as if to make sure she's not inappropriately dressed - then up to the skies before she clues in; "Oh. It's not really the show. Though I can admit that I likely don't know when I'm doing it anymore. You're a boy; maybe it's just a reflex. Though I do actually stand out here first thing in the morning, if it's sunny. Nice to know that you're sold, though?" A brilliant smile for that before; "Ista sounds /amazing/, but given you said 'get to the bottom of something', I'm guessing lying around on the beach isn't the plan." After a long moment, Orisoth's observation is, << Perhaps too quiet? But less so elsewhere? I have not been to Ista very often. >>
Squinting briefly, M'try opens his mouth to clarify about the show, or at least his perception of it, but decides against the matter before the words actually get out. Instead, breathing in where he should have been speaking, he waits till she gets around to the matter of Ista, saying, "You are, of course, welcome to go there and lay around on the beach whenever you'd like. I'm sure the locals would appreciate it. But no, it's not exactly what I had in mind. There's something..." Hard to pin down, says the pause. "Something not-quite-right." Ineloquent, bothered by it, he makes a face that ends with a shrug. << I've been LOTS! >> By lots, Mohraith means, like, twice. << We should go together next time. >>
Eventually stepping off the ledge, likely because the wind is picking up, Jiella watches M'try's abortive attempt at clarification with light brows arched curiously. A slight smirk beginning to curve her lips, "Did you stop because I might not like what you have to say, or because it'd take too long?" Not expecting much of an answer, she finds a lean against one of the rough walls to listen - for all that it's not much in the way of explanation. "As soon as I have time, I think I'll do that. What's going on that's not-quite-right, though? And before you answer, if it's something stupid, don't tell me, because I'm totally ratting people out for that from now on."
Orisoth, for his part, is curious about the not-rightness as well, but merely asks, << How did you find it there? And I would like that. >>
<< Warm! And there're lots of other dragons to talk to. >> And oh how they must have enjoyed Mohraith. M'try, meanwhile, smiles a very private smile for her first question, lets a rather long pause elapse before he remarks in response, "It's interesting to me that you think I'm going to clarify when I went to all the trouble of not saying anything in the first place." Hmn. Anyway; "I think it depends on precisely your definition of stupid, Jiella. It's not going to get me abducted or beaten." Erm. "I'm reasonably sure. I mostly just do a lot of window-shopping. They have a little market there which has an awfully high incident rate of selling things markedly similar to what we're short-on." Having not been invited in, he'll just keep using Mohraith as a wind-break and raise his voice enough to chase Jiella.
<< There are usually lots of dragons at most Weyrs, yes. I imagine they quite enjoyed the company. >> Orisoth isn't being entirely insincere about that; for all Mohraith might be freaking LOUD, he's interesting - and that's the most important thing to him. Jiella might be used to the lack of protection from the wind and elements by now, or maybe she's just too distracted by the whole situation - but she has pretty much forgotten her manners. With a petulant sniff and a pout for M'try's smile, "I didn't think, I hoped. Don't start to say things and stop." And so long as there's little chance of beatings or abuctions, the blonde seems satisfied - that is, until his last - and it's /then/ that she glances towards the weyr and seems to realize that inviting someone in tends to be polite. "That's an interesting coincidence. Sorry, want to come in? It's a mess."
Smiling right through that request/demand, M'try does precisely that, though probably just for show-- starts to say something, takes a breath, stops before anything comes out. And grins afterward, yes. Following the glance toward the weyr, leaning a little to the side to see passed her, he answers, "Orisoth warned us about the mess. Apparently, he thinks you need better housekeeping practices. But, if you plan on going in, then-- yes, I would like to come in, as I think it will make conversation a little easier." Otherwise, he seems pretty okay out here, for all it's chilly. Frank; "I think it's more than coincidence. I'd like to be able to prove that, but I have a feeling people might be more inclined to talk to me if I was a beautiful woman than..." He gestures a hand to indicate himself and his not-beautiful-woman-ness.
"I'm going to hit you, and you're going to cry like a girl," Jiella tells M'try a bit sourly. Then Jiella will likely whine like a girl about how much her hand hurts, so it's not like there's that much incentive to do so. It's tough to see much further inside than the dragon-type area; in fact, it's hard to see if the weyr goes back much further at all. As she starts inside, grimacing, "He's not the only one, but I don't know. I don't think it matters where the clothes end up, so long as I know what I wore. I wish I still had a maid." Poor thing. Though she's grouchy now, she's no less pleasant to watch as one follows - though she's not looking back as she agrees, "I didn't think it was much of a coincidence, which makes it interesting. And some people might be more inclined to talk to me, I suppose. Though that was Nissa's argument too."
Jiella and Orisoth's Weyr, Fort Weyr
The weyr beyond the ledge is made up of three rounded, bubble-like caverns, each slightly larger than the previous. The first is primarily occupied by a rough-hewn couch built directly into the curve of the wall; the second chamber is set perpendicular to the first, and as a result gains little natural light. Likely once used as the living chamber of the weyr, this room is hung with warm tapestries and thick rugs still cover the cold floor in overlapping layers. Glows are set periodically in recessed cubbies, leading along into the third and final cavity, which holds both bed and bureau. Both have been left behind in fair condition by the previous owner, although the mattress is heavy with dust, and the writing desk, though skilfully crafted, wobbles on one leg.
She's going to hit him, he's going to cry, "And then you're going to feel guilty. So why don't we skip that entirely, as it won't be fun for either of us." M'try rubs his cheek with the backs of his folded fingers for a second, imagining that blow landing, then follows at a respectable pace which has nothing to do with checking out Jiella's butt on the way. "The difference between Nissa's argument and mine is that I'm not leading you into the lion's den. It's Ista Weyr. And I'm not really asking you to do anything more than a little shopping and chatting up the vendors, which I can't imagine will be much of a stretch for you." By the way, "My weyr is nicer than yours."
Please. "Like I'd feel guilty for hitting you." And it's not like Jiella doesn't dress and walk and act in such a way as to draw attention to ample curves - so if M'try does check out her ass, it's just mission accomplished. Contrary to the description, despite the basicness of the place, the weyr is fairly well outfitted by now, even with a set of ridiculously expensive-looking chairs, one of which is currently buried under girly clothing. As she starts to toss it off, the question of Ista is totally ignored in favour of his last; aggrieved and tragic, "/Everyone's/ is! It's like someone purposefully said, 'Oh, let's show her the crappy weyrs'." Which is entirely a possibility. Dropping into the chair melodramatically, she tilts a dark look up at the other brownrider. "I should have At're's, but he won't move. You know, you're not helping me /want/ to help you."
Serious; "You've never actually seen me cry before, Jiella. It's heart-wrenching, I assure you." M'try feigns a sniff, a brave inhale, the catch of a tear beneath one eye. "Theatrics aren't restricted to the blond and the beautiful." Following her in, not quite sure he trusts the chairs enough to sit in them so much as lean against the arm with one leg hitched up slightly, he peers with unabashed interest at all the girly stuff being tossed aside, noting lightly, "Which would imply that you /don't/ want to help me by default. Which surprises me. If I muscled my way into At're's weyr and strong-armed him into trading with you, would it--" Surprise the heck out of everyone and their mother? "--endear you more to my cause?"
Not all that much lingerie, but some; a few dresses; a lot more sweaters and slacks of the variety that Jiella's been wearing since pretty much day one of weyrlinghood. As for the chairs, they're heavy and sturdy as well as all-too-embellished - maybe M'try's right not to trust them, if they came from home. Folding her arms, the blonde's mood is still darkened, still feeling wronged and put-upon. It's really hard being her. "Why does it surprise you? I don't /not/ want to help, but you know I don't like to do more than I have to. Shopping isn't /much/, but still." Arching light brows with surprise and amusement at his suggestion, "It likely would. The effort alone is good enough, because I would honestly like to see you try that."
The effort alone, she says, and M'try turns a frown, one nostril flared in an unhappy expression. "Not the thought alone? Or the offer alone?" As in, he really doesn't want to actually do that, and who can blame him! Still, the matter of Ista outweighs his fear of getting the crap beaten out of him by At're, and he addresses her question frankly; "Why does it surprise me? Because, as guilty as you felt about Vanissa, I would have thought you might want to take some sort of positive step to help the Weyr at this point. I concede the possibility that I may have overestimated your sense of civic duty, though."
Lightly, "Don't offer things you're not willing to go through with." Though Jiella's shrug is of the too-bad-for-you variety, she's unable to hide her smirk. Stretching out long legs to cross them at the ankle, she adds helpfully, "And don't be all 'my weyr is nicer' if you want to appeal to my sense of civic duty." However, the whole guilt thing touches a bit of a nerve; defensively, "I felt bad for not saying something. That's nothing to feel /guilty/ about. It's not like I /did/ anything." Slouching down, irritable now, "I would have been fine with it, but you had to go not saying things and picking on me. Besides, I have to see if I'm allowed to go in the first place."
"There's a difference between not willing and not eager," M'try notes importantly, arms re-crossed to adjust the lean against the chair, to give Jiella the pleasure of checking out her legs if she's going to stretch them out like that. He does try to be accommodating like that. But he was also likely looking for that defensiveness, allows himself to look a tiny bit pleased when it rears its head. "No one's saying you /did/ anything, Jiella. But wouldn't you like to? --You're not officially grounded, are you? Just say something to the Weyrleader about sunbathing on the beaches of Ista, and I'm sure you can get around it."
"I've never been one of those 'it's the thought that counts' people," Jiella says airily. "But I don't /expect/ you to actually try, and I think I can find a way to be convincing. Or get another place, at least." The blonde has another of her dark, petulant glances for her surroundings - this is so not the manner to which she is accustomed. Any boost in her mood that she might get from the attention is almost entirely negated by the fact that M'try's looking even a little pleased - now she's a little wary besides. "I don't think we're really grounded anymore, no." For his last she has a smirk, as she twists a lock of hair around one finger. "Good point. And I don't know. I just... Well. There's not a lot of incentive to talk if they've got a good thing going, and they're not going to like questions. Sure, it's not a seedy bar or anything, but still."
M'try, with a measure of frustration /finally/ starting to seep into his tone: "I know there's not a lot of incentive to talk, Jiella. That's why I'm attempting to enlist the assistance of a pretty girl." She twists a lock of hair, he just tugs on his with one hand laced through the front of it. "All I'm asking you to do is shop and chat with people. If it really sounds like such a chore, just say 'no' and I'll be happy to leave you alone."
Not oblivious or immune to frustration, Jiella has a heavy sigh before; "Even /with/ a pretty girl is what I'm saying - like, I know guys will fuck up a /whole/ lot for a nice smile, but you fuck up with these guys, and I think you die." She seems fairly certain on that - maybe something they picked up while bar-crawling. After a long moment, she looks back up at M'try before telling him - again, by the patience in her tone - "I would have said yes in the first place - in fact I think I did. But you like to poke at people for some reason, so you poked at me and it pissed me off. Do you think that really makes anyone want to do what you ask them to? Mocking them? Finding sore spots? It's not a /chore/. I just want you to be /nice/ to me if you ask me for something. Instead of like, talking about how much everything sucks for me. Thanks, by the way." With a shrug, really into a mood now, "I'll go, but I'll go on my own, I think."
"You go to such effort to make sure everyone knows how difficult things are for you. 'I wish I still had a maid,' she says." M'try's sigh sounds like an apology, though whether it's for picking on her in the first place of mimicking her just now is debatable, his best poor-little-rich-girl voice paraded out for a second there. "I only talk about how much everything sucks for you because you do." As to the likelihood of getting killed-- "It's Ista Weyr, Jiella. Not some seedy little tavern. I'm sure you'll be perfectly safe." With an answering shrug, "Suit yourself. I didn't intend tagging along for muscle."
Sulkily, "That's because hardly anyone thinks they are. It's not like I know how to deal with all this." Jiella waves a slim hand around to encompass the weyr, the mess, maybe the whole situation. She rests an elbow on the arm of her chair, chin in hand to look up at M'try skeptically. "I didn't tell you I didn't like it here, so it's real interesting that you chose to comment on my weyr. All I said was it's a mess. And I don't think /I'll/ get killed. I think the people that I talk to will be scared enough of getting killed themselves that they won't give up much. I'm not worried about anything happening to me." And that last seems as honest as she likely gets. All slouched in her chair, blonde hair obscuring most of her expression, "Well, /obviously/. Happy now?" That he's ruined her day - or at least part of her morning, is the implication.
It's been building up for a while, to be fair, the utter frustration and irritation that colors the words, "You're so selfish, Jiella. Do you think the rest of us got raised with the Handbook for Coping with Monumental Life Changes?" Capital letters implied in the way M'try says it. "I assumed you weren't happy with your weyr because you're not happy with /anything/, so it didn't seem like such a leap of logic to me. I apologize." He doesn't often blow his cool, and he's eager to have it back, takes a few resolute breaths while looking flatly at Jiella's skepticism. "Not especially happy, no. So let's just forget the whole thing, I think. Just stay here and sulk, I'm sure that will help refine your coping mechanism.
Though Jiella does seem surprised at the way M'try finally loses it, she'd only really be able to look hurt if she didn't know she was selfish. She's not shocked by the accusation, but she does turn away from his flat look to sink back into her chair, closed-off and crossed-armed again. After a little while; "No, I don't. But I can't really say anything that won't sound like an excuse, so it doesn't matter. I am selfish. And there's a lot of things I'm not really all that happy with. I'm sure you have all the reasons made up in your mind already, so go with those." The blonde seems fairly intent on just sitting there and sulking in silence - but eventually, she adds in a low, quiet voice, "I can't afford to screw up again. I promised. So fine, leave it alone, whatever." She doesn't sounds very 'whatever', but close enough to pass.
Genuinely put, "I'm sorry." M'try stands up having said that, brushes off the arm of the chair where he'd been sitting with an intent look down at it, buys himself a few seconds to decide what best to say next. His expression is perplexed when he looks back at Jiella, explains, "I'm not really angry with you. I'm just--" Trademark sketchy, half-assed smile here. "--not especially happy with you. I assure you, though, that I have no idea what reasons you could have for being so unhappy, but they must be very good ones." Again, after her low addition, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... try and get you involved in something that might get you in trouble. No hard feelings, then?" If she was a man, this is where he'd offer a handshake; she's not, though, and the lack makes him not quite sure what to do with his hand, so he shoves it in his pocket, rocking on his toes in a way that looks ready to beat a retreat presently.
"Don't be. It's not like it's not true - some people are just more willing to put up with it, I guess." For semantics, Jiella can chance her own puzzled look M'try's way - there's a difference? - before she looks back to the toes of her boots, thoughtful. At least she's not crying or anything - she's just sort of sad and a little petulant still. "Happy and unhappy are more moments than an actual, like, state of being, right? Anyway. It likely won't get me in trouble, eventually. I doubt I'll come up with anything, but I'll let you know if I do." For no hard feelings, she just nods once and gives a diffident shrug. Whatever. "Sure. I'll see you around, M'try." Helpfully giving him the opening to get the hell out of here!
She told him not to do it, but there goes M'try, again deciding not to say something after he's already opened his mouth to do so. Exhale. Smile. Nod. "Not if I see you first?" he offers, kidding(?), and takes the opening for what it's worth, strolls off to collect his dragon and try not to pin his disappointed frown on Orisoth. Out on the ledge, having enjoyed the sun immensely, Mohraith makes a much less flustered departure; << You can come'n check out my ledge sometime too, buddy! >>
It's probably good that there's nothing at hand for Jiella to throw, because she looks like she'd really enjoy it - and she's the sort of girl to have done it in the past. Instead, she'll just narrow brown eyes and try to glare a hole into M'try's back. As for Orisoth, he doesn't have much to indicate what he thinks of the whole situation, but will tell Mohraith, << I'll see. I'm not sure when that'll happen. >> But hey, Orisoth can always visit on his own. He's good with that.
IC Date: 12/9/21
Dragon> While good morning might be appropriate, today it's << ARE YOU DECENT? >> As usual, there's a pause following Mohraith's loud start to things, all crash-bang-boom in the background like the trash truck on garbage day. << Is your rider decent, I mean? >> (Mohraith to Orisoth)
Dragon> To Mohraith, Orisoth projects, << is at least awake, and seems to have been for some time, candlelight bright and cheery and productive-seeming, despite the fact that he's just sort of sitting around right now. With his usual amused tolerance for the noise, dear god - << I think some would debate whether she ever is, but it's cold, so she's /dressed/. >> Semantics. << And good morning. >> >>
Dragon> To Mohraith, Orisoth is at least awake, and seems to have been for some time, candlelight bright and cheery and productive-seeming, despite the fact that he's just sort of sitting around right now. With his usual amused tolerance for the noise, dear god - << I think some would debate whether she ever is, but it's cold, so she's /dressed/. >> Semantics. << And good morning. >>
Dragon> To Orisoth, Mohraith fails to get the joke, though he puzzles over it in the background for a few seconds. << I think that's what I was supposed to be finding out, yeah. Dressed. >> The other implications... well, M'try can explain those later. << Where are you guys? WE ARE COMING OVER! >> Won't that be fun?!
Dragon> To Mohraith, Orisoth figured that's what was meant, yes. And he'll also leave the explaining to M'try - that's a longer conversation than the other brown wants to have about Jiella's clothing or lack thereof. He presents an image of his unshaded ledge, noting, << She says you should come over, not to mind the mess. >> Clothes. Everywhere.
You launch off of the ledge.
You spiral lower, descending into the Fort bowl.
You glide to a landing on Orisoth's ledge.
Jiella and Orisoth's Ledge, Fort Weyr(#1765RJhs$)
Of modest elevation some distance directly above the feeding grounds, this edge projects outward and slightly upward, flattening out further on to offer space enough for a large bronze perhaps two smaller blues or greens comfortably. While there is no overhang above to impede a landing, neitherdoes it offer any shade, and the ledge is oriented to receive direct rays of sunlight during the greater part of the day.
>> Mohraith doesn't seem fazed or even surprised by the thought of Jiella's weyr with its clothes-everywhere issue. << Ours is mostly socks and underwear, >> he confirms cheerfully, though the image he tries to share of this chaos is shut down reeeeal fast. M'try does not need everyone getting a glimpse of his underoos all over the floor, thanks. Swooping on down and across, crooning a cheerful greeting to a sunning green while he passes her, he lands out on the edge of Orisoth's ledge with a bright, << Hi, bub! >> Like he needs to announce his presence. Again. << SUNNY space you got here! >>
>> As Mohraith lands, Orisoth tries to make some room by backing up, now partially inside. He's intrigued by the lack of imagery, but won't ask, just wondering, << Why not put it all away? She can never find anything. I think it's an excuse to be late. >> Jiella's just coming out from the weyr, combing fingers through her tousled locks - and for that, she gives her brown a narrowed look. Oblivious - or pretending to be - << It is nice. She likes that part, at least. >> He's got the sense not to go sharing images of his rider lying out there naked, though the show is likely free all summer. Not so much now - the blonde is fully dressed and a little bemused. "Morning, M'try. Let me guess - couldn't resist my stunning beauty a moment longer?"
<< She doesn't like the rest of it? M'try likes our weyr. Says it has 'good light.' >> Whatever the hell that means. << And he can sit and spy on people all day if he wants. >> Mohraith adds that without any inkling of understanding that other people might not like his rider's pasttime. But if people like Jiella are going to sunbathe nude all summer... Taking in the lay of the land, just before he slides down to his feet, M'try answers, "That's a good guess, Jiella, but no. It's the lure of your ego, bright and big as the morning sun." One hand gestures flippantly over his shoulder toward that sun, warming up his back nicely and thanks for that, before he adds, "Though I may have a use for your stunning beauty if you're bored enough."
You climb down from Mohraith's neckridges.
Orisoth might be echoing his rider's lack of surprise with the spying when he replies dryly, << Imagine that. Has there been anything interesting? I like to watch from the StarStones, though she is easily bored with that. >> But then, what isn't Jiella easily bored with, aside from herself? And Orisoth, presumably, but one never knows. Sauntering over to and past M'try, she steps into the sunlight, raising her face to it, eyes closed. With blonde hair bright and a rather blissful look on her face, she is quite pretty. Grinning, "Everything revolves around the sun, doesn't it?" That idea has her pleased, for all the potential of being conned into some kind of work has her squinting over at him warily.
"For the record," M'try begins, arms crossed, leaning against Mohraith's shoulder for a second with his head tilted to watch the quite-prettiness, "you don't actually need to put on the whole show for me." The same way he flipped his fingers to indicate Rukbat doing its thang, so he tosses them to indicate Jiella doing hers. "I'm an easy sale, O Center of the Galaxy." Most men are. "But since you're so keen on the sunshine and I'm so keen on getting to the bottom of something..." Nice segue, huh? "Do you want to come to Ista with me sometime?" Tandem with Mohraith's remark of, << Not here. Things seem quiet here at the Weyr specifically. >> Shame.
Clearly confused, "Show?" Jiella glances from M'try down to herself - as if to make sure she's not inappropriately dressed - then up to the skies before she clues in; "Oh. It's not really the show. Though I can admit that I likely don't know when I'm doing it anymore. You're a boy; maybe it's just a reflex. Though I do actually stand out here first thing in the morning, if it's sunny. Nice to know that you're sold, though?" A brilliant smile for that before; "Ista sounds /amazing/, but given you said 'get to the bottom of something', I'm guessing lying around on the beach isn't the plan." After a long moment, Orisoth's observation is, << Perhaps too quiet? But less so elsewhere? I have not been to Ista very often. >>
Squinting briefly, M'try opens his mouth to clarify about the show, or at least his perception of it, but decides against the matter before the words actually get out. Instead, breathing in where he should have been speaking, he waits till she gets around to the matter of Ista, saying, "You are, of course, welcome to go there and lay around on the beach whenever you'd like. I'm sure the locals would appreciate it. But no, it's not exactly what I had in mind. There's something..." Hard to pin down, says the pause. "Something not-quite-right." Ineloquent, bothered by it, he makes a face that ends with a shrug. << I've been LOTS! >> By lots, Mohraith means, like, twice. << We should go together next time. >>
Eventually stepping off the ledge, likely because the wind is picking up, Jiella watches M'try's abortive attempt at clarification with light brows arched curiously. A slight smirk beginning to curve her lips, "Did you stop because I might not like what you have to say, or because it'd take too long?" Not expecting much of an answer, she finds a lean against one of the rough walls to listen - for all that it's not much in the way of explanation. "As soon as I have time, I think I'll do that. What's going on that's not-quite-right, though? And before you answer, if it's something stupid, don't tell me, because I'm totally ratting people out for that from now on."
Orisoth, for his part, is curious about the not-rightness as well, but merely asks, << How did you find it there? And I would like that. >>
<< Warm! And there're lots of other dragons to talk to. >> And oh how they must have enjoyed Mohraith. M'try, meanwhile, smiles a very private smile for her first question, lets a rather long pause elapse before he remarks in response, "It's interesting to me that you think I'm going to clarify when I went to all the trouble of not saying anything in the first place." Hmn. Anyway; "I think it depends on precisely your definition of stupid, Jiella. It's not going to get me abducted or beaten." Erm. "I'm reasonably sure. I mostly just do a lot of window-shopping. They have a little market there which has an awfully high incident rate of selling things markedly similar to what we're short-on." Having not been invited in, he'll just keep using Mohraith as a wind-break and raise his voice enough to chase Jiella.
<< There are usually lots of dragons at most Weyrs, yes. I imagine they quite enjoyed the company. >> Orisoth isn't being entirely insincere about that; for all Mohraith might be freaking LOUD, he's interesting - and that's the most important thing to him. Jiella might be used to the lack of protection from the wind and elements by now, or maybe she's just too distracted by the whole situation - but she has pretty much forgotten her manners. With a petulant sniff and a pout for M'try's smile, "I didn't think, I hoped. Don't start to say things and stop." And so long as there's little chance of beatings or abuctions, the blonde seems satisfied - that is, until his last - and it's /then/ that she glances towards the weyr and seems to realize that inviting someone in tends to be polite. "That's an interesting coincidence. Sorry, want to come in? It's a mess."
Smiling right through that request/demand, M'try does precisely that, though probably just for show-- starts to say something, takes a breath, stops before anything comes out. And grins afterward, yes. Following the glance toward the weyr, leaning a little to the side to see passed her, he answers, "Orisoth warned us about the mess. Apparently, he thinks you need better housekeeping practices. But, if you plan on going in, then-- yes, I would like to come in, as I think it will make conversation a little easier." Otherwise, he seems pretty okay out here, for all it's chilly. Frank; "I think it's more than coincidence. I'd like to be able to prove that, but I have a feeling people might be more inclined to talk to me if I was a beautiful woman than..." He gestures a hand to indicate himself and his not-beautiful-woman-ness.
"I'm going to hit you, and you're going to cry like a girl," Jiella tells M'try a bit sourly. Then Jiella will likely whine like a girl about how much her hand hurts, so it's not like there's that much incentive to do so. It's tough to see much further inside than the dragon-type area; in fact, it's hard to see if the weyr goes back much further at all. As she starts inside, grimacing, "He's not the only one, but I don't know. I don't think it matters where the clothes end up, so long as I know what I wore. I wish I still had a maid." Poor thing. Though she's grouchy now, she's no less pleasant to watch as one follows - though she's not looking back as she agrees, "I didn't think it was much of a coincidence, which makes it interesting. And some people might be more inclined to talk to me, I suppose. Though that was Nissa's argument too."
Jiella and Orisoth's Weyr, Fort Weyr
The weyr beyond the ledge is made up of three rounded, bubble-like caverns, each slightly larger than the previous. The first is primarily occupied by a rough-hewn couch built directly into the curve of the wall; the second chamber is set perpendicular to the first, and as a result gains little natural light. Likely once used as the living chamber of the weyr, this room is hung with warm tapestries and thick rugs still cover the cold floor in overlapping layers. Glows are set periodically in recessed cubbies, leading along into the third and final cavity, which holds both bed and bureau. Both have been left behind in fair condition by the previous owner, although the mattress is heavy with dust, and the writing desk, though skilfully crafted, wobbles on one leg.
She's going to hit him, he's going to cry, "And then you're going to feel guilty. So why don't we skip that entirely, as it won't be fun for either of us." M'try rubs his cheek with the backs of his folded fingers for a second, imagining that blow landing, then follows at a respectable pace which has nothing to do with checking out Jiella's butt on the way. "The difference between Nissa's argument and mine is that I'm not leading you into the lion's den. It's Ista Weyr. And I'm not really asking you to do anything more than a little shopping and chatting up the vendors, which I can't imagine will be much of a stretch for you." By the way, "My weyr is nicer than yours."
Please. "Like I'd feel guilty for hitting you." And it's not like Jiella doesn't dress and walk and act in such a way as to draw attention to ample curves - so if M'try does check out her ass, it's just mission accomplished. Contrary to the description, despite the basicness of the place, the weyr is fairly well outfitted by now, even with a set of ridiculously expensive-looking chairs, one of which is currently buried under girly clothing. As she starts to toss it off, the question of Ista is totally ignored in favour of his last; aggrieved and tragic, "/Everyone's/ is! It's like someone purposefully said, 'Oh, let's show her the crappy weyrs'." Which is entirely a possibility. Dropping into the chair melodramatically, she tilts a dark look up at the other brownrider. "I should have At're's, but he won't move. You know, you're not helping me /want/ to help you."
Serious; "You've never actually seen me cry before, Jiella. It's heart-wrenching, I assure you." M'try feigns a sniff, a brave inhale, the catch of a tear beneath one eye. "Theatrics aren't restricted to the blond and the beautiful." Following her in, not quite sure he trusts the chairs enough to sit in them so much as lean against the arm with one leg hitched up slightly, he peers with unabashed interest at all the girly stuff being tossed aside, noting lightly, "Which would imply that you /don't/ want to help me by default. Which surprises me. If I muscled my way into At're's weyr and strong-armed him into trading with you, would it--" Surprise the heck out of everyone and their mother? "--endear you more to my cause?"
Not all that much lingerie, but some; a few dresses; a lot more sweaters and slacks of the variety that Jiella's been wearing since pretty much day one of weyrlinghood. As for the chairs, they're heavy and sturdy as well as all-too-embellished - maybe M'try's right not to trust them, if they came from home. Folding her arms, the blonde's mood is still darkened, still feeling wronged and put-upon. It's really hard being her. "Why does it surprise you? I don't /not/ want to help, but you know I don't like to do more than I have to. Shopping isn't /much/, but still." Arching light brows with surprise and amusement at his suggestion, "It likely would. The effort alone is good enough, because I would honestly like to see you try that."
The effort alone, she says, and M'try turns a frown, one nostril flared in an unhappy expression. "Not the thought alone? Or the offer alone?" As in, he really doesn't want to actually do that, and who can blame him! Still, the matter of Ista outweighs his fear of getting the crap beaten out of him by At're, and he addresses her question frankly; "Why does it surprise me? Because, as guilty as you felt about Vanissa, I would have thought you might want to take some sort of positive step to help the Weyr at this point. I concede the possibility that I may have overestimated your sense of civic duty, though."
Lightly, "Don't offer things you're not willing to go through with." Though Jiella's shrug is of the too-bad-for-you variety, she's unable to hide her smirk. Stretching out long legs to cross them at the ankle, she adds helpfully, "And don't be all 'my weyr is nicer' if you want to appeal to my sense of civic duty." However, the whole guilt thing touches a bit of a nerve; defensively, "I felt bad for not saying something. That's nothing to feel /guilty/ about. It's not like I /did/ anything." Slouching down, irritable now, "I would have been fine with it, but you had to go not saying things and picking on me. Besides, I have to see if I'm allowed to go in the first place."
"There's a difference between not willing and not eager," M'try notes importantly, arms re-crossed to adjust the lean against the chair, to give Jiella the pleasure of checking out her legs if she's going to stretch them out like that. He does try to be accommodating like that. But he was also likely looking for that defensiveness, allows himself to look a tiny bit pleased when it rears its head. "No one's saying you /did/ anything, Jiella. But wouldn't you like to? --You're not officially grounded, are you? Just say something to the Weyrleader about sunbathing on the beaches of Ista, and I'm sure you can get around it."
"I've never been one of those 'it's the thought that counts' people," Jiella says airily. "But I don't /expect/ you to actually try, and I think I can find a way to be convincing. Or get another place, at least." The blonde has another of her dark, petulant glances for her surroundings - this is so not the manner to which she is accustomed. Any boost in her mood that she might get from the attention is almost entirely negated by the fact that M'try's looking even a little pleased - now she's a little wary besides. "I don't think we're really grounded anymore, no." For his last she has a smirk, as she twists a lock of hair around one finger. "Good point. And I don't know. I just... Well. There's not a lot of incentive to talk if they've got a good thing going, and they're not going to like questions. Sure, it's not a seedy bar or anything, but still."
M'try, with a measure of frustration /finally/ starting to seep into his tone: "I know there's not a lot of incentive to talk, Jiella. That's why I'm attempting to enlist the assistance of a pretty girl." She twists a lock of hair, he just tugs on his with one hand laced through the front of it. "All I'm asking you to do is shop and chat with people. If it really sounds like such a chore, just say 'no' and I'll be happy to leave you alone."
Not oblivious or immune to frustration, Jiella has a heavy sigh before; "Even /with/ a pretty girl is what I'm saying - like, I know guys will fuck up a /whole/ lot for a nice smile, but you fuck up with these guys, and I think you die." She seems fairly certain on that - maybe something they picked up while bar-crawling. After a long moment, she looks back up at M'try before telling him - again, by the patience in her tone - "I would have said yes in the first place - in fact I think I did. But you like to poke at people for some reason, so you poked at me and it pissed me off. Do you think that really makes anyone want to do what you ask them to? Mocking them? Finding sore spots? It's not a /chore/. I just want you to be /nice/ to me if you ask me for something. Instead of like, talking about how much everything sucks for me. Thanks, by the way." With a shrug, really into a mood now, "I'll go, but I'll go on my own, I think."
"You go to such effort to make sure everyone knows how difficult things are for you. 'I wish I still had a maid,' she says." M'try's sigh sounds like an apology, though whether it's for picking on her in the first place of mimicking her just now is debatable, his best poor-little-rich-girl voice paraded out for a second there. "I only talk about how much everything sucks for you because you do." As to the likelihood of getting killed-- "It's Ista Weyr, Jiella. Not some seedy little tavern. I'm sure you'll be perfectly safe." With an answering shrug, "Suit yourself. I didn't intend tagging along for muscle."
Sulkily, "That's because hardly anyone thinks they are. It's not like I know how to deal with all this." Jiella waves a slim hand around to encompass the weyr, the mess, maybe the whole situation. She rests an elbow on the arm of her chair, chin in hand to look up at M'try skeptically. "I didn't tell you I didn't like it here, so it's real interesting that you chose to comment on my weyr. All I said was it's a mess. And I don't think /I'll/ get killed. I think the people that I talk to will be scared enough of getting killed themselves that they won't give up much. I'm not worried about anything happening to me." And that last seems as honest as she likely gets. All slouched in her chair, blonde hair obscuring most of her expression, "Well, /obviously/. Happy now?" That he's ruined her day - or at least part of her morning, is the implication.
It's been building up for a while, to be fair, the utter frustration and irritation that colors the words, "You're so selfish, Jiella. Do you think the rest of us got raised with the Handbook for Coping with Monumental Life Changes?" Capital letters implied in the way M'try says it. "I assumed you weren't happy with your weyr because you're not happy with /anything/, so it didn't seem like such a leap of logic to me. I apologize." He doesn't often blow his cool, and he's eager to have it back, takes a few resolute breaths while looking flatly at Jiella's skepticism. "Not especially happy, no. So let's just forget the whole thing, I think. Just stay here and sulk, I'm sure that will help refine your coping mechanism.
Though Jiella does seem surprised at the way M'try finally loses it, she'd only really be able to look hurt if she didn't know she was selfish. She's not shocked by the accusation, but she does turn away from his flat look to sink back into her chair, closed-off and crossed-armed again. After a little while; "No, I don't. But I can't really say anything that won't sound like an excuse, so it doesn't matter. I am selfish. And there's a lot of things I'm not really all that happy with. I'm sure you have all the reasons made up in your mind already, so go with those." The blonde seems fairly intent on just sitting there and sulking in silence - but eventually, she adds in a low, quiet voice, "I can't afford to screw up again. I promised. So fine, leave it alone, whatever." She doesn't sounds very 'whatever', but close enough to pass.
Genuinely put, "I'm sorry." M'try stands up having said that, brushes off the arm of the chair where he'd been sitting with an intent look down at it, buys himself a few seconds to decide what best to say next. His expression is perplexed when he looks back at Jiella, explains, "I'm not really angry with you. I'm just--" Trademark sketchy, half-assed smile here. "--not especially happy with you. I assure you, though, that I have no idea what reasons you could have for being so unhappy, but they must be very good ones." Again, after her low addition, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... try and get you involved in something that might get you in trouble. No hard feelings, then?" If she was a man, this is where he'd offer a handshake; she's not, though, and the lack makes him not quite sure what to do with his hand, so he shoves it in his pocket, rocking on his toes in a way that looks ready to beat a retreat presently.
"Don't be. It's not like it's not true - some people are just more willing to put up with it, I guess." For semantics, Jiella can chance her own puzzled look M'try's way - there's a difference? - before she looks back to the toes of her boots, thoughtful. At least she's not crying or anything - she's just sort of sad and a little petulant still. "Happy and unhappy are more moments than an actual, like, state of being, right? Anyway. It likely won't get me in trouble, eventually. I doubt I'll come up with anything, but I'll let you know if I do." For no hard feelings, she just nods once and gives a diffident shrug. Whatever. "Sure. I'll see you around, M'try." Helpfully giving him the opening to get the hell out of here!
She told him not to do it, but there goes M'try, again deciding not to say something after he's already opened his mouth to do so. Exhale. Smile. Nod. "Not if I see you first?" he offers, kidding(?), and takes the opening for what it's worth, strolls off to collect his dragon and try not to pin his disappointed frown on Orisoth. Out on the ledge, having enjoyed the sun immensely, Mohraith makes a much less flustered departure; << You can come'n check out my ledge sometime too, buddy! >>
It's probably good that there's nothing at hand for Jiella to throw, because she looks like she'd really enjoy it - and she's the sort of girl to have done it in the past. Instead, she'll just narrow brown eyes and try to glare a hole into M'try's back. As for Orisoth, he doesn't have much to indicate what he thinks of the whole situation, but will tell Mohraith, << I'll see. I'm not sure when that'll happen. >> But hey, Orisoth can always visit on his own. He's good with that.