[Log] Bubble-Butt Goes Slip-Slip-Sliding
Who: Lassen, Lisle, Satiet, Selvorin
When: Unknown
Where: Lakeshore, High Reaches Weyr
What: Satiet calls Lassen fat while he and the others slide on the ice.
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
This shoreline marks the edge of the freshwater lake that fills the southeastern portion of the bowl. The gritty dirt of the bowl gives way to smooth sand. Dragons often dive from high above the lake into its chilly waters, rinsing away the pungent smell of firestone. Their riders are frequently seen standing along the shoreline, watching on, the waters too brisk for casual swimming.
Across the lake, the bowl wall rises high into the sky, its face dotted with weyr entrances. A few dragonlengths above the water, glimpses of a level cliff can be seen amidst boulders lining the edge. Just south of here, a smaller pond of water is divided from the main lake by a natural bridge of land. The water of the pond is frozen solid, an expanse of crystal glass that spreads from shore to shore. A path leads across the bridge and up to the diving cliffs, winding through a dotting of small boulders on its way.
The evening is clear, not a cloud to be seen, giving you a perfect view of the stars. The smaller Belior shines in half moon while Timor shines in half moon. The air is calm, with no hint of breeze. The water's glasslike surface mirrors the cliff walls and sky above.
Contents:
Lisle
Obvious exits:
LAke Pond Diving Cliff Bowl
Lisle
Though of average height, there's nothing quiet or understated about this young woman. From the top of her white-blonde head to feet compulsively clad in the chunkiest black boots she could find, everything about her seems to be an extreme. Her already round face looks all the more so against the small point of her chin, accenting the wide set of her large, blue eyes. Her nose is a little too big for her face, swooping out at a nearly ridiculous angle, pointed and turned up in profile and a touch broad from the front - the nose of a caricature on an otherwise delicate visage. Her thick, pale hair is usually pulled back in a severe runner tail.
She's skinny, all limbs and corners and hardly anything that counts as a curve. The snug fit of her clothes does little hide her boyish figure. The tight, kelly green shirt, the shade made garish by three rust colored stripes about the chest and biceps, seems too small, the cuffs barely reaching her wrists and the hem leaving a band of pale skin visible at her waist. Long scrawny legs only look more so when clothes in slim-fitting black wherhide and paired with those great big boots. There's something untempered about the way she moves, something unpredictable that leaks into her demeanor.
Sure it's dark and sure it's chilly, but Lisle has found a nice little place for herself on the land bridge between the lake and the pond. She's bundled up in a thick hide jacket with worn fur framing the cuffs and the hood, blonde hair spilling out and catching the moonslight. She's huddled up, a skin of something in her hands as she leans against a big old rock.
Stomping noisily around the lake, Lassen keeps his heavy coat pulled tight against him. When he spots a dark figure seated on the ground a few dragonlengths away, he adopts a bright grin and veers in that direction, hailing the person. "Hey! Hi there. Mind if I--Lisle!" When he recognizes the girl, his grin broadens, and he flops clumsily on the ground beside her. "Kinda inkle--incle--kinda dark 'n' cold to be out here, right?"
Lisle starts a little as the tromping breaks the quiet night and she watching the approaching figure, her smile even quicker when she recognizes the voice before the young man. "Hey." There's a silly twist to her smile as he flops down beside her. "Pull up a rock." Then the 'skin gets lifted. "Not quite so cold with this: a little hot mulled wine. Want some?" She offers it over.
Lassen grimaces, shifting his position. "Rock, no thanks. Too pointy," he notes. Then, curiosity evident: "Mulled wine? Never tried none. How is it? I'll try it. Hand it over." He reaches for the wine, taking a rather large swig of it, then wiping his mouth with one hand and offering it back to Lisle. "Pretty good," he concludes, nodding quickly.
"Keeps a girl warm on a cold night," Lisle replies. "How's your stay going?" She shifts a bit too, as though his shifting reminded her that she wasn't entirely comfortable. Her legs and pulled up and crosses and she straightens her back for a moment before slouching again. "And I meant this rock," she points out, leaning her head back against the boulder she's using for support.
"Handy, then," decides Lassen with a nod. "Stay's good. I mean, I've been enjoying it. Wondering how the family's managing without me, but hey. It's been nice. Met lots of new people, see?" He grins, then shifts closer to Lisle to take advantage of that rock, too. "Oh, right. This one's much better, you know? So what've you been doin' lately--the usual?"
He takes advantage of the rock and Lisle takes advantage of the warmth, leaning towards him just a little more for that extra insulation. "Who've you met? Hey, what did you think of the Xeledyr guy? He seems a little stuffy to me, but maybe not so bad. I've seen him around and all but I don't really know him."
Selvorin strides over from the eastern side of the bowl.
Selvorin has arrived.
Selvorin
A tall, skinny, and gawky adolescent, Selvorin has a pointy chin, warm walnut-brown eyes, and gobs of dark brown hair that is all but untameable. He has an engaging smile, but when he speaks it's in a raspy, grating and often too-loud voice. His features are pleasant, and if he could manage to do something with his hair he might be attractive. As it is, though, he looks like just another teenager.
Selvorin is dressed with few frills, but his clothes are good quality - a midnight blue wool tunic, black trousers in a warm weave, and a light brown leather jacket lined with white fur.
Selvorin appears to be about 15 old.
Lassen doesn't object in the least as Lisle leans against him: indeed, he hardly seems to notice. "Xeledyr... Xel... Oh, right! Bench-man. He seemed okay. Didn't really get to talk to him that much, haven't seen him since, so." A shrug, made awkward by Lisle being pressed against him. "Why, you like him or something? Worse things than stuffy, I guess."
"Well, I don't dislike him," Lisle says judiciously, taking a sip of her mulled wine. She and Lassen sit against a rock on the land bridge between the lake and the pond, both rather well bundled up against the chilly night air. "Do you think I should like him? There are worse things than stuffy. Plus, ya know, stuffy can be fun to tease."
Lassen smirks. "Tell me about it. I dunno, though. If you like 'im, you like 'im. And if you don't, I don't see much way to change that, right? I mean, it's kinda just something that... happens?" He grimaces. "Eh, all this is beyond me. I don't get girls, I don't get relationships, so. Can I get s'more of that?" He means the wine, to judge by the way his eyes are straying to it.
Selvorin comes walking up toward the lake to see if anyone's there. Since, sometimes people his age hang out at the lake. Sure enough, some people are there, but when he sees them leaning against each other, he snickers, then rolls his eyes. He doesn't approach them as they seem content enough in one another's company from this distance. Instead, he eyes the frozen lake, then starts loping toward it. He leaps and lands on the ice, managing an impressive skid on his boots - a good dozen yards or so before he loses his balance and falls on his bottom, whooping all the way.
"I didn't say I like 'im," Lisle replies, smirking right back and handing the 'skin over again. "I said I didn't know him well. Hey, I wasn't really all that heavy on the bench, was I?" But that question is hardly out of her mouth before she's waving towards that figure in the distance, just a little 'hey there' sort of wave. Oh, and then that figure is falling onto his backside. Lisle winces for him, "Eee, that didn't feel good," she murmurs, then calling out: "You alright?"
"Huh?" Lassen repeats blankly, blinking at Lisle in confusion. "Oh, the bench? Not really. I mean, I could carry you pretty easy, but then, I'm big 'n' strong 'n' manly. Right?" He grins, nodding to give Lisle a hint as to the answer. Then, he turns quickly about to stare at Selvorin, eyes widening. "Wow! That looks fun!" he exclaims, peering from the sliding man on the ice to Lisle at his side with a growing grin.
Selvorin jumps up and clambers back across the ice to shore, slipping and sliding - it's hard to run on ice. He approaches the pair with a smirk. "Bet you can't slide as far as I did!" he challenges, panting still.
Lisle smirks ack at Lassen, "Very big 'n strong 'n manly," she confirms, lowering her brows and her voice to what she must believe is a more manly response. Then the expression is gone again. Of course, hint or no hint, she hardly remembers the question she asked and the clamboring Selvorin is doing plenty to distract her. She laugh at his slippy run, a sound that breaks the quite as much as his earlier whooping did. "Do we have to fall on our asses, too?"
"Uh-huh! I know you just--You're on!" Lassen retorts competitively. And, like any human male, he's quick to rise to the challenge, jumping to his feet and heading straight for the lake. "That's part of the fun," he calls back to Lisle as he reaches the shore of the lake and goes slip-slip-sliding across it. He doesn't get very far before he busts, landing heavily on the ice and laughing. "This /is/ fun!" he declares, scrambling clumsily to his feet and starting to the shore for another go at it.
"Be kind of hard not to," Selvorin points out. "It's ice. Ice is slippery. And, yeah! It is part of the fun." He grins broadly when Lassen proves to be game, and cheers him. "Go go go! Hey, nice one." Then Selvorin looks expectantly at the girl. her turn.
Satiet strides over from the eastern side of the bowl.
Satiet has arrived.
Satiet
Satiet is slight and compact in build, overall figure slender and toned with muscles, especially along her arms. Her face is thin, almost sharply so, and its saving graces are the high cheekbones that taper into a gentle point at the chin. There's no doubt many may find her attractive, if only for the excess amount of confidence that exudes in the pride of her general posture, and the aloof hold of her chin. She appears to be in her mid to late teens, though hints of an older soul flicker here and there in the ice cold depths of her blue eyes. Raven hair has been pulled out of her face, a few curls let loose to frame and soften her features, the tiny slips of braids running up from the nape of her neck to be caught in an loose twist that drapes braidlets over a silver pin. A set of lengthy bangs sweeps across one side of her face, dark against the cream of her complexion.
The rose-hued material clings to the slight curves of Satiet's figure and arms, the fabric bunched along the sides near her hips in a sort of ribbed decoration. The collar is wide, ranging from an inch in from her shoulders and scooped to expose her collar bones. The lacings for her top are found along the back, weaving together to fit snugly, the slender ribbons creating a bow at the small of her back. Over her shoulders is an thick rose and white sweater, the buttons unfastened. A loose white skirt descends in ruffles to just below her knees. A band of velvet is pinned together with a fabric brooch in the shape of a very large, flimsy white rose at her hip. Rose-dyed boots come up to meet the skirt and to keep whatever skin that's exposed warm from the cold weather.
Lisle rolls her eyes - being the only girl and -someone- had to do it - but she gets to her feet, leaving the mulled wine behind. "So just run and - oh shards, Lassen, way to wipe out," she teases. Then she's giving it a go, making a quick dash and then striking a 'surf' pose as the frozen beach becomes frozen water. All the while she can't help but giggle and the giggling doesn't help the balancing and the unbalancing means that arms are waving wildly before she, too, hits the ice with her rear and goes sliding a few more feet on the seat of her pants. She makes a sort of 'aagh' noise in the back of her throat as she sits there, then giggles again and lays back on the cold, solid surface. "Yeah. That's good."
Not to be outdone, Selvorin says, "The sliding you do on your butt doesn't count. Look! Watch how far I go this time." He breaks into a run, pumping arms and legs wildly, then lands with both feet on the ice and skids - beating his last mark by a good four yards. This time he falls sort of sideways and lands on his arm, which gets a yelp, but he's up on hands and knees in just a moment.
"Spectacular," notes Lassen smugly. "Bonus points for that, right?" He skids back to shore, then eyes the lake speculatively. "I can do better, though." He tries again, getting a good start and then... crashing again, with a flourish. "How about only the sliding after you fall counts?" he suggests, gauging the distance he went before and after and deciding what he's better at.
"You guys must have more padding or something," Lisle moans, tipping onto her hip to rub her backside. "I need a pillow. Then I could hit the ice as hard as I want." From that tipped position she rolls up, sitting again, canting her head to the side as if she needs to help all the bits of thoughts slide together into something cohesive. "Maybe I could tie my jacket around my waist." That sort of musing is surely for her own benefit and no one else's. She pushes up to her knees and starts unbuttoning the fur-lined coat.
It's that statement Satiet walks in on, though she'd already been walking a while, and the familiar voice catches her attention -- Lisle. The slight teenager comes to a full stop, arms folding over her chest to watch the three skid on the ice, wincing a bit at Selvorin's fall, and gauging Lassen's. Dryly, she calls out an addition to the other girl's comment, "Watch out, she's calling you boys fat."
Selvorin gives Lassen a crosswise look. "After you fall? Noooo, that's not how the game is," he says, shaking his head. "I mean, then you'd just fall down right away, and it'd be stupid. No challenge." At Lisle's suggestion, he starts to warn her, "Just watch out the buttons don't..." but he's distracted by Satiet's contribution, and turns to look at her.
"Our padding's just in different places, maybe?" Lassen suggests, brows knitting. He shrugs after a moment, his expression lightening once more. "It don't hurt /that/ bad, though. I mean, what's fun without a little fun?" Though, he breaks off his ruminations on that subject as Satiet calls out. "Really? You are?" he peers between the women, blinking in surprise. "Aw. I don't think I'm fat, exactly, but, well. Bet she couldn't pick /me/ up on a bench. But the trick's to make sure you slide after you fall--'s no good to fall fast and then not go anywhere, see?"
Lisle's face just falls when those buttons in her fingers turn into the cause of potential pain. "Well sharditall," she grumps, starting to rebutton the jacket. But that's when Satiet's voice comes out the night. She whips her head around to wave all nonchalant and easy-like. "Nah, they don't look fat to me." There's a glance cast over each of the boys. "You're putting words in my mouth," she scolds the weyrwoman playfully. "Gonna come out and try it?" For all her complaining, Lisle is on her feet again and heading to shore only to give it another whirl, this time letting out an embarrasing squeal as she loses her footing and slides across the ice.
Satiet smiles a touch smugly and seems to rise higher than her five foot two frame as her comment is not only heard, but makes some sort of impression. The arms around her chest tighten, wrapping the sweater more tightly around her slight figure. It's not terribly difficult to figure out what the three teenagers are doing, and a little interest sparks in her blue eyes. "I always thought girls had more padding on their bottom than boys. But then again," she slants Lassen an overly appraising look, and a smirk that implies what she doesn't directly say, "-Some- are blessed with bubble butts. No," the latter is sent casually towards the blonde girl. "I don't like sliding on ice and waking up with bruises in the oddest places the morning after. Having fun though?"
Selvorin is less than impressed with Satiet's clear attempts to spread irritability and discord. "We /were/ having fun," he says, eyeing her. Then he turns his back, and makes another run at the ice, windmilling his arms and whooping in a big show of having fun despite her words.
Lassen breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I didn't wanna be fat," he remarks, all too seriously. Then: "Bubble butts?" A teenage boy's snicker escapes Lassen. "You should try it, though, it's fun. Hey, wait." A thought occurs to him. Gaining his feet precariously, he twists awkwardly to peer over his shoulder. "My butt's not like a bubble, is it? I mean, I dunno. Lisle, it's not, is it?" He frowns sadly, then sighs. "This padding thing... it's not so fun. But--oh, hey. That was what I was thinking earlier. Not about the padding, but about the--the--the you-know." The exact word escapes him; he settles on the catchall 'you know'. "I better go do that now. See y'all later!" Bubble butts forgotten almost immediately, he troops off toward the living cavern.
Lisle cants her head to try to see Lassen's backside from the right angle, a profile. "Well..." she starts out, deliberately ambiguous. "I don't know. It -is- looking a little round. Maybe it's the pants?" She's teasing, or seems to be. But then the rest of his failed padding thought just puzzle the easily puzzled girl and she wrinkles her prominent nose in a 'huh?' But he's off, and only giving her a better view of the butt that may or may not be bubble-shaped. She shrugs and sighs. "Come on, give it a shot." That to Satiet. "You'll like it. And bruises are sort of fun anyway." Or so says the mildly accident-prone. Accident prone and easily distracted. Now she's laughing wildly at Selvorin's windmill impression. "Very nice!"
Blue eyes drift from Lassen and Lisle immediately to Selvorin, one brow hitching higher towards Satiet's hairline. The weyrwoman's lips thin as she mulls over a reply to that and then just nods once curtly. Given Selvorin's windmill antics, all of which pull a faint smile to the raven-haired girl's face, her next cool words may not be heard by the intended target. "Then don't let me prevent you from having fun. Easy, no?" She takes two steps backwards in what appears to be a retreat of sorts, and stares a beat longer at the brunette in an attempt to place him. A toss of braided ringlets sends her attention to Lassen's disappearing figure and then to the other blonde girl. "Good to see your splinter didn't keep you down too long. And no, really. You'll want to go put numbweed on your bottom afterwards to prevent pain on the morrow."
"That's what I figured I'd do, don't worry," Selvorin retorts to Satiet as he picks himself up and scrambles back to shore. Turning to Lisle, he asks, "You want to have a slip and slide race to that mark where we slid to, earlier?" He points out onto the ice, which is marked by their sliding around.