====September 18th, 2013
====Jedi, Jesha, V'dean
===="This is how I die." Some adult themes. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Who Jedi, Jesha, V'dean
What "This is how I die."
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 11 days until the 12th pass.
Where Lower Bowl, Southern Weyr

jedi_7.jpg i14_dimple.jpg


Lower Bowl
Cleaning efforts have made this a lively epicenter of creation and destruction alike: dross and debris have been removed to show cobblestones beneath, here in this shallow part of the bowl, quite a distance lower than the western plateau. The bowlwall itself is still dingy, though the openings to the various caverns have been covered by hide doorways or fitted with proper doors. Directly south, the crumbled area of bowlwall has been cleaned up, a gentle land-bridge heading towards the fields; a whisper of the stables can be seen through the gap, nestled against the entrance bridge.

Dusk means the end of all drill related sorts of things, especially the drills that have been so intense lately. One particular brownrider has…well, absolutely no intentions of going anywhere just yet, however! Having slipped out of riding leathers and her helmet and other gear, Jedi waits in the Lower Bowl. While she waits, she mutters something in the direction of her brown lifemate, who seems unruffled. Except for the loud breathing, but that's fairly normal.

You overhear Jedi mutter, "Fardling drills, what does … think's … … happen … … wearing … … the … … …" to Llioramasith.

Tap. Shuffle. Tap. Shuffle. Jesha's face is turned upwards, the light of the moons illuminating her features as she gazes at those inauspicious stars that begin to appear against the deepening throat of night like jewels. A slight shuffling, and she turns to face the fruit of her loins, the pollywog of her frog milk. "Hey kiddo. Whatcha doin' out here" Her voice manages to carry in the still air, though her tone is not much louder than a mutter.

Jesha mutters "Can't hardly see you out here. Sorry sorry, old bones ain't working in the humidity." to you.
You overhear Jesha mutter, "… … … you out … Sorry … old … … … … … …" to Jedi.

Two pairs of eyes watch Jesha's progression through the bowl before the elderly woman spots Jedi, and a little smile crosses the younger woman's face. Nothing is said, not immediately; instead Jedi walks over to her mother, and just hugs her. Old bones or not, this is her momma, and Jedi…well, Jedi knows all too well some of the things that her mother went through with her now. While she hugs her, she says something in a low tone.

You overhear Jedi mutter, "Love … … … … … … … kids … … I don't … … enough. … … …" to Jesha.

The hug is returned, Jesha's spindly arms encircling her youngest daughter and squeezing. "Not so bony anymore after 'em, are ya?" she jokes before stepping back, though leaves her hands on Jedi's upper arms. "Sorry that your pop's still being stupid about them but, well, y'know. He won't even talk to Sh'z half the time, or H'ai. It's dumb as hell. Just, y'know how it is with the… um…"

Jesha mutters "With the crazy." to you.
You overhear Jesha mutter, "… … …" to Jedi.

Jedi and Jesha are currently just standing randomly in the middle of the bowl, having just disengaged in a hug. Brown Llioramasith is right nearby, watching them both. "'S not your fault Ma. He's…messed up right now." Jedi answers, quirking a faint little smile. "He barely talks to me when I see him, so's okay." She pauses a moment, and then grins wryly, and mutters something to her mother in an undertone.

You overhear Jedi mutter, "If … … … … … TALLER when I got pregnant …" to Jesha.

There's a figure making his way from the direction of the Weyr's Entrance. The making of the way isn't the most effective. It swerves a bit this direction. It weaves a bit over here. It seems to focus upon Llioramasith as the ultimate destination. And yet, when V'dean gets close enough to really resolve the brown and the women standing beside him, he's left swaying and blinking, the perplexed skew of his expression giving way to a smirk.

You overhear V'dean mutter, "… doesn't … … … a challenge? Can … … … ways to get … … … … practice getting … …" to himself.

Before any earnest platitudes about family and loss can pass her lips, both of Jesha's eyebrows raise as she turns to take a llooooong look at V'dean, her hands (one still holding the handle of her cane, natch (and not just because I forgot about it for a second)) lowering from her daughter's embrace to her side, letting her stick rest against the ground. "Um, heyyy, y'all okay? I mean… you got an ear infection, bluerider?"

Jesha mutters "Acute tinnivodkitis." to you.
You overhear Jesha mutter, "Acute …" to Jedi.

"Bluerider." Jedi's tone is coolly polite, of only because she doesn't wholly approve of the look she spots upon the rider's face. His unusual path alerted Llioramasith to his presence, and eyebrows raise in question. "How are you and your lifemate doing." It's not really the question it sounds like.

You overhear Jedi mutter, "… heard … … this one." to Jesha.

Okay? V'dean sways into a long rock back upon his heels as he swivels a look onto the elder rider. He is joining the trend of lofting eyebrows. "An ear… what?" The bafflement is briefly back, though a shake of his head dislodges the expression and tips him back into motion. "No, no. I'm fine," he assures Jesha with a flash of smile. "We're fine." His arm is swinging towards Jedi, like he'd swing it over her shoulders as he leans in.

V'dean mutters "You've heard about me, huh? Good things? Terrible things?" to you.
You overhear V'dean mutter, "… heard about me, … … things? … …" to Jedi.

Interception! Jesha slides between Jedi and V'dean with a quick little side-step shuffle, batting her eyelashes and grinning toothily. Nothing going on here. "Why I do not believe I've caught ya name, bluerider! Aren't you going to give us a little introduction since y'feeling so grand?" Were this a cartoon, those 'lashes would be making solid *bloink bloink* noises to punctuate her syrupy sentences.

Jesha mutters "Don' worry, I won't let him get you all greasy." to you.
You overhear Jesha mutter, "… worry, … won't let … … you … …" to Jedi.

Jedi blinks when her mother actually intercepts the man, and actually…chortles a little, shaking her head. She mutters something back to V'dean, raising eyebrows at him, and then eyes the arm he's put about her mother. "Bluerider, I do believe you're being inappropriate with my mother." There is likely a warning tone there - unless Jesha WANTS him being inappropriate with her. Which…is possible.

You overhear Jedi mutter, "Oh I've heard … … … … … saying what~" to V'dean.
You overhear Jedi mutter, "… worried … … … … me … … … on … …" to Jesha.

While it may be a little surprising to find himself with the greyed rider, V'dean takes it rather smoothly in stride. At least as smoothly as his actual strides have been, anyhow. In closer quarters, the heady aroma of liquor lingers distinctly about his person, especially as he laughs. "Grand, am I?" His off arm swings wide gesture. "My name's V'dean," he answers Jesha while eyes sparked with laughter fix upon Jedi. A lick of his lips keep his grin from spreading too far, shaping it instead for flattery as he tilts more privately to the woman he's slung himself about. Like vicariously using her cane.

You overhear V'dean mutter, "… … coy, doesn't … … daughter! I … … … ma'am." to Jesha.

"Wwwwwwwow," Jesha drawls, pulling her neck as long as it'll go, her face turning away from V'dean and her nose attempting to flee her body to escape the reek of vodka. "Yeah y'all are pretty … I think I'm gettin' a bit of a contact something or other from y'breath." Turning towards Jedi, she pulls a face of disgust, keeping her face as hidden from the bluerider as possible before turning back as if nothing happened. "And uh, yeah, this is m'daughter and she's, um, she has good taste an' take of that whatcha will." C'mon neck, you can stretch more! Fresh air is mere inches away. Feet, maybe, okay.

Jesha mutters "This is how I die." to you.
You overhear Jesha mutter, "… … … I die." to Jedi.

Llioramasith's hhhhhhhh pffffffff stops briefly, only for a loud RUMBLE to be heard. And then it continues. Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Pffffffffffffffffff. Hhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Immediately on the heels of Llioramasith's rumble, Jedi speaks. "Do us a favor, lovie, and unhand my mother." Jedi says sweetly, perhaps too sweetly. Jesha will undoubtedly recognize this as Jedi's Getting Angry face and voice - and Jedi would worry if she didn't recognize it. "I really must insist." This is perhaps said because of what Jesha said - or perhaps in spite of it.

You overhear Jedi mutter, "If … … … … … … … … then … … … find me later. … you'll … … … I'll … you … … ledge." to V'dean.

Pretty! A good start, gone so downhill. It takes… wait for it… a minute. But all the stretching and craning of the older rider is getting through the bluerider's dulled wits and setting him a little straighter. As Jedi's smile grows, his fades. There's a frozen moment before V'dean lets his arm slither free from Jesha's shoulders. His fingers lift to rake back through the falling flop of his hair instead as he shifts a narrower look over the younger woman. "Must you. Who… you're…" Suspicion, beligerence, whatever it is, fades somewhat from his expression as eyes shift over towards the brown. He doesn't impose his breath quite so closely upon Jesha this time.

You overhear V'dean mutter, "… … … … … history … … throwing … … … ledges, … any chance?" to Jesha.

Out loud, and with an expression that's all laughter without the noise (though her voice bobs around her words), Jesha gives Jedi a quick grin and responds to V'dean in her friendliest tone. "Ohhh, not so often anymore, though it's one of them runs-in-the-family things. Especially with my eldest, but that's another story." Her tone remains light, though a slash of pain hits her eyes before the joviality returns. "So whatcha celebrating with all that blood in your booze system tonight, bluerider?"

Jesha mutters "I love a good game of bluerider brain ball." to you.
You overhear Jesha mutter, "… … … … … of … … …" to Jedi.

Jedi is the picture of sheer sweet innocence when her mother looks at her - which is a SURE sign she's about to get into trouble - and….her expression fades briefly, into one of sadness at the mention of Jesha's eldest. But the expression is locked away, SEALED TIGHT with determination, and Jedi's sweet smile slips into place again. Shazi..well, there's not much one can do about those who stayed behind.. "I'm afraid I must." Is said, still in that sweet tone. "Please do tell us. I love a good booze story."

You overhear Jedi mutter, "Isn't it … The look on his … Mom …" to Jesha.

"Uh huh." Certainly, this isn't the most encouraging of family traits to discover. V'dean is rather suspiciously fixated upon Jedi's oversweetness, so perhaps he misses the more subtle flashes. Or perhaps he'd miss them anyway, given the apparent octane mix going on in his veins. "Celebrating?" His breath whistles in through his teeth as he arches his back into a stretch, running the sleeve of his shirt up one forearm with the dragging cuff of the opposite palm. "Drowning. How better to sleep through all these new aches and pains?" Jesha's is glanced at for confirmation of this strategy, though it's her daughter that ends up with the slant of his gaze again as he hazards wary recognition.

V'dean mutters "You're Lynx's wingsecond, aren't you?" to you.
You overhear V'dean mutter, "… Lynx's … aren't …" to Jedi.

Reaching up, Jesha pats V'dean on the head lightly. "There there. There there," she says, somewhat irreverently, then sighs with a 'heh' at the end. "Y'might wanna just try regular ole fellis instead so y'don't get dehydrated. Helps more. Get a numbweed rubdown from one of the candidates. They got tiny, tiny hands and they go everywhere." Whoa, hey there grandma. Unruffled by accidental creepiness, the elderly brownrider turns to give her daughter another hug. "I gotta run, sweets. Sev's wanting a scratching. Can't get his back leg up high 'nuff again QUITE yet, but we'll be ready fer fall 'gain, SIR. V'dean, nice meeting ya. Try not to get throwed or nothing, maybe eat some greasy food and have some water." And with that, she's tottering off, laughing and muttering to herself.

Jesha mutters "Blueriders. They never change." to you.
You overhear Jesha mutter, "… … … …" to Jedi.

"MOM!" Is Jedi's indignant squeak. For which the elderly brownrider's comments? Probably all of them. Let's face it, LIKELY all of them. And then Jedi is left all alone with a reputable bluerider, who she stands there eying for a long, long moment. And then. "Fuck, I'm too sober for this." Lynx's wingsecond rubs her face a couple of times, and then raises an eyebrow at V'dean. Since she was his intial target for the arm-around-shoulders, there's a question in that thar eyebrow.

You overhear Jedi mutter, "… am indeed." to V'dean.
You overhear Jedi mutter, "Be … … … Sev … Lli … you … need anything." to Jesha.

Oh no, not the hair! There's something reflexive about the way V'dean combs his fingers through after Jesha's patting. And yet, there's a rather enchanted glaze entering his eyes at the elder rider's suggestion. "From the candidates." This is the best worst suggestion - his smile is skewing up at one edge as he watches the woman make her departure. "Yes, ma'am," he misses his forehead as he salutes in farewell. Then the slow slide of a cool green gaze inevitably finds its way back to Jedi. He sways a step closer to murmur, languid ease subtly disrupted by a taut lacing of caution.

V'dean mutters "Too sober for…? Well. Maybe I could help. Think maybe I qualify as a strong drink, about now. And you were saying something about… taller?" to you.

You overhear V'dean mutter, "… sober for…? Well. … I … … Think maybe … … … a … … … … And you were saying something about… …" to Jedi.

"My mother is determined to fly Thread. Again." Jedi states frankly at the bluerider's initial question, and then actually…chortles at his words. "Oh my dear V'dean." There might actually be tears of mirth leaking out of her eyes at this. "You poor drunk bastard." Though perhaps most NOTEABLY, she doesn't say no. "I think perhaps even as tall a drink as you are; I'll require some ACTUAL alcohol first." The short bombshell grabs his arm lightly, and mutters something, while a smile that could be considered playful and sweet crosses her lips.

You overhear Jedi mutter, "… … … … If … think … can. … me. I … not to … … … … … …" to V'dean.

This frank statement is weighty enough to set the bluerider blinking in a moment's sober thought. Just a moment, as it's soon eased away by the brownrider's teasing pitty and capture of his arm. V'dean leans into her touch, all low-lashed sphinxlike reserve as he attends to the shorter rider's words. "You say the prettiest things, Wingsecond," he dithers with the quirk of a smile as gears turn slugishly. A lean closes the distance in their heights and lets his gaze skim past the cowlicks framing her face to follow the delicate lines of her features as he draws nearer her ear.

V'dean mutters "Your weyr. Mine's a mess. Yours must be nice - Wingsecond. And let's not worry about that promise, hmm? I'd like to see you try." to you.
You overhear V'dean mutter, "… weyr. … … mess. … … … … - Wingsecond. And … … … about … … hmm? … like to … you try." to Jedi.

Jedi literally chortles at his words, and shrugs languidly, as if she hasn't been drilling all day long just like him. "You flatter me, Wingrider." Is the returning tease, Jedi's flirtations rambunctious as can be. "I hope you're prepared to be disappointed in that aspect." Although which aspect isn't clarified on.

You overhear Jedi mutter, "… haven't even … … … … … can make … … in … piece … … … just … bring your own numbweed." to V'dean.

The liquid looseness of his motions has V'dean rocking fractionally closer as his breath catches in a chuckle, the stretch of his nose brushing towards the streaked mop of her hair. "I think I'll survive," is said with the sort of light smug that probably calls the bluerider's wisdom into serious question. He nudges a finally low voiced murmur beside her ear before swaying back to his full height, the shuffle of a step starting to disengage.

V'dean mutters "Oh, don't worry. I'll be bringing all my pieces. A quartermark." to you.
You overhear V'dean mutter, "… don't … … … bringing … … … A …" to Jedi.

Jedi laughter is the brownrider's reply, and she mutters one last thing at him before she climbs up Llioramasith's straps, and settles in between those neckridges. "I'll see you then~" Is her final teasing retort. The brown wings up, up, up without much further ado at all.

You overhear Jedi mutter, "I'll … waiting. Well, … … half … … … … … there … then, … going … …" to V'dean.

V'dean looks a little like he may be stumbling as he backtraces away to make room for Llioramasith's wings. This may not be the most encouraging sign as far as his ability to make appointments, but there's energy enough in the salute he tips off from his temple and into a broad wave of arm for the little brownrider. He peers after the pair a moment as they lift into the air before turning his gaze to the bowl where his own lifemate's dark form may eventually be found standy sentry in the shadows. Grooming back his hair once more and pulling straight his belt, off the bluerider goes to find his own way into the sky.

You overhear V'dean mutter, "Girl wingleaders, … … This is the … fucking … ever." to himself.

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