Clueless

Participants:

D'lan.jpg P'sec.jpg Maura.jpg

Date: 2011.05.30
Location: EW - Lakeshore
Synopsis: Renegade wingmates get together, both draconic and rider banter ensues and Maura is…clueless.
Rating: PG18 - For adult innuendo
Logger: D'lan

Submerged in water is a not entirely pleased Rikath. But then, when is he ever really -happy-. The reason for today's scowl, however, is Maura armed with a scrubbing brush, climbing over and around him to make sure his hide is pristine. "Oh, stop scowling. It's exercise, remember? No I haven't gone yet. Yes, I will. Do be quiet if you're just going to nag!" Each sentence is punctuated by a brief pause for unheard commentary, and imbued with affection and exasperation. She even resorts to humming one of those disgustingly cheerful harper tunes in order to make the time go by faster.

THWUMP! That’s Wyncrath dropping out the air and plonking on the ground with as little energy expended as possible. SPLOOSH! That’s him taking a few steps forward and then keeling over into the water, sending out a ripple of waves. And then there the brown remains with just his nostrils peaking above the waterline looking to all intents and purposes like a giant piece of flotsam set free on the unsuspecting lake and those wallowing about in it. At least he’s riderless. That’s a good thing, yes? Maybe.

From the direction of the living caverns, saunters D’lan, wearing little more than shorts and a towel slung over his shoulder, whistling tunelessly as he goes. Of course, the whistling pauses every here and there as he flashes a smile to a lower cavern girl, a toothy grin to a laundress and a wink to one of the nannies. All in a day’s work it seems.

Unsuspecting, Maura finds herself quite precariously perched and leaning over to scrub atop a wingsail when Wyncrath makes his lakeside debut. All she sees is a blur of brown, and then a really fantastic ripple of water heading towards her. "Oh no." she whispers, having only enough time to pinch her nose shut before she's unceremoniously pushed up and back; sinking into the water and flailing about ungracefully before she can find purchase again and stand up on Rikath's back with her hands on her hips. She and her riding outfit (sans jacket) sopping wet. "Not funny!!!" she calls out, eyes narrowing in on the brown dragon in question. Her blue, for his part, growls irritably.

"Hey wait, that's… Wyncrath!" And where there's a Wyn, there's a D'lan. Somewhere. He's about to get much the same greeting that poor P'sec did. A happy squeal and then a blur of wet leather before Maura all but leaps at him to try and fling her arms around the familiar rider for a hug. If she gets a glare from anyone for it, be sure that it will sail right over her head. Still the same little bundle of inocent naievete. « Oh. Goody. » Yep, Rik says Hi too.

Having reached the lakeshore just in time to watch the scenario play out, D’lan grins, “Oh yes, it was.” Funny, that is. As for Wyncrath, he cracks an eyelid and sliiiides a look over to Rikath, not arsed enough to actually move his head « Did you not get your tickles and scratches this morning? » Tone dry and laced with sarcasm before signing out and continuing to sprawl in the water. Just as well D’lan’s six foot and built like a brick outhouse or else Missile Maura might have landed him flat on his back. As it is he takes a step back to keep his balance when sopping wet leather connects with him, arms immediately wrapping about the greenrider and then spinning her about before setting her back down on her feet again. “And how’s my favourite bluerider doing today then? Giving the nice people a show as always I see,” fond teasing delivered with a wink.

« Teehee » Rikath's falsetto leaves something to be desired, as it sounds more like nails scratched ona chalkboard that anything remotely feminine. He decides to trudge out of the water and shake some of his hide dry - attempting to make this at D'lan's further expense. "Not -there- Rik…*sigh*" She winds up more wet too, but seems to think the blue's placement was completely an accident. She's still sporting a broad smile when set down after the quick spin 'round. "I'm quite well now that I'm among all my favorite people again." she replies cheerfully. "I was so relieved to hear you and P'sec and the others would be here. You're feeling alright then?" A quick appraising glance satisfies her that he appears just fine and dandy, though she's quick to snort at the idea of giving the nice people a show. "Oh pleeeease." is her retort. "SO have you heard from anyone else? Rikath won't tell me a thing."

There is a very definite suggestion of Wyncrath sending the blue an exaggerated roll of eyes though he couldn’t be bothered to, you know, actually put words or images to it. Just an acrid smell that drifts across his mental waves and then back to dozing he goes. More like plotting but he does such a good imitation of dozing it likely sells.

D’lan is a lot less naïve than Maura is or than Rikath might wish he were, and so finding cold water spattered across his sun warmed skin, he merely sends the blue a deep smirk, “As always Rikath, you know just when a cold shower is needed.” Hopefully that sails right over the young bluerider’s head. Once he’s been set free from the girl’s exuberant embrace, the brownrider then takes to towelling himself down with a fond smile in place for her chatter. “So far just me and the old geezer,” he responds and then grins, “Not sure, you’d be better qualified to answer that than I would.” This to whether he’s feeling alright or not. Maura refutes his words and so the young smith’s apprentice lingering at the lakeshore just goes right no staring until his eyeballs dry out. “Not yet, sweetheart,” D’lan replies a sober note entering his tone briefly, “Communications are being kept tightly controlled as you would expect. How’s that uncle of yours doing? Still harassing the pretty young things?”

Rikath obviously ignores the lazy eye-roll, but he does manage a sinister showing of teeth as his version of a physical smile at D'lan for his comments about cold showers. "You don't still have a fever do you?" Yes, it very obviously did sail right over Maura's head, and the evil inner working of her blue's mind nudges her into trying to press the back of her hand against D'lan's forehead measuringly. Oh how the little devil just loves toying with people! "You'd better be taking care of yourself!" she scolds, still missing the point by a few miles minimum.

"Old geezer." That makes her giggle all the way over to her perch on Rikath's foreleg. "I thought you felt just fine." she adds, and sadly she doesn't even leer. Likely having something to do with a sharp little comment meant only for her, which makes her look up at her stone-faced lifemate with what may either be a frown or a pout or a combination of both. "Ohhh, let's /not/ talk about U'rrem. I recently had lunch." the girl laments. "How about we talk about Landing instead. You been there yet?"

Does he have a fever…D’lan finds himself hard pressed to suppress his amusement for that one but he does, and valiantly so even seeming to ignore the showing of teeth coming from Rikath. “I’m not sure. Do I?” the brownrider plays along, and will even go so far as to allow Maura to lay her hand to his forehead, “I might need nursing. Perhaps even a cold compress or two. And maybe, a bottle of wine to wash the chills away.” Mmhm, that’s sounding more like a proposition than anything else. And there’s that indolent grin when she declares him to feel just fine, teasing the unwitting bluerider further, “Just fine then? Not great?” Ambling over to a nearby boulder, D’lan seats himself, a low chuckle heard for the matter of Maura’s uncle, “Oh go on, sweetheart, let an old man enjoy himself a little.” Pause, “Landing? Not yet, no. Have you been there yet?” He of course doesn’t sound too enamoured with visiting the place. Or so he would have it seem.

Poor Maura. She just has -no- idea. SHe's not completely unintelligent however, so at least give her credit for looking heartily confused. A glance is given again to Rikath and then back to D'lan. And bless her heart, she seems about to ask or say something that causes her cheeks to flush. But doesn't quite manage it. "Now you're teasing me." she decides, making a face at the brownrider. "Which is, might I add, quite unfair." If one only knew the information her lifemate feeds her then all would probably make so much more sense. As it is, she lets the comment linger at that and launches right into the rest of their chatter. "There's enjoying oneself, and then there's preying on other people. So long as he keeps it to enjoying himself and not the latter. You -know- what's been rumored of him." Something that makes her grateful to be related. SHe needn't worry about the old lech! "L'han mentioned yesterday that they let people use the AIVAS terminals. I was thinking about going down there to see what I could find. P'sec mentioned going with. It seems quite interesting. But then… I imagine Wyncrath would rather just work on his tan." she jokes, eyeballing he lazy brown with a teasing smile.

Of course, D’lan is well aware that Maura has no idea. Likely why he enjoys teasing her so, even if he (and probably her blue) are the only ones that get it. The blush though, that’s an interesting development, the young woman likely clued in by her wily blue, the brownrider, the picture of innocence as he sends her a benign smile in response to her accusation, “Am I?” Teasing her that is. He cannot however, disagree with her assessment of her uncle and so merely lends the topic a chuckle, it being none of his concern what the old boy gets up to. “L’han?” trying to place the name but given just how many new faces he’s come across since arriving its unsurprising if he’s misplaced a few of them. On the matter of taking a trip down to Landing, broad shoulders merely lift and fall in a shrug and then he delivers tease on their former renegade wingmate, “Oh he’ll probably be right at home amongst all those dusty old books and scrolls.” His gaze cast to his brown lounging about in the water so as to hide the telling light that sparks in them. Harper born and bred, it’s a part of his history he shares with no one. “For shame, have you learned nothing in our time together, sweetheart? You said work and Wyncrath in one sentence,” grin.

Rikath knows better then to believe in the benign part of that smile, even if Maura doesn't. So the blue turns an eye towards the brownrider and just watches him. While Maura makes another face. "You are. Shame on you." Not that she apparently seems to mind much; she finds it amusing enough to share a laugh at her own expense even. "L'han. He's the watchrider for Landing. Just ran across him yesterday while P'sec was showing me around." Another thing she roped the poor bronzerider into doing. "I thought he was only 40 or so turns. Is that considered old?" she wonders, head tilting to the side thoughtfully. "I suppose it doesn't help that we call him old geezer." Her smile just grows when talk shifts to Wyncrath. "I know, I know! I should know better. Big lazy bum." the bluerider chides, winking over at the large dragon. "I'm sure he works hard enough when there's a flight though, don't you Wyncrath. Mmhmm."

D’lan was going to go for a swim, really he was, but this is much more fun. The grin he turns out, bearing testament to that. “Admit it; you love it when I tease.” Whether she does or not, he leans back on his elbows on the flat topped rock he’s taken up residence on watching as she scrubs the blue down and sending a telling smirk Rikath’s way. “Ah,” a nod of head given when she explains who L’han is, “Brain’s still a little wobbly here and there,” Timing it and all that good stuff. A snort is then uttered followed by amusement, “He’s old enough to be your father,” D’lan notes of the bronzerider though no real harm is meant by the comment, he’s just…filling her in as is his duty to do so, right? Exactly! The big lazy bum flips a wing and keeps a spar lifted up in the air, almost as if he were giving Maura the finger for her comment. Laughter rolls from the brownrider and then drops off as sincerity falls into place, “What do you think of our illustrious weyrwoman running the drills herself these days?”

"Do I?" is Maura's rejoinder, except that it's accompanied by her usual smile and sparkle of the eye. It's hard to do much of anything that she'd take offense to it sems. Unless your name happens to be U'rrem. The old bastard probably hit on his own neice before he realized who she was. "Ohhh, tell me about it. Headaches." That's her takeaway from their experiment in timing it too much. Which may explain her end of the conversation when Wyncrath splashed his greeting. And speaking of the brown, she dissolves into helpless laughter at the draconic version of extending a middle finger. "Awwww, don't be mad." she chokes out, trying vainly to stop mid-giggle. "You know I love you big guy." It's been very recent news to her that Randi will be running drills, and so the bluerider's eyes just widen a bit at the reminder. "I think… it ought to be interesting. You know me; just do what I'm told." By Rikath.

Winging across the bowl comes Abydoth on a slow glide, silent per his usual even when recognising the dragons he's flown with for the past Turn. The small, bulky bronze drifts down at the edge of the lake so his rider can slide off. No straps; they've already been removed in preparation for what can only be a bath. P'sec too is in the cast-off clothes that mean he plans to join his bronze in the water. "Who's that?" P'sec asks, coming in on the tail-end of D'lan's comment, remark guileless but eyes glinting with something that is anything but. "Speaking of - haven't you got a kid in every Hold now? Hey, Maura." Abydoth hits the lake, and his tall, toned rider following a minute later after he's cast off his shirt.

A flash of white teeth against tanned skin is all that meets Maura’s quip and then D’lan is settling all the way down onto his back, pulling his towel over his face from under which is reply comes muffled. “Do you always just do as you’re told?” Wyncrath on the other hand actually (shock and horror) lifts his head and turns it in the bluerider’s direction. Water streaming from his muzzle he sends her the equivalent of a draconic ‘humph’ and plops it back down again. To Rikath however his message is thus and conveyed with the smell of redwort and numbweed, « Is yours really as clueless as she makes out to be or is it a trick you’ve taught her? » dry. With his towel now draped over his face its only thanks to the mental link with is brown that D’lan’s aware of P’sec’s arrival. “Least I know mine works,” the brownrider quips right back having no clue what offspring of his might be wandering the planet.

At least Maura's getting a good show. Nice view, which she can glance at now without embarassment because D'lan has covered his face with a towel. And, witty repartee on top of it! P'sec shirtless too? My goodness, someone get her a fan. Rikath is about to burst a vein on his forehead in his annoyance at this display of course, a little spark of red swirling in his eyes when he replies to Wyncrath with a puff of coal and tang of metal. « Clueless. » he confirms dryly. « And I'm trying to keep it that way. The two of you aren't helping. She's going to get the wrong idea if you keep it up. » And one gets the impression that will make the blue a bit more on the angry side. "Your what works?" See? -Clueless-. Even her blue has to give a mental groan at that. Does he explain? Or does he not. "Hi P'sec! Gosh, you're swimming too? If we were going to have a lake party, I'd have brought something to swim in."

Rather than stoop to D'lan's level, P'sec just rolls his eyes. D'lan misses it, with that towel over his eyes, so his dragon helpfully obliges in conveying the message: D'lan in his smallclothes fleeing from irate husbands with sticks in their hands. "Not his dragon, that's for sure." It's a jibe for Wyncrath's sloth. "Yeah," he confirms, wading right in and soon waist-deep. "We were out all morning." Abydoth provides the imagery to fill in what words do not: the landscape south of Eastern, mile after mile after mile.

« Wrong idea? » Wyncrath breezes in with the smells of the infirmary attached and buffets against the tang of coal and metal, « How is that even possible? » The brown obviously not one little bit fazed on how upset the blue may or may not become. D’lan has no idea he’s being ogled, or perhaps he does. Hard to tell with that towel over his face, though there does come a muffled snicker, clearly amused by something or another, probably the draconic banter going back and forth. Or maybe it’s that mental image that Abydoth presents. “Where’d you think I’d learned to run so fast,” the smirk in his tone evident and then, “I’ll have you know,” the brownrider states as he drags the towel off his face and sets a look onto P’sec, “That there have been no complaints so far.” About his dragon. Mmhm. And then amusement is once again sent in Maura’s direction with him having to bite back on a response with regards to swimwear or the lack thereof.

Cheerfully kept from knowing what any of the draconic banter going on is, Maura just leeeeaaaaaans back against Rikath in as much of a lazy manner as she's capable of. WHich isn't saying much honestly, because when does anyone ever see her rest? And perhaps to distract her from the conversation he's having with Wyncrath, that's when the blue shows her the helpful imagery that bronze so helpfully provided of D'lan fleeing from an irate husband. Except, with more clothes on. And even that just makes the poor girl turn a few shades of red; it does at least stop her from asking 'complaints about what?'. which was surely the next question that was queue'd up. "So, P'sec. See anything interesting while you were flying?" Is there a squeak to her voice? Maybe. « She really /is/ innocent, and therefore not his type. The end. »

Once he's in deep enough, P'sec lets his feet float up and swims to join his dragon. Abydoth is motionless in the water, enjoying how it laps about him after a long, tiring morning of nonstop flight. "That's not what I heard." The man in the water calls out his repartee to D'lan as he holds into Abydoth with one hand. "Just seeing what it's like down here," he tells Maura next. "Scouting it out. Clears our head, too." He's reluctant to directly admit how all the Timing has shifted their sense of reality, but expects that with these riders, he won't have to.

Towel now slung about his neck, D'lan rolls up into a sitting position, arms dangling loosely over drawn up knees. Catching the tail end of Maura's blush he simply grins, not a trace of apology to be seen, low laughter greeting her sudden turn in conversation. As for Wyncrath, he once again draaags his head out of the water, eyeballs P'sec as he goes by and then sets Rikath with a 'you've got to be shitting me' type look conveyed mentally to both dragons with an exaggerated, « Yeesh! » Plonked back down again he sets about watching the bubbles that exude from his nostrils with great interest. P'sec's comment earns him a snort, "Seriously P'sec, for a bronzerider you're unbelievably…upstanding," he chooses to say, which in light of the topic is probably not the best word to have used but its out there now. Jest falls away in light of the more serious topic at hand and D'lan gives himself away a little with his next, "Fellis laced wine." That his remedy to combating the effects of Timing It back and forth and not, as he makes out, bedding anything that moves.

Rikath has been fighting this battle for three turns now, keeping anyone and everyone about as far away from his Maura as he can manage. One would think he'd get tired of it after awhile. But no. He just glowers at the the other two dragons. His efforts are about to be made exponentially more difficult however, because… "Fellis laced wine?" Pretty little bluerider, pretending there's no other conversation going on. Lalalalala. La! "Does that work, truly? I hadn't thought of that." Something she will now, which is surely going to cause no end of trouble. "I might not even have to go to the healer, then!" Her dragon's nose suddenly finds itself thunking into the sand; a sharp exhale blowing into the water. « Did you /have/ to. »

Abydoth amends his image for Wyncrath's sake, making it into a horde of greens chasing him for something his rider's done. An undertone of smugness goes with him as he sinks down in the lake. "Uh huh." The teasing doesn't seem to disconcert P'sec in the slightest as he takes D'lan's remark in stride. Facing away from both riders, though, a hint of a smirk conveys private amusement. "Go to the healer," he tells Maura, all humour vanishing as he turns round again. "They'll give you fellis if they think you need it." His gaze slides to D'lan. "I expect that's where you got yours after all," he adds in a dry drawl.

And Wyncrath could care less what battles have been waged for how long and over what for there is no apology in his return, « No, but I enjoyed it. » The brown’s tail suddenly whips out of the water and cracks down upon its surface for the image projected by Abydoth and then out from under the smell of redwort, a swell of smugness rises, « If they come to me, then I don’t have to chase. » Lazy as the day is long but still wanting the candy it seems.

“The healer yes, go to him,” D’lan echoes on the heels of P’sec’s missive to the young bluerider. As to where he gets his supply from there is nothing but an enigmatic smirk followed by, “From a healer of course.” He’s just not saying which one, or that she’s rather nicely curved and has legs all the way up to…ahem. Moving on. Which is what the brownrider does now as he unfurls himself from off of the rocks and stands, “Maura sweetheart, its been grand but there are others awaiting on my wit and charm to distract them from the endless, mind numbing task of scrubbing floors.” Yeah right. To P’sec, “And you, you old codger, I’ll catch up with you later.” Translating too, ‘I’ll be disturbing your peace and quiet with a bottle of wine and ribald humour’.

One thing Rikath never comments on are flights. And for good reason. Thus, his sullen maw is kept silent and free of further snark. "Awww, well. If you have to go." She lifts her hand in a wave, and then shoes herself off of her dragon-perch. "Don't you both start." she adds. "If you got that fellis in an innocent way, I'll eat P'sec's rainhat." Thus, surprising her own dragon enough to turn his head towards her questioningly. "What? Some things are just obvious." Just… you know, nothing to do with boys and girls. Or boys and boys. Or girls and girls. Or anything about the baser nature of humankind. Nope! "Enjoy your swim, P. I'll see you both soon. No shirking on your duties now." A beaming smile is cast the two men and their lifemates when she skips off in the opposite direction of wherever D'lan happened to be headed.

Abydoth refuses to be bothered by Wyncrath, treating the slap of water like he would a nice, cooling mist. That's the intimation he conveys, too, before oh-so-slowly purring out in deep honeyed tones, « Chasing you away. » The add-on 'idiot' is in the overall shading of his tone.

"I like that hat," P'sec protests mildly after a pause in which he too is surprised by Maura. "See you," he adds, letting go of Abydoth's neckridge with the intention of floating on his back. As for D'lan, "I'm keeping my new ledge hid from you as long as I possibly can." In other words, come on over.



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