"I don't think I'm trusted to be around children."


Jonavan.jpg Kaskan.jpg


Date: Jan 4, 2011
Location: EW: Beast Tunnel
Synopsis: Jonavan comes across Kaskan and Jhorn heading out for a camping trip. Kaskan learns he can't use reverse psychology on Jonavan.
Rating: PG
Logger: Kaskan

Participant Descriptions:


[ Eastern Weyr: Beast's Tunnel ]

Wider, smoother and better-lit than the other tunnels around the Weyr, this passage seems to smell permanently of herdbeast. Or leather. It's hard to tell which. Sloping down fairly steeply from the Weyr's Entrance, it flattens out quickly and makes a wide arc around the eastern edge of the Weyr before climbing more gradually towards the beast caverns and feeding pens.

The southern sun that casts mid-morning in a cheerful light doesn't quite reach down the access tunnel of Eastern Weyr. The glow-enhanced dimness suits Kaskan's mood better anyway. He stands beside a dark brown runner, securing a pack to the beast's back. More satchels and bags lie in a pile on the ground. Another runner, more caramel in color, stands beside the first munching distractedly from a bucket on the ground.

Coming down the tunnel at an unhurried amble, Jonavan is on his way headed out of the Weyr. With only one satchel slung over one shoulder, he's less burdened than Kaskan and his runners, marking his planned exit one of a lighter nature. An day out, perhaps. He skirts the beasts and wouldn't greet their minder, except that glowlight reaches the guard's face when the healer glances his way, and Jonavan feels obliged to say, "Hey."

Kaskan is equally as ambivalent about someone passing by in the well-traveled tunnel, hoisting another sack to the runner's back and quickly tying it down. But the sound of that voice stops him mid-knot. Tossing his chin to sway over-long bangs from his view and look over his shoulder he registers the healer and his light blue gaze narrows. "You!"

Jonavan wasn't going to stop. He'd even begun a low whistle to keep time to buoy his step. Rather than come to a halt, he half-turns enough to look again at the guard packing up his runners and affirm lightly, carelessly, "Me" before continuing on his way past.

Kaskan gives the knot one quick twist and pull to secure it, then turns toward the retreating healer, bracing his dusty palms on lean hips. Glowlight shimmers in the paleness of his regard, the hue that of a cloudless sky. "Running off a habit of yours?" he asks with a pointed tone.

Jonavan purses his lips and emits a sharper note, holds it for a moment, then finishes the whistle with a descending trill. "Possibly," he says, pivoting now in a slow turn to give Kaskan fuller attention, faint amusement that the glowlight may not pick up. "Holding grudges like a sulky teenager a habit of yours?"

A flicker of strain crosses Kaskan's features as his temper flares, but then something strikes him as odd and his eyes narrow on the older man. Was that humor? Amusement? Taunting?? He can't be sure but the mere possibility gives him pause. Keeping his own visage still he notes with utter calm, "Where marks are concerned there's no such thing as a grudge."

Knowing Jonavan, all three are quite likely. The healer isn't forthcoming beyond the faint trace of a smile, mocking. "Oh. Glad to hear it," he returns, airily flippant in the manner of one dismissing the matter altogether, washing his hands of it.

A cheerful voice rings down the tunnel, the energy with which it's applied bouncing off the stone walls with nerve-grinding volume. "Hey Kaaaaaaskan!" The voice is followed by the appearance of a dark-haired youth who looks to be in his early teens. The boy trots up behind Kaskan and approaches the runner's head, plying the animal with a swift series of affectionate rubbing as he looks first to the guard, then to the healer…. then to the guard, then to the healer…. and back to the guard. "Uh, we're still going aren't we?" he asks with a slightly plaintive note. The camping trip has already been delayed one full day for reasons of which Jhorn is unaware but have everything to do with a certain female weyrling so the boy is leery of any further issues.

Kaskan's regard remains fixed on Jonavan throughout, drawing the silence out a few seconds after Jhorn's question. Turning toward Jhorn, Kaskan's gaze lingers on Jonavan as he grunts, "I'll get it out of you one of these days," with more disregard than heat. He wasn't really all that angry about it but was more piqued by the man's attitude, his easy temper a weakness that haunts him. "Yes, yes, Jhorn. As soon as I get all the supplies loaded we'll go."

Jonavan winces slightly at the volume at which the guard's name rebounds; it doesn't exactly endear him to the approaching boy. The healer holds up both hands, palms turned out, when Jhorn's question seems to involve him. "I'm not stopping you," he tells the boy. He drops one hand and adjustsg the shoulder strap of his bag to a more comfortable position. Kaskan's comment draws Jonavan's regard again; mildly, he makes a correction. "You can try."

Jhorn doesn't hesitate. With a promised launch in site he sets his abundant store of energy to securing the supplies even though his shorter height makes it impossible to loop and tie the ropes correctly. If pure effort would secure the items they'd stick like glue to the runner's hide forevermore. With a sigh Kaskan snatches the end of a rope the boy tosses over the runner's back and gives it a pull, tightening it more than his charge can. Muscles grow taut along his arms as he anchors the rope so the bags it wraps don't topple over on the boy. Another look is cast over his shoulder at Jonavan's comment, his lips ghosted with a smile this time. "Hm? Up for that arm wrestle after all, then?

Jonavan takes a step to the side so someone coming up the tunnel into the Weyr and carting a load of something-or-other under both arms can pass. Now closer alongside the runners, he watches the preparations continue without offering to help. "Just what makes you think that arm wrestling is an accurate measure for making decisions?" His eyebrows inch up with the question. More consideringly, "Poker, though."

Kaskan grunts once as Jhorn manages to get a bedroll and large satchel in place allowing him to twist the rope and tie the pieces down. Turning toward the healer he raises dark brows in echo of the other's, "Who said anything about making decisions? You stuck me with the tab. It's about marks." Which, goes right along with poker but with his short fuse even he knows that could get him in trouble.

"Oooops!" The sudden rise of Jhorn's voice precludes a smaller sack skimming the top of the runner and landing with a solid thunk on the back of Kaskan's head. Before the guard can even react Jhorn's voice adds with pitched chagrin, "Sorry!"

"Decisions on if I'll let you have the marks for the drink." Jonavan makes it into a suffrance with the word 'let,' turning repayment into permission. Amusement touches his tone if not his expression as he goes on, looking at the guard when Kaskan turns back towards him, "I thought you said you didn't carry grudges about marks." He can't help a short bark of laughter when Jhorn squarely drops the sack on Kaskan's head, nor does he try.

Kaskan would scoff at Jonavan's wording but isn't given the chance. Posturing is dissolved by the arrival of the sack, the heavy frying pan inside making a comically good hit. It falls to the ground with a thud at Kaskan's feet, the guard darting a hand to rake through raven layers and rub the side of his head. A low growl, "Jhoooorn! I will get it. Be patient." Silence follows from the other side of the runner for a moment or two, then a dark head peers around the animal's rump. "I could put some on Carmel while you finish up with…." he starts, only to be cut off by Kaskan. "Jhorn!" The head disapears, his voice drifting back, "I'll just give'm some more feed."

Kaskan slowly looks back to Jonavan, patience worn thin. "I don't carry grudges," he snaps. Blantant lie. "But if I had a stool right now I'd probably throw it at you, Jaya's threats or no!" Two second pause, then the guard tilts his chin and a look sent askance, "Don't suppose you'd wanna go camping with a teenager and we can call it even?"

"Packing numbweed I hope?" Jonavan judges the sack's weight by the noise it makes when it hits the tunnel floor. "If not now, you might need it later." The healer has none on him, otherwise he might offer it; his bag is full of personal items rather than the marks of his trade. "Right," he drawls dryly when Kaskan denies resentment, stretching out the vowel. The following remark makes his shoulders shrug with a repressed laugh, and then Jonavan looks at the guard to judge the seriousness of his question on camping. "In your stead? No thanks. I don't think I'm trusted to be around children."

Kaskan does scoff at that, still ruffling the side of his head with one hand as he kneels over to pick up the sack. He's probably joking… somewhere… deep down. It's not so easy to tell by the dark look on his face. Hefting the sack in one arm he actually twists a wry grin, saying, "Jonavan, I would give good marks to see your sarcasm pitted against that boy's bottomless optimism." From between the runners heads, Jhorn's voice perks up with hopeful suggestion, "Runners are done eating, I think. Seem a bit restless. Just saying. No rush."

"So…you're going to pay me to help you play babysitter and not pretend to be nice?" This is how Jonavan interprets Kaskan's words, rephrasing them into a genuine question. Despite his solitary inclinations, which do not include enforced time spent with others in the wilderness, the man is interested. When Kaskan's charge pipes up, Jonavan gives Jhorn or, rather, the runner in-between him and the young teen acting as barrier to his sight, a rather incredulous look. Perhaps it is the possibility of wearing down that positive cheer that has the healer inquiring rather abruptly, "How many days?"

Kaskan blinks. Apparently he /was/ joking more than he seemed. But once Jonavan expresses interest so does the guard. It wouldn't set well with Jhorn, that he knows. The boy practically worships the ground he walks on. But Kaskan is completely distracted by events involving Rio yesterday and reluctant to leave. Slowly lowering his hand to the back of his neck he lets it rest there a moment, regard calculating as it settles on the healer more closely. "Two," he answers in the clipped tone of heavy negotiating. "He's got to be back for classes."

As if on cue, Jhorn's shoulder-length locks pop out from under the runner's neck, the boy peering with barely-restrained eagerness at the two men. "Um, Kas? There's extra grain left. Maybe we should take it, ya know… in case we decide to stay a little longer? Huh? That's a good idea, right?" Kaskan doesn't turn, his gaze remaining on Jonavan. Dark brows arch. Jhorn waits a few more seconds then disapears again, chiming, "I'll find somewhere to put it - just in case! Not that we'll need it, but, ya know… better safe than sorry…..prepared…. would hate…." His voice trails on, most of the words muffled.

Jonavan goes through his own process of assessment, looking first at Kaskan and then at the runners, his frown one of thought that brings a crease to his brow. "Two," he repeats, musing over the number given. "I could do two." Much longer and he might throttle someone from having reached the limits of sociability. He eyes Jhorn when the boy comes into view, gauging him. "Well —" He shifts his weight then steps forward, a decision reached that surprises even Jonavan. "I could use two days away. Even with you. If you can get a runner for me, I'll go grab a change of clothes?" And maybe leave notice in the infirmary, maybe not; it wouldn't be that unlike Jonavan to simply not show up.

Kaskan looses a short breath, surprised humor filtering his rugged features. How about that. It worked. His mind automatically leaps to Rio, then to breaking the news to Jhorn… and then like a snap of fingers the other man's exact words register. "Even with me?" he echoes, one palm rising toward the healer. "You mean, without me." Stated, though his brows rise behind over-long bangs. From the other side of the carmel runner something falls with a clank and Jhorn's voice rises with optimistic reassurance, "I got it!"

"Oh no. Pitting me against your overly energetic kid without your intermediate presence to restrain either me or him is not part of this bargain." Jonavan leaps to the defensive, holding up a finger to caution Kaskan against trying to fob off his camping trip responsible guardianship onto him. A look cuts towards the lighter runner with a rising expression of dismay. "I'll go if you go."

Kaskan huffs, jaw setting beneath a dusky shadow of growth. So close. Seeing that Jonavan means what he says Kaskan doesn't even attempt to talk him out of it. In the silence that follows grunts and groans can be heard as the youth picks up whatever heavy object had dropped. "Don't worry! I got it!" Jhorn repeats. That alone tells Kaskan it was probably something breakable, messy, or both. That last bit of positiveness decides Kaskan. Fine. At least the healer will serve as a distraction and a buffer from what Kaskan is sure was going to be a thorough grilling about his recent activities. As much as he's reluctant to tell the boy details, that undeniable charm would wear him down eventually. With a sigh his shoulders relax and he flips a hand at the man in gesture. "You go get your things and I'll get another runner." Pause. Then, "This should be interesting."

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