Stupid Girls


D'lan.jpg Maura.jpg Miene.jpg

Date: 8/11/11
Location: Storage Rooms
Synopsis: D'lan happens upon the sisters sniping at one another, hilarity ensues!
Rating: If above PG-13, please note here.
Logger: Maura

Nobody approaching the storage rooms will have any doubt that they are currently occupied. And by the sounds of it, two occupants that are decidedly not getting along with one another. “Clothing and fabrics are in those boxes along the middle row of shelves. If you make a mess of it while you’re looking you can clean it up before moving to the next box. Cause I am /not/ getting in trouble with Indira for you.” Maura can be heard saying, accompanied by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor that she’s pulled out to sit down at. “We just got a few things in, so there has to be something there you won’t turn your nose up at.” She adds, propping an elbow on the desk adjacent to her, brown eyes following her older sister’s movements.

“You’re not even going to *help* me? Some sister you are.” The other voice grates, apparently forgetting that she’s been telling anyone who will listen that Maura’s been forcing her to wear hideous castoffs for weeks now. “Sure took you long enough to bring me down here. I don’t know what *you* could possibly be so busy with. Oh wait, don’t tell me. What’s his name again… “ Taunt, taunt. The snide voice is apparently one that the bluerider’s decided not to reply to. Instead, just gives a bored expression in response.

The sound of raised female voices is usually enough to send most men turning themselves right back around and heading in the opposite direction. Not so D’lan. Though he does first set the crate of bottles he’s carrying down in the hallway before daring to step into the storage room set aside for clothing and footwear. No point in getting his precious booze destroyed if the two women bickering decide to start throwing things, right? Right. And then he enters but doesn’t go all the way in. Instead he cuts off any route of escape by leaning a shoulder against the frame of the doorway, his bulk cutting some of the light from the hallway out.

“Clothing is so over rated,” the brownrider’s baritone cuts into the middle of the back and forth going on, amusement playing openly across his expression.

“How about just busy with things more important than catering to your ever-growing list of demands?” Maura suggests, glancing over at the doorway as the sound of a crate being put down heralds a new arrival that soon blocks the door. “Yeah, that’s helpful D’lan. What brings you by? They selling tickets out in the hall or something? ” Willpower prevents her from making a rude gesture, but she’s not above rolling her eyes at him and making a face.

The brownrider certainly catches Miene’s attention though, prompting her to look up from the box she’s been diligently been searching through and making a mess of. “If it’s so over-rated why aren’t you walking around without any on?” It isn’t as if many would complain about it, least of all her, it would seem. “Wait, you know this guy?” It just now registers that Maura called him by his name, which causes further scrutiny and narrowed eyes. “You fuckin’ him too? Just how many ‘friends’ you got, little sister?” Yep, she stares a bit more, interest only heightening when the bluerider sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

While amusement still lingers, a brow goes up and D’lan sets Maura with an unreadable look as arms cross over his broad chest. “No, but if you two put on bikinis, I’ll organize a patch of mud,” smirk.

With that he pushes away from his lean hands pocketing as he saunters on into the storage. Coming to a stop midway between the siblings Miene’s comment has the brownrider quirking a grinning flash of teeth down to her, “Because it gets real cold Between and I’d prefer to keep all the important bits intact.” Whatever he was about to say next falls by the wayside in light of what Miene says next and he sets the woman with long and intent look, “Got itches no one’s willing to pay to scratch?” Yeah, he can be a bitch too.

“Because I know someone’s name suddenly I’m sleeping with them? Your logic is impeccable, Miene.” Maura raises an eyebrow. Yeeeees? In response to the unreadable look. Mud-wrestling in bikini’s… well, that earns a solid grin, oh yes it does. “I’m pretty sure I’ve told you before.. it has to be klah flavored pudding, or no deal.” She retorts, instantly regretting the words because obviously her sister is going to pounce on that like white on river-grains. And she doesn’t disappoint.

“And our parents have a problem with what –I- do? Maybe I should write a nice long letter and tell them about all your little adventures Maura.” Oh, if only Miene knew half of what her little sister got herself involved in. And it has nothing to do with anything the other woman is insinuating. “Gimme a break, mister high-and-mighty rider. Refusing to service the men who were willing to pay is what got me taken away and locked up /here/ in the first place. If I want it, I can find it.” She may have the lighter hair of the two, but obviously inherited the darker personality. “I take it back – you’re obviously enough of a looker to do better than her anyway.” Ok, that one makes Maura’s jaw drop a little. “Hey, you should be looking at clothing, not being a bitch. Shards, I… sorry D’lan.”

That raised brow coming from Maura earns her little more than a faint smile in return which of course deepens into a devilish grin when she puts him straight on klah-flavoured pudding. “Mmm, finger licking good,” wink. D’lan then takes a step toward Maura and adds in sotto tone for her ears only, “Watch and learn.” With that he turns the full focus of his attention and presence on Miene, strolling over her way and then hunkering down beside her as if he were about to start helping her go through the box of clothing.

“I’d love to meet your parents,” D’lan says as his hand ‘accidentally’ collides with Miene’s in the box then sliiides away with a brush of fingers that travels up her wrist, “In fact, Wyn and I would be glad to take you. You can tell them all about our Maura here and I’ll help fill in the blank bits about you. How does that sound?” The innocence that colours his almost eager expression is tainted by a slightly sinister and challenging edge to tone of voice and ice blue eyes. The reason for the apology that the young bluerider gives, that has the brownrider leaning toward Miene, a hand reaching out toward her neck and mouth nearing hers as if he plans to kiss her then and there.

Except that at the last minute, his lips skim away and brush against the woman’s ear where breath spills in a hot wash, “You could buy yourself the position of a Lord Holder’s wife and you’d still not have half the class Maura does.” Cold words spoken in the contrasting husk of a lover’s tone are meant for Miene’s ears only though in the quiet of the storage room they might carry to the bluerider. With that D’lan pushes to his feet and ambles over to where Maura is. A lazy lean of butt against the desk is taken and he flashes a warm smile her way, “Nothing to be sorry about, sweetness.”

« I think I preferred Maura’s sister when all she did was bleed her dry of money. » Rikath decides, following at least part of the conversation through his link with the already exasperated woman. For her part, Maura suppresses her initial impulse to laugh at D’lan’s klah-pudding rejoinder by ducking her head and coughing a bit; a simple nod given in exchange for the words whispered her way.

“Oh I’m sure they’d be thrilled to meet one of Maura’s /friends/.” The older Igen sister replies in a breezy tone, threads of ice chilling the words perceptibly up until just the point where she feels the skim of fingers against her wrist. She almost jerks her hand away there, but the challenge in the brownrider’s gaze gives her just enough pause that she simply tilts her head towards him instead. A smirk starting to appear when she glances over at her younger sister to gauge her reaction to the sudden display. Not that she’s going to get much satisfaction out of that, since the verbal slap delivered up against her ear does make her jerk away. There is nothing of innocence in Miene’s expression then. She just watches the two riders for a moment, her expression tightening with the warm smile given Maura’s way. “Does your brownrider know how cozy you are with D’lan, *sweet* Maura? Maybe he should. I’d be happy to tell him, if you don’t have the nerve.”

The slightly bemused, and maybe grateful smile, that Maura finds herself giving D’lan is wiped away /pretty/ quickly with those last words. “You can tell anyone, anything you want Miene. The people whose opinions I care about know me well enough not to listen. Just finish with those clothes.” Unruffled, at least in tone. It’s the way Rikath reacts that’s the real indicator of her mood. Pretty much ready to drop her sister ::between:: and be done with it.

Wyncrath has been listening but hasn’t been arsed to make a comment up until now. The comment however is sent Rikath’s way instead of D’lan’s. An image of a wherry wearing Miene’s face being tugged back and forth slithers ahead of the words that hiss into consciousness like air being let out of a tyre, « Tug of war? » That the brown’s oh-so-helpful offer to render assistance in despatching the bothersome woman.

D’lan, despite having caught that mental relay remains poker-faced from where he is now leaning his butt against that desk, letting Miene’s words wash right over him. He’s silent throughout Maura’s return, an annoying smirk painted across rugged features that creases a line down the one side of his mouth. A low rumbling chuckle starts up on the heels of the last word left lingering on the air. “Sweetheart,” blue eyes track over to Miene, “if that’s the best you can do?” in terms of threats and insults, “then its no wonder it took your little sister to get your skinny, self-important, arse out of that shit-hole. You want some advice?” D’lan doesn’t pause for an answer, “Clean yourself up, take that sour lemon out of your mouth and grow up. No one gives a fuck whose screwing who around here. Better yet, go get yourself laid, I'm sure there's a frustrated teen around here somewhere that would be willing to oblige.”

With that the brownrider pushes away from his lean sets a large hand to Maura’s upper arm and will haul her to her feet if she doesn’t protest, “Let’s go see if Ch’rii’s managed to find a bed big enough for the three of us.” Oh no he didn’t!!

« Messy. I like it. » Never one to shy away from nasty imagery, Rikath takes an altogether unholy delight in the suggestion made by Wyncrath. He doesn’t share the image with Maura of course, but the fact that he’s so suddenly amused is helpful in ensuring his rider doesn’t totally lose her cool. Which, it should be noted, she seems just about ready to do with a hand gripped against the corner of the desk in a white-knuckled embrace. But it seems D’lan has the retort business well in hand.

The sneering countenance of the elder sister doesn’t seem particularly put out by what the brownrider is saying. Not at first anyway. “I’m sure I don’t need adv…” Well, she would have finished that if he hadn’t kept talking anyway. And for all that she’s seen and heard and been subjected to quite a few shocking things given her profession and the location of said business? Indeed, a gasp leaves her lips with the parting shot he gives. No really, she can’t even manage to think of any new insult to quite counter that.

Which means that the time is ripe for escape! There’s absolutely no objection from Maura when she’s hauled up to her feet. In fact, all she does is give a little bit of a grin until they leave the room and shut the door behind them; whereupon she has to press the back of her hand against her mouth to keep from laughing. “Her expression. Priceless.” She wheezes, trying to catch her breath.

Teeth white against tanned skin and blue eyes dancing with mirth, D’lan sketches a small bow as they exit the storage room, “I aim to please, lovely.” A roguish wink added at the end for while he’s well aware that Maura is now with Ch’rii it doesn’t mean he’ll stop flirting. The crate of very dusty bottles left in the hallway is then taken up and then he falls into step with her, conversation kept full of wisecracks in a bid to keep the bluerider’s mood light.

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