Hotshot Pretty Boy

OOC Date: 8 January 2012
IC Time: Midnight, D25 M11 T2691
Cast: Elle, J'yn

Eastern Weyr - Main Clearing

The main clearing of Eastern Weyr is immense, a sprawling space carved out from the verdant jungle that is constantly threatening to encroach from the north and east. There are a few pathways paved with dark stone; otherwise, the ground is full of dust — or worse, mud, during the rainy season — due to the constant churn from dragons taking off and landing. The trees tend to be enormous affairs, sweeping the skies far above the heads of any dragons, with trunks bigger than a dragonlength around. Shaded by the surrounding foliage is the single feature that makes this area suitable for habitation: a series of large bubble caverns provide permanence and shelter for the inhabitants of this tropical Weyr.

At this late hour, electric lanterns with paper shades are lit, providing bright beacons against the thick tropical darkness. They highlight the main paths, and are strung festively from the rock of the main cavern. There's a faint glow from the doorway of the cavern, which is closed only in times of extreme weather. Summer has struck this coast paradise hard, the heat of the day neary unbareable without the shade and breezes, but the evenings made sweet with the smell of the coast.

It's fair and very warm, with a few clouds in the sky. A faint glow falls upon the coast as overhead the moons appear to be in their full phase.


The height of summer makes Eastern Weyr nearly unbearable during the day, and that means even these wee hours see the occasional person out and about. The full moons wash the clearing in their pale light, casting odd double shadows made only more strange by the electric lanterns that string this main area. One of the great trees near the edge has roots that have broken the ground, and the gnarled bark makes rough but passable makeshift furniture. Elle has claimed one, sprawled in the natural wooden cradle with clunky boots tossed up in front of her and a bottle of cheap whiskey dangling from her fingers. It's too dim for it really, but between sips and the soft gasps that follow them, she's sketching something with a nub of pencil.

Wee hours of the morning, the best time for a scamp to be slipping through the clearing towards the waiting bronzen shadow settled in the main clearing. From the direction of the jungle is where the bronzerider emerges from. Orionth stirs, slightly, as he senses his rider's approach. Oh, but what have we here? A little lady all relaxed in the clearing, a grin creeps across the dark-skinned young man's lips. "Evenin'." He greets.

Little yes, but in her cargo-style capri pants and cotton tank top paired with those stompy boots, her hair in a ragged knot on top of her head, 'lady' may be a stretch. Of course he didn't say that out loud, and her eyes don't drift from her page, not even when she lifts the bottle to her mouth until he greets her. Then it's just her two-toned eyes that probably both just look dark in the night's dimness lifting slowly up off of the sketch. A flat stare, an arch of one dark brow, and she drawls, "Evening passed a few hours gone-" she breaks off to tip her head back and eye the lurking dragon shadow. "Bronzerider?" The uplift at the end makes it a question, but just barely.

J'yn grins, "Ah, did it then? Musta lost track of time." At the question he nods. "Aye, J'yn, rider t'bronze Orionth. At yer service." He offers name and rank, sorta, but not much else. Silver blue eyes glance over the bottle, curiously, "Nice night, hmm? What's yer poison?" Not that it's his business, but he asks anyway.

The first sign of a smirk touches her lips, just quirking one side up a bit paired with a glint of amusement that might be just visible in her eyes. "Distraction'll do that," is her wry observation. But he doesn't seem to be hurrying off to escape on that bronze he has named, so she lets out a little sigh and swings her feet down to the dirt. Rolling to drop an elbow down on her knee, she stretches the bottle out, fingers loose around the narrow neck. "Elle," she replies, then adds. "Whiskey. It's cheap crap though. Harsh enough to put hair on the chest of a pretty boy like you even, maybe." Dubious and dry, she arches her brows.

J'yn grins, "Aye, indeed, but distractions can prove very..entertainin." Orionth has figured out that his rider is in no hurry to escaps just yet and so the beast settles back down to rest head on forepaws and just watch the interaction between rider and journeywoman. He's not shy, he'll reach for that bottle, drawing it to his lips for a drink. "Pretty boy, huh? That a compliment or an insult?" That smartassed grin never leaves his lips even as he hands her back her bottle.

The bottle probably wouldn't have been hard to pluck from Elle's limp grip even if she hadn't offered it, and she receives it with the same languid ease when he's finished. She eyes it like she might be considering wiping the mouth clean, but then utters a quick grunt and tips back another gulp. It's enough to make her next inhalation a hiss and she wipes her lips on the back of her hand before giving him a slow, sly smile. "Haven't decided yet, J'yn rider of bronze Orionth." She mulls this over, tapping the half full bottle against her shin. "You from here?" Which marks her as newly arrived or presumably she wouldn't need to ask.

J'yn helps himself to a seat on part of the bare roots, he watches the woman throw back another gulp of the liquor and grins, a woman after his own heart. "Haven't decided, hmm?" That smirk is as smug as his grin had been. "Aye, from around here, or used ta be anyway. Got myself kicked out." Well, not so much kicked out as sent away for rehabilitation, but kicked out makes him sound that much more badass, you think? "Grew up here. Mother's a greenrider, father's the weyrleader." Yes, he will add that in there, just in case it might help him get lucky or something like that.

Elle doesn't protest his presumption, but she does inch sideways. Maybe it's a welcoming making room sort of gesture? Or maybe it just allows her to sit with her knees splayed, hands and bottle dangling between them as she tips her head to eye him. "Ah, pretty boy /and/ hot shot then, is it?" Idly she swirls the bottle, then leans her weight to offer it back to him. "Who's the lucky girl?" An upward tip of her chin indicates the area he came slinking out of just a few minutes ago, and sort of suggests he might have already gotten all the 'lucky' he's gonna get for one night.

Hey, it's worked before. J'yn smirks, then, at the hotshot comment. "Ya like pretty boy hotshots, hmm?" He queries after taking that bottle again and throwing it back for another drink, such a good burn. Another question from the woman. Is he supposed to remember every lover's name? Hmm, he must have failed that part of training or something. "Ah, you know, that greenrider.." Yep, real specific there.

There is a moment where the smug and cocky bronzer just gets that level stare. It stretches long with Elle silently looking at him from beneath slightly lowered lashes. In some people it would seem weighty or thoughtful or wrought with meaning. Hers is just flat, and just when it could get uncomfortable she lifts one shoulder. "Not the most annoying type I know," she finally decides, then reaches for her bottle. "Though I'll tell you a secret." And only when she leans her shoulder to his and her weight shifts a little more than she plans does the extent of her 'date' with whiskey make an appearance. Still, she lowers her voice and whispers, "Girls don't think it's hot when you can't remember the name of the girl you just laid." A dramatic wink accompanies the reappearance of her smirk.

J'yn keeps that smug look on his face, releasing the bottle to the leaning woman at the mention of telling him a secret. Shoulder doesn't give under the push of hers, whiskey is such a handy thing. "They don't, do they? Maybe that's why some have tried to teach me some manners on more than one occasion." The word manners gets a brief snigger from bronzerider.

A brief exhalation through Elle's nose is like a mirthless breath of laughter and she slowly shakes her head. "Didn't stick though, huh? Well better luck to the next one." She yawns, a wide and sloppy thing, then leans back to snag her bag out of the dirt on the back side of the winding root. Her abandoned sketchpad and pencil get shoved in, but after one failed attempt to screw the cap on the whiskey she just flicks the lid into the bag and keeps her hand on the bottle. "It's a Weyr, J'yn. you can hardly throw a rock without hitting a willing girl. Don't waste that grin on me." But she looks more amused than annoyed even as she stands. "This stuff is harsh, fly careful, yeah?"

J'yn loses in the last stretch? Okay, it was a long stretch bound for failure, but it was worth a shot. "Aye, ya have yerself a good rest of the night, Elle." As for the willing girl comment, he just smirks. "That's why I like it here." Bronzerider will remain in his position, and he'll watch until the woman disappears into the night with that self same smug smirk on his face.

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