Logs:About Lord Fax
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| RL Date: 15 July, 2011 |
| Who: Devaki, Sibella, Nathalia, Rhaelyn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Nathalia gets a haircut, and Devaki and Rhaelyn want to know more about Lord Fax. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 3, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
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| It had been a very, very, long day. Nat sighed as she entered the lower caverns, most of the weyr had already had dinner and it was sparsely populated. Face still somewhat puffy and pink, and her eyes seemed to echo the faint coloration. Still there was a line of determination to her mouth as she looked about the sparse occupants searching for someone to help with a problem. In her arms a bed sheet, and a sturdy pair of shears. Cheerful as always, Sibella's plush form billows about the room in her loose tunic and skirts. She carries off trays of food and refills pitchers of klah, all the while beaming to one person or the other, making smalltalk where appropriate. As Nathalia enters the room, Sibella eyes her enviously, having heard about the woman - whose name is unknown to Sibella - and her new candidacy status. Then, Sibella sees the state of the other, and envy is overtaken by pity. Immediately she responds with what is a standard reaction for Sibella to all things pitiful; she comes plying Nathalia with a heaping plate of meats and sweets. "Love, you look as though you could use a bite or twenty." Warily, and curiously, Sibella eyes the sheet and shears. It would seem it's still pouring outside, judging by Devaki's soaked appearance as he appears from the bowl. The faint tap of his walking stick marks his path across the living caverns, somewhat uneven -- as if maybe he's not sure which direction to go in. The hearthside quickly draws him in, however, fingers of his left hand held out for the warmth before he shucks off his wet jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair, resting his stick against it as he draws hand through soaked hair. Nat smiles a little at the offering, taking one of the sweets and nibbling on it a bit. "Thank you um, I am sorry I don't think I have met you yet, I am Nat." She notices the other enter and offers a friendly enough nod in his direction, though she doesn't recognize his face. "Its uh, been a long day." She says finaly. Noting the glance at the sheers the girl smiles sheepishly. "Haircut, I want to crop the whole mess off," She offers as explination. Laying the tray down on a nearby table, Sibella claps her hands in delight at the girl's desire. "I'm Sibella, lucky girl, and I happen to be a decent hair artist!" She giggles and fluffs her own blonde ringlets. Her giddy self-confidence is marred, however, as she examines the thick mass, pointing a finger. "You want me to cut /that?/ Why, love, that mess would be beautiful with a wash and a trim!" Sibella is hardly distracted by the look glanced toward Devaki, an inconspicuous figure, after all. The yellowing of fast-fading bruises are visible along Devaki's jawline has he turns and adjusts some of the glows, providing suitable lighting for reading -- or perhaps even for the cutting of hair. He seats himself with a slow exhale, the scent of ale perhaps detectable to those of keen senses, as he begins pulling off his boots one by one and dropping them on the ground, wiggling his toes once they're free. The talk of hair cuts certainly doesn't draw his attention, though the nod from Nathalia earns a tip of head and quick, if puzzled, return of the gesture. Rhaelyn heads in from the inner caverns. Rhaelyn has arrived. A genuine smile at the bubbly disposition, but there is a hollow laugh at the mention of beauty. "Thank you, but I think the less I look and act like a girl the better off I am in general." She sighs, "Besides the less I see of /certain/ islanders the better. Shorter hair will help to when I am doing the extra tasks I picked up from the assistant headwoman." She offers a friendly smile at the return of the gesture, but seems unsure if he wants to even be bothered at the moment. Sibella nods her head in understanding, her eyes expressing her compassion for the need to look more masuline - or perhaps simply less feminine. She jokes, "Well, I think cutting your hair will actually help you see /more/ - of everything!" Fowl-like, Sibella clucks at Nathalia and gestures toward one of the comfortable, slightly reclined chairs near the hearth, far enough away that the heat won't be overbearing beneath the sheet. "Here, Miss Nat, if you're sure you want to take the plunge, then may as well get started! And," Sibella picks up a firm meatroll, "Take something to nibble on, something your hair won't stick to." She looks at Devaki appreciatively as he adds to the lighting, a slight dip of concern tipping her mouth as she observes the bruising on the young man's face. Devaki has settled himself near a well-lighted area of the hearthside, looking pretty soaked. He's already divested himself of wet jacket and boots, and now digs in the pocket of the jacket, carefully pulling out a book. A hide marks his place, and he slowly flips it open, fingers brushing down the page. The mention of islanders brings his gaze up, with a distinct sort of frown, though it disappears swiftly enough. Any interest he might have in the pair is precluded by their activity -- hair cutting not exactly drawing his attention for long, even if he could probably do with one himself. It's evening just after supper and the caverns are mostly empty save the few who are escaping Reaches' In climate weather. Soft footpads don't do much to announce Rhaelyn coming in from the inner caverns. A calculating look passes over those who are still up and around at this time while cutting around tables to go dish up some food. Nathalia takes the offered seat with an appreciative smile. "Just a little below the chin I think," She asks as the woman hands her a meat roll. She too notes the bruising with sympathy. "I hope whoever you got into it with got their fair share of bruises too. Must have been a nasty fight" He looked like some of the apprentices she'd beaten back at the hall. She turns her attention back to the bubbly woman working at her hair. "It's all my fault really, a fine turn day it turned out being. Made a proper fool of myself in the candidate barracks." Her lip wavers a bit, but she's calm. "Ignorance is bliss." She didn't see Rhaelyn enter. Sibella moves her eyes from the bruises on Devaki's face, to his hair; that being the main focus of her evening, apparently. She stops herself short of saying something about adding to her queue of haircuts, and begins smoothing Nathalia's hair, pulling a comb from her many-pocketed skirts. Vain, vain woman. Sibella works at the hair, then eyes a weyrbrat sweeping. "There now, Jilliana, could you fetch a pail of water for Miss Sibby? There's a girl." As the child runs toward the kitchen with all haste, Sibella turns her attention back to the thick mass of hair, continuing the conversation posed to her, "I'd say! Perhaps this haircut will suit you, after all," she teases, then returns to the task at hand. "Would you like a set of bangs? I believe it may suit you. Or perhaps just smooth, short cut? Or I could make it a bit choppy, you could just wake up in the morning and it'd look like it will tonight." Sibella softens the onslaught of questions by petting Nathalia on the head, silly woman. Devaki plants an elbow on the table, using his hand to hold back wet hair as he studies the book, gaze passing slowly over it. It takes a beat or two for Nathalia's words to penetrate -- and the fact that they're directed at him somewhat longer. His hand brushes over his jaw, absently, then smiles. "Few fights are very pleasant," is all he says by way of answer. His gaze drifts past the pair, catching the familiar figure of the islander, a slight tip of head perhaps drawing attention his way. Like a feline, Rhaelyn glides through the room and gets herself a plate of food and a glass of juice before she's making the path back towards the others. The movement of Devaki's head-bob of greeting re-directs her path from an empty table to his. "Hey." Her voice is quiet, as though she doesn't want to anounce herself to the whole room. The hair clipping of Nat gets a curious look as Sibella fusses with the smith's hair but her attention returns to her fellow ex-exile before her mouth can get her in trouble. "How are you?" Nat smiles, and enjoys the strange sensation of being fussed over. How long had it been? Not since she was a very small child at least. At the stranger's words she nods. "That is true enough, but as long as it's a matter /worth/ fighting for usually its worth the scars that remain." She's intrigued by him, but her attention is focused on the matter at hand, and Sibella's next question draws her gaze away and she takes to looking at the fire. "Choppy I think, the easier to manage the better." She can't help but continue to grin warmly, as she's patted on the head. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could find some other clothes either would you? I think I am supposed to be wearing a uniform or something," She seems uncertain of this. Sibella can hardly be blamed for lacking observation of those around her, including Rhaelyn. Instead, Jillian has fetched her pail of water and Sibella dips her comb in this, dampening Nathalia's hair. It is quite a task with such a mass, and she almost misses Nat's question. "Oh, no, there are no uniforms to be had, until it's time for hatching! Then you'll wear the white robe..." Sibella's eyes glaze over, dreamy-like, as she mechanically continues wetting the long strands of hair. Devaki's lips thin, faintly, though his attention has drifted from the two nearby. "Taking advantage of the Weyr's hospitality," Devaki answers Rhaelyn's query with a hint of wry humor, barely glancing up as she takes a seat. It's a vague kind of answer, and not followed up with any further elucidation. Instead, he's quick to direct the conversation: "How's that friend of yours. Ylynna?" as if he could possibly have forgotten her name, finger dropping to mark his spot. The chop of meat on Rhae's plate is cut into with what appaers to be a praticed motion. Good work too, although obviously not natural, she gets a little nibble off the chop and onto the fork without any mess. "Me too." She pauses, realizing that Devaki is reading but his question must be an invitation at conversation rather than privacy. "She's good. Holding court on her cot right now. Do you know how many brush-strokes she gives her hair? She actually counts them out." Such a waste of time even to /Rhae/, but she doesn't hide her jealousy. Nathalia nods noting the dreamy speech of the woman. "It's a big honor I guess, but I don't feel like I did anything special. Just played in the sand with Zaxameth." She laughs fondly recalling the blue. "It will give me something to focus on at least. There's plenty of work, and lessons. I don't like staying in the candidate barracks but I am sure I can find enough work elsewhere around the weyr that I don't have to worry about running into anybody again." She smiles a minute. "I am sorry I know it's a lot of mess" She said indicating her hair. "I haven't cut it since I cropped it within an inch of my skull as an apprentice, and that's been six years now." She laughs realizing that she's doing the same thing now that she was then. Sibella turns a curious eye, now, toward Rhaelyn and her beautiful hair. Hair, hair, hair. Once stuck with a task, Sibella seems to become consumed by it. So she focuses herself on only one person's hair- Nat's. With a steady hand, Sibella finally takes the first snip, holding the mass of the hair together and chopping a good two thirds of it off in one fell swoop. The difference is noticeable, and Sibella turns to look at Nathalia's profile with satisfaction. Not quite done yet, now Sibella begins the tedious work of shaping the hair into something relatable to a style. "She can count that high?" Devaki queries, tone dry and amused in counterpoint to Rhaelyn's jealousy. His gaze drifts in her direction and, uninvited, he leans across the table with the intention of stealing one of those cut slices of meat, unless she's quick enough to bat his hand away. "You should ask her about Lord Fax," he says, lowering his voice, tapping his reading material with his other hand. "A Lord of seven Holds, High Reaches amongst them. An interesting character -- history reviles him, of course -- but you can't help but admire his ruthlessness in some ways." Rhaelyn laughs softly at Devaki's remark about Ylynna and her head shakes slowly, "Indeed she can. Although, from what I'm learning, she wouldn't need to even know that if she marries well." Not surprising perhaps, given the nature of blood and what power they have behind them. "Lord Fax? Is this a...family relation to her?" Her eyes widen at his remark of Lording over the seven holds, "No. Really? When was this? Is this why our families were..." She hesitates, glancing at the non-exiles in their hair cutting and missing Devaki's plundering of her meal. "Sibella I can't thank you enough for this. I thought I was going to have to do it myself, and it would have turned out very poorly." The younger girl mentions as she feels the weight drop, it's a strange sensation, watching all that hair fall to the ground. She catches snippets of conversation going on around her, but for now it /seems/ she's absorbed in watching the hair fall away. "It was time for a change any way I think." She adds. The comment about marriage raises a questioning brow from Devaki, before he nods slowly. "Distantly, I would guess. He was Blooded out of High Reaches." Which probably makes him distantly related to some of the exiles, too. The mindhealer's quick to chew and swallow his stolen food, gaze dropping to the book. "No, this was before the ninth pass. Nothing to do with-- us. History has... chosen to /forget/ our particular situation." Rhaelyn mulls over this infamous person--Lord Fax, "I would like to hear more about him. It's interesting who writes the histories. Isn't it? What they pick to tell future generations." The exile girl pushes food around on her plate and has another little bite. "I will ask and see what 'her' answer is." The educated answer, right? "Oh, speaking of..." She glances over just in time to see some of the girls coming in. "I'll catch up with you later Devaki." She leaves her food and drink and scoots over to join the girls in Ylynna's circle that are filing into a corner table. Devaki doesn't seem particularly bothered by being abandoned; he pulls Rhaelyn's plate towards him and begins munching, finishing off the rest of the food. He rises, collecting boots, jacket and stick, before slowly making his way towards the inner caverns. |
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