Logs:Bathing with Taikrin is dangerous business
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| RL Date: 13 March, 2010 |
| Who: Saliqa, Taikrin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After the massive brawl in the candidate barracks, Taikrin tries to relax in the bathing caverns. It would be fine, except Saliqa is there. And-- well. Surprisingly tempting. |
| Where: Bathing Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 3, Turn 22 (Interval 10) |
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| It was already the end of the evening at the beginning of the fiasco, making it even later now-- bordering on too late. That's what helps the steamy bathing caverns be absolutely clear of activity, and even the laundry pool has lost its sudsy film. The air, though cloudy just from the constant run of water, is quiet and peaceful. Bare feet barely make an impression in this atmosphere, muting Saliqa's footsteps as she comes out from behind one of the rows of cubbies. Her heaviest skirts have been abandoned, likely where she came from, and all the extra layers of jackets and scarfs, too. As she strides out, both hands are behind her back and working deftly and instinctively at the ties keeping her ever-present vest in place. Since she's so practiced at this, it can hardly be the action of undressing that causes the look of absolute concentration on her face; the theme is drawn eyebrows, creasing and creating little dips above her nose. Even as she thinks, the laces fall away one after the other and the vest slides forward into her waiting hands. The girl lets out a heavy, exaggerated breath like she's been holding it forever. This possibly has to do with that, vest gone, she suddenly has a few more curves than she did before. She just stands there a moment, enjoying breathing, then sets the vest aside to start tugging her shirt over head-- leaving but a thin slip that doesn't even reach her knees. And into this pool of serenity comes a bubble of frothing, agitated chaos. Taikrin's thumping bootsteps are audible well before she comes around the bend; she pauses out by the laundry pool and pulls off her boots with muffled curses that echo throughout the chambers, though their content might not be clear. It's only a moment later that she appears around the bend, shedding layers as she moves. It happens to be that she's got her base layer shirt tugged up over her head when she finally comes into view, so it's entirely likely that she'll be seen before she sees anything. That poor calm, it never had a chance, murdered so succinctly by the woman's stomping entrance. It lays down its life to give Saliqa a chance, however; she can't help but notice that someone else has entered her haven of aloneness. Glances are sent left and right for some answer as she bounces agitatedly on her feet. It isn't until Taikrin's actual person becomes visible around the bend that the girl is booted into action, though. Without a second to really /recognize/ the person, she scurries behind the cubby where she's stored her clothes, tiny body hidden by its towering storage space. There's just the matter of the vest she left behind on the bench by the pool. Taikrin might be distracted. She might still have a shirt half over her head. But she isn't deaf, and that sense of self preservation is still alive and kicking. The shirt is slowly pulled off the rest of the way as Taikrin draws to a halt just past the bend, narrow gaze sweeping the room as she does so. "Someone there?" As she moves towards the bench to deposit her own half-removed clothing, the vest is noted with a suspicious frown. "If y'all're screwin', just say so an' I'll get outta yer hair." "What!" The offended reaction is automatic, as is the huffy stomp that brings Saliqa right out of hiding to confront the other female, "Who would use the bathing room for /that/?" It's okay that she realizes her faux-paux immediately after, because she probably didn't want to know the answer to that anyway. Instead, her eyes get a little wider and she throws her hands up against her neck, draping her tan blouse over the front of her as if that'll do much good. Or as if it should make that much of a difference in a /bathing/ room... but it's true she's never really been seen during the normal washing hours. After a second, though, she vaguely relaxes. More like, one hand detaches from her blouse-death-grip to tuck mussed-up hair behind her ear awkwardly. "... Just me." Taikrin is probably as surprised to see Saliqa as the other girl is to see her: she jumps a foot in the air at the first exclamation, and promptly flushes pink in a way that has nothing to do with the heat of the pools. "Uh-- Saliqa!" As if that weren't obvious. Her arms fold defensively over her bare, scarred torso, and her gaze drops down and over towards the pool. "Bloody shells, didn't expect t'find you here." She's only still for a moment, though: her right toe starts tapping spastically against the floor as the frenetic energy re-asserts itself. "Figured I need a--" A gesture is made, helpless-like, at the bath before her arms refold, "--a break, a'fore there was violence. Didn't mean t--" Her gaze drifts involuntarily back towards the younger girl, her embarrasment obvious. "Didn't think you'd-- look, I can go. Do laps 'round th'bowl, maybe." When not too busy staring at her own feet, Saliqa's curiosity tricks her into making an unchecked study of what remains visible of those scars. She catches herself several times but only manages to shake it entirely when she follows the gesture made, instead. "Before?" She squeaks out, breathless, hopeful humor that abandons her right after. Sensing Taikrin's embarrassment only worsens hers; yet the threat of leaving is bad enough to counteract it. In a flash, her hands dart out for the older girl's arm. The blouse trails after, still in her grip but, at this point, doing not even the little help it was. With such dark skin, her body is pretty obvious under that silken white fabric she's left with: including her new-found chest. "Please, no-- I just needed to-- I mean. Let me apologize." "It was gonna get a lot worse. He ain't had no right t'be manhandlin' on you, when everyone /knows/ how he gets'is kicks." Taikrin's expression darkens at the mere recollection, and the tapping foot increases in intensity, briefly. However, her arm being grabbed seems to trigger a full stop: the toe pauses mid-tap, and whatever movements she might have begun making to recover her clothing are halted stiffly. "Uh." The flush deepens, despite Taikrin's best efforts. "Y'don't gotta apologize f'r nothin'. Weren't my place, shouldn't'a butted in." Her right arm, scrawny and oddly pale now it's free from the cast, scrubs backwards through hair that, while short, is looking oddly well-cut. "Can't stand that guy; dunno why Cori's keepin' him around." The fingers linger there a second before Saliqa draws her hands to her; simultaneously, she lets out a sigh and turns away for a step towards the actual water. "I didn't think Cori was like that, but... no excuse for me. He ain't had no right," she mimics the talk with a wave of one hand, "to read that letter. But I didn't exactly act well, either. I'm just--uggh. So sick of how nice just doesn't mean anything around here sometimes." With the next exasperated arm gesture, she tosses her blouse behind her, sort of vaguely in the bench's direction. Then she flops rather unceremoniously at pool's edge, legs tucked beneath her. "I don't even /want/ to try and think about what the letter said right now. Whatever that means." Taikrin remains perfectly still even after Saliqa has turned away; an audibly deep breath is taken before she begins moving again. The remains of her clothes are shucked off without ceremony, and it's only as she too heads towards the water as she notices the shift still on the other girl. It's enough to give her a second's pause, forehead crinkling, but apparently not enough to comment on, yet. Given the way her fists clench and unclench spasmodically, that's probably a good thing. "Don't want t'think 'bout it at all," she announces as she pushes far enough into the pool that she can submerge for a second in the steaming water. "People ain't nice, an' you know it." Some of Taikrin's tension is, thankfully, beginning to fade; the words aren't as harsh as they might be, otherwise. "Reckon they get in everyone's business at yer hold same as here. Always did when I had one." "Some people are," Saliqa counters stubbornly, eyeing the water after Taikrin's stirred it up some. "And people might have wanted to tell stories at home, but you always put on a friendly face. Not just outright insult people all over." Slipping her legs to the side, she hangs them over the edge of the pool, finally testing water. Arms cross over her chest too high, unnaturally squashing her breasts. She pays more attention to the rippling of water around her gently swaying legs under the surface. "Not--not gang up over a lady's personal affairs and then announce it to a room of amused spectators! They think /she's/ bad? Like they can even say that, behaving like they do!" A noise of complete frustration leaves her, cutting off the edge of her sentence and pulling her arms around her even tighter. "/Criminal/. He's a /criminal/. He ain't nice, he ain't tame, he ain't civilizard. He's a lifer, an' he shouldn't be around th'little ones. He's one of them I was tellin-- augh." A thumping splash of water announces the impact of Taikrin's fist into its surface. "I don't want t'/talk/ about it!" The aggrivation is back, full force, and it is only with a supreme act of will that she forces herself to lie back, mostly-submerged, against the lip of the pool. "You, uh..." Her voice is strained as she gropes for words. "Y'finish th'hunt?" The change of subject is abrupt and awkward and 100 Taikrin. "It wasn't just him doing the--" Saliqa's attempt at rebuttal comes right on-top of Taikrin's argument, a bit rude, and completely squashed by the moment of fist on water. Immediately, she rears back, one leg partially aborting its watery bathing before she settles those imaginary ruffled feathers. Out of sheer rehearsed manners, she meets Taikrin's gaze across the pool when the subject change is grasped for. But that's as far as it goes. Instead of respond like a normal person, she continues to stare for several longer moments; once in a while, her mouth moves subtly but her lips stay closed for a bit. Until, "I'm sorry." She clearly didn't take the memo about accepting the new topic. Her head drops decisively, resigned. "... You think I'm an idiot." "What?!" Taikrin is startled out of funk of misplaced aggression, going so far as to pop her body completely upright. "I do?" Her gaze is wide, disbelieving, when it meets Saliqa's. "Reckon I don't think anythin' of th'sort." A couple of tentative steps are taken towards the other girl, though she barely closes half the distance. "Think y'ain't got a healthy attitude towards keepin' yer hide whole, maybe, but..." She shrugs one shoulder, gaze dropping awkwardly. "... reckon yer prolly a lot smarter'n I am 'bout everythin' else." Her left hand rises and picks at the scar from what appears to be a long-healed ugly knife wound on her right shoulder, just below the collar bone. "Reckon y'prolly have a cleaner head, too. Cleaner life." Taikrin being startled startles Saliqa in turn, enough to get her to look up and meet that gaze. "You don't?" She echoes on the tail end of the other's question mark. "But you do that yelling thing sometimes..." The argument is tentative, and just as weakly spoken as it deserves. When this leads to the motion around the scars, her eyes get narrow and inquisitive again. Chin lifts to accommodate her peering. She tilts her head slowly to one side, getting more and more concentrated. "Your head, huh..." Then, the face brightens and she slips forward, sliding body along the edge of the pool to finally stand inside it-- shift on and all. "Oh, your hair!" She announces, reaching a hand out to make beckoning fingers at Taikrin. Even as she steps forward a few times, herself. "That's new, isn't it. Let me see." Taikrin looks terribly uncomfortable at all this sensitive touchy-feely talk: hence the scar-picking and the darting gaze. "Well, y'know. I like t'yell. Like t'hit stuff, too. Part of my charm." A hint of a smile appears, though it's mostly self-deprecating. "My hair?" Her left hand comes up towards her temple at the mention, though she drops it a moment later. "Huh, yeah. Guess so." Obediently, she sloshes the last few paces and ducks her head a bit. "I was cuttin' it normal-like, an' P'ax said it looked like a wherry got to it, so he cut it. With scissors an' everything." The story is related as if the chain of events were the most natural in the world. With her gaze lowered the way it is, though, to show off the new cut she can hardly fail to notice... "Hey, ain'cha gonna wreck that dress thing? It looks expensive." Since it's been presented so nicely to her, Saliqa spares no expense examining the woman's hair style; she brushes pieces here and there absently. "Really?" Is retorted wryly at the recollection, "Because I'm fairly certain cutting with a scissors /would/ be the normal, like." She's hardly aware of their new position until she glances down to check out what this 'dress thing' is. A second eyeing her own cleavage and then she darts back up to Taikrin then back down, then her arms drop and do that awkward over-the-breasts movement. She coughs daintily to the side. "This is how I get by public bathing." She scoots backwards some, brushing idly at one arm, "And it's just a slip." Which is too thin to do much but cling to her now that it's wet: but it's still more than nothing. "Been holding up so far," she adds, furtive and almost sheepish as her grip on herself loosens to let her pluck at one of the straps over her shoulder. "I dunno, been doin' it with a beltknife f'r turns, now. Or findin' someone who'd do it f'r me, when I couldn't get one. Easier t'get than scissors." And one of Taikrin's mysteries is now revealed. She blinks at the cleavage as Saliqa inadvertently draws attention to it, then flushes and forcibly raises her gaze to the other girl's face. Well. Maybe a spot just up and to the right of her face. "But... why? What's wrong with th'baths?" She turns to look over her shoulder, as if seeking answers in the changing area. "Don't think that tiny thing's gonna stop y'from gettin' cold 'r sick or nothin'." Obliviousness this huge has to be willful, and there may or may not be the tiniest hint of a smile teasing around her lips. Saliqa has a difficult time holding that sullen besieged look when that affected silliness comes up. Her mouth is flat originally, then she has to all but force it there; then she gives it up entirely and just looks exasperated-- with a touch of, is that affection? Rolling her eyes, one arm comes down to run her hand horizontally partially under the water, creating a rather benign splash in Taikrin's direction: but a splash, nonetheless. "Har har. It's about modesty. And the regime that is wearing /that/," she stabs a finger in the bench's direction where she left the vest, "this whole time." At first it's out so fast the admittance hardly seems voluntary, but after hovering a second in paused movement to go over what she said there's only a little sigh and an equally inconsequential shrug. Taikrin is the winner of this round, and she knows it: the promise of a smile blooms into a full-fledged grin at the eyeroll, and even lasts through the flinch-and-yelp from the surprise splash. "Modesty?" The shift is eyed again, for maybe a hair of a moment longer than would be proper. "Y'/do/ know that ain't hidin' much, right?" Blunt, to the point, and utterly unembarrased; after all, Taikrin has probably been bathing naked in groups for turns in the mines. "What else're you wearin'?" Neck cranes in the indicated direction, lips pursing together as she tries to follow. "That thing on th'bench yours? Don't think I ever seen y'wearin' it." Her confusion rings true, this time: no teasing here. She squirms again under scrutiny, Saliqa, fixing the wet fabric around her. "/Modesty/," she repeats more fiercely, not even bothering with other arguments but holding ground there. Except the part where she is shrinking away with this eyeing and bluntness. Blinking a bit in surprise at the, well, surprise, she cranes her neck around to make sure she pointed in the right direction the first time. "That," she says helpfully, "the vest," turning back to Taikrin pointedly and practical, "I always have it on. It's support, see. Only instead of--" for which she actually puts the back of her hands under her breasts and pushes up, "it--" and then flattens them with her palms instead. She manages a couple of seconds like that before recognizing that she's standing there, hands on her own chest. "Umm. There's a point. And it's not stupid." "Oh, is /that/ what that was?" There's a lightbulb going off in Taikrin's head, and Saliqa is probably not going to like it. "'Cause now that I think about it I guess y'did feel kinda weird when I was grabb-- err." Apparently Taikrin doesn't like this sudden turn, either, because her smile takes a sickly turn, and she's flushing with color again. "I mean. Uh." She can't help but notice Saliqa's ever-so-helpful demonstrations, and that really just makes the situation worse: she turns partially away with enough force to swirl the water around, and lets fly with the nervous, somewhat strangled babble. "'M sure it's f'r somethin' useful like ridin' runners or doin' laps--" Both of which are /obvious/ activities for Saliqa to be doing. "-- an' it's all awful practical an' y'really don't need t'/demonstrate/, really." "/Yes/, that-- what?" First, Saliqa has to even quite get the turn before she can not like it. "I feel /what/?" Which is really the most important part. Except for that then there's the whole thing with her standing there, and Taikrin freaking out about it. "What!" A third time, and suitably the loudest. "Ahh-- no," as soon as that rambling is happening. Her arms come up and she waves hands near her head frantically; meanwhile she side-steps backwards but also in the direction the other woman turned away. "What are yo-- don't get all awkward, because then /I/ get all awkward-- why are-- it's /very/ practical for stopping men from having /thoughts/ and, oh, please don't be uncomfortable because I'm just uncomfortable enough as it is by myself." A difficult enough admission for her to spit out, it seems, though it may not sound like much. Still, if Taikrin utilizes her periphery, or deigns to turn back, she'll be treated to that special-mopey, 'Saliqa is feeling bad and don't you feel responsible' look the convict loves so much. "Y'know, y'felt... weird-an'-hard-'stead-of-soft." It's all blurted out on one breath, words crammed up against each other in Taikrin's haste to get them all out. She can't help bot notice Saliqa and her hand-waving-ness, much less the return of the much dreaded look; her face screws up in a grimace, but she relents with a muttered, "Y'really don't get it." She doesn't seem to want to elaborate on that bit, though, because she barrels ahead full steam down another conversation track. "I don't know how that's s'pposed t'stop men from having thoughts." There's remarkable control demonstrated there, as her voice is approaching normal, conversation tones despite the crimson in her cheeks. "They got thoughts 'bout anythin' they think they can stick their d-- uh, anythin', uh---" She's making an obvious effort not to be lewd, though it's really not that successful. "Bloody shells, y'know what I mean." That line of Saliqa's eyebrows suggests she's still carrying a slightly bewildered feeling, though it's eventually buried under the unpleasantness of continuing into what men do or don't want to, err, do. "Everybody knows that it helps to be good-looking," she states matter-of-factly, arms crossing in a more normal fashion. "I get /that/," but apparently not that this was from the other topic. "I was warned about the lewd behavior before I got here," said a bit more flatly for the way she began to scrunch up in clear dislike for even thinking about talking about this. "And you can't deny that shapeliness encourages distasteful attention. So I get rid of it. Helps that I'm not exactly-- I haven't caught one person looking there." Hearing her words, she hesitates. Hesitates to sort of side-ways eye Taikrin; then she dismisses it just as well: because, the female doesn't count in that regard, right? "So there." "I ain't denyin' nothin' of th'sort. Everyone can appreciate a good pair of--" That effort to avoid lewdness really isn't going very well; Taikrin catches herself again, but not quite soon enough. A somewhat squinty expression appears as she attempts to clarify. "And, uh, by everyone I mean dirty teenage boys what should be keepin' their eyes t'themselves." Right. /That/ was definitely convincing. "It ain't lewd, y'know, what they do here. It's just... they don't hide nothin'. Same stuff goes on everywhere else, too." And the talk of looking, well, that earns a wince and a deepened flush that's certainly not in the /least/ bit guilty, no sir. "Right. M'sure nobody's lookin' at yer vest." It's apparently meant to be reassuring, but Taikrin's reaction is so all over the map that it's probably hard to tell. Saliqa catches herself giving a sagely nod as to what everyone appreciates; it makes her point but it's also a bit forward. So, instead, she's so busy shifting weight and adjusting herself that she misses catching anything that might be less than sincere. "Same argument as before," she jumps back into the conversation when it's handy, "Some things are just supposed to be hidden. Everyone should strive to be more pleasant on the outside. There might be less of this nonsense." Whatever 'this' is, she appears to believe that indicating a circle in the air next to them will describe it well. She draws a second circle afterwards, lazier. Then her hand drops with a watery *plop* to the pool's surface. "I... don't even know how we got onto this," she admits with a topical big chest-heaving sigh, "I wanted to come here and wash up and /not/ think about things." Taikrin can only offer a shrug in return: anything else would be self-incrimination. "Hidin' stuff like that only makes people feel bad, y'know. Besides, s'pleasant enough t'plenty of folk." She scratches idly at another long scar that stretches across her ribcage, her expression thoughtful, then suddenly perks up. "I dunno, but I don't wanna punch things no more." A pause, then a shaken head as she clarifies, "Well. I don't /gotta/ punch things." An improvement, at least. "Reckon I been distracted enough, even if s'not what I had in mind, y'know?" And she's definitely not eyeing Saliqa and her big sighs. Definitely not. Well. Maybe a /quick/ look, followed by a hurried dunk underwater to wet her hair again. Totally innocent. Really. "Well, at least /you're/ feeling better," Saliqa decides, totally honest; though not without some disappointment for herself. "Don't think we need anymore hitting," which she manages to sound somewhat sheepish about, her fingers making shapes on the water until Taikrin surfaces. "Can't imagine what the quarters look like right now." A brief, angry streak darkens her face. To rid herself of it, she finally does her own dunking. She's under for a couple of seconds and then slides up out of the water, rubbing wetted hair off to the side of her forehead. There's some scrubbing after that, a brief search for sweetsand, and then a severe examination of the dirt under her short nails that she picks out with careful severity. The act is somewhat therapeutic and she remains quiet throughout. "I dunno, might be good exercise." Taikrin seems content to lean back against the lip of the pool again, glancing occasionally at Saliqa though the bulk of her attention fixes on studying her obviously wasted right arm. "Gonna take shardin' /forever/ 'til this thing's right again." A slow-motion punch is thrown at the air with the right arm, followed by a sigh of disgust. The movement draws her attention back to Saliqa and her scrubbing, though, and she can't help but ask, "I really dunno how yer gonna get clean under that thing." At least she's not staring this time: Taikrin seems to be having moderate success at keeping her gaze at eye-level this time. "I think you can find exercise that won't get you into trouble," she returns, a little late, but Saliqa's generally present in the conversation. Her cleaning is interrupted for a sympathetic look at the way Taikrin's arm moves. "I'm sure it'll be back in no time. You're not exactly the type to give up and get worse. You'll be full shape before anyone even expects it." She only eyes the other for a moment, out of a generally down-turned head. Then, another barely-there shrug, "It's not like it's attached to me. I can lift and scrub." At least there's no demonstrations this time, just the rinsing of her nails; she holds them up afterwards for examination in the foggy bathing light. While still staring at the nails, she asides, "Awfully concerned about it, are you?" "Guess so," Taikrin agrees rather reluctantly, even as she gives the arm another few flexes. "Couldn't really do much with it anyway. Gonna have t'work it pretty good if I'm gonna be ready f'r th'hatchin'. Can't look weak, goin' in there." She subsides once more against the side of the pool, watching-but-not-watching Saliqa out of the corner of her eye. "Well, I got a stake in it, don't I? Can't have y'smellin' funny in th'barracks we all gotta sleep in." The teasing grin is back again, playing around the corners of her lips. "'Specially now if I'm gonna have t'follow you around an' beat up all those dimglows y'might've got worked up." "Oh, you're /really/ funny," Saliqa chirps off, not quite irritated enough to make it work as actual annoyance at the teasing. "Besides, I smell once for a night and I bet no one could tell in that hole we're all crammed in." Whoosh: as if washed away, all those niceties and that polite, slightly higher-pitched voice is gone. This new, unconcerned version of the girl gives an absent head-tilt. "Well. Fine. I'd let Ivana complain. She /does/ sleep on top of me." Her newest shrug freezes at its peak, and upset washes the mask back onto her face: this one of wide-eyed worry. "Oh no. No, no, no." To emphasize, she hurries as best one can in water to stand in front of Taikrin, "No beating people up. My problem." "Yeah, well--" There's a certain amount of smugness in Taikrin's voice at getting a rise out of the other girl, though it's swallowed by a swift flsh of jealousy. "Yer doin' /what/ with Ivana?!" A mere second later, though, and her brain seems to have caught up: her eyes go huge, and she's falling all over herself to correct the statement. "I mean, uh-- she's got yer top bunk, ain't she, in th'barracks where we're all just sleepin' an' we ain't doin' nothin' funny." She latches onto the talk of beating people up like it's a lifeline, then, as the stream of quasi-babble continues. "An' 'cause we all gotta sleep there an' /that/ sort's sleepin' there I can't just let y'take it, they'd /hurt/ you an' I won't let 'em." During this particular babble, Saliqa is paying extra attention, what with having moved close and being worried. Rather than it inciting her own freak out like last time, however, her wide eyes narrow and her nose twitches quirkily once; maybe she's caught an odd scent like they're talking about. Squinting over what could possibly be misconstrued about what she said does not take precedence to trying to put off violence, though. "Don't think I don't appreciate it," she gets out immediately, hands moving forward and seeking Taikrin's, wanting to squeeze her fingers in that familiar way, "But /I/ shoved a guy. /I/ was dumb about it. I'll report it all to the Headwoman, and I trust it to be taken care of-- because I really, really couldn't stand it if you got in trouble because of me." Taikrin swallows visibly once she manages to cut short the stream of words, and though her muscles are tight with nervous tension, she does return the finger squeeze -- though with possibly more force than most might use. "I just--" Her gaze, previously lowered, darts back up imploringly at the other girl. "I dunno if I can trust 'em t'take care of that -- t'take care of you -- right. They put his sort, no-- /my/ sort in there with you lot an' didn't even see somethin' like this comin'. If they're gonna punish /me/ f'r doin' somethin' they ain't got th'balls t'do, well-- if it keeps all of y'all from havin' some fabulous knife holes, /I don't care/." The intense finger squeeze gets no visible reaction from Saliqa, at least not one that can be easily traced back to that cause. "Of course they were worried, saw something bad could happen," she insists, trying to pull Taikrin's hands towards her through the rippling water. "But they did the right thing and gave everyone a chance, first. Now I have to believe they'll know what to do about it." Though she argues firmly, unwaveringly, there's a vague vulnerability about it: she /has to/ believe. Absolutely nothing weak about the way she stomps forward and lifts her chin demandingly at the older girl for the end, though. "Yeah, well, /too bad/-- because /I/ care. About /you/." And nothing at all to be done about that. Taikrin is apparently perfectly content to be pulled or pushed around: she offers no resistance whatsoever, and her fingers remain quite firmly wrapped. "I dunno-- I dunno if I can believe 'em. That they /really/ know what's what, an' not just what they think's goin' on." There's less fervor in her voice now, though; she's apparently on the verge of conceding the point. "Y'shouldn't, y'know." Her voice continues to soften, even as her gaze drops down and to the side. "I ain't a good person an' I ain't good f'r you. I dunno why y'let me hang around you. Y'didn't know how t'see a mean word t'nobody when you got here, an' now yer pickin' /fights/ with guys five times yer size. I'm /ruinin'/ you." Saliqa hovers there, supposedly respectfully listening to Taikrin's point of view. With her gaze down, the former convict might not be able to see the way the younger girl's lips are beginning to not listen to her; they turn up out of her control, her cheeks dimpling with with-held humor. With-held, that is, until, seconds later, when she tosses her head back to laugh. Like, really laugh: not those girlish giggles or some polite chuckling. Laughing. Coinciding, her hands come up to her chest, and possibly Taikrin's with them. "Oh, Taikrin! It's not true. I /hate/ two of those kitchen workers I always get stuck with, and I wish certain members of the Weyr staff would walk into a ditch, and I want to punch people /all the time/. I thought only mean things about Weyrfolk when I got here. Some of them still deserve it..." She calms a bit from her rambling amusement, grip relaxing. "But I try-- I /try/ to be nice anyway. To be a good girl." Taikrin certainly does not notice the signs of impending mirth, as she's caught completely surprise by the sudden bout of mirth. Her gaze snaps up, cycling quickly through surprise to instinctive wariness to bewilderment. "Y'wan't t'punch... people?" Disbelief makes her voice faint, and she's so off-balance that she doesn't appear to notice where her hands have been taken. "But yer a nice, /innocent/ girl an' y'don't do things like that. I mean-- I guess everyone /thinks/ it but y'didn't, y'know, /push/ 'em into a ditch, before." Ever so slowly she's pulling her wits about her-- and then, abruptly, realization dawns. Hot color rises to her cheeks and her mouth forms a little 'oh' of surprise before she pulls her hands back in a not-so-subtle move to hold them tightly against her torso. Her mouth opens and closes several times before she squeaks -- /squeaks!/ -- "Sorry!" "Terrible of me," Saliqa responds, sounding not quite apologetic enough, "But I do. Want to. And... I /may/ have pushed this guy back home-- but he totally deserved it-- and was saying that girls were useless-- and I apologized afterward... but we never really got along anyway..." She turns to regretfulness, then a certain introspective note; "I'm kind of glad he chopped all my hair off now, because how else would I have found out I like it this way..." Reminiscing is interrupted by Taikrin's wits, and the sudden movements they spawn. The Crom girl's hands jump to the side in a jerk like she's been pinched, and then she startles a second time at that noise the convict makes. "It's fine!" She chirps out automatically at the sound of apology, before she can ease herself into even knowing what that was about. "Oh, no, /I'm/ sorry! I mean, I get rather touchy with my girl friends, and sometimes I forget someone like you-- I mean, you might not like it. Personal space. And you have all these--" Halfway through almost gesturing to one of the more prominent scars on Taikrin, she pulls back instead: now also red under dark cheeks. "No!" Taikrin is quick to protest this, perhaps with more vehemence than strictly necessary. She continues, softer, "No. It ain't yer fault, don't say that-- y'ain't got no idea what--" The words break off mid-sentence as she struggles with proper phrasing, raking a hand roughly through her short, damp hair. "Y'just-- I-- I keep almost forgettin' yer a hold girl, an' so proper-- and I don't want t'make y'uncomfortable 'r nothin', 'cause of a girl like me." At the reference to her scars, she scratches at one idly with an arm drawn diagonally across her chest. "Don't-- I mean-- don't worry 'bout it. It's not-- I definitely ain't thinkin' yer gonna pull a knife on me." A husky note enters her voice, to match her blush. "Definitely not that." Saliqa remains rebelliously repentant, though also attentive. "What?" She prompts, gently, at each sentence cliffhanger. Her hand is also somewhat disobedient; she can't seem to stop herself from raising curious fingers towards the indicated, scratched-at scar. No touching, just hovering. "That's good," she teases, lightly, "Because I'm proper and use my knives for my vegetables, and scissors for my hair." The hovering fingers curl in the air, lacking anything to touch, but perhaps imagining doing so. "You could, you know," she starts, slowly, with bashful eyes wandering to the water as she gives an unconsciously coy tip of the head, "Give me an idea." The eyes raise, "I'd like to get to know you better. And this is the start of your second chance, right? So you don't have to say you're like anything anymore. Not unless you want to." "It don't hurt or nothin'," is Taikrin's offhanded comment as Saliqa lingers over the rather ugly scar. But she's really wrestling with with the proper response: she swallows again, loudly, and squeezes her eyes shut. "Girl, y'/really/ got no idea what yer talkin' about. Give y'ideas! I'd like t--" There's heat of a different sort in her voice, just for a moment, before she catches it and ruthlessly suppresses the emotion. "It ain't got nothin' t'do with me gettin' nabbed an' released. I am what I am an' you are what you are an' that's just th'way it is so y'/really/ shouldn't tempt me like that." She's drawn back as far as she can manage against the lip of the pool behind her, though it's really only the matter of an inch or so. An oath escapes, part groan and part strangled murmur. "Bloody /shells/ Saliqa..." A little bit of frustration leaks into the side of Saliqa's mouth and weighs it down. Her fingers curl further, tightening. Her eyebrows are heavy over her narrowed eyes, as she tries to get what Taikrin is about. At the swearing, through, her fists become helpless gestures. "What? /What/? What am I doing wrong-- or-- or not getting? I don't know what you /want/-- and I'm /trying/." If she's also growing heated, it's all nervous, concerned energy. She pushes in closer to negate Taikrin's repeat purposefully: "What--" is as far as she gets. There's noise-- commotion-- from the front of the cavern. Soon enough the sound clarifies into Saliqa's name being called. Hesitating only a second, the girl scurries her way across the pool to the edge and hauls out. Seated back on the corner, she's able to reach and tug on her blouse even while she's dripping vast amounts of water. "I'm here!" She calls to the searcher only after she's partially clothed. Taikrin is beginning to resemble nothing so much as a cornered animal as Saliqa draws nearer, pressing her back against the stone lip in a way that can't feel good. "I don't-- I can't--" Saliqa's nervous energy must be contagious, because Taikrin is beginning to get jittery again-- more than jittery, even, if the trembling in her arms is any indication. "I don't--! know." The exclamation starts out sharp, right on the heels of Saliqa's final question, then abruptly peters out at the sound of other people in the cavern. As Taikrin watches the other girl scurry away, the tension collapses, leaving her to sag against the pool with an face that speaks, oddly, of nothing so much as regret. "Just-- don't worry about it, okay?" The words are pitched soft, pleading. "It ain't somethin' y'gotta worry about. Y'didn't do nothin'." Pausing from watching for whoever's come to find her, Saliqa glances over at Taikrin there, in the water. She gnaws on a lip but is too late in finding an answer before the company shows up. It's a younger girl, a resident. All she does is repeat Saliqa's name to make sure she's got the right one and jerks her thumb to the exit. Obediently, the candidate pushes to her feet and disappears briefly behind the cubby to get her skirt on. Coming out, she picks up the vest and, sucking in one last free breath, she braces it around her and begins lacing up. As she's on the last one, she glances at Taikrin a last time. "Well. No promises. I'd be dishonored to not be able to keep one!" She tests out a simple, encouraging smile that's partway to goal; then she's turning and leaving. Over her shoulder as she turns the corner, but luckily echoing in the hazy pools: "Also, no beating up people for me!" Taikrin pulls herself up atop the lip of the pool, leaving just her legs dangling into the water. From this vantage she can better give the intruding child the evil eye, though she affects an expression of cool nonchalance once Saliqa has re-appeared in her skirt. She remains still and quiet, watching the other girl dress from the corner of her eye, until she actually turns to leave. At that point Taikrin leans over, half-shouting down the tunnel, "Ain't gonna make no promises I can't keep, neither!" |
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