Logs:Boy-ish
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| RL Date: 1 July, 2015 |
| Who: I'dro, Isabeau |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Gender roles are hard. As is hair care. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, Fort Weyr |
| When: Somewhere in the realm of a few days post-Hatching. |
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Through the entrance to the barracks, one is immediately presented with
the door to the Weyrlingmaster's Staffroom to the left, while a path
leading forward and a path to the right lead to two separate chambers,
allowing two classes to be housed with their fellows. Each high-ceilinged
chamber contains two neat rows of cots, each bed with its top to the wall,
enough to house at least thirty weyrlings and their growing dragons.
Placed at strategic intervals between the rows are barrels of oil, clean
buckets and other equipment needed for dragon care or the cleaning of the
premises. Windows are concealed by heavy drapes, but can be opened to
provide fresh air and sunlight. Glowbaskets line the walls for nighttimes
lighting.
Each weyrling pair is provided with a bed, a bedside table, and a trunk
for their belongings. Beside each bed is a smooth indentation in the floor
to serve as a wallow for growing dragons. If required, fresh linens and
materials for wallows can be collected from the tall unit of drawers and
collection of barrels at the very back of each room. Some little time has passed to settle into the routine of this new life, for the new riders. Their dragons, of course, are now spending a great deal of their time growing. Lots of food to eat, lots of oiling, and then lots of time sleeping while their little cells are multiplying like crazy. They have wallows for that purpose. Nasmaeth, so far, has not been persuaded as to the merits of this. The beauty of being green: it may be awhile yet before she gets so large that I'dro has to kick her out of bed. Right now, though, she's got it all to herself, still gleaming from her last oiling, dozing in a position of limbs and wings that doesn't look even vaguely comfortable. I'dro is just taking up a corner of it, working on his needlework. Or, well, stitching up a tear in a shirt, anyway. Occasionally, he's been shooting looks off to where some of the weyrlings have been talking with one of the assistants--but once the assistant in question has gone, his interest dissipates immediately, and he never actually moves to join them. Banth is one of those dragons who seems (to Isabeau at least) to be everywhere all at once ... that is until she isn't. At present, she has made a nest of Isabeau's bedding, half hidden in the tangle of blanket and sheets. Isa seems to be relieved that the little devil is sleeping soundly. The blonde is currently trying to detangle what must have at one point been long blonde hair but now just looks to be a mess. With a pair of sheers in hand, she's thrusting them in I'dro's direction. "Cut it all off." Which probably seems strange considering they barely know each other and Isa doesn't seem able to remember I'dro's name. "Oh, sweetie." I'dro looks up as she approaches, and that's even before she's actually offering him the scissors, just looking at her hair. Because his is perfect. Obviously. Aside from the hatching, that much has maintained its place as one of the fundamental truths of the universe. Despite the lack of proper getting-to-know-you prior to this, he takes them without hesitation. But he does add, after looking at her a moment longer: "Are you sure? I mean--that must have taken forever. If you braid it up, maybe?" "I don't even want to think about what all is matted into it at this point. Chop it off. If I wake up looking like a wherry nest one more time I think I will lose my marbles." She sighs seriously for all the dramatic flare. Then there's a moment, and she blushes. "Ah... sorry. I didn't mean to be so bossy. I'm Isa, or Isabeau if you prefer the extra syllables. Sorry I'm horrible with names." "Isabeau," the slim young man repeats, then he smiles, brightly, if with slightly more in the way of teeth than is conventional. "I was Isidro, before. I'm trying to get used to the 'I'dro' but it will probably be awhile. I wonder why it is that you girls seem to be able to keep as many syllables as you like--suppose that's just one of the mysteries of the world. I wouldn't say you're bossy. Bossy is a word people use for girls who don't behave according to traditional standards of docility, which seems hardly worthy of an insult." A pause and a glance around, then he gestures, not with the scissors but with the free hand. "Why don't you pull that trunk over? Sitting on a bed will just end up with someone's linens full of hair, a hard surface we can sweep off." "Um. I am not sure about half of what you said... but it's nice to meet you, er properly?" She offers as she drags the trunk over plopping down unceremoniously. "You mean how guys get an apostrophe? or whatever the little floaty mark is." Handing over the brush and comb too. "Honorific, someone called it. I don't know. It seems to be the convention. I don't think dragons can actually spell--at least, not at this stage." I'dro gives a glance over to his, but then gets up, scissors in hand, and starts surveying the state of Isabeau's hair, careful not to pull while he prods at the tangles. "Don't worry about me, everyone says I talk too much. Nearly everyone. How short do you want it? I don't think you're at risk of looking boyish, regardless." "I trust your judgement," Presumably with her hair at least if nothing else. "I don't mind that you talk, just... a lot of big words in a small space." She laughs. "Probably what I get for playing hooky all the time during harper lessons. Not that I didn't get caught." She holds still, "What does it matter if I look boyish? Or Girlish. I mean is anyone going to notice next to her?" She points her thumb in the direction of the now no longer sleeping green. "I'm all mouth, evidently." And teeth! But friendly teeth. Really, there is such a thing as friendly teeth, here, and I'dro's got 'em. "I suppose if it doesn't matter to you, what people think, then it doesn't matter. Lots of people are apt to notice. People do a lot of noticing around here, if you get my meaning. Are you from one of the holds, or...?" Fill-in-the-blank! It's like personal history mad-libs. "How you present to the world makes a very big difference in how people treat you." "Igen Weyr," Isa states, and for presentation she shrugs. "Never been one who cared much what other people thought. Seemed like a gigantic waste of time, I figure people should be themselves warts and all." She shrugs, "I could be wrong in that. Is that why you are good at sewing?" Glancing over to the stitchwork discarded for emergency hair issues. "I'm not sure I'd say I'm good. I still take my tailoring home to my mother. But I can do a few things in a pinch." Including hair? "Let's trim the worst of it and then you can make any further decisions from there," I'dro decides, or doesn't decide, one way or the other--waiting for the okay on that before actually going to work with the scissors at about shoulder-length. "I'd not say I'm apt to be shattered by anyone's poor opinion of me, but it saves a great deal of time if the sort of person I'd like to get to know better knows I'm the sort of person they'd like to get to know better. It's like... talking in code, with your hair, your clothes, whatever." "That sounds like an awful lot of work." Isabeau notes, even as the tangled sheets and blanket on her cot starts moving toward them, whirling eyes peering from within the mass. "I think... chin length? She's so much work I don't know that I have time to braid it every day." "Chin length," I'dro agrees by way of confirmation, and then sets about doing just that. While he's not exactly the most graceful about this, he seems to know his way around a pair of scissors well enough, and, well, with chin length the primary concern is just making sure it's all lining up. That much, he can do. "It is a lot of work, but I think it's worth it. If you don't, that's fine, too. Or maybe you won't now but you will later. Anyway, we're not supposed to be thinking about that for months, yet." Oh, the lament in his tone. I'dro's timing is perfect because it's time to rescue Banth from the blanket monster that has so rudely engulfed her. She runs a hand through it with a grin. "AHA Just try and bed head this!" She's in for a rude awakening later to be sure. "Thanks a ton I'dro! Catch you around?" As she begins untangling the green and the two proceed to repeat the whole food clean oil thing. Such a good guy I'dro is: he even handles the cleanup without complaint. But then, he's the one with a dragon who hasn't yet woken. "Anytime," he chirps right back, before going to find a broom. |
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