Logs:Empty
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| RL Date: 25 October, 2014 |
| Who: Euphemia, Ulyana |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ulyana meets Euphemia. Chatting about chores commences. |
| Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 2, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| It's been a slow road for Ulyana with regards to her recovery, but she's finally been fully cleared and given the appropriate bill of good health - with a couple of caveats, of course. At the moment, she's free from her duties in the laundry, but she's still just a bit damp around the edges and there's the definite scent of one who has been deeply embroiled in either gathering or cleaning laundry about her. She's sitting near the hearth in a pilfered chair, a cup of tea and a plate of food resting on a side table. The strange girl appears to be studying the fire within the hearth, her expression impassive and her eyes seemingly unblinking. Conversation flows around her, but she engages in none of it; it's impossible to tell if she's even aware of what's going on, so lost is she in her thoughts. Regardless of the status of the food on the plate, the stocky blonde who all but stomps her way through the living cavern, gathering abandoned crockery and cutlery here and there, pauses at Ulyana's table and makes an abrupt, vague sort of gesture towards what she's got sat there for herself. "You done with that?" she puts to her, hefting to one hip the shallow tub that she's piling high with dirty dishes. Euphemia hardly waits at all before she launches into, "I mean, I'm not really to know; for a place supposedly short on supplies, they sure waste a lot of stuff." And, with the way she eyes that plate, it's not so difficult to see that she may well be assuming that's what is going on here. The contents of the plate may be a bit peculiar, all things considered; a couple of thin, ginger crisps and a couple of pieces of meat. Wherry, from the looks of it. Ulyana blinks once and joins the moment, with but a slight, sidelong look angled to the other Candidate. She's silent for a long time after those words - or, at least, a long time relative to what would be 'normal'. Ultimately, she blinks again and looks back at the hearth. "No. I am not done with it. I will be sure to take care of the plate when it is finished." Her voice is odd and flat; wholly inflectionless. She adds after a lengthy beat: "If you would like one of the crisps, you are welcome to take one. They are not as good as before. I think another baker prepared them." Euphemia's focus flickers briefly to assess the contents of the plate and the mentioned crisp(s), rather than merely note that there's 'stuff' there, and given a moment to consider, she gives another flap of her free hand in a more dismissive fashion. "You're all right," she tells her. "I'm only supposed to be after your empties. Or fulls, in some cases." She rolls her eyes and adjusts the tub again, jutting her hip out just to keep it steady, and when she might move off is when she takes a breath as though to speak, then holds it and falls silent instead. "Why one crisp? If you don't like them. Someone earmarked for the other one?" she blurts out. The other Candidate's head tilts slightly, the motion being stiffly mechanical. Ulyana catches the other girl in the corner of her eye and holds her there, the rest of her posture being straight-backed and proper, right down to the hands folded in her lap. "I see. So why did you ask after my plate if you are only interested in plates that are empty?" Her expression shifts, but only slightly; a subtle quirk of both mouth and brow at the breath taken by the other girl - and words that are left unsaid. She continues with a flat, "I enjoy them - and I enjoy sharing them. If you do not like them, you do not have to take one. If you want both, take them. They are just not the same as before, if you have had them previously." "Empty doesn't mean empty. Not here, anyway." Ephie gives a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "You see that brownrider the other night? Took /two/ plates, heaped full, and then saw this leggy brunette and went after her, leaving it all. Classed as empties." She gives a snort and another roll of her eyes, features briefly twisting into a grimace of disdain. "Get it? And with you staring off and all..." A sigh, then: "Anyway, I won't deprive you, even if you're not enjoying them as much as the others." With a jut of her chin in the direction of the kitchen, she supposes, "I'm headed that way anyway. Want me to see if there's a new batch or something? If the riders haven't eaten them all." "You mentioned the full ones previously." Ulyana's attention lingers, strange and inscrutable, as she studies the other girl. "They are one or the other." Black and white. "I wonder if they would be so wasteful if they were required to pay for their meals." As to the crisps: "I see." If they're to be left, she settles on seeing to them; she takes one and, using the plate, cracks it in half - and then cracks those halves in half again. The process is repeated with the second one and she pops one quarter into her mouth while the other Candidate speaks. In the end: "No. This will be enough. Any more and I will be sick." There's a lengthy pause, as mental gears grind away, before: "Thank you." "If they're empty, they should be /empty/, but it doesn't look like they see it that way." It's something like agreement, and something not at the same time, Euphemia's explanation supplied with just a hint of scorn that doesn't seem directed at Ulyana. "Some of them would do better with a lesson in really going without," she mutters under her breath. "Seems most of them believe they're above that. Use the most resources and do none of the 'menial' stuff. Wonder if we end up like that, if we get a dragon like they have?" She glances down, gaze flitting over the pale scars littered across her hands, then back up to Ulyana. "You're welcome," is a touch more abrupt, yet not truly impolite, provided in answer to thanks. "I'm Ephie, by the way." One shoulder rises and falls, with Ulyana pulling the plate into her lap and drawing the cup into her hands. A vacated chair is gestured at - despite the fact that the other girl is clearly on duty. The table is empty and that's purposeful. "If part of becoming a rider involves becoming oblivious to the idea of waste, then I am not sure I would be well-suited for it," she observes blandly. Her gaze slides elsewhere, fixing on nothing in particular. "Regardless, it might be considered failure on the part of their leaders - or ignorance of how significant the issue is." All of which is so far from her control that she focuses, instead, on matters much more mundane: "I am Ulyana." A beat. Two. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Stilted, yes, but there's little about her to suggest social niceties come easily. Ephie slides a look towards the chair, then darts a glance or two to immediate surroundings, knots on shoulders scanned, before she allows herself to sit on the very edge of that offered chair. "They're selfish," she states, low enough to not be heard far beyond Candidate to Candidate. "Only worried about their own wants." Judgement passed, it looks like she can move on easily enough, the words doing something to uncurl her shoulders from their slump. "Nice to meet you," doesn't sound terribly easy either, though even if it's just for the sake of manners, it sounds genuine enough. "You're the one who ended up in the infirmary." Not a question, so much. "Can't have been fun, being trapped in there with them." "To be fair," Ulyana muses in a tone that's queer and flat, "those who desire to Impress strike me as selfish to start. Perhaps the dragon only brings those traits out in full." No judgment in those words; just flat observation. One shoulder rises and falls, dismissing the topic just as easily. Not that the ensuing topic is any easier, but she addresses it all the same. "Yes. It was-" she considers for a moment, features screwing up in a rare display of distaste "-not unlike childhood. It would have been easier if they had permitted me books or something to write on, but they did not want to risk spreading the illness until they knew what it was." Her mouth pulls to one side. "It has been a long time since I was kept in the infirmary." A pause. Then: "Did you end up sick like the others?" "I know my wanting to Impress is for selfish reasons." Euphemia doesn't even attempt to pretend otherwise, words accompanied by a one-shouldered shrug. "But I don't ever want to be /their/ ignorant kind of selfish." She initially just gives a shake of her head in response to Ulyana's enquiry, but after a long few moments of just staring down at the dirty dishes in the tub now sitting on her knees, she murmurs, "No." When she looks up, it's at a point somewhere past her fellow Candidate, attention distant and lingering, before she finds focus again and turns back to Ulyana. "But I know what it's like to be sick, and-- have it go on. And on." Shaking her head, she pushes back to her feet. "Look, I'm-- not one of those girls who's going to hug you and talk about boys. But if you need anything..." Silence unspools on Ulyana's side while she listens. There is only a singular, up-down-center nod for something or another that Ephie says before her gaze is tilted to fix on the other Candidate. "Then, I suppose you will come out of it just right, if you do Impress." While the other girl gets up, she seems fairly settled in her spot; at least for now, though her lunch break will probably end all too soon. It's to the last that a left-right-center shake of her head follows. If the urge to pry deeper is there, she gives no sign of it; perhaps she understands. Perhaps she's just that indifferent. Impossible to say. Instead, the offer is met with an intoned, "I will live." A blink and a bit more awkward silence later yields, "I will be sure my dishes are returned when I am done. Thank you." "And if you do, I hope you're selfish enough to keep them away." Ephie gives a curt, yet polite bob of her head, then she turns and looks to be moving off, resuming her path through the cavern and off to the kitchen, but she pauses a step or two away. "Someone else'll be along when I'm gone, anyway," she states, voice flat. She must be speaking of another poor Candidate or drudge being sent to collect the dishes and all sorts. Or maybe she's not. Either way, her path is set, and so she continues along it. |
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