Logs:Fashion Show
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| RL Date: 24 February, 2014 |
| Who: Elise, Lilah, Viephale, Zhivka |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The hatching is just around the corner and several candidates have yet to try on their robes. That just won't do! |
| Where: Candidate Barracks, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 2, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| With the second set of eggs, the Barracks have gotten fuller as riders Search and bring new Candidates. The evening meal has already come and pass, and the room feels as if it is full to bursting as everyone gathers for the evening. There are a few Candidates missing, of course; those with night duties, those that choose not to sleep here, and other reasons that are too varied to list. But even Lilah has the evening off from Dice, though she's retreated to that so-carefully-picked cot that is tucked back into the back corner of the barracks, trying to concentrate on a piece of hide that she's writing on even where the volume of the younger Candidates keeps rising as they talk excitedly amongst themselves. Today was Zhivka's only second least favorite chore but since it's not all that energy intensive, just mentally, it's left the spritely little blonde with plenty of energy to be among the buzz of voices in the barracks this evening. She's sitting on her cot with one of the younger girls, braiding her hair in interesting ways while they talk about the boy that the girl likes. Of course she makes it sounds simply horrible that he hasn't noticed her but Zhivka just seems amused, though sympathetic when necessary, by the whole thing. Kids are funny. Viephale is one of the (lucky?) few who doesn't spend his nights in the barracks. He doesn't spend his days there, either. In fact, judging by the way he eases into the cavern and scans the area, expression concerned, this may be one of his first times ever setting foot in the candidate barracks. He doesn't spy a familiar face right away, nor the target of his search, and so he turns to the next best thing--the nearest person who looks even a little friendly. "'Scuse me," he asks of a nearby candidate. "Any idea where the robes are kept? I was told there would be robes here." That near person to Viephale happens to be Elise, not surprising since her cot is closest to the entrance and she's sitting on it now, reading a book with one leg folded beneath her. His question lifts her attention though she seems to need a second to actually latch on to what he asked her. "Oh robes, well... I suppose some, yes. They're over there." She jerks her chin in the direction of a large trunk tucked away against a wall with some other supplies and things. "You can make your own though. Some people do. Something about being in someone else's sweat." /Her/ nose wrinkles at the thought, then after a glance around she asks in general, "Does anyone else need robes?" Lilah is too far away to hear Elise's words, which is likely a good thing, but her gaze does lift from her hide. It seems it's time for a quick break, since she seems to be stretching the muscles of her hand carefully even where dark eyes scan the barracks. They catch on Viephale, a lift of a brow marking her expression. Zhivka isn't usually one to miss a new face but she's so focused on her braiding that it's the girl that lets her know there's a cute guy present. "I think he might be a little old for you, missy," she says to the girl as she wraps the end of the braid. "It's not like they don't /wash/ them. Trust me. I've done it myself." With the one she claimed, anyway. "Did you make your own?" she asks Elise, shoving the girl off to do whatever it is the younger candidates do in the evening. "Oh, uh, thanks," Viephale mutters. His gaze follows the general direction of Elise's chin-jerk, but doesn't quite land on the trunk. Or, if it does, then it doesn't really click for him that /that's/ the magical robe wardrobe. "I don't think making my own would be the best idea, in the interest of time," he confesses, gaze still searching. No luck. That's never stopped Vie before, though, and with a resigned sigh, he starts marching forward, eyes peeled for a wayward pile of white cloth. At first Elise only watches Viephale struggle with her directions, and maybe that's an impish look in her eye, a small twist of her mouth. She'll let him suffer a little longer and then she heaves a dramatic sigh and stands, tossing her book onto her cot behind her. "I didn't," she answers Zhivka, with a smile, "I was never any good at sewing. And the last needlepoint I touched went into a fire." Which sounds super casual when she says it like that. She catches up to Vie and leads him over to that trunk, assuming he'll follow, to flip open the lid and stand aside. Inside are folded heaps of white. Perhaps not neatly folded, but still. "I have mine from last time. Zhivka, there might be some little ones in here for you." Now /that/ is a cheeky grin. As Viephale draws closer across the length of the Barracks, Lilah doesn't return to her report, whichever one she is currently writing. Instead, she waits until he's within range to greet a simple, "Boss." Yes, boss. But as Elise opens the trunk, she watches, though not getting up to look inside. She adds, perhaps not realizing this conversation has just been covered, "Not going to try to make your own? I thought you were practicing your weavercraft." The little blonde is not above staring at Viephale as he looks for the robes. And then has Elise practically holding his hand to find them. It's innocent staring, anyway! "Oh, ha ha." That's her response to Elise, taking the teasing with a grin of her own. But then Zhivka admits the truth of it, "I already found a robe that fits me just fine. Well, if you want to call it fine. I think they look pretty awful. Hopefully worrying about looking that awful in front of a gallery full of people won't be too distracting." Viephale fortunately doesn't have to slink amongst the bunks for long before Elise comes to rescue him. "Is it that obvious I have no idea what I'm doing?" he asks with a bemused grin. He doesn't hesitate to follow along after her, though. When Zhivka's stare catches his attention, he briefly returns it; then, cheeks reddening, he clears his throat and focuses purely on Elise, right up until she unveils the holy grail of candidate-wear. Wide-eyed and perhaps a little overwhelmed, he has only one thing to add: "That's... that's a lot of robes." He reaches for the first one on the stack and unfolds it. Questionable smell. Questionable stains. Certainly not the one for him, if his wrinkled nose and pursed-lip frown is any indication. Suddenly, a familiar voice catches his attention above the buzz of the barracks, and he glances around to find the source. "Lilah," he says in cool greeting once he's made eye contact with the speaker. "I don't have time to knit an entire garment. Some of us have things to do, you know. Important things." "Oh, what, knit a robe?" Elise picks up on that exchange between Viephale and Lilah, sharing another quirky smile with the redhead, and leans into the wall, folding her arms. "A crochet robe? Maybe use one of the big needles so it's nice and breezy?" She's full of tease tonight it would seem. For Zhivka, "They aren't pretty, that's for sure. We should all try ours on!" Her eyes widen and she claps her hands together, giddy. "Fashion show!" "No." That simple, dry word is for Elise's idea, Lilah making no move off her cot even at the other Candidate's seeming enthusiasm. But, she softens, adding after a moment as if remembering to be friendly and human: "But if you guys would like to model, I will tell you what looks good." See, how nice of her. Her lips lift into a brief smile, but it doesn't hold long. "So, the socks turned out horrible, didn't they?" Whatever staring is sent her way will just get a big smile from Zhivka. She's nice like that. But once Viephale's attention has focused more on the robes, she pops up to wander over and watch him pick one out. "We already know they aren't pretty. Why do you want to try them on?" In /front/ of people. That's really the whole horror of it all. "I think I'd rather just walk out on the sands naked than in these tuber sacks. Well, maybe not. But it wouldn't be that much different. I guess it could be worse. I could be a man having to practically wear a dress." Robe. Same difference. Viephale gives Elise a bemused look just bordering on condescending as he tosses the first reject robe off to the side of the pile. "Knitting and crocheting are two separate skills," he informs her matter-of-factly as he reaches for a new robe to inspect. "Although that crochet robe sounds lovely for a lady such as yourself. The breeziness might be inappropriate for me. Makes it more like a dress." And then there's Zhivka's comment as she walks up behind him, right on cue. A flush rises to his cheeks again and Vie shoots Zhivka a sideways glance. "The belt makes it masculine." He holds another robe in front of him, determines it's unsuitable, and tosses it aside without folding it. He doesn't turn from his task as he offers another less-than-warm reply to Lilah. "My socks turned out just fine, Lilah. Thank you for your interest." "Oh, forgive me," Elise drawls, bending to pick up the robes he's casting aside, to attempt to fold them and make them not so messy there on the floor. "I'll ask Hattie if crochet robes will work for her, we'll see what she says. I'll bet I can hear it now." Which comes with a little head tilt, as she 'listens' to the Weyrwoman in her head for a moment. Lilah going along with it only eggs her on, she gestures at the other candidate. "See? Lilah will give us feedback. And maybe it'll make us not so nervous to wear them on the big day?" It's a meek suggestion, with an uncertain grin and lifted eyebrows that turns into a vague wince as she looks at each face in turn and realizes she's in a losing battle. "Oh fine. You're all /no/ fun." Pause. "What socks?" "That is the question; what socks. Are you wearing them?" Lilah questions of Viephale, glancing towards his feet as if she might see them on him. She tips her chin in an encouraging nod to Elise, adding: "And if there are stains or places they need to be taken in or mended, you'd know now so you could get them out before Hatching. I know how to sew to help." She adds to Zhivka, given her height: "We could hem yours, even." "/Does/ it?" asks Zhivka dubiously of Viephale's belt theory. "I mean, especially if you already knit. I don't think a belt can help with that." But it's possible she's just trying to be difficult and she moves on quite readily to frown, albeit dramatically, at further talk of trying on their robes. "I've already /washed/ mine. And I don't think I'll be needing it again so making it perfect just seems like a waste of time." She glances between all three of them, then says, "If he tries his on, I'll try mine on." Mostly she just wants to see Viephale in his, though. Viephale makes no move to acknowledge Elise's act of kindness. Instead, he carries on with the ol' look and toss, oblivious to his fellow candidate's labor beside him. All this talk of fashion shows has him moving even faster, the man perhaps hoping he can grab a robe and get out of there before everyone starts changing clothes around him. He grunts noncommittally to Elise's plan on consulting Hattie. The question of socks, though, is unavoidable, and he pauses long enough to glance down at his booted feet. "Can't say I remember what socks I put on this morning," he muses, "Though I reckon my own creations must be good enough since the Weyrleader asked for a pair." Juuust tossing that one out there. He's starting to get to the part of the pile where the robes are more neatly folded, perhaps untouched by other candidates looking for their own sands attire--and this is where he finally finds a suitable one, satisfaction evident as he appraises the gloriously stain-free robe before him. "Well... I need to make sure it fits, anyway," he finally relents with a shrug and a sly smirk at Zhivka. It's when Zhivka relents with conditions that Elise's giddiness comes back, her face lighting up and turned towards Viephale imploringly. Pleasepleaseplease. He's all that's standing in their-- her-- way! Once he agrees she just barely manages to not hop up and down in a fit of joy. She also looks down at his boots, not seeing the socks within but announcing, "There's only one way to find out," she singsongs, already scampering away to return to her cot briefly, as long as it takes to pull her robe from the trunk there, then she's hurrying over to one of the unfolded changing partitions set up for the modest candidate, which might be just Elise. "Is everyone else doing it?" she calls out. Lilah's brow quirks immediately upwards, a challenge, disbelieving. She questions, "Did he actually see your socks before he asked for a pair?" But with the others agreeing to try on robes, her gaze slides to Elise, a small smile tugging about her lips at the younger woman's enthusiasm. "Are there any pins?" She moves to set her hides aside, stretching to her feet. She can turn that sly smirk right back on him. And she does. Except smaller. "C'mon!" she says as she turns to head back to her own trunk. "It can be like a drill, practice for when they actually start humming. Or something like that. Did the Weyrleader really ask you to make socks for him? Why does he always make me do /hard/ things and you get to knit /socks?/" How is that fair? Apparently Zhivka isn't quite as modest as Elise. Or maybe she's just trying to act tough because of Viephale. "He asked me to knit socks for him because my socks are /awesome/," Viephale informs Zhivka, though there's a pointed look to Lilah when he says it. Hmph. No modesty screen needed for this man; he pulls his shirt off over his head and quickly struggles his way into his chosen robe. "Yes, yes, we're all doing it," he calls in reassurance to Elise, though his voice is muffled through the folds of fabric. When he does finally get his head and arms through the proper holes, he pulls it down over his slacks and smooths it out. Hm, something's missing... "I don't have a belt!" he laments. That all important belt that will /definitely/ make him appear as masculine as possible on the sands. He turns back to the trunk and begins to dig. "Zhivka it's a dress!" Elise croons, just as soon as they all learn about the missing belt. "That's how it works, right? Belt means masculine?" She's asking that as she steps out, fully clothed in her robe, which is a really poor state of affairs, droopy in one shoulder and just... sack-y all around. She sees Viephale and covers her mouth with her hand, eyes big. When she takes it away she's grinning. "You're beautiful!" For once, it seems Lilah will resist the temptation to correct Viephale, allowing his assessment of his own socks to stand as the last statement on the subject. Instead, she finds the pins in the trunk of robes after a moment of digging while others change, and then crosses the barracks to set to attacking Elise's dress. With a few tucks of pins, without stabbing Elise if she holds still, she even gives the Candidate back her shape in the robe. And then she moves on to the next Candidate who decided to participate, though she warns to the barracks in general: "Be careful when you take them off. If you loosen the pins, I won't know where to sew." She doesn't help Viephale, but then, giving him back his curves wouldn't be too manly. Zhivka's robe isn't perfect but it's stain-free and it isn't falling off of her anywhere. It might be a little long but not enough to make her actually look like she's wearing a dress. At least not a long dress. "You /are/ beautiful," she tells Viephale, echoing Elise. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!" It's a thing now. She can't not say it. In her robe, she wanders back over to where Viephale is digging, though she doesn't help. "Sooo. Can I have a pair of socks, too? Like, fluffy, warm ones?" He just makes them for whoever asks, right? Viephale cringes from within the trunk as he desperately feels around for a belt. "Nnng!" That pained noise was in response to Elise as he peeks his head up to frown at her. Beautiful was apparently not the adjective he was hoping to hear. As for Zhivka's echoed comment? Well, that one gets another unpleasant noise--"Baaaah!" If only it weren't undignified to slap his hands over his ears. He'll have to settle for looking a little cross instead. He flicks his fingers at Elise to get her attention, since he never bothered to ask her name. "Where can I get a belt?" he asks imploringly, eyes wide and pleading. She helped before, surely she'll help again! Until such time as someone either hands him a belt or points him in the direction of one, Vie resolves to... well, wait it out. Someone will help. "I'd be happy to make you some socks," Vie tells Zhivka cheerfully as he straightens up, happy to take the subject of conversation away from his inherent beauty. "All you have to do is give me th'yarn." The little blonde's reiteration of a well known line has Elise laughing with a big grin. She remembers that. Viephale's pleading earns him, "Oh fine," when she relents, after holding out long enough to sustain her and Zhivka's amusement, hopefully. There's a barrel-shaped thing next to the trunk, she approaches that and plucks the flat lid off to reveal some random accessories, a sandal and some various strips of white cloth and worn rope. "There you are." Belts. Kind of. "I've only done this once before," she adds, perhaps randomly, lifting a finger in warning. Perpetual candidate she is not. "Anyway. I'm going to go change out of mine, the pins are poking me," with a wince of discomfort. And with that she disappears again behind the partition, a few muffled curses uttered from her side amongst sporadic 'ow's. "I don't have any yarn," says Zhivka as though this is some huge hurdle to getting this guy to knit for her. But she's a strong, able woman. She'll persevere. "I'll find some. And then I can watch you do it, too, right?" Now that she's in her robe, she doesn't seem to care so much that she looks like a frumpy child. "Are you allowed to wear a proper belt out there? I don't think you can wear your pants. But I'm not sure about that, either." Viephale clucks his tongue in admonishment at Zhivka. "No yarn, no socks. I'm not a man with a lot of rules, but that's one of 'em." He grins, teasing. "You can watch after you get th'yarn. I'm afraid it's not that exciting, though." After Elise reveals the Accessories Barrel, Vie heaves a sigh of relief and starts poking around the rope bits. "Not a proper belt, no," he admits as he pulls out a length and wraps it around his middle. "The rope is as good as we get, I'm afraid. I mean, they're not really holding up anything, so a proper belt isn't exactly /necessary/." He loops the end of the ropes together so it'll stay, then turns to model for Zhivka, striking a pose. "Well, whaddaya think? More masculine?" It's certainly quite the look, pulled tight around his waist and ballooning out over his trousers. "I've watched people knit before. I even sort of knew how once. Not to do anything fancy, but I could probably have made a scarf or something. But I've never watched someone like /you/ do it." Zhivka's probably never watched a guy knit, she probably means. Which will clearly be more exciting than watching some old woman do it. "Oh, much better. You look stunning. I bet the tailors will go back to the hall and we'll learn you started a whole new trend in a couple of months." That's obviously sarcasm but she still sounds pretty nice while she says it, like it would be pretty amazing if it actually happened. "What if a baby dragon gets caught on your belt?" Viephale eyes Zhivka suspiciously, looking her up and down as if searching for an ulterior motive. "Someone like me?" His voice is wary. He doesn't respond to anything else she says for a few seconds, just standing there watching her through slitted eyes to let her know that he is /on/ to her and her sarcasm and her someone-like-yous. Satisfied that he has made his point, he scoffs as he undoes his belt. "If a goopy baby dragon is trying to give me a hug on the sands, then I think having it get tangled in my belt is the /least/ of my concerns." He pulls the robe back over his head and sets about the task of turning it right side out and getting it folded. Gasp. Zhivka with ulterior motives? She blinks innocently at Viephale as he looks at her, practically batting her lashes. It probably doesn't help. "Ew, I forgot they're all gross," she says, considering this for a few moments before she's smoothing a hand over the front of her robe. "Well, how do you think /I/ look?" She does a slow twirl to give him the full, glorious view of a tiny woman in sack. "Have you ever done this before? I haven't seen you in here. Where have you even been staying?" Does she /ever/ stop asking questions? "Or did you just get Searched?" Apparently not. Viephale nods gravely, curls bouncing as he gets the robe folded up into a neat little bundle. He pauses thoughtfully, then kind of... curls the robe up so he can tie it with the rope. "Not only are they goopy, but they've got talons and teeth and stuff. If any part of a dragon is hitting around my squishy organ bits--" He helpfully rubs his free hand over his exposed belly. "--then I am in for a world of hurt." He replaces the lid on the barrel, sets the bundle carefully down on top of it, and starts the arduous task of repacking the trunk and getting the lid closed. He does at least take a moment to give her another once over, this one appraising instead of suspicious. "I think you look lovely," he says earnestly, taking care to make eye contact before he turns back to his work. "I have /not/ ever done this before, but I've been at the Weyr for a few Turns, so I know some of what to expect from seeing the spectator side of things." Fortunately it doesn't take a lot of finagling to get the latch shut, since enough candidates have claimed robes that it's not overflowing. That task done, he brushes his hands off on his pants and glances around for his sweater. "I've been staying in my room," he replies distractedly. Where /is/ it? "Since I was already a Weyr resident, I didn't have to move into the barracks. And, well, there are a lot of younger folk in here. And women." He smirks at Zhivka and crosses his arms over his bare chest, search forgotten momentarily. "Figured staying put was the most reasonable choice for me." With him making his bare belly such an enticing thing to look at, Zhivka does so shamelessly. She doesn't try to touch it, anyway, and even tries not to look like she might want to. "You really think so?" She sounds doubtful about this lovely thing, glancing down at herself and then looking at him with an arched brow. But then she's pulling her robe off as he turns away to put her proper clothes back on. "I've been to a couple. Hatchings. Just watching, I mean. I don't know why I decided to do this now. I think maybe I'd have been annoyed at myself if I hadn't? Just in case? Does that make sense?" Pulling her clothes where they should be, she turns back, sitting down on her trunk. "I wish I'd been able to get my own room now. What's wrong with women?" Pause. "Oooh. Are you one of /those/ kinds of guys?" Maybe it's a big leap, if one can even figure out to what she's alluding. "Makes perfect sense to me," Viephale says reassuringly as he leans against the robe trunk. His gaze focuses on something off in the distance as he recalls his own Search. "I mean, I don't think I was really /asked/ if this was something I wanted to do--it just kind of happened, you know? And then afterward, when I thought about it with a clear head, it's like, 'Why not?' I mean how many chances are y'gonna have to do something like this? I just hope everything works out for the best, whatever that is." Probably all of his squishy bits staying intact. He sighs wistfully and fixes his hazel eyes back on Zhivka. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with women," he drawls, the corner of his lips pulling into a crooked smile. "What kind of guy do you think I am?" He takes the pause to peer around his feet--ah hah! His shirt appears to have gotten kicked under a nearby cot, and he slides down onto his knees to retrieve it. "Well, I don't know. You knit and think women are weird." He might not have said it, but that's what's in her head now. "So are you one of those guys that, you know, likes guys?" The way Zhivka talks about this isn't so much appalled holder as it is cheerfully innocent with a hint of fun scandal. She watches him get down on his knees and she has a little sigh that may or may not sound slightly wistful. She might not realize she's doing it. "Did you ever say your name? I can't remember if I know your name. I should know that. What happens if the dragons start humming and you're, like, really passed out all alone in your room?" Viephale successfully fishes his shirt out from the dark, dusty depths and pulls himself back onto the trunk with a frown. "Gross," he mutters as he eyes his once-clean sweater. He gives it a few flaps and hand-brushes to try to clear the dust and dirt off. "I don't think women are /weird/," he corrects with a dubious frown toward his sweater. Zhivka's curious questions earn Vie's head tilted in her direction and an arched eyebrow in amusement. "Why you asking about my preferences? Y'interested?" he asks with a smirk. "My name's Viephale. I like t'go by Vie. And truthfully I'm not that worried about it." He goes back to brushing the dirt off his shirt, apathetic. "They go through this every hatching. I reckon someone will have a roster and if I don't show up, they'll send for me. If not, then I guess I'll miss the opportunity." He shrugs. She watches him trying to dust off his shirt like it's the most fascinating thing she's seen in the last few minutes. And when he looks at her, she's all innocence. It's a look she's surprisingly good at pulling off. Little things are adorable, right? Women included? "I was just /curious./ I don't know if I'm interested. I don't even know you. I mean, you're gorgeous but you probably know that. And usually when men /know/ that, they aren't really all that pleasant." Did she just tell him he's probably unpleasant? That's kind of what it sounded like. But she just looks at him like he knows what she's talking about. "Vie. Cute. I'm Zhivka." Viephale narrows his eyes dubiously at Zhivka. "You certainly are a confusing creature," he says with a shake of his head, sending those curls bouncing again. "I don't think I'm a dumb man but it is hard to keep up with you. It's like you've gone off a dragonlength before I even know what's going on." With that, he pulls his sweater over his head and smooths it down across his chest. He peers at it appraisingly; it appears that the worst of the dust bunnies have been sent back to their burrow. "Well Zhivka, it sure has been a treat meeting you," he says wryly, offering her a smile as he collects his robe-belt bundle and rises to his feet. "I think I'd best be off. I'll be back around to see if you've collected your yarn." The tiny blonde is already smiling because she's hardly stopped most of the time they've been talking. But it turns a little brighter in response to his smile, and then her eyes are flickering over his sweater. If she sees anything else, though, she refrains from trying to dust it off of him. "I'll find some, promise. It's been nice meeting you, too, Vie. I'll try not to let the eggs hatch without you there." It's an empty promise, of course, but it sounds so friendly. "Good night." Viephale can't help but chuckle at Zhivka's parting comment as he starts to move past. "I do appreciate your concern," he tells her softly as he passes her bunk. "See you around." And with that, he disappears out into the hallway and away from sight. |
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