Logs:Hat Hunting
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| RL Date: 26 July, 2008 |
| Who: Paige, Berit, S'fox, V'delin |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Paige and Berit go to the stores after lunch in search of hats. V'delin and S'fox find them using a precarious perch to reach for a box - each other. |
| Where: Stores, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 4, Turn 17 (Interval 10) |
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| An hour or so after lunch, most weyrlings are putting their free time to use in whatever way they best see fit. And for Paige and Berit, they have come to the conclusion that searching the stores for hats and whatever else strikes their fancy is a fine way to spend a few hours of their afternoon. Following vaguely behind the other weyrling, Tiasheth's lifemate is finishing up some sort of conversation they struck up during lunch, perhaps a discourse about what they hope to find from their sojourn into the stores. "I quite like hats with a bit of decoration, but that might be silly given what we do from day to day. We have to give up quality and grandeur for this," is said with mild disgust, her hands gesturing to the oil-stained tunic and brown pants she wears, all of which are a cut or two below fashionable. "Just think what P'draig would say if we showed up with five-inch thick wide brims with colorful trinkets and big bows." Berit looks back at Paige as she says this, with an impish smile. "I hope they have what we are looking for. I would so hate to come down here all this time, only to come up short." "A bit silly, yeah, " Paige agrees, glancing briefly down at her own stained and smudged attire. "Prolly tell us not t'be upset when they got dirty from doin' our duties, " she speculates, unable to hold back a bit of a grin nonetheless. "Wouldn' be practical anyway." But she returns Berit's smile with a small one of her own, nodding. "I'll jus' be happy t'have somethin' simple t'wear t'keep me warm." Glows have been newly replenished in the baskets on the walls, affording them appropriate light even without the organization structure in the store room. Boxes are arranged by color, item, and in some cases, alphabetically. "I think we *already* look silly. There is little help for it now. We must toss in our lot," Berit says dramatically with a hand against her forehead, affecting the slow, elegant speak of a would-be Lady Holder. Mimicry at its best! She stops to tilt her head back and examine the boxes on the shelves, while she restlessly plucking at her lip with two fingers. "I thought they were over.. ah!" With a triumphant smile, she steps forward, rising onto tippy-toes to try and reach one of the boxes in question. Unfortunately, due to bad genes, her fingers barely swipe the bottom. "Hm." Paige giggles at Berit's most excellent mimicry, though her brow quickly creases as the other girl strives to pull down one of the indicated boxes. Her genes not being much better, she'll be of little assistance where physical height is concerned. "Maybe there's a spare crate lyin' 'round we could stand on?" she suggests, even as she darts a glance around to see if there's one lying about. "Too bad our dragons dun got hands. They must be tall 'nough t'reach." All laughter aside - there is a serious issue! How are they supposed to get their hats if they are too short to reach the box? Giving into an irritated sigh, Berit relaxes back on her heels, then turns to bob a nod of agreement. "I think a step up might help." She frowns as she cans the room, her eyes roving the accumulated boxes and bins, searching for anything stable or not fragile. "I would hate to break anything. Perhaps we should do it the old fashioned way?" A mischievous light enters her green eyes, nonetheless innocent in its origin, and she jerks her head back to the shelves. "Would you like a boost up?" Uh oh, this could get messy. "Better t'break a box than t'break -- " Us. But Paige leaves that mostly unvoiced, giving the former weaver a measuring look. "Old-fashioned way? Y'sure yer - gonna be able t'lift me? We both look real light, Berit, but even with daily exercises a'startin', we neither o'us seem real strong. Least, I dun know if'n I could lift ya or not." Messy, indeed. "I am not so sure. Do *you* want extra chores? I can barely raise myself out of the bed on good days as it is, without adding *more*. I think I might rather to bruise myself, than have to deal with a punishment." And this is said by the girl who has likely never *been* hurt. Berit is determined, still, and gives Paige a considering look, then her eyes flick up to the shelves. "Or maybe you should stand on my back. I am sure I could hold you then. I am not sure if my hands could take the extra beating." She looks down at the work-roughed, reddened palms, cringes, and offers a rueful smile. "Good thing this all is for Zi, or I might have given up by now." After giving the box another look, she crouches down, then moves forward to kneel and then braces her hands on the floor. Wrinkling her nose, she notes, "This floor is horribly dirty." Only Berit. Paige would much rather take extra chores, her expression seems to say, but if her gaze shadows with doubt as the other girl glances between her and the shelves, she says little of it. "Y'wouldn' have done all this if'n 'tweren' fer her, " she says softly. It's not a question. Grimacing as she watches Berit kneel, the slim weyrling gathers herself for a moment - probably to think light. "'Tis a floor. They dun stay clean fer real long, do they?" Small talk, perhaps to ease both of their minds a bit. "Alrigh', I'll - I'll try t'be quick 'bout it." And gingerly, she takes a swift step up, just managing to reach up and grasp at the bottom of their targeted box. Getting down is something else, altogether; should her support falter on the way down, the box will likely upend on the floor. V'delin has arrived. S'fox has arrived. Two of a kind these two girls are - they have stationed themselves in one of the store rooms, on a venture to find hats to put over their new, shortened haircuts. But with both of them short, the issue is how to reach the box on that high up shelf, and so Berit is on all fours on the floor, with Paige aboard her back, trying to reach the box in question. "It was always my thought that floors were supposed to be so clean you could see your face in them, and if this is my face, I sure could use a bath." She squints down at the dirty stone beneath her, noticing the trails and marks where boots have trod, boxes have been dragged, or otherwise. Giving a sigh, she tries not to grimace at the weight placed on her back, but her nose naturally scrunches up as she wobbles a little to the right. "Whoa." Clearly not expecting to find the cavern so populated, V'delin pauses mid-motion as he comes around the shelving to peek at the source of the conversation. A sack is casually dropped at his feet, then given a push with the toe of his boot to better tuck it behind a stray crate. Realizing the precarious nature of the position of the weyrlings, he nonetheless chooses that moment to query loudly and with a tinge of irritation, "What are you two doing?" No more expecting what he sees than V'delin, S'fox rounds the corner just a little after the other bronzerider, his head down to scan the lower shelves. It's V'delin's sharp voice, more than anything else that draws his attention, and S'fox looks up and blinks -- and then notices what he's talking about. "Oh, hell," says he, and stops and just stares at Berit and Paige's shaky pyramid. "Floors're - walked on, " Paige manages to get out, wobbling as Berit veers to the side. "Ah - are we -- " And a few seconds later, startled by V'delin's voice, the weyrling topples off, falling to the floor with a muffled cry of surprise. And alas, the box came down with her, hats strewn happily over the two of them. "Getting hats, " she replies meekly, pushing a few aside to sit up, wincing. "Erm - " And there's a S'fox, too. "Um. Hi, S'fox. Sir." Green eyes flick up, straining to see the other girl standing above. "Should they be any less clean because they are walked on? I should think if you are paying someone to *clean*, they should do the job well, though this *is* a Weyr opposed to a Hold. There is more to clean." She chews on that for a few seconds, mulling over the repercussions of that while she waits for Paige to get the hats, before her startled gaze flies to the bronzerider.. and the second one! Caught. Found. Redhanded. Berit looks mildly abashed, until the hats and her friend come toppling down, and down they all fall. With a small 'oof', she is off balanced and tips to the side, buried beneath a good amount of hats. "It is winter and we wanted to keep warm, even with short haircuts. Hats were the easy solution, sirs." She sounds so serious, so formal about it, but she is struggling up through the woolens, cottons, and various other types of hats in a most comical effort. V'delin just watches the spectacle unfold, his arms folding in a blend of ire and amusement. "Being gotten by hats might be a more suitable explanation," he wryly observes, casting a glance to S'fox and giving the other man a knowing nod. "Practicing for a gather, turns from now?" he takes the chance to goad the confined weyrlings, and after double checking on his stashing spot he moves away from the abandoned sack. Then there's a smirky roll of his shoulders that thinly hides his laughter. "You could knit something. That'd keep you warm, too. Though the pile you've created could work, too." What S'fox says this time is worse, and he's quick to abandon his own search through the storerooms in favor of trotting over to the tumbling girls. "Faranth, Paige. Are you okay? Berit?" he glances between them, leaning down toward them and offering a hand. With little of V'delin's anger, he's more concerned-sounding as he glances over the pair and then their sprawl of hats, shaking his head. "Y'know, I think they invented ladders just for times like these." Paige pushes a particularly lurid hat of pink away from her, flushing a little at V'delin's goading. She doesn't respond, however, taking S'fox's hand up gratefully. "Thanks. I'm - okay. I think." And gingerly, she quickly makes sure each limb is functioning the way it should, running cautious fingertips over her knees. "Bit bruised, maybe, " she admits, "but everythin' seems t'be in workin' order." Ladders, yes. And sturdy boxes! There's a small glance for Berit, less of an 'I told you so' and more of an, 'I was afraid this would happen.' Hats of green, hats of purple, hats of yellow, they are everywhere to be seen, but hats are what they came to look for. Besides brushing away the head accessories, she gives each a keen eye, looking for anything that might suit her needs. Berit tosses a dull, drab cap out of the way and peers up at V'delin, "I believe you still need those lessons, sir." A white hat is examined front to back in favor of answering the man's heckling, and next, a straw hat. "I do suppose making my own would not be a terrible idea. To your credit, sometimes you have passable ideas." She gives him a tight smile, before gladly accepting S'fox's assistance to her feet. "Thank you very much, sir, but I feel just fine. Perhaps a little bruised, a little dusty, but we got the box down, did we not?" Her smile spreads to a grin as she turns to Paige, a gray woolen cap clutched in her hands. V'delin continues to be useless as he leans against the shelving, testing its stability in this oft-unsteady cavern before putting much weight against it. As S'fox has taken up the gentlemanly duties, blue-eyed V'delin merely plucks up a tattered granny hat replete with a mesh veil and frisbees it at Berit, aiming more or less to settle the hat on her head. "That's right. You've been far too busy to educate me in the ways of propriety. I humbly await your tutelage." Though he's somewhat bemused by his own suggestion's merit, and his last is directed toward Paige. "Even stacked crates, solid enough, could be more sound than, ah, each other. Or else you need to hold her up next time." The suggestion implies that perhaps it was Berit who was the 'bad holder' and that he didn't startle them into falling at all! "Are you sure?" S'fox doesn't sound like he believes Paige, and he looks her up and down before turning to give Berit the same treatment before he's satisfied. "Got it down all right," he drawls then, with a shake of his head. He nudges one tattered hat with his toe and makes a face. "Lessons?" he says then, curious now. Paige can't help returning Berit's grin with a small smile of her own, even as she leans over to pluck a soft hat, striped in browns, from somewhere in the pile, running her hands over the material experimentally. It's fluffy without being overbearingly thick; a stretchy, brimless little hat that will no doubt leave its wearer with hat-head, but a warm hat-head. "I - dunno if'n me holdin' her up would work better, " she says dubiously. After all, they're both small, slight and still pretty untrained. To S'fox, she gives an earnest nod. "Yeah, pretty sure." And as for those lessons that get mentioned? She hides a tiny grin and looks to Berit for the explanation. The granny hat glances off her arm, earning a fierce stare from Berit. "What did you do that for? I think you most *direly* need them." She drops the hat in her hands, bending down to scrutinize an elaborate gather hat with ribbons dangling off the sides. "I had so hoped you would see the light of it for yourself, but I can tell that was thinking too much." A pointed look is slid up to V'delin, and then her gaze moves to S'fox. "Yes, sir, I volunteered to show him the error of his ways and teach him how to be a *gentleman*, though perhaps you could do a better job than I." She sniffs delicately and goes back to her digging, pushing aside brown utilitarian caps to pull out a burgundy hat with a grosgrain ribbon of black around the lid. "Not too bad, do you think?" she asks of Paige. "Well, hold her up, or stack some crates or get a ladder or practice your strap-making skills and scale the shelf, it's all the same to me." Ven scratches his chin thoughtfully, returning to his telltale smirk. "Lady goldrider here thinks I'm a poor-mannered sort, and back when she was just an ordinary weaver, she offered to remedy my sorry state with some lessons. If they were succeeding, I might've been able to put that hat neatly right on her head." He has the grace, momentarily, to downcast his eyes and look humbled before trying to meet S'fox's eyes, mirth in his gaze. "Can't have too many gentlemen in one weyr, now can we? Else there'd be nothing to use as a comparison." "Wait, what? Me a gentleman?" S'fox blinks at that, and when he's had a moment to actually register what she's said, he actually laughs, though that trails off fast when he realizes they just might be serious after all. "Me, teaching people how to be a gentleman? Don't you have to, like, be able to do fancy dances and pick the right fork to do that?" He peers between the three, rather warily. Paige stuffs her striped hat onto her head, tugging it downward and frowning as pieces of hair stick out from underneath it at odd angles. Hmm. "Not bad at all. S'purty, " she tells Berit. "Would look heaps better on ya'n on me." If she groans a little at V'delin's words, well - perhaps she's just disappointed in her - hat. Yes, her hat. "Yer nice, S'fox, " she says plainly. "And I think tha's kinda what Berit's goin' for. Tact and - bein' nice. Not makin' off-hand comments." But she does smile at V'delin, nonetheless. Comparisons are sometimes necessary. "You are right, S'fox, you are not." Berit pauses in running her fingers over the grainy ribbon to stare blankly at the man, one whom she had forgotten until this point she had had many unpleasant interactions as a candidate. "But it was very kind to offer to help us up, all the same." She pulls the hat on snugly, tucking stray strands of hair underneath, and then she turns to Paige with an expectant expression. "Yours looks nice. I say you keep it. How does this one look on? Too showy? Does it make my head look big? " Because these are relevant concerns about hats! Uncertainly touching the top of the hat, she slants another look at V'delin. "If Fort was filled with gentlemen, every other Weyr would look pale in comparison, so your assumption is debunked." Trounced him, soundly! Or so her smug expression says, before she turns to address S'fox again. "Gentlemen are not all about dancing correctly and using the right utensils. There are other nuances to it." V'delin shrugs one shoulder, the other too stiff to much follow along. "She's clearly the expert in determining the status of gentleman. You shouldn't argue, S'fox, lest she take you into her ministrations as well." Paige gets a smile too - he can't resist indulging the label he's earned. "Oh dear. It makes your ears, well. Let Paige explain." V'delin dons a momentarily pained expression, that serving as vengeance for her commentary. "Other nuances. See, S'fox, you've something to learn as well." "Being nice." It makes S'fox feel a little better, to repeat those words. "I can do nice, at least." He pauses, though, to glance at Berit again at her interjection. "Naw, the hat's not making your head look big," he assures her with a crooked grin. He doesn't seem deterred that she doesn't consider him a gentleman, though he does tilt his head slightly at her latter words. He glances sideways at v'delin with an amused expression for his words. "So... what does make a gentleman, then?" he has to ask. "Just so I can know one if I ever see 'im." "'Twas gentlemanly of him, " Paige protests weakly, but then again, they have very different ideas of what constitutes a gentleman, don't they? Nose wrinkling a little, the girl tugs at the hat again, sending pieces of hair out at further angles. "S'warm 'nough. I'll keep it fer tha'." Tilting her head a little to the side, she regards Berit's discovery for a long moment before pronouncing judgement on it. "Dun make yer head - or yer ears - look too big. Hope yer not plannin' on a'wearin' tha' t'drills or anythin', though." Ah, the fine line of being nice and truthful. "I - dunno, but I've always reckoned a gentleman oughta be - nice and polite. Considerate. Sweet. Y'know, " and she flounders helplessly after that, casting a glance over at the other weyrling. Surely she has a much better definition to offer up. "That, sirs, will have to wait for another day." That is all she will give any of them, and doubtless, she has a perfect explanation of the 'proper' gentleman. Berit tugs on both sides of the hat, fitting it just so, and then she dusts off the rest of her clothing. "I have to run - Zibeth is awake and wants to show me something. I just hope that it is not something that will make my stomach turn." She makes a face, subduing the urge to shudder, before turning towards Paige. "I hope these blackguards do not ruin your good reputation too much," she says amusedly, her green eyes dancing with mirth. "But I did mean it about the hat. It looks good on you. We now both have a hat, though I suppose we will need more. I have a plan. Ask me about it later when we are not in.. the company of others?" Innocently, she gives both V'delin and S'fox a smile, bobbing her head in farewell. "Good day, sirs." And then she is gone, ambling away and out of the cavern, with her newly acquired hat on her head. Berit has left. V'delin gives Paige a withering look: C'mon, play along! "Niceness and politeness hardly are the only qualifications of a gentleman. There has to be a sense of duty, of being willing to fight for a lady's honor, don't you think?" Really, he's just goading them on, hoping to get someone to agree to a bit of ruffling up. "Blackguards. Reputation." He tries to repeat the words as they're inflected, and he snickers quietly. "So, it seems she's gone away, and left you with the box of hats to clean up." He's surely not lending a hand. "Unless the gentleman S'fox is willing to lend a hand." S'fox repeats in bemusement, "Plans." But that's the most he thinks about that, being easily diverted to other subjects. "She oughta start an academy--a new crafthall for gentlemen or ladies. Just.. nobody tell her that, or she might just." He shrugs, though, as he ducks his head at V'delin's words. "That's not being a gentleman. That's just... being a decent human being, or something. Being nice and all. But I don't mind helping," he tacks on, with a quick smile for Paige. "Don't think you're going to get that box back up there on your own, if nothing else." Paige just looks confused once duty, honor and reputation get pulled into the mix, ducking her chin bashfully as she begins picking up hats to pile them neatly back into their box. "Er, I guess, " she offers in response to both men, blinking after Berit with a small shrug. Right, plans. Oh boy. "But aren' gentlemen and decent human bein's supposed t'be one and the same?" she has to ponder aloud, returning S'fox's smile. "I mean, y'can' be one without bein' the other, right?" She's sorely lacking a solid definition for a gentleman, but really, her simple sketch of a nice person seems to be serving her just fine. V'delin laughs aloud at S'fox's idea, then stands up a little straighter. "Especially now that she has the assistance of that dragon at her side. Much more convincing if she's trying to get others to give her her whim than her words alone." Realizing slowly that he's speaking of a weyrling while another is still present, he leans over to retie his boot, pleased for the distraction. "I'm not sure that is the case. Would a decent human being willingly kill another, or maim them? Yet if honor required it, that might be what is asked. Certianly not in these times, these civilized times, but it's just an example." He watches, not stepping in, but conveniently on hand should the duo need another hand with that box, when it's ready to be returned to its spot on the high shelf. "Faranth forbid," agrees S'fox, with a glance at V'delin. He doesn't seem to realize the faux pas of talking about one weyrling in front of another, though. Instead, he frowns slightly at the bronzerider's latter conundrum. "I guess that depends on who's doing the dishonoring to who, and just how bad it is. I mean, I'm not going to /kill/ anybody, but just a fist fight, I don't guess that's so bad." He shrugs, tilting a wry smile as he bends down to toss some of the scattered hats by his feet back into their box. "She seems to mean well, " Paige falters between scooping up hats, clearly reluctant to talk about Berit when the other girl isn't present, even if it's to defend her. Focusing more on her task than the men's conversation, she adds the pink hat, the granny hat and an obnoxiously large, yellow one back into the box. Killing, maiming, fist fighting? There's silence from her quarter on all of those. It's not as if she has experience with rough-housing - or setting out to defend one's reputation, either. Ven tips his head back and forth, agreement that S'fox's assessment of a fist fight's worth aligns with his own. "Good point. Didn't consider that milder alternative." As Paige speaks, he's reminded of her presence again, and he nudges another hat her way using his foot. "Did you find one that'll work to keep you warm, or did Berit take the only likely?" "Yeah, she does," S'fox agrees of Berit. "Still, though. Sometimes I don't think I get her. But." He moves on with a shrug, throwing hats in and then hefting up the box when it's fairly full again. He balances it on the edge of one lower shelf, supporting it with a hand while he continues the conversation. "So... just whose idea was that tower of weyrlings, and how did you get /her/ to be the one on the bottom?" "I think I'll keep this'un. Berit's fonder of bigger and flashier hats. Somethin' plain like this jus' wouldn' do." And Paige is quick to try to help S'fox get the box to the shelf once it's full, but even if she stretched up to the tips of her toes, she'd just be able to touch the shelf where it originally came from. "Oh. 'Twas her idea, " she explains simply. "And I figured I was a lil lighter'n her, so tha' jus' made best sense. I wanted t'give the crates a try, but sh - we didn' wanna run the risk of breakin' somethin' and gettin' extra chores." V'delin nods assent, watching the box as it is in motion at last. "Plain, but serviceable. And easier to clean," the rider agrees, following that with a laugh. "Extra chores, or a stay in the infirmary if you break 'somethin' on you instead of in a box. Though I admit there were some days I'd've made the exchange, just to get away from Imirath for a sevenday." His admission surprises him, and he falls silent, observing as the box is safely replaced. S'fox grins at Paige's help as he finally gets the box back where it belongs. "I'd of liked to have seen that conversation," he remarks of hers and Berit's. "But he's right. I mean, I'd a lot rather crush a couple of crates than one of --" He breaks off, though, to glance at V'delin when he mentions the other rider, but S'fox's own surprised expression is more for the man's latter words. "Really?" He's skeptical, not quite believing of that. Paige looks sheepish. "I'd rather the extra chores, really, " which is her way of saying that she did disagree with Berit and was a reluctant participant in the pyramid scheme. But V'delin's admission gets a look of confusion, brows knitting. Getting away from one's own dragon? That's just something she can't understand at all, her expression says. And to S'fox's 'really, ' she adds a soft, "Y'would?" There's a short nod of assent. "Really. Some days, I still would." His frankness seems to catch him unawares, but V'delin sticks to the words with a near-grimace. "Except for when we were threadfighting. He was more amiable then, easier to live with." He tries to temper the sentiment, but it falls rather flat. "Your time with your lifemates comes more easily, then?" The lift of his brow is hopeful, an eager change of the subject. "Yeah. I guess it does," agrees S'fox, suddenly awkward with that revelation. He scruffs the back of his hair up as he glances down, and finally clears his throat. "Well. Should probably get getting back myself -- wasn't having any luck finding anything for myself, so. Not too banged up to make it back to the barracks, are you, Paige?" The turn of the conversation has him looking umcomfortable, and with the box cleaned up and put away, he starts edging back the way he came. There's little Paige can say to that, save to regard the bronzerider almost sadly. "Tiasheth's wonderful, " she says then, unable to keep away a small smile. "And smart and carin' and earnest." Which certainly sounds easier than Ven's description. But after a moment, she averts her gaze while tugging at her hat again. "Naw, I'll be fine, S'fox, sir. Thank ya fer askin'." With a quiet goodbye for them both, she scurries out mumbling something about reviewing for afternoon lessons. V'delin regards the duo with consideration, his expression growing harder as he doesn't want to be glanced at with pity. "He's strong, though." Which must make up for the rest, yeah. He continues the casual lean against the shelf, and as the others edge away, maintains his careless attitude. Only once they're gone does he retrieve his illicit sack, tugging it over his shoulder and moving deeper into the cavern network before counting the contents. |
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