Logs:Mixing it Up
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| RL Date: 20 October, 2015 |
| Who: Silva, Everett, Jocelyn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Silva's mixer has mixed results, predictably. |
| Where: Resident Common Room, HRW |
| When: Day 20, Month 1, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions |
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| Careful planning has gone into this mixer, but.. well, it's not as well attended as Silva could have wished it would be. No matter though, she'll flit about her little party and be the queen bee to her hearts content. She's fixed herself into a small circle of females and males, laughing brightly (and... okay, a little falsely) at whatever another has said. "Oh no, like, that would never happen." It's a not-so-gentle put down. A couple of the older candidates elected to ignore the invitations left on their pillows and spend their time elsewhere this evening. Jocelyn must be among them, fiery head nowhere in sight as those who did choose to gather with Silva continue chattering or hanging awkwardly about on the fringes of the girl's circle. "Oh, " says one of the blondes to her fellow teen in the wake of Silva's put-down, disappointment coloring that single syllable. "Hey Silva, " pipes up one of the boys across the circle, "you wanna place a bet on Roszadyth's clutch? He, " a point to the friend on the left, "thinks they'll hatch next seven. She, " a point to the disappointed blonde, "says two sevens." "Well." Silva reaches up to brush at her hair for some percieved imperfection. Turning her coy smile onto the boy, "I could," she stretches the word out, letting each sound hit carefully, "but... it really wouldn't make much sense to bet on something like that. Like, they'll come when they come right? And it's not like we are going anywhere." It almost manages to sound smart. A hand comes up so that the girl can examine her fingernails. They've gotten painted somehow, just don't ask where she got the polish, okay? "Betting is so last season anyway." Since Niahvth's eggs hatched, Everett has not spent overmuch time with other Candidates. Wind out of his sails? Something like that. This would be the first evening he's actually even bothered to take off of work, but when he wanders into the common room, he doesn't look the most sure about actually being here. Seize, then, on the safe conversation, put on the smile. "One seven or another, you might as well just roll dice to see how it turns out. If there was any way to know, they wouldn't want us hanging around just in case." "Yeah? So what's in this season?" rejoins the blonde eagerly, eyes wide for Silva's revelation. "Still, " the bet-taker boy presses, "you must have some idea when they'll go. It's not like they appeared that much later than Niahvth's." And then, on the heels of Everett's suggestion: "We could do that! Roll dice and give a prize to the person whose roll ends up being closest to the actual number of days." Somewhere among the flow of conversation, Jocelyn enters from the main corridor in the lower caverns, having just finished with a bath if the damp hair and clean face are anything to go by. A single glance to take in the room's occupants and their arrangement is enough to garner a roll of gray eyes as she strides past the majority of the gathering, appearing to be heading for the barracks. Everett gets a broad smile, and Silva's attention for a few seconds. "Spontaneity!" It rolls off with serious overtones of 'well duh'. Silva should totally get points for knowing the multi syllable words. As the conversation spins on the girl sits back, allowing it to roll as she twitches her attention from person to person in her little mixer, like she's weighing them for faults to be pointed out later. That red head catches the girl's eye and her attention is firmly fixed. "Jocelyn," there's almost a sing-song tone to it, "too good to come spend time with the rest of us?" "That wasn't what I meant, but if you want to do that, you do that," Everett says, the recrimination only mild. He's got a bit of a smirk for it, but that fades when Silva's call distracts his attention briefly in Jocelyn's direction. Only a glance, though. "Ah, let her be," he says to Silva, waving a hand dismissively in that direction. Then, picking up where he left off: "I'd just as soon leave my marks in my pocket, at this point. If next Hatching goes like last one, I intend to pick up a bottle of Benden's best to wash it away--maybe two. I can't believe they expect us to do this twice." The blonde just nod-nod-nods; spontaneity. "So you mean - any day now. That's spontaneous, ain't it?" the boy returns affably, shooting Silva what he probably intends to be a conspiratorial grin. Jocelyn's steps halt just shy of reaching the entrance to their quarters. Slowly, the redhead pivots about on one heel to better raise an eyebrow in the teenaged candidate's direction. "Too old, " she corrects wryly, resuming her path afterward through the door. It shuts behind her with a dull thud. "Too bossy, " another brunette next to Silva throws out with a grimace. "She'd just ruin your mixer, anyway." There's a glance for Everett, then, as long eyelashes lift and drop. "At least we know what to expect this time, though, right?" Eyes narrow as Jocelyn exits herself in the general direction of not here. Lips pursing it almost seems like she might say something else at the red head. But no, because both Everett and others dismiss the older woman. "Whatever. I don't even know why she bothers. Seriously, she just doesn't fit." Enough of the surly red head Silva returns her eyes to the candidates about her. A sift in her sitting position allows her to cross one leg over the other, the picture of feminine modesty. "It really wasn't as bad as everyone says." the hatching that is, "Like, no one even got hurt. Weren't those three eggs left gross though?" Eyelashes are worth a glance-over, but apparently nothing more than that. "Which 'everyone' did you talk to who said it was going to be worse than that?" Everett raises eyebrows at Silva, then finally shifts to settle himself on the arm of a chair. Not getting comfortable, precisely, but at least not apt to walk off. "Left kind of a hole in the pit of my stomach, those eggs. Don't know what to make of it. Nobody seems to know what to make of it. I just want it to get over with, get back to life-as-usual if that's what it comes to, you know?" There's a slight pause, a glance after where Jocelyn went. "Get a job, a life, makes me think it would've been a little easier to do this at thirteen." "Gross, " nod the blonde and brunette, but the boys across the way give each other uncomfortable looks and just shrug. In a small voice, one of the younger weyrbred girls opines after Everett, "I thought it was just - sad, I mean. They could have been baby dragons, but they weren't." Her chances of getting ejected from the circle might have just increased if the looks the two girls near Silva shoot her are any indicator. "It isn't any easier, when you're, you know, older?" the boy who isn't taking bets asks awkwardly after a few moments pass. Times like this show the shark difference between those weyrborn and those not. Case one, all of those girls. The awkward turn of the conversation causes a pause. Into that Silva tosses a laugh, and pops up to her feet. "Work really is overrated, but like, good on you!" Rasing up her hands Silva claps slightly for Everett's life plans. "You know what we need? Music! Genrik!" The name of a not-quite-Silva's-type (mostly because of those pimples) ex-harper gets called out. "Would you play for us? //Please//. We could dance a little bit!" There's a wide open space in the middle of the room, like dancing was exactly what Silva was planning to do all the time. "It was very sad." Everett is all gentle sympathy, there. In a fraternal way. "Anyway, yes. Work is overrated. Entirely." Lighten up, let everyone else lighten up, but he doesn't exactly shift to get in on this. "But you get attached to things like that, when you get old, and it makes change harder." And perhaps as the resident old-person, that can be his reason for keeping up his perch on the arm of a chair instead. Let the kids have their fun. This suggestion seems to appeal to most of the circle of teenagers gathered around Silva; the girls, at least, are happy to shake off the morbid talk of the dragons that weren't. One boy's face lights up at the mention of dancing, but the other - well, he summons up a quick yawn and says, "I'm going to go wind down for bed before lights out. Assuming those other eggs don't hatch first thing in the morning like Niahvth's did, we'll still need to be fresh for duty, right?" There's a shrug for Everett as he makes his way past the bartender, pausing before he reaches the door to the hallway to add, "Nice party, Silva, " before he takes his leave. "It's a mixer, " one of the girls calls after him with a huff before allowing herself to be absorbed into whatever shenanigans the group plans to undertake next. |
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