Logs:Not Boys
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| RL Date: 20 July, 2008 |
| Who: Berit, Paige |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: When Berit flees the scene of (the crime) her haircut, Paige goes after the sobbing girl in an attempt to be reassuring and helpful. Catching up with her in the stores, the two chat and push aside the topic of haircuts for a far more intriguing one: Romance. |
| Where: Stores, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 3, Turn 17 (Interval 10) |
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| Eerie silence fills the pitch-dark store cavern; not a creak or stir can be heard in the space. Boxes, bins, and buckets are stacked on tiered shelves, the castoffs taking up the remaining floor space. But squeezed in the back between two boxes of ripped leather straps, Berit is huddled with her knees drawn tightly to her chest. Her thin arms are looped around them, with her face buried against her upraised legs. While her miserable position might hint at sadness, there is not a peep or a sob from the girl, just steady silence. Light footsteps have been pursuing Berit since the moment she's fled the barracks, but even if Paige has a general idea of where the other girl is, finding her in the stores is another matter entirely. Picking her way through rows and passing shelves, a clatter and a small cry probably alert the former weaver to the other's location moments before she actually draws near, grimacing at a knee. "Berit?" she whispers, concerned. Unsettled by the silence, she lowers herself to the floor to sit next to her, brow creasing. "Berit, are ya - are ya gonna be alright?" A pair of green eyes lift, peeking overtop the caps of her knees, as the other weyrling approaches; in such silence, anything can be easily discerned. There is a lack of luster in the usually bright eyes, a bit of misery mingled in with alertness, as she peers through the darkness. "I suppose I will be fine.." Berit says with a deliberate sniff. "But there is nothing fair or right about cutting our hair. I look like a horror, to be true." As she speaks, she lifts her hands to lightly touch her severely shortened hair. "We look like a pair of.. of.." She turns her head to look at Paige, her brow puckering. "..*boys*. Honestly." A sigh flutters from her lips, and her shoulders droop. "What next, will they take away makeup and soap as well?" "Y'dun - y'dun look tha' bad, " Paige says earnestly, relieved a bit as Berit looks up. "Really, I still think yer very purty." She automatically reaches up to touch her own, shortened hair, hand pausing over her new layers and bangs. "We - well, sorta, " she admits, "but least we ain't shaped like boys? And ya've the advantage, y'know; no one could mistake ya fer a boy. Ya got Zibeth." "Do not look that bad? I look like.. " Berit grapples for a word to properly describe her hair, but a proper adjective escapes her grasping mind and she pouts unbecomingly. "..just *bad*. You have the bone structure for straight hair and the coloring, but I do not look half as good." It looks like she just wants to grumble about it for a while, now that the waterworks and first impressions are over; perhaps, she is even resigned to the haircut. Spreading her arms out, she looks down at herself, notably the flat chest and narrow hips. "You mean *you* are not shaped like a boy. My mother tells me I am one of those 'late bloomers'." Sarcasm invades her voice, hinting at her underlying amusement, but she gives another sigh and a quick bob of her head. "That they would not, though Zi cannot always follow me wherever I go." She pauses, fingering the edge of her shirt. "I think we ought to start looking for hats or else make them ourselves, because I simply *cannot* go out in public like this." Her hands automatically go to her hair again, raking through the silky strands, until they come to the base of her neck. Paige glances down at herself momentarily, small of curve but undeniably feminine. "I s'pose, but I'm awful small, even so." Shifting into a more comfortable, cross-legged position, she glances between the other girl's hair and the shelves nearby, expression thoughtful. "I'd be happy t'help ya look fer one, " she offers. "S'pose I could use one, m'self. S'not exactly warm right now, either. Our heads'll freeze." Now that the barrier of sorrow has been broken, Berit can situate herself likewise, facing her friend with her legs crossed in front. She assumes the manners of one who has authority and knows how to use it, lifting her chin loftily, with a toss of her no-longer-existent curls. "Size does not matter, as long as one has those feminine assets and good breeding. Be you plump or slight." She cracks into a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth. "Holder values are very odd at that." So short a time has passed, and already she is talking light of the beliefs she just shortly held fast to. "Boys will look at you before they look at me, and speaking of, do you have a boyfriend?" She makes to gab for Paige's hands in girlish reliance. "I need to learn more about you if we are to be *good friends*." But her attention is momentarily diverted as she ponders that perplexing problem. "Yes. It *is* rather cold - fur-lined hats or woolen caps might be nice, but those might make our lack of hair more obvious, or make us look *bald*." GASP. Paige manages a small smile for Berit's dismissal of size, but an eyebrow takes a brief hike soon afterward. "Odd, perhaps, but 'twas how we were raised, " she responds after a moment. Putting aside her home values won't come easily, if at all. Surprised when the other girl grabs for her hands, it takes her a few minutes to reply. "Boyfriend? Er, I dun - I dun think so? Not really." Yet. The emphasis on 'good friends' isn't quite lost on her; however, she addresses the more immediate concern of having a colder head, first. "What if'n the hat was in a color tha' stood out from yer hair?" she suggests, then. "And if'n ya got 'nough room to leave some bangs or somethin' hang out, 'twouldn' look like yer bald?" "Things are going to be so very different from now on. We can never go back home or live that simple way of life. From now on we are *dragonriders*," Berit says quietly, and bites on her lower lip. "I had never thought of it that way before. Do you miss your family? I miss mine, and they did not even come to the hatching this time, so close to home." She looks disappointed, but there is more to fill her life now than just her life - such as friends and Zibeth. Wiping away her own depression, she leans forward, peering closely at Paige. "What do you mean.. *not really*? Is there someone? You should tell me if there is! I can help you. Not now, we cannot have weyrmates, but soon, you know, and I hear time goes by fast when you are doing your training." Her words are fast, quickly spoken and enunciated, yet she does not stop there. "Why, has he bought you a present yet? That is quite essential." And would she not know? The girl who has never had as much as a token 'fling'. "Would they not wonder where the rest of our hair went? Brimmed hats would be too out of fashion right now. We could always search the stores and take whatever we find, if it suits?" Paige takes a deep breath at that, too, giving her own lip the same treatment. But as the topic turns to family, she relaxes a bit, expression softening. "Yeah, I miss m'folks, " she shrugs, "but I dun think m'lil sister minds gettin' everythin' back home, now. They made it to the hatchin', but I never got a chance t'say hi or anythin'. We was all - kinda busy." To put it mildly! Fidgeting somewhat nervously under Berit's scrutiny, she averts her gaze briefly, eyes darting back up to the other girl's after a moment of consideration. "Well, sorta, " she confesses, mouth turning upward into the beginnings of a shy smile. "Yeah, he's - bought me a silver hairclip." The last bit is almost mumbled sheepishly, but her smile widens a tad. "I think we're gettin' 'long fine, really..." Either she feels she really doesn't need help, or is far too reticent in stating that she could use some. Never having been a nail biter, Berit nevertheless hooks a finger over her bottom lip and nibbles on her nail worriedly. "That must be nice for her, going from sharing everything to being the center of attention. Were they proud, you think?" She drops her hands into her lap, resting her palms against her calves that are folded in. "Is your aunt still going to help you write letters, or would you like me to help? I think I should write a message back home as well. Likely, they heard, but just to be sure." Not lingering overlong on that pressing issue, she beams widely as she gets something out of Paige - something worth waiting for! "Is he the handsome sort? With a nice smile and smooth hair? Is he tall? Tell me about him. He must be well off if he bought you such a gift. What, is he the heir to a Hold? That would be difficult to deal with, being that you are a weyrling now, but I am sure it would work out." She is all questions and quick assumptions, shooting off her mouth without thought for what personal matter she is entering. "I s'pose, " is Paige's vague answer. "They seemed glad 'nough when m'brother Impressed at High Reaches some time back." A hand reaches up to push at non-existent hair; there's a frown when the motion succeeds only in moving more air past her ear. Woe. "I dunno if'n she will or not. I 'spect I'll hafta learn at some point, soon; m'aunt says all riders gotta be able ter." The slight girl blushes prettily at the barrage of questions, shaking her head a little. "Handsome, yeah. Got a real nice smile, when he uses it. Tall, yep. And dark-haired." Shift. "Naw, he ain't - he ain't an heir or nothin' like tha'. But he's holdbred." Heir or no heir, it's difficult enough to deal with as a weyrling, even if it's for the best. Getting to know one another slowly will likely turn out better in the long run. "I did not know you had a brother at High Reaches. What is his name? I do not know *many* people there, but I know a few." Helpful, is she not? Berit watches the action, sighs, and shakes her head as she remembers her own short hair, again; it would be better if she can forget about it until it grows out. "I think that may be part of our lessons, but if you want, I can get you started early or just help out extra before bedtime each night. Good penmanship is important if you want to impress your beau." Pause. "You can write him love letters," she says mischievously, a slow smile growing. "Because if he is as handsome and nice as you say, Holdbred too, you simply cannot let any other woman steal him." She seems serious about that too, punctuating her words with a curt nod, but she braces her palms on the floor, pushing as if to get up. "You ready to start looking for hats? We have to hurry, before P'draig comes looking for us or one of the others." "I'gand, Khavoth's rider. Ya prolly know of more people'n I do. Never been." Paige's chin ducks bashfully at the suggestion; write him a love letter? Oh dear. "He - already seems t'be impressed, " she puns unknowingly. "I mean, he - already says he likes me lots and, well, we got t'dance t'gether at the feast." Still, she gives the other girl a doubtful look. "I dun think he'd let himself get, er, 'stolen.'" But as she looks prepared to get up, she goes so far as to actually get to her feet, nodding. "Yeah, lessee what we can find. There's still a good bunch needin' haircuts, so - might have a few minutes, at least." And if not, well - Berit was terribly distraught and it took some extra time to calm her down. Yeah. "Khavoth," Berit tests the name on her tongue as she rises, but she shrugs her shoulders. "I have not heard of that name, no. I thought perhaps you were related to a greenrider, Y'mnet. I have only been a few times, myself." She dusts off her clothes, claps her hands together, and gives one last pat to her cut tresses. "Danced together, already? Then, why could you not write him love letters? It is just to *remind him* of your continued devotion. What a romantic story, Paige. I cannot believe you have not told me before now. Shame on you for keeping it from me." But rather than look angry, she keeps on grinning. "Tell me more about him as we walk." Seemingly placated now, she walks ahead, forgetting her tears and the misery of such short hair, as she speaks of romance, love, and things she generally has no knowledge of herself, yet recites as if from a novel she has read. Paige gives Berit a curious look, a mirrored shrug. "Dunno no Y'mnet." But she flushes again at the persistent mention of love letters, shaking her head gently. "I'd like t'think he's reminded of it jus' by seein' me smile at him every day, " mumbles she, although she's quick to make her next few sentences more audible; vague, if truthful descriptions about Kalorith's rider follow, even while she absorbs Berit's litany on all those things that she's gradually getting little peeps at. |
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