Logs:Smart, Not Violent
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| RL Date: 6 February, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Alida, Itsy |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A routine delivery turns into an opportunity to learn, and much more. |
| Where: Workout Room |
| When: Day 7, Month 13, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snowy. |
| Mentions: Drex/Mentions, Kevok/Mentions |
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>---< Workout Room, High Reaches Weyr (TP Room - HRW) >----------------------<
This larger sub-cavern - located not far from a tunnel accessing the
outside - has an arching ceiling and smooth-hewn walls to better
facilitate both safer workouts and better circulation for the Weyr's
residents, if the outside weather is inclement. Various implements are
stationed in ordered symmetry about the cavern, including free weights,
punching bags, and many others. Along the glow-lit walls are pegs for
holding clothing, and large mats hang from sturdier braces, allowing for
softer falls, while large covered bins and lockers hold smaller
necessities, such as boxing gloves, jump ropes, and more.
Available Commands: +tp/help
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Alida F 26 5'7" Athletic, white-blond hair, Clear green ey 4s
Farideh F 19 5'5 Skinny, Brown hair, Hazel eyes 0s
----------------------------------< Exits >--------------------------------- Today, after Glacier's drills, Alida spends time in 'Reaches workout cavern, her routine an ingrained and almost pleasurable 'task,' by now. By this point in her workout, the 'bicycle'-shorts and t-shirt-esque-clad bluerider is working on her upper body strength routine at the free weights section of the 'gym,' a middle-aged man in similar garb standing just behind the bluie. Alida's on her back on a bench, with a goodly number of round weights upon the barbell she's currently grunting over lifting..up and down, up and down. The man seems casual about hovering nearby, but his eyes rarely leave the often-testy woman. Fresh towels are a necessity for the workout cavern, and it's Farideh's misfortune that she's been sent on the errand to replenish the stockpile. Her fingers are wrapped securely around the handles of a wicker laundry basket, its hull bumping against her knees every time she takes a step. She pauses on the threshold, giving the interior an apprehensive once-over, and sidles to the side, to deposit her burden on the nearest bench. Dusting off her hands, she wanders idly through the mats, watching two riders spar, and another stretching pre-workout. It's Alida and her partner that steal her attention in the end, hazel eyes locking on the weight as they're hefted, up and down. "What's she doing?" she asks the man. There's sounds of effort, the scent of sweat and cooler air circulated from outside in the large room/cavern...and such efforts indeed do need more clean towels. The man spotting for Alida glances a few times at the laundress doing her duties, and crisply notes to Farideh in his low tenor, "Building, keeping her upper body strength." Beat. "Females have overall superior lower body strength, males upper...so women who want to even the odds up (grin) have to work harder on their uppers." Through all of this chatter, the bluerider continues huffing and puffing, her face pink with effort, until the man notes casually, "Fourty, Alida. Gonna need ta add another 5 pounds, 'r ten reps. Getting close to the break even point." One repetition number 41, the pale-blonde settles the weight-laden bar into position with wobbly arms with her spotter's minor aid, her breaths coming in quick, but even pace as she nabs a towel he was holding for her, mops her face and upper chest. "Even the odds? Like fight a man?" That sparks her interest, more than before, and she'll continue staring brazenly, watching even as the blonde woman mops up her sweat. "How do you learn to do that?" Farideh doesn't specify if she's talking about exercise or fighting, but she's looking between the man and woman, expectantly, with her hands crossed behind her back. "Compete...or fight on about as equal terms..." the man adds on with a nod, stepping back a little so Alida can slowly sit up, puff out a breath, then swing her legs to the side of the bench as she recovers. No hurry, here. "Do what? Build muscle, compete, or fight?" the man inquires with some light humor of Farideh, while Alida simply looks over the laundress for some moments...remains silent...and pink. "Any of it? I don't know--" Holding out her slim hands, palms up, Farideh looks up at the man. "How to use them? What do you do? How do you--" She obviously has not the first clue about what strength, or fighting, entails, and gives him a chagrinned smile. "There's this boy and he's annoying. He said girls can't hit, so I want to. Hit him," the brunette clarifies sunnily, like it's a normal occurrence for a cavern girl to ask for fighting advice. With Farideh's inquiries and explanations comes a low chortle from the man, a faint twist of lips from Alida, who slowly stands after that pink of strain leaves her face, then moves over to a long bench lining one of the walls, where she nabs up a capped stien, and proceeds to drink slowly from the water within it. "Ahh... you just wanna get some quick moves...not real training for a serious fight, then..." the man speaks knowledgeably. "I know some boxing moves..." Cue a gesture Alida's way, followed by his "She knows the very-serious stuff." Still, "Glad to help you..." Uh... The pause practically begs her name. "No." The man's inference that she only wants quick moves gains a grown, her eyebrows lowering gloomily. "I want to learn how to kick his butt. Break his nose if I have to. Girls can do anything boys can do, and better." Farideh's arms shift, reappearing from behind her back and crossing over her chest this time. "Farideh," she supplies warily, "but don't tell anyone I want to know. Then he'll find out and I'll never hear the end of it." Still touched with humor, the man's grinning softly at Farideh's fierceness, lightly waving his hands before him. "Whoa there, girl! Take 'er easy." Beyond them, Alida's hardly even listening anymore to the interaction between veteran and want-to-be...until the word 'Farideh' floats past her ears. Given the other twos' distraction, she allows her concise green gaze to focus on the pair of conversationalists, studying the laundress in detail while she cogitates. And while the man responds "The kind of butt-kicking you're talking about I could likely instruct you in, Farideh..." the bluerider wanders over, and finally murmurs to them, "You got enough people under yer wing right now, Kevok. I'll take 'er for a spin." She sounds so serious, yet oddly casual, greens shifting from her former spotter to the girl...studying her intensely. "You sure, bluerider? I mean, I know about..." About Alida's a-socialness, her take on those who don't share her own dedication. "Yeah. Just buy me a good one sometime..." the woman notes glibly, evincing a chuckle from the man, and a sotto, "Hope she knows what she's getting into," of Farideh. One mocking little bow to the girl later, he murmurs, "Well then, I leave you in Alida's very capable hands." Duhn-duhn-DUUUHN! Today's another average day in the workout cavern, except there's a laundress interrogating Alida's workout partner. "I don't, that's why I need someone to teach me. I can't overpower someone that's," Farideh gestures high up above her head with a hand, "and," pretending to flex her muscles like, presumably, someone muscular would do. "Oh." She's nods her head to Kevok, but her eyes settle quickly on Alida, casually curious. "You'll show me, then? How to be strong? And how to fight effectively?" Already the trainer is divesting his busy hands of Farideh, Kevok nodding to the girl even as he moves over to gives some needed tips to one of the other weyrfolk who are in here working out. As for the bluerider, *she* gives the teen a sizing up look, and a low, intent answer of "If yer fully willing ta push yer limits." Beat. "I don't take on anyone who does things half-way...complains over small shit." Slouching, her head ducked low and features hidden beneath that ever-present hat, Itsy shuffles in to the Workout Room without paying much heed to those around her. She's not a frequent visitor, but this is equally not her first visit; that much is obvious in the way she meanders comfortably towards the pegs, divesting herself of her coat as she goes. "I don't know if I have any limits. I haven't ever tried to do any of this. I never had a reason, before, but now. I have to win. Have. To." If it's not clear from the direct manner of speech and her choice of words, Farideh thinks it's necessary to kick a certain someone's ass; absolutely essential. "I can promise that I'll try?" she says, hopefully helpful, but her smile falters when she notices the familiar hat-and-dreadlock combo out of the corner of her eye. The pair of Alida and Farideh are standing near the free weights station, the bluerider sipping from a tall stein of what's likely water, mopping up her sweat with the towel in her other hand. Alert green eyes occasionally skiff over those who enter, leave, linger within the cavern, so at some point, Itsy's presence is noted, as well. Once a guard, always one. Farideh's answer makes the rider's gaze harden a little, but - with an inner 'voice' that good-naturely notes « Civilian... » - there's a soft sigh issuing from Alida, then a somewhat stern, "Y'll *do*." No 'try.' Do or do not. "If it help ya decide, I've trained some other girls as unlikely as you...and they did it." Did what? Amazingly, Itsy actually removes her hat for this, hanging it from the same hook she's hung her coat on. If she feels naked without it, she doesn't let it show in her expression; she's too busy turning, finally surveying the room with cool disinterest, gaze flicking from one person to the next. Farideh - clearly not someone she expects to see here! - earns a longer glance. Then, at a sidle, she begins to cross towards the pair. "I'll do-- it." It begins uncertain, but ends on a stronger note. "Unlikely? Why am I unlikely? Just because I look like this doesn't mean I can't do things," Farideh scoffs, sounding just a bit insulted by the comparison. Luckily, there's someone else to deflect the laundress from her agitation, and her eyes pull to the other girl, lips pursing in dislike. "Itsy," is her general greeting, once the sailor is coming towards them, but it kind of sounds like a challenge. Not even a proper lesson and she's going around, testing the waters; clearly not too smart! There's a faintly knowing little smirk-smile settling on Alida's lips at Farideh's scoffing rejoinder, the woman nodding firmly before speaking again in her mile-a minute, hard-accented alto. "Yeah... you *will*." Beat. "Know this: yer gonna wind up with some bruises. Yer gonna be sore, tired, maybe worse if ya' fuck up." Point: do NOT fuck up. "If you give me shit, if ya get whiney 'r bitchy, I kick you out on yer ass for good." Yes; let the approaching Itsy overhear the bluerider's bottom line for her new 'student,' even as 'lida turns her eyes upon the approaching, shorter teen...listens to the interaction between the two girls. "Hello," says Itsy, rough-voiced and clearly amused. It's aimed, first, at Farideh, but Alida earns her gaze a moment later; the nod there is acknowledgement, but neither friendly nor unfriendly. "Didn't except to find you here," she adds at the younger girl. Consternation grows apace with the bluerider's words, on Farideh's face. Once the older woman stops talking, she has to suck in a breath. "Bruises?" she queries, dismayed. "I suppose, as long as they aren't on my face." She's chewing on her bottom lip, eyes flicking back to Itsy with a faraway quality. "What? Me? Oh," startled back into reality with the shorter girl's statement. "I need to learn to protect myself from your friend. He said girls can't hit, can't fight. That's ridiculous." Fixing Itsy with a pointed stare, she awaits the answer, her new mentor momentarily forgotten. Whom will she side with? That greeting of Itsy's gets only a small bob of Alida's pale head in answer, the short teen getting a gestalten eyeballing by the bluie's calculating green gaze before it attaches back to Farideh once more. "They'll only be on yer face if ya don't duck correctly...'r fall on yer face, instead uv' the proper way." Which is? From the faintly shark-like little grin on Alida's face, she might just enjoy the thought of such. Quickly, as her 'student' speaks to Itsy, "Only reason more girls don't know is 'cause nobody bothers ta teach 'em." Her bearing, attitude...her whole *person* radiates a casually disdainful 'bullshit.' After observing how the two girls deal with not only her input, but between themselves, the pale-blonde clips off a pointed, "I gotta get back ta' *my* workout." Pause, peer. "Before you leave here, I want a list uv' times 'n days you always have free. I'll get back ta ya after I find what overlaps with my own." Itsy's gaze shifts from Farideh to Alida; there's no obvious, imediate reaction to mention of Drex-- well, except for that hint of a smile about the corners of her mouth. "I can fight," she says, promptly. "Bet you could, too." Alida is excusing herself; perhaps that's why the sailor doesn't especially include her in her words. "But you've other ways to defend yourself." "No, no body does," bother to teach them. "I don't have anything to write on. Or to write with, but I can get a list to you today." Farideh brightens, switching back into student mode. "I don't think I got your name." Her smile flips into a frown, as she remembers that crucial lack of information, and turns her chin towards Itsy. "Other ways? Like what? Kicking people in the shins? Biting them? Do I look particularly threatening, to you?" "You need ta listend better, then..." the woman notes crisply to her new student. "Alida." Pause. "If ya can't find me, leave it with the Headwoman 'r her assistant." After the bluerider's got her answer from Farideh, she simply mosies off towards the bench lining the nearst wall - setting down her drink and towel in a 'claimed' spot - then moving to the hanging punching bag after nabbing a pair of boxing gloves from a bin. In characteristic fashion, she proceeds to wail on the bag with varying techniques that a prizefight would be happy to claim...a few strategic kicks added in for good measure. If Alida's further observing the girls during her activity...she doesn't show it...and, within another hour of other workouts, she'll leave without another word. Itsy allows her gaze to follow Alida for a time, but reverts relatively quickly back to Farideh. "Nah," she says. "Th'thing is, though, you don't need to be threatening. Just... use other people. Be smart, not violent." She sticks her thumbs through the belt-hooks of her trousers, apparently amused. "I did listen," Farideh mumbles under her breath after Alida walks away, and jerks her chin in a typical teenager-full-of-attitude gesture. She sighs and shifts her weight, hip cocked out, while listening to Itsy's side of the argument. "Be violent? How can I be violent if I don't know how to fight? You're going to have to explain it better or give me some examples." "Smart, not violent," repeats Itsy, not without a faint roll of her own eyes. "Girl like you, you don't need to get your hands dirty. You get someone else to do it for you, or you find another way. Brawling, like a boy? That won't get you anywhere in life, not you." "Girl like me? What does that mean?" Seems like Farideh has been asking that question a lot, and her aggravated expression suggests she knows it. "If it was as easy as that, I'd just do it. Here, it's like no one has a shred of politeness. Not that you and him are from a Weyr, but you're just the same. How could I get you to do what I want? You'd just laugh at me." She's watching Itsy distrustfully, as if she expects the shorter girl to do just that any minute. Shaking dreads over her shoulder, Itsy grins a wide-mouthed grin. "You could ask," she suggests, with a low edge of amusement. Which is, surely, better than outright laughter! "You've class," is what she adds. "Breeding. You're not like me. It'd be one thing if I thought you wanted to throw all that off... but you don't. You don't want to be like me; you just want to best m'boy." "Ask." Disbelief colors the laundress' words. "I've explained plenty what I don't like. Throwing me in water, putting snow in my hair, hauling me around like a sack of tubers." Farideh tightens the arms across her chest, securely, protectively even, but her eyes on Itsy are contemplative. She's silent, obviously thinking. It's a slight incline that precedes her words. "What do you suggest?" This time, Itsy does laugh. "Me," she says. "Not him. He's a boy." There's so much affection in the way she talks about her Drex (for really, what other way is there to put it?), but it doesn't mean she's not dismissive, too. "You make yourself an easy target. "I'm his captain; you need him to stop, you ask me." "Boys should be able to follows rules too." Unspoken rules, screamed rules, all the rules! "Can't he think for himself? Do I have to tell you every time he does something annoying?" Farideh is sulky about that prospect, and is on the verge of a pout to boot. It's another silent stretch before, carefully, she asks: "Do you like him?" "Like him?" Itsy prompts for more information, brows raising. She seems, at once, both amused and - nearly - apologetic. "Yeah, you know. Like him like him." Farideh's voice is insistent and her expression expectant. Oh. That kind of like. Itsy hesitates, looking - uncharacteristically - uncomfortable. "No," is what she says, at the end. "More like my brother, you know?" Those blue-green eyes of hers, so noticeable when her hat's not shading her eyes? They're fixed rather intently on Farideh. Almost... too intently. "No? That's interesting," Farideh says cheerfully. "How do you do it then? A ship full of men who don't bathe enough? Do they ever try to grab you? Do you have to slap them? Do you have a room all to yourself?" It's seems so sudden that the floodgates have opened and she has all these questions to ask, staring back, perhaps not as intently, as curiously. They can be friends now. Friends. Excellent. "Ha," says Itsy, perhaps without the strength she might usually put behind such a statement. "Nah. We've all hammocks, generally. Half of 'em are like to forget I'm a woman in the first place. The other half..." She smiles, suddenly all teeth. "I've introduced a few to my knife. Anyway, everyone knows I'm Drex's." Her wink, then, is exaggerated, as if she's just, through all of this, let Farideh in on a big secret. "Hammocks? In a ship?" First clue she has zero idea about how sea life goes. "Are the other sailors scared of him?" she asks, seemingly surprised by that. "He's young. Aren't there older? Bigger? Stronger? They could just--" But Farideh doesn't follow through with that statement, and instead, her head tilts to the side, eyebrows furrowing together, as she stares at Itsy. "Do you want to be seen as a woman?" Out of the blue! It takes a lot for Itsy not to laugh; she's really trying very hard. It's apparently important. It's that question at the end, though, that leaves her hanging, mouth opening but words not immediately managing to come out. "I--" she says. Her shrug is exaggerated when it comes, a moment later. "Sometimes. Not when I'm working; but sometimes." The intent stare continues. "I can help." It's an offer, a sincere one. "You can help me get Drex to stop acting like an annoying boor and I'll help you look more like a woman. You are, naturally, but if you just--" And she sticks out her hand, all smiles. They'll have to shake on it. Itsy's long, graceful fingers tangle more tightly into the belt-loops on her trousers, a gesture that might speak to discomfort-- along with her expression, which is, for the briefest of moments, truly conflicted. But then, on an exhale, "All right." One hand untangles itself, reaching out to take Farideh's within it, fingers curling tightly about it; lingering. Discomfort or no, Farideh is positively pleased with her, as evidenced by the ear-to-ear smile. Her fingers are warm and insistent in the handshake, and she doesn't appear put off by Itsy's lingering. "We have a deal, then. I think it would help," innocently enough, "if your hair wasn't so-- so--" She's at a loss to describe the dreadlocks, her eyes squinting with the effort to think. "Can you undo it? Like a braid?" When Farideh doesn't seem put off, Itsy seems... well, something, anyway; and as she draws her hand back, finally, there's almost something of a caress to it, however uncertain. "My--hair?" She's less comfortable with that, fingers lifting to run through the tangled dreads. "D'you think... that's really vital?" Farideh's too focused on the other girl's hair to notice the hand caress. Her hand, thus released, goes to her face, one finger tapping against her chin. "It might not be, but when I think of women, I don't think of--" She gestures with the same hand, towards Itsy. "I like it. It's just-- it could be why they don't-- see you, like that. We can figure something out if you're not willing to part with it. There are other things," but rather than define them, she's just staring at Itsy, going through the list of possibilities in her head. The staring. No, that's not going to help anything. Itsy hangs onto her hair, quite as if she's not sure what else to do with her hand, now, and gives a slow, hesitant nod. "I'll... think about it. Doesn't come out easy. Probably end up having to cut it." Which will definitely help with her looking more like a woman, no really! "That would be a pity. I think we could get your hard to do lovely things. We could find some things in the stores you to wear that might be more--" Farideh flicks a look over Itsy's attire. "Feminine." She regains her smile and reaches fingers up to pinch her own cheeks. "You don't need makeup. You have pretty eyes already. You just need some color," and apparently they'll achieve that by pinching her flesh needlessly. "We could get some perfume. Make you smell nice. Men can't resist a woman that smells nice." She's serious about that, too, from the sound of it. Different hair. Different clothes. Different-- wait. Itsy hesitates. "Perfume? I'm not-- never worn any of that stuff before. Never really, you know." She wraps her arms around herself, now, just a little awkward. "You don't think a person could like me without that stuff? Just for... me?" Makeovers are fun -- for Farideh. "Oh." This is awkward. "Of course they could like you for you. You don't have to do any of it. You can keep on wearing your hat and your hair like that, but I thought--" She rocks on her heels, looking down at the floor. "You wanted people to think of you differently. Even I have to dress different and make myself smell nice if I want that to happen. Otherwise, they just see me as a silly little hen." Hen being a little girl, she must mean. Hopefully. Could. Could. Any hopefulness Itsy may have been harbouring, in that bosom buried deep beneath her shapeless clothing (assuming she has one, that is), is beginning to... well. Waver. Just a little. "I--" She hesitates again. "Ok. we can try. Find me something else to wear, and... I'll wear it next I get a chance, promise." "Great." All of that previously gentle speech takes a backseat to her sunny smile and merry tone. "I'll find a few things, and if we have to take them in, we can. I'll put it all together. We can make a day of it." Farideh is thrilled. "Maybe in a couple days, a sevenday at most if it gets busy in the laundry. How does that sound? Will that work?" And her steady gaze, centered on Itsy's face, is nothing but friendly, hopeful. In the face of all that enthusiasm, what can Itsy say? It's true that her smile is more tremulous than enthusiastic, but it's equally true that she's trying. "Ok," she agrees, the word coming out a little quicker and more garbled than perhaps she intended it to. "Ok." Her cheeks have flushed. "It will be fun, I promise!" Farideh turns towards the bench, where her load of towels are still sitting in the basket, but quickly turns back. "But don't invite Drex," paired with a severe stare. No boys allowed. "I'll let you know," she says, once more bright and cheery, before ambling towards the load of fresh laundry. "Promise," agrees Itsy, without hesitation. No Drex. Definitely No Drex. And... there she stands, quite as if she's not sure what to do next. Well. |
Comments
Edyis (06:53, 7 February 2015 (EST)) said...
This... all of this... was amazing. <3 <3 <3
Drex (18:30, 7 February 2015 (EST)) said...
D:
...I'll be in my bunk.
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