Logs:To Do Right
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| RL Date: 24 October, 2015 |
| Who: Aiden, Jocelyn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: One of the oldest and youngest candidates share thoughts on their experiences. |
| Where: Candidate Quarters, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 2, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Jounine/Mentions |
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| Aiden is sitting on this cot, and is repairing a seam in one of his boots. He is doing it in a meticulous way, though based on the plaster on some of his finger tips, he might not be suited to this type of work. His cot is neatly made - not a wrinkle in place. A chest is open at the foot (where he presumably got the sewing kit from), and everything is neat and in it's place. This is in direct contrast to one of his nearest neighbors, whose bed isn't made and belongings are whereever they threw them. Having been reading on her own, neatly-made bed for the past fifteen minutes, Jocelyn seems intent on spending the remainder of that hour between morning and afternoon in silence. The occasional shuffle of paper scratches from her perch every now and then, gray eyes flicking upward whenever the door closes behind someone. It's become too much of an interruption in her focus, perhaps, for her attention eventually turns to observe Aiden with his boots, lips pursing as she catches sight of his neighbor's bunk. With a sniff, she attempts to resume her reading, expression displeased. Aiden seems about done with the line of stitches on the loose seam on his boots, when he pricks his finger again. Besides a note of surprise when it happens, he isn't terribly loud about it, though since the room is mostly empty nearby candidates may have heard. He looks at the finger with a sigh, and awkwardly ties of his stitchwork on his boot, avoiding use of the finger. He stands up and reluctantly goes up to Jocelyn. "Um, excuse me? Sorry to bother you, but do you have any thread that I can borrow?" Jocelyn's book lowers slightly so that an appraising glance can better take in Aiden once he's in her field of view. It drops back to her reading material after a long moment, but her, "Check the press at the foot of my bed, second box stacked inside and to the left, " is perfunctory, but not unkind. "You're one of the kitchen kids, aren't you, " is more statement than question, gaze still moving restlessly across her page. Aiden smiles. "Thanks." He moves to the press and is careful to open it without using the finger he just pricked. As he carefully finds the thread, he answers the other candidate. "Well, I'm sort of a kitchen kid I guess, though I haven't been at the Weyr all that long. I'm an apprentice from the Bakercraft. When I joined I was assigned to High Reaches but I'm originally from Balen Hold until recently." He closes the press, some thread in one hand. "I'll make sure to get you more by the end of the day. I just couldn't stand the loose thread on my boots any longer but I ran out of my own. I'm Aiden, it's nice to talk to you. I noticed you at one of the egg touching." Something in there gets the older candidate's attention; with a soft thud, her book is closed and set aside. "That isn't something I hear often, " Jocelyn says frankly, eyebrows raised. "It wouldn't surprise me if you probably heard from your fellow culinary people that I'm not." There's a bit of a snort for his last, mouth twitching faintly. "And I remember having seen you at work in the kitchens before all of this, " a hand gestures to the barracks at large, "which is far less mortifying than being remembered as - " And she breaks off, dissolving whatever she was going to say next into a not-quite smile. "Jocelyn. I'm one of Jounine's assistants. On hiatus, " with a brief nod toward her knot. Aiden nods. "Luckily I was able to keep working on baking while during candidacy. I'm not as worried about getting behind in my work as I would have been otherwise. Depending on what happens I won't need the training anymore, though I don't intend to stop cooking even if I did impress. I guess I'm lucky that way, since it's a craft there is a use for outside of the craft, even if it is on a much smaller scale. But if things go like they did for the last hatching, I'll be back as an apprentice in a few days." His expression or tone isn't showing a preference one way or the other, whatever he might be thinking. "That was a strange egg touching. I've never had a dragon's full attention like that. I still don't know what he wanted me to do with that ligament." "You're fortunate." Despite the dryness, Jocelyn seems to mean that, expression serious. "I'd have liked to have continued working, but, " a shrug, "it would hardly have been fair." There's a somber cast to her gaze for the mention of the first of the weyr's two clutches, a brief frown. Darkly, "If things go the way they did last time, there will be ten new pairs in the weyrling barracks tonight." Pushing herself to her feet, the redhead circles to tuck her book back among her belongings, smoothing out wrinkles left behind from her usage of her bed as a seat. "It's one of the oddest encounters I've had, " she admits, "but they say they're like any of us, with their own sets of motivations, preferences and so on." Aiden frowns. "Well, I hope it's not /exactly/ like last time. I want to see all the eggs hatch, whether I impress one of them or not." He nods, before continuing. "I did feel strange that a lot of the other candidates had their whole lives turned upside down as candidates when mine stayed relatively the same other than where I slept. But maybe it's an agreement with the crafts, that the searched crafters keep working. It's not like I wasn't working hard, but when someone who hates the chore they got sees me still enjoying what I'm doing, I can't seem to do anything right in their eyes." He pauses, fidgeting a little with the thread in his hands. "I just was glad that I got out of that touching in one piece and didn't get too much of his attention any other time." Jocelyn makes a thoughtful sort of noise in reply, closing her press while listening silently. At some length: "I don't know who 'they' are for you, but it isn't going to matter a turn or five from now what was right in their eyes." Straightening, her arms cross. Crisply, "Do what you know to be right." For all her brisk words, there's something akin to sympathy there in her expression, if only just. "I imagine we'll all have his attention soon enough." It's lighter, perhaps deliberately so. Aiden smiles and nods. "I guess so, but hopefully he won't bring his meal on the sands with him for the hatching. And you're right, I need to stop worrying about what other people think, here or back home. Speaking of home, I hope they know the hatching is starting early enough for people from the Holds to come. My mother, at least, is planning on coming." His smile brightens. "I'm looking forward to it, I haven't seen her since I came here for apprenticeship. By the way, if I forget and don't talk to you again before the hatching, good luck on the sands." "I imagine you must be, " indeed, looking forward to it. There's an absent pat at her pockets before she scoops up her jacket, fastening the outerwear firmly atop her sweater. Jocelyn almost looks taken aback by Aiden's last, but manages a thin smile for the younger candidate. "And to you, baker Aiden." With that, she's heading for the exit, one hand still fishing in her coat for a glove as she passes through the doorway. Aiden waves to the departing Jocelyn and goes back to his cot, already pulling the end of the thread out to be ready to finish his mending. |
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