Logs:Twisted Knickers
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| RL Date: 8 August, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Serin |
| Type: Log |
| What: Serin gets caught sleeping where he shouldn't by Farideh |
| Where: Nighthearth High Reaches |
| When: Day 25, Month 6, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life. While the weather is pleasant, and the sky is clear most people have gone outside. To say the inner areas of the weyr are vacant wouldn't be entirely true, but most have found some way of taking their work or their leisure outdoors. The nighthearth is pretty well deserted as well, except there is one person here who appears to have made it his duty to take the entire table up with paperwork. However, Serin isn't actually looking at the paperwork, as he has himself half sprawled with his legs over the arms of a chair and has his eyes closed. His footwear has been kicked off in front of the chair, and his positioning in the chair looks less than comfortable. It may be the last leg of weyrlinghood for the erstwhile weyrlings, but there's still work to be done -- especially for that annoying, goldriding one; beautiful days and pleasant weather doesn't put a stop to the responsibilities and duties she's gradually taken on over time. And it's in walking from the kitchen towards the living cavern, through the bubble cavern, that Farideh comes upon the slumbering apprentice. She's got her hands full of hides, and seems preoccupied, but the moment her eyes touch on the young man, she comes to a halt; stares. Softly, at first, she clears her throat, hugging her hides closer to her chest. "Excuse me?" she says next, a little louder, obviously intending to rouse him from his sleep. Serin isn't drooling or snoring, so those may be two things in his favour at this moment. He does open his eyes at the words spoken to him, and shifting in the chair so he's in a proper sitting position. "Mmph." He mutters, giving the weyrling a look over and then rubbing his eyes. There's still dark circles under his eyes which betray the fact he hasn't been sleeping enough, though he does make some tiny effort to reach towards the table to push his work towards forming a pile. "Am I in your way, or are those just treasured documents?" He wonders, looking towards her and the hides she's hugging towards her chest. In silence, Farideh watches as Serin wakes and rearranges himself, but doesn't move from her spot in the middle of the bubble cavern, still holding her hides protectively. "They're important documents," she replies, giving him a once-over, with a hint of dubiousness to her otherwise unmoved countenance. "Are you tired? Do you have a room? Are you--" She pauses to search his person for a knot, and dips her chin in a short nod. "The dorms. Is there something amiss with your bed?" Because clearly, sleeping out in the open means he doesn't have proper sleeping quarters back at home. Serin keeps his gaze on the documents as he's told they're important, as though staring at them will somehow allow him to see through them to the other side. However, his attention wanders and lands his pale gaze straight at her face as she goes on about his inappropriate sleeping space. "Pabedel snores. By snores, I mean, he rattles the cots around him." He says with a glower, adding, "Being a recent addition it's not like I have the best choices. It's either sleep by the person who snores, or sleep by the person who stinks. I didn't intend to fall asleep here, it just happened. So, don't get your knickers in a twist." He gives her a smirk at that, and returns his attention to getting his work in a nice pile. "Have you tried asking for a room re-assignment? I'm sure the Headwoman and her assistants don't want tired apprentices who fall asleep in the commons and complain about their sleeping quarters," Farideh returns, a little jauntily. "Was your experience at the Hall that much greater?" She shifts on her feet, glancing towards the living cavern, but her hazel eyes come back to rest on the apprentice, her mouth drawn thin. "Have you tried minding your own business? I was answering your question, not complaining. It's not like sleeping in the dorms has ever been known as being a wonderful experience. My business if I choose to seek a re-assignment or not." Serin retorts, apparently the lack of sleep is making him a little less chipper than he might usually be. He gets the work into a pile, and then leans back in the chair to refocus his gaze on her, who has yet to move from her initial position. "It was." He assents to the last question, crossing his legs and slouching in the chair. "It's generally frowned on for--" Farideh rolls her eyes towards the ceiling and then gives Serin a thin smile. "Fine. It's your business." She takes to steps towards the living cavern, but comes to another stop, only giving the apprentice a sidelong glance. "Over time, it does get easier," she says, politely enough, "but it won't ever be-- like that-- and there will be other Pabedels. Perhaps you can put wool in your ears at night or, find something to plug your nose with. It does no one any good if you're exhausted all the time and falling asleep out in the open." "I do many things that are generally frowned upon." Serin says with a bit of a smirk, and shrugs his shoulders, "I think that falling asleep for a few moments here is really.. not a problem." He admits, watching as she takes a couple steps towards the living cavern and shifting so he can lean against the arm of the chair he's in. "You often butt in and tell people how to solve problems with solutions they're already aware of? I'm really not that much of an idiot, I just haven't settled into the routine of things here yet." He says, and gives her a much more assessing glance, noting her weyrling knot and sighing. "Should have figured. Gold." One brow lifts following his personal statements, but Farideh saves her commentary for the end, where she can so glibly add: "Yes. Gold. Not that it means anything to you-- I don't personally have a hand in the affairs of apprentices. Still-- there are old storage rooms if you go farther in the caverns, and hardly anyone ever goes in them. They're dusty and old and vacant-- you might like them better for your afternoon naps. And not use the common areas for that, hm?" Her expression and tone are both vaguely censorious, despite her claims. Serin gets himself to his feet as she talks, tugging his shirt down as he does. "May not mean anything to me, but it certainly shows in the way you speak to others. Judgemental and assumptive." He sighs and pulls his hair back, before releasing it so it's not looking like a mess as he crosses his arms across his chest. "I /already/ said it was just a momentary lapse. But, still you harp on about it like I'm some lazy apprentice that does nothing but skirt work, when you don't even know my -name- let alone my habits." "Do you presume all goldriders are judgmental and assumptive? Have you met very many?" Farideh asks, lifting her chin a bit after he gets to his feet and is, noticeably, much taller than she is. "I never said that. I suggested you take your naps in one of the unused storage rooms. You're just stubborn and--" Whatever else the goldrider had been about to say, she bites down on, with an unhappy smile. "Fine. What's your name?" "I didn't say all, and I've met a fair few even if I've never been friends with any." Serin says, keeping his gaze fixed on her as she lifts her chin to look at him easier. "That was the /last/ thing you suggested. If it were the first you might not have come across as being judgemental, perhaps I would have thought you were being nice." He says, and sits on the arm of the chair so he's more on her level even if it's not the appropriate way to sit on a chair. Is he doing it just to irk her? Perhaps. "What's yours?" He asks, neglecting the answer for her question. "I think there might be a reason that you haven't befriended any of the weyrwomen you've supposedly met," Farideh points out, unhelpfully even. "You don't have to take my advice. You can keep falling asleep out in the open-- next time it might be Jounine, or K'del, or your Master." Waving one hand flippantly, a figurative brushing away of facts, her narrow-eyed gaze settles firmly on the apprentice, lips pursed in irritation. "Farideh," she says, after a short pause, "but I asked you first." Serin narrows his gaze at her, then shakes his head and chuckle at her namedropping, "K'del is a nice enough guy to not make a huge deal about it, my mother who is my senior here wouldn't give me too much flack about it, and Jounine, well.." He shrugs, he'd deal with that if he had to, but he doesn't seem to think it'd be an issue. "Going to keep gnawing at that bone or can we drop it now?" He asks, arching a brow at her and glancing towards his stack of work before returning his gaze to her. "Don't always get what we want, do we, Farideh?" He gets back to his feet to collect his work and then stand next to her. "Serin. I like you." He says with a smirk, lest she think he wasn't going to give up his name at all. The jaw-clenching, lip-pursing, eye-squinting glare that Farideh gives Serin says what she refuses to, and her chin lifts just a hair more. She remains mute until he moves to stand by her. "I, however, find you abhorrent," is her unkind retort, her arms tightening around the hides she's still holding close; she does eye him warily for his closeness. "One can always hope that our paths don't cross again-- or, often. It would be too soon," and she takes a step to the side. "Oh, come now. Does it really upset you that much that I didn't just cower and yes, ma'am you like you were my mother catching me with hands in the cookie jar? What kind of reaction would have made you happy?" Serin asks, looking like he's genuinely concerned about her opinion of him, even if the way he asks in a way that is scalding. "You're probably around the same age as me." He has decided, after giving her another look before shrugging. "I'll hope that our paths cross many times." He says with a smile, you know, one that could be considered charming by some. "What are those hides, anyways?" He asks, looming over to try and get a look. However, if she starts to walk away, he just falls in step with her. "You have quite a lot to say." Farideh doesn't mean that as a compliment either. "Why does it matter what age I am compared to you? You are an apprentice-- an old apprentice-- and I'm a goldrider. We have nothing in common and--" She looks perturbed that when she takes more steps towards the caverns, he seems intent on following. "What are you doing? Don't you have somewhere to be? Something to do? I can find your mother, if you persist," she says, trying to be threatening, but hardly qualifying. "Senior Apprentice, thank you very much, and not terribly far from making Journeyman." Serin says as a retort, though never faltering to stay in line with her step. "What were you before a gold dragon made you feel like you had Pern by the short hairs?" He asks, seeming assured that she won't be saying that she was far along in any craft if she was in one at all. He arches a brow at her last questions, then smirks like a feline that drank the last bit of cream, "I've finished my work, and if you want to try find her you are welcome to. I'm learning more about the newest goldrider, isn't that something?" "You mean a senior pain in the a--" Farideh inhales deeply and slowly exhales in an unconcealed effort to keep her temper in check while talking to Serin. "I was a laundress before," she informs him haughtily; too haughtily for a laundress? "You're a--" Her eyes scan his craft knot again. "Starsmith. Shouldn't you be looking up at the sky? Outside? Away from here? No one is going to give you any points for talking to me, but think of all the things you could learn and put into practice if you actually were doing work." "You're right, me and a laundress have nothing in common." Serin admits, making one wonder if that's how he's going to start addressing her. He is actually really calm sounding, way too calm, and that also leads to more annoyance. "Not every Starsmith looks up at the sky all the time. I'm a mathematician." He says, staying within a far too close range of her, within his arm's reach but probably with him outside of hers. "Do you think I need points? I don't. You may as well still be a laundress to me." "Then, what do you want?" Farideh asks, coming to an abrupt stop and turning to face the apprentice. Her expression is belligerent as she stares him down. "There has to be a reason you're following me and making light of everything, or is this comeuppance for telling you to sleep elsewhere? Fine! Sleep wherever you please." "This isn't worth fighting over, or making enemies. I'm actually a pretty decent person." Serin answers, quirking the corner of his mouth and then sighing a little himself. Though he does stop in his tracks and look down at her as she stares him down, his blue eyes meeting her hazel. Though he does seem to get the point, and takes a step backwards. "No, it's not," Farideh agrees, resettling her hides slightly. "I'm sorry I woke you up from your nap," grudgingly, "and I wish you well on your studies, but I have things to do." She gives him an abbreviated smile, a curt nod, and turns, to continue towards the living caverns. "Another time perhaps, apprentice Serin," is her polite goodbye, tossed over her shoulder. Serin doesn't continue following, no matter how much he might like to. Nope, he takes a couple more steps back towards the nighthearth with his work in hand, giving a bit of a smirk and nodding, "I doubt it, I'm betting you'll give me a wide berth now." He says with a sigh, and lifts a hand to wave, "See you, laundress Farideh." He winks and turns to leave knowing it's unlikely she'll stop him even if he is pushing her buttons. |
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