Logs:Ugly Scarves and Gossip Plotting
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| RL Date: 23 January, 2013 |
| Who: Ainslee, Vienne |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Recent transfers nose through ugly bedding and accessories.. and plot how to get the latest gossip. |
| Where: HRW Storerooms |
| When: Day 16, Month 11, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
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| It isn't as if Ainslee really has /room/ for a tremendous amount of things.. but then again, perhaps that is why she's down here? With not one but TWO glows shining her way through, she peers down one cavern or another, ends up sidetracked instead of searching for the person she came down here to ferret out. Oh look, pretty scarves! The greenrider is in the process of sorting out a large box of radically out-of-style garments, her two glows settled on hooks to illuminate a large puddle of light around her, clearly outlining how amused she is at the latest offender: a garish, extra-long and extra-skinny affair of bright pink and washed-out green. "Who would /wear/ this stuff?" "And what would they wear it as?" comes Vienne's voice from somewhere to the side, where it turns out she's doing some stores shopping of her own. It's not clothes she's looking through, but bedding: sheets and blankets and furs and all manner of cozy things to sleep beneath. Of course, most of the good stuff has been claimed and so she lets out a sigh. "The things that look clean all feel like burlap and the things that feel nice all have these really disturbing stains." She holds one up, a pale blanket with a big yellow spot. "I know it's probably not like someone peed all over it, but it -looks- like they did." "A belt, maybe? I guess someone could cut it up and make quilt squares..." Ainslee doesn't seem too disturbed from a disembodied voice calling over to her. A quick smile submitted over a shoulder verifies the owner of the voice, and the glance extends at the proferred vision of a blanket. "You could take it down and ask them to wash it with the browns in the hot-wash, see if maybe you could get it a tan color instead of the pale? It -may- obscure it? Maybe." Ainslee chews on her lower lip, shakes her head. "Or maybe not. That's pretty vivid." Speaking of vivid: the next scarf is orange. And not a pretty rust orange or citrus orange, but that shade of brownish-orange that looks like the exact tone of cold spaghetti-o sauce. With her mouth pinched and her eyes wide, Vienne blinks a few times at the blanket. "That's not a bad idea. I mean, it might cost a little bit to cover it but..." That doesn't seem to be a total deterrent. "It must be lambswool, though. It's nice and soft. Llama maybe?" She shakes her hear, giving up on trying to guess. "What do I know? I'm not a herder or a weaver." She looks over to Ainslee again and her unsightly scarf. "Well, paired with the right..." Okay, so maybe she doesn't hate it. "Is there nothing over there that isn't the color of vomit and rotted fruit? I think you need to try another bin." "Better than spending your own money to buy something that wouldn't look nearly as good," Ainslee comments. "It probably is llama-- they have a disturbing amount of the beasts around here. Kalaith brought one down as a snack a few days ago, and I swear I thought the herder was going to have an apoplexy right in front of me." Don't eat the income? Overgrown fuzzy goatslugs? Ainslee still doesn't get it. "It's kind of fun, in a morbid way. Like - this one." She lifts a scarf in a perfectly fine tone of pale cream - but that looks absolutely bizarre, woven into geometric patterns one after the other, like some crazed Harper teaching scarf. Vienne puts on a toothy grimace for Kalaith's dining choices. "So much hair." Yuck. "A lot of these, I think someone should probably take them apart and find new uses for the yarn. If the cream one had neat little stripes off the brown one, that might be nice. Or maybe better the other way." So put Vienne down as a girl who likes clothes. "And really, if you need a scarf... You might as well have someone make you exactly what you want. I hear they're really easy. I bet a kid could do it for you for a really good price." She pauses there, head canting to one side as she stares ahead in thought. "Maybe I should learn to knit." "If I had any idea how..." Ainslee trails off, apparently the same line of thought that Vienne has. "It isn't as if there aren't a dozen little-old-aunties by the hearth that wouldn't be /overjoyed/ to show exactly how-it-is that they do what-they-do to a pair of sweet little things like us, right?" A wry look shared with the bluerider at that, a headshake at how likely *that* would be (Ainslee sitting still that long, without alcohol or hot men or women involved?), and the greenrider starts packing her scarves back into the bin with the occasional shudder at unsightly scarves. "Any better bedding over there?" Oh, Ainslee does have a point, and now that blind, forward gaze of Vienne's is definitely picturing the two of them making some little old auntie's day. "Sitting by the fire, knitting... it's so cozy." She doesn't shake her head; there's no reason to believe she finds the idea ridiculous at all. She's even a little slow to realize the greenrider is brushing it off. "Wait, were you joking?" Aw! She turns her disappointed frown toward the pile of blankets. "No. I found one fur that is probably about a night away from going entirely bald. A bunch of scratchy things that would likely take my skin off, and then the collection of mysterious stains. Oh, and these." She points to two thin blankets that passed her inspection. "I figure every little bit helps. You can take one, though, if you need it." "I guess we could put a /ton/ of schnapps in our klah," Ainslee states, the pre-eminent doubt in her voice probably hilarious to one looking. She shrugs her shoulders then; "I'm down for it if you are." But /only/ if you are, seems to be the definite undertone. This isn't something she's planning on braving by herself! "Oh no, I already charmed my bedlinens off of a particularly generous brownrider," and her lips curve in bemusement at some oh-so-fond memory. "They may not be fancy, but they're servicable. And comfortable." She lifts the bin as she herself rises, grunting to push it back onto the shelf where it should be; her eyes then gaze over the remainder of the bins nearby, thoughtful. "It couldn't be that bad. It's just a matter of picking the right old lady. Someone who is interested in teaching but not as interested in telling stories from a million turns ago." Vienne pauses there, a thought stilling her hands in the midst of tucking some unwanted blankets back into place. "It might not be so bad if they had stories that were more recent..." After all, getting the dish on people couldn't be too much of a waste of time, right? "Besides, if we were drunk, I have no idea how we'd actually -learn- anything," she says with a laugh that helps her not sound so much like a studious little stick in the mud. And for Ainslee's method of procuring some nice linens? Vienne sends a cheeky smirk sideways, "You wily girl. Was that before moving here or after?" "Oh, /truth/." And just like that, Ainslee is totally reeled back in. Ancient stories = snorefest, but relatively recent gossip? Ainslee is *all* over that. "Did it have to be before or after?" is her airy reply to Vienne's question. "You're more than welcome to come up if you find it cold, so close to the bowl floor," she teases the other rider, mindful of the swapped stories of weyr woes. "I think my bed is just big enough for both of us to squeeze into." She -does- roll her eyes at that, as if to complain again about her lodgings. "Maybe we should stake out the hearth for a day or two, see if we can't locate the perfect target." That *has* to be Kalaith talking. "If I come up, does that mean I go home with some bedlinens of my own?" Vienne laughs, bouncing a facetious eyebrow across the way. After all, that's how Ainslee got hers! "I think my weyr is actually a little warmer for being near the ground; there's a little less wind. I was on that ledge by the lake and... it was freezing." This, however, is the only comparison she has, apparently. No other ledges visited. "And we should totally start looking for the right teacher. If we want to go light on the stories, it's probably best to find someone who is a little gruff. It might not be the most fun, but probably the most efficient. And if we want stories... we should go for one with the twinkle in her eye, or one who talks really fast." It would seem that 'perfect target' isn't outside of Vienne's vocabulary. It probably says something that she has these little clues in her back pocket, ready to go. "Do I really try to have this dyed?" she wonders again, lifting the soft-but-stained blanket. "Maybe," Ainslee replies to the question of Vienne earning bedlinens, ambiguous amusement slanting the lines of lip and eyebrow. "Ledge by the lake?" she questions, eyebrow lifting in different context soon after. "Maybe we can find one of the old uncles who likes to knit." Furrowed half-frown: "Do those even exist?" She really wouldn't know, obviously. "Or maybe... hmm. Talking really fast could work, maybe. So long as you listen to the /beginning/ of all the sentences and I listen to the /end/ - we could patch together everything after-the-fact." Over alcohol. Ainslee totally doesn't have a one-track-mind at all. "I'd try it. Or just try asking one of the linen-workers /really/ sweetly to toss it in with colors that they know will bleed..." A hand is lifted, teeter-tottered in ambiguity. "Oh sure," Vienne replies. Plenty of knitting uncles. "They might be good for the stories, too." Stories, it sounds better than gossip. The plan for them to split the beginnings and ends of the sentences has her laughing again, shaking her head. "Oh, that will totally work," she says dryly, and joking. The stained blanket gets folded neatly in the stack with her other two winners and she steps away from the linens with a heavy exhale. "I'll see what they say, at least," regarding the dye job. With a wince that's pained to ask: "Have you seen any good... sweaters? Down here?" Given what the scarves and linens look like, she barely dares to hope! A look of faint horror crosses Ainslee's expression. "/Sweaters/?" Her glance over to the bin she just examined, full of atrocious items; she, much like Vienne, can only start to imagine the horrors. Ugly Christmas sweaters have nothing on what could potentially be down in the little-seen corners of High Reaches' storage, right? "I think I may leave you to /that/ task," gravely stated. "I originally came down to try to find a certain assistant headwoman anyhow. I should probably return to that." Persistence, right? She unhooks her glows and tosses Vienne a quick grin. "Just have yours contact Kalaith when you want to try to scope out the hearth, aye?" A friendly wave, and she's sauntering out into the darkness, to try to find her luck (and a headwoman assistant). With a bright laugh, Vienne is going to give up on the idea of free sweaters, the shake of her head turning into a shudder for dramatic effect. "Just blankets, then." With a roll of her shoulders, she turns from the racks, apparently done here. "Good luck," she wishes her fellow newcomer. "And I will. If I find any perfect targets," now she teases with that phrase, "I will." She would return the wave, but her arms are full of questionable linens, and so Ainslee will just have to accept the parting grin before Vienne heads not into the darkness, but toward the light of the inhabited caverns. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Ugly Scarves and Gossip Plotting"Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Wed, 23 Jan 2013 09:23:55 GMT.
Psst. Azaylia knits~
I enjoy how these two pick pick pick at High Reaches Weyr. XD It's so great!
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