Logs:Untangling and Tangling
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| RL Date: 13 March, 2013 |
| Who: Sabella, Wakizian |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Wakizian surprises Sabella by not being underdeveloped. Sabella helps Wakizian with his hair. |
| Where: Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 3, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Xhaeon/Mentions, Nicky/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions |
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| Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr Omnipresent clouds of steam slink across the tops of three naturally warm pools, set into the floor of this kidney-shaped cavern. Near the entrance the ceiling is high and polished, gleaming with little mineral specks as it sweeps downward into increasingly ragged, uneven steps. The foremost of the pools is squared off with wide steps leading down into the water and has faucets for bringing in cooler water from a rain-catching cistern. Primarily used for laundry, there's an almost constant film of suds along its surface until the circulating current clears it at the end of the day. Four sinks line the nearest wall and various tubs stored beneath allow for the washing of delicates. Laundry bags can be dropped off in the bins near the door and clean, folded laundry is stacked in rows of tall cubbies for easy pickup. The bend in the cavern leads to a rougher-hewn part of the chamber where the two circular bathing pools welcome those in need of a wash. Towels and washcloths are kept in neat stacks on shelves along the wall, along with sacks of sweetsand and a few bars of precious soap. Stone benches provide a place for sitting to remove shoes and clothing, while a row of gleaming brass hooks stand above, ready to hold clothes and robes.
Certain candidate chores are more dangerous, dirty, or manly than others. Wakizian had one that was two out of three of those things today. Judging from the multi-colored bows in his hair, it wasn't a manly job. Between the bows and the evidence of an unfortunate incident with an ill little all over the front of his shirt, it's easy to guess that Wakizian was helping in the nursery today. He barely get into the cavern before he's ridding himself of shirt, revealing his manly, macho, muscled torso (so pretty!), that's earn from harder work than just Smithing. His boots are yanked off, then pants are dropped. The shirt is sacrificed to a public laundry bin, but the pants and shoes are dropped into a cubby. While he doesn't look pleased, he's also not a storm cloud; he's somewhere in the tolerant but mildly annoyed range of emotion. The bows are the last thing to be attended to - and with his long hair, there are tangles a plenty. "Make me look pretty, my foot," is his sentiment as the painful de-tangling process begins, pausing only long enough to step into the pool and submerge himself to the shoulders. This hap-hazard choice of pool and place in it, puts him fairly close to Sabella. She reaches for that comb now, working it through a tangle at the bottom of her hair. The entry of another person to the caverns garners her attention and she glances up in time to catch the other candidate's arrival. Her eyes drift almost immediately up to the bows that are in his hair and stay on him as he makes his way through to the pool. And whatever reaction she has to his manly, macho, muscled torso (that's so pretty) is kept quiet behind a carefully neutral expression. Soon he's slipping into the water near to her. Sabella quickly works through her own little knot before she shifts closer to him and holds her comb out to Wakizian for him to use if he wants. "You know, usually it's best to just stick to one or two." She advises with a tiny, sly smile and gentle lift of her eyebrows. Wakizian's really got a mess on his hands, or rather, on the top of his head. Not having a mirror has him blindly searching for ways to return his hair to its usual nice, long, straight orderly appearance. "Here, I thought my hair didn't knot. Apparently, the littles don't know their own skills. Faranth help the victim of whichever ones of them grow up to be hairdressers." This comment is given to Sabella by way of response, as he adds, "You can't argue with a five turn old hairdresser. You always lose." Unless you, you know, hurt their feelings or get up so they can't reach your head. Neither of which Waki, apparently, did, judging from the bow-evidence. His brown eyes catch on the comb that's offered then at Sabella, "You're-- Sab- Sab-something, right? The hairdresser from Greenfields Hold? Look, I know we don't really know each other, but, do you think you could-- um-- help? I can't really see what the little monsters have done to me." 'Little monsters' is laced with affection, so he's clearly not the avoiding nursery duty type. "Oh, anyone can get knots in their hair." Sabella tells him cheerfully, still giving those bows in his a significant look. "You have to re-direct them to other things. They're five, it can be done." She assures him with quiet laughter even as she's circling to his back and putting a hand on his shoulder. Down, lower. So she can more easily reach his head. "But that's for next time." The request for help is never verbally responded to exactly, she just begins to carefully pull the bows out. Some might be more difficult than others but she's as gentle as possible. As long as he doesn't fuss too much and pull away. "Sabs." That at least gets an answer from her. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage. I don't know your name at all." Turns in the Weyr have ensured that Wakizian's not shy in the bathes. Nevertheless, he stays quite still once she reaches for his hair: can't spook the Hold-types! He sighs, "Well, apparently, not too many men with long hair brave the nursery, and there's this one little, Marlaena, who-- well, she's pretty bossy and determined." As though this were a good reason for why he was unsuccessful at re-directing their focus. When the more difficult extrications take place, the man makes amusing faces, but doesn't complain. "It pays to know the names of the people who sleep in the same room as you. Or at least, it did in the apprentice dormitory. And, see? It's paying off now." A hand slips out of the water to give a little all-encompassing gesture to the hair issue. "I'm Waki. Wakizian." Sabella has deft little fingers and she works the bows out more quickly than Wakizian might have been able to do left to his own devices. She still has that comb and begins to run it through his hair, gentle whenever she meets one of those tangles. "Is she an exceptionally tall five turn old? You should be able to stay out her reach, no?" She puts back, one eyebrow arching. He can't see that though, but he'll probably catch the drift of amusement in her voice. Unable to restrain herself from some gentle teasing, "I guess Marlaena is just better at being the boss than you, hmm." She tugs at a knot and gets it free. On to the next one when he's telling her his name, which causes an abrupt pause. It probably doesn't bode well that she begins to laugh again. Her eyes narrow as she leans forward and tries to reach for his face over his shoulder, so she can get a better look at him. Can't spook the Hold-types? Ha. "So you're the Lady Smith. You're not as underdeveloped as I thought you would be." "Well, no. But should is a relative term. I'm a sucker for a pretty girl. Even one who's 5 turns old. Have you seen the way that they make those faces?" Wakizian approximates one of those sickeningly sweet pretty please faces that children are wont to make when they want something. "It's practically criminal." He might've been about to say something more on the subject of Marlaena, but then his face is caught and turned; confirmed: bad at being the boss. The way his lips were when her hand arrived on the far side of his chin have him making a bit of a fishy-pucker face as brown eyes meet her green ones. A pale flush of color seeps into his cheeks at the accusation. "Oh, shells. Journeyman Xhaeon was right. The Master Senshan of High Reaches." This is muttered before he groans and forces a smile. "At your service." Then the last thing she said registers, and his face is thrown into confusion, "Underdeveloped? Why on the surface of the Red Star would you think I was underdeveloped?" Can't big burly Smith men play dress up too? "I think that you're going to have to man up or I'm going to be pulling knots out of your hair on a regular basis." Which is the final word Sabella has to say on him and his inability to turn down cute five turn olds. Somewhere in there she manages to get the very last tangle out. Then it's just a smooth run of her comb through, she's satisfied. Even if she's now leaning in to examine the tips. "You're getting split ends. You need a trim." Her laughter returns for the shift in subject and she releases his face. "Because. I met Nicky and we were talking about burly Smiths. He said he was stronger than you and he's really kind of skinny." She's back to combing her own hair again and takes the opportunity to move back in front of him once more. "He also said you wore dresses. And Xhaeon said they call you the Lady Smith. So. I'm sure you can understand my confusion?" She smiles at him apologetically and lifts her slim shoulders helplessly. "But you're not actually undeveloped. You beat my expectations." The topic of tyrannous tots is forgotten in the wake of this ego blow. "Nicky said that?" This brotrayal is worse than when a girl was involved. "Hogwash!" Wakizian declares, "If anything, I'm stronger than he is." Really, they're probably on par in the strength category, they just wear it a little differently as Nicky's a good hand taller than Wakizian. "A dress. I wore a dress. Once. One time." And that's all it takes for one's moniker to live in infamy forevermore! "It was a masquerade turnover party and I didn't have any better ideas, and I'd joked with Azaylia that when I'm in the bathes some of the bronzeriders get the wrong idea about me because of my hair and--" He sucks in a breath and then lets it out in a puff. "Long story short, I was trying to make a pretty woman laugh." Again, the sucker thing. It's a problem. "Though, speaking of my hair--" Pause. "What are split ends? And can you help me come up with a way to wear my hair that wouldn't fall down and would fit under a riding helmet in case I Impress and have to convince Quinlys to let me keep it?" Concern crinkles his brow. "That he was stronger than you?" Sabella repeats, her green eyes going wide at the reaction from the candidate. But it's all just a little too much for her and soon she's giggling, bringing one hand to her mouth and watching him with lifted eyebrows. "Oh, darling. I believe you. You don't have to prove your manliness to me. I'd just been given the wrong impression is all." She reaches out and puts a soothing touch to his arm and calms her own laughter in the meantime. Curiously with bright eyes, "Did it work at least, did she laugh for you?" The shift to conversation on hair brings her around to being more serious. "It's when your hair gets tired and old at the tips and breaks. Splits. Split ends." For this request her own expression is pained and she touches the length of her own. "As soon as I come up with a way to get them to let me keep my own. I could probably offer to cut yours, shorten it up some to get you in line but keep the style similar enough. Then maybe you could tie it up tight at the back." "You don't understand." Wakizian's head shakes and hands come up out of the water to do the same, turning towards the hairdresser. "Nicky is my best friend." As though that should say it all. In any case the candidate is quickly distracted by hand on arm (which flexes under her touch - subconsciously or consciously trying to prove the point!). "She did. I even have a promise of a date. So as long as that date ends up the best I've ever had, which it ought, since I've had none, I'm sure it'll be worth being known forever more as Lady Hairy-Legs Smith." He considers the education she's giving him about hair, "Oh. Well. I might be able to help you. Quinlys has known me since I was really young and has a bit of a soft spot for me - it's why I'm Standing at all, I suspect. If I can convince her to let me keep mine, there shouldn't be any reason you couldn't keep yours, as well. I think it'd take some doing by a clever hairdresser. Are you up for the challenge?" He pauses, his expression mildly confused, "Cut it but leave it long, right? I usually just bind it with a leather thong so it can't go anywhere, but I'm not sure that'll cut it for weyrlinghood." Oh, that tugs at Sabella's little heart strings a bit. Where her hand touches his arm she pats him in consolation. "I'm sure that he didn't mean it in a bad way. He also said that you were a great guy. And his best friend. And you do seem like you're a good person, you like little kids." As if that alone raises him to the level of sainthood or something. "You've never had a date with a girl before?" That has her looking at him freshly with green eyes, as if genuinely surprised. "And here I thought you Weyr types went out with everyone all the time. Wonders of wonders." Up for the challenge, pfft. Her smile is downright cheeky for that. "Of course I am. It's a deal, if you can get her to listen to your proposal I'll figure out a way to keep our hair under the helmets. Also." And here she's addressing his question but reaching forward to touch his hair again. It might involve a little coincidental contact with her body but she doesn't seem to be aware or care at any rate. Her fingers twist around the length of it until she has it pulled into a tight, if rough, bun. "More like that. Less loose stuff everywhere. If you were able to manage it higher than that, no one would really notice." Wakizian simply frowns while she talks about Nicky. Even a pretty girl saying he seems like a nice guy doesn't seem to lift his spirits. Nicky's sure to get an earful about all this though, if Waki's silence is any indication of everything he's not saying to Sabs. He does manage a chagrined smile at her question. "When I'm not being a candidate, I'm an apprentice. Well, senior apprentice. Anyway. Some of the crafters posted to the Weyr are a little lax on the traditional rules of the craft, but Smiths-- or at least the Journeyman I study under -- is pretty strict. He wants my head in my lessons and the rest of my body at the forge, not busy losing one and getting busy with the other." His cheeks pinken a bit at the idea, but his smile becomes a lop-sided grin. "As you said, I seem like a good guy. I follow the rules." But now he has a date! So who knows what madness the world is in for. She may be unaware of the coincidental body-contact, but he is not, and with a little more color hurrying into his cheeks, he turns a bit to give her better access to his hair, and possibly to preserve some of his own dignity. "I know they'd worry about Thread getting inside a helmet if it were too far away from the head, so I think part of the trick to convincing them is maybe keeping it as flat to the head as possible. I wonder if between my Smithing and your hair skills, we could invent some kind of plate or tie or something that could pin to the back of the head and help the hair lie flat?" He's obviously just brainstorming aloud at this point. "Right, the crafters have rules. Just like this whole candidacy thing has rules. Weyrlinghood has more rules." Sabs blows out a quick breath of air, it's difficult to tell if she's complaining or just commenting on the state of affairs. Her expression is still bright, eyes watching his own expression carefully as he launches into that explanation. The way he describes it has her laughing and glancing away coyly. "I bet. It stills seems like your strict following of the rules doesn't allow for you to have a lot fun. But then, maybe that's why I'm not a crafter." Her fingers are still working his hair and she purses her lips. Carefully she brings the bun up a bit higher in the back and her eyes are distant, thinking. She shifts some so she can get a better look at it. "Thread is so many turns away, we won't even be alive when it comes back. I'm not sure I agree with the hair cutting aside from keeping tradition, but." It's not her decision to make, that's clear. She knows it. Her eyes flicker to his pinkened cheeks and her eyebrows lift a touch. "I'll leave the Smithing of experimental tie-plates in your capable hands. Personally, I think a little trim and this-" Where she has his hair to now. "Should get you by." And before he gets more uncomfortable by their close proximity, she releases him and moves back. "You know, I have been giving serious thought to that lately. The whole fun thing." Which might explain how an apprentice with rules or a candidate with rules ended up asking for a date. "Even given thought to leaving the craft if I don't Impress. But I will. So I don't have to think about that." The last two sentences are hurried, the first said with resolve, the second with some doubt. Wakizian can't see the hair, but his brows raise and his eyes search upward as though that would somehow help him see the up-do. "Yeah, that's why I'm thinking I have a chance. If Thread were still here and we Impress, our hair'd be gone faster than you can say up-do. Can you teach me how to do that?" Beat, "Oh, and would you trim my hair for me? I haven't got much left in the way of marks - I bet it... uh, all, on the Hatching, actually. But I could owe you a favor? I'm pretty handy." He blinks at her for a moment, "With Smith stuff, I mean. Jewelry, glass, mostly the metal stuff, though. Or I'm a pretty good dancer and could give you a couple dances at the Hatching Feast?" It's offered as though this were legitimate currency for favors. Sabella's eyes narrow once again and she's considering the boy in front of her. "I think that would be a bad idea, to leave entirely. I'm sure there have been apprentices before you that have bent the rules. Or... just continue being a good guy. After all, how far away from walking the tables are you?" She asks, looking him over as if she's trying to discern his age from sight alone. The bravado on how he's so definitely going to impress goes unremarked upon by the hairdresser. "Ugh, no one else is going to be touching my hair other than me. They would just have to slow down on that." Thread or no thread. She's back to touching her own with a certain possessiveness. It's time for the eyebrows to lift when he mentions having bet almost all of his marks on the hatching, amusement crossing her face again. "I hope you're a decent gambler." All the rest of that generates more laughter, but it's more delighted than 'haha' at him. "I'll show you how to tie your hair up, sure. I'll even trim it for you. What kind of jewelry can you make? I could be tempted by something cute and at least one dance at the Hatching Feast." She's driving a hard bargain for a couple of simple tasks, but she's working girl, yeah? "Really, the problem isn't so much the fun as the location. If I walk tables, I'll move. There's only a handful of crafters lucky enough to stay in their home. Healer Madilla, for one. I'm not sure I'm as good at my job as she is at hers." After all, she's the Weyrhealer. Wakizian? He knows how to bang some hammers and shape some molten metal. "You can cut your own hair?" The young man's eyes bulge a bit, as though it boggles the brain that such a thing is possible. Obviously, he's not overly familiar with hair cutting. "You must be really good." That conjecture is accompanied by a low impressed whistle. "Actually, I've never gambled before in my life. Not even silly bets with other apprentices. But I figure that if you're going to bet, bet on something you believe. In my case, me Impressing." That's how stupid-sure he is about this whole hatching thing. "Well, and a little on Nicky, as a belated turnday present. His was a month and a half ago or so." Then to matters of business. "Done. I can make necklaces, rings, bracelets, earrings, hair pieces, pins, you name it and someone has a design I can look off of for the basic idea. Then it's just filling in the rest. Do you fancy any motif in particular? Dragons are always popular. Or maybe scissors in your case?" His baritone is raised in question, a little clueless about what exactly she might want. "You don't want to move?" Sabs glances past him to the room at large and her lips purse, thoughtfully. "Maybe you could come back here eventually or maybe it would be exciting to go somewhere new. Have you thought of it like that before?" She's wondering as she turns attention back onto the other candidate. She's not one to often admit things, "I'm a little jealous of people that get to travel." Manages to sneak out from her lips. Her hands are still working through her own hair and she glances down at it. "I can trim it at least. I've never had to cut it all off on my own. But I think I'll do a better job than some scissor wielding Weyrlingmaster who'll just hack it all off in one go." She makes a rough scissoring motion with one hand and a wrinkle of her nose. "How many marks are you going to owe if you don't impress? I hope you didn't make these bets with one of those break-your-knees-if-you-don't-pay-me types." She's quickly shaking her head, "Oh, no. Nothing like that. Maybe a bracelet, kind of chunky but with some design work along the band? Like a bangle?" The girl isn't looking for anything very complicated, that much is obvious. "No." That, at least, is a decisive answer to her question. "I guess maybe one day I might like to visit some places. Weyrwoman Brieli was telling me that traveling certain places make for good dates." Wakizian sounds a bit nervous about that, "But I like being here. I've only ever been here and the Hall." So he probably has no idea what he's missing. He raises his brows as he asks, "Is this your first trip outside the Hold? First Hatching and all?" There's a fast nod to her being a defter hand than a scissor wielding Weyrlingmaster. "More than I have." He admits, "I think it just will mean that if I don't Impress I'll be helping the bookie do her books for the rest of my life." He pauses, "But I'm pretty good with numbers and have helped her once already, so I suspect my knees will stay unbroken." He does seem a little disconcerted by the thought, perhaps trying to picture Mave as a hardcore kneecap-busting gangster. "Bangle it is. Copper colored alright? It'd look nice with your hair and eyes." It couldn't possibly have to do with the fact that it's an inexpensive metal and fairly easy to get one's hands on. "Do you only think of things in the terms of what dates you're able to get?" Sabella asks him with an affectionate tease, one eyebrow arching upwards. "I always thought it would be great to just... see places you hadn't been before. Meet people that weren't the same as everyone else you'd ever met. Go to Bitra and gamble, go to Igen and see the desert. The jungles down south-" She clamps her mouth shut just then, aware that she's gotten ahead of herself. With a quickly taken breath she smiles demurely at him instead. "I've lived by Crom and the surrounding holdings my entire life. So the Weyr is a new experience. First hatching as well, yes." Following the shift of conversation, Sabs laughs. "A manly Smith and a bookie's assistant on the side. You're full of surprises today, aren't you?" The comb gives a final sweep through her hair before she moves to the side, putting it away. "Copper?" She looks over her shoulder at him with wide questioning eyes, "Oh, that would be fine." Even if it is going to turn her skin green if she wears it too much. But if she knows anything about that, she doesn't say. Instead she just makes a show of tying her hair up and out of the way. "No!" That's protested a little too defensively. Maybe she's not the only one to razz Wakizian about such an outlook on life recently, but he manages to stay humorous, replying, "Not everything. Besides, dating isn't important until after the Hatching or weyrlinghood, depending. I'm not wasting any more thoughts on it, or kissing or who got laid first." Whoops. Clearly from the look on his face, that was not something he was supposed to say out loud. He's quick to grasp at the topic of travel in an attempt to let his slip-up fall by the conversational wayside. "Sounds like you have big plans for travel. A dragon would definitely help you do that. Is that why you accepted Search?" There's the briefest of pauses before he's trundling along in his conversational path, "I can't imagine what it would be like to have your first Hatching be one where you're on the Sands. It's Nicky's first Hatching Day, too." He blushes, perhaps hinting that his earlier slip-up, the cover-up and his best bud are all connected. "Any particular colors you like for beads or did you want it more elaborately designed in the metal for decoration?" He said he was good with all that stuff, but the man wears no jewelry, so there are some finer points lost on him in practical application, it seems. Sabella is all wide eyes again and a slow blink before she shakes that look of surprise from her expression. Instead she goes with a very diplomatic, "I think that's probably for the best. It's never good to compare yourself to other people." But since he wants to change the topic and does so, she'll willingly go along with it for now. "I heard that you could start... you know, a few months into weyrlinghood. Once the dragons were old enough to handle it all. But what do I know?" She's certainly not Weyrbred, she only has her own ears. "I accepted Search because I wanted to see the Weyr. I doubt that I'm going to impress out there, I just wanted to see what it would be like. When the hatching is over, I'll be on my way back to Greenfield to tend to my Lady's hair." Her smile is appropriately rueful for that thought and even comes with a little sigh. "I can't imagine what it's going to be like either. I'm excited, I just hope they don't maul me something bad." She's pulling herself out of the bathing pool now and reaching for a towel that hangs on a hook nearby. "Can you do it in the metal? Is that alright? I don't really like beads." Wakizian looks relieved when the subject change works and never looks back! "I don't really know much about when you can do that kind of thing in weyrlinghood. I never really paid much attention to the candidates and the weyrlings and their rules. I never expected to be one of them. There's never been a dragonrider in my family. Just MineCrafters. Well, and now one Smith and one Weaver, but I'm blamed for my sister's rebellion to WeaverCraft." He shrugs a little and the smile says that he's fine bearing that responsibility. "Seems like you have a good reason to Stand. You'll probably Impress, too. If you don't, you could stay if you wanted. They invite you to. There's lots of hair to be done here. Weyrwoman Brieli always has pretty hair. Weyrwoman Azaylia might like her hair done up. You could, maybe, see if you could be the Weyrwomens' hairdresser." That's equal status to a Lady, right? He chews his lip, "I'm worried about getting mauled, too. Just, keep your eyes open? And stay light on your fee-..." He trails off because she's getting out of the bathing pools and his eyes can't help but to follow her. He shakes his head after a moment, "Yes. I can do it in the metal." He sounds a little mesmerized, but at least he averts his eyes by the time he speaks. Sabella lifts her chin and laughs as she wraps that towel around her body, she shoots another look at him over her shoulder. "I somehow doubt that. Dragons pick people like you and your friend Nicky, not girls like me." Whatever that really means isn't elaborated on because she begins to pad around the caverns, collecting her bundle of clothes from one of the alcoves. "Oh, that's nice of you to suggest. But I have a feeling that they're going to be wanting me back where I came from. Maybe I'll come and visit you after the hatching. You can tell me all about your new dragon and how many marks you won?" He trails off at some point in their conversation and she does recognize it. Probably knows the source of his lack of concentration as well. Her smile isn't coy like before or demure, more sly than anything else. She begins to leave the area, throwing a little wiggle of her fingers back to him. "Perfect! I look forward to it. See you around, Waki." Not Lady Smith, she lets him keep some dignity. "That'd be nice! You know, if you're not stuck sleeping in the alcove next to me in the weyrling barracks." Waki calls, only regaining enough blood flow to his brain as she's heading for the door to string together that response. "See you!" is added, but she mightn't hear it. Lady Smith takes some moments to wash up, ensuring that he gets to keep that dignity she left him when he leaves the pools. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 14 Mar 2013 02:17:48 GMT.
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Awww. That is the cutest image. Sabella all untangling Wakizian's hair while they talk. You take good care of that hair, both of you! xD
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