Difference between revisions of "Logs:Scarves Are Not For Garroting"

Candidate Quarters, High Reaches Weyr

Two caverns lead one right into the other from a hallway just off the Common Room. Taking advantage of the high, vaulted ceiling, bunk beds march in five neat rows of five beds each allowing up to fifty people to sleep in one cavern, although one of those caverns is presently largely closed off. Functional and spartan in atmosphere, there's little in the way of decoration here, just the one tapestry depicting a hatching on the wall of the first cavern and eggs on the sands in the second.

Each bunk is made up when there are candidates in residence, with standard sheeting, gray woolen blankets and somewhat lumpy pillows. A trunk stands at both the head and foot of the bunks, providing a little space for the occupants to store their belongings while the wait for the eggs to hatch. The archway between the two spaces is covered over with a hide hanging, easily hooked back when both caverns are in use, but tacked into place when only the first is needed. A proper wooden door closes out noise and drafts from the hallway.

The news was out and spreading early on day 22 that the hatching is imminent. Of course, as many point out, imminent doesn't mean anything more than could be the next moment, or the one after, or in several hours, or even in a day or two. Even so, the candidate barracks is abuzz with excitement and nerves. Released from their normal chores and some asked to help with feast prep, while others are left to their own devices, bodies shuffle in and out throughout the morning. This makes it difficult to take a mid-morning nap. So Gallagher gives up on that, sitting up and scratching at his bare chest before leaning toward the press at the foot of his bunk near the door to snatch up his shirt and start pulling it on.

Lansha bursts into the Candidate's Quarters, nearly skidding to a stop on the soles of his boots. He had a rest day today, so he'd already been off. He looks around excitedly to see if anyone's around. Lansha notices Gallagher and hurries over to his cot. "Are they humming yet? Have you heard anything?" Slightly arched eyebrows indicate that he's taken notice of Gal's bare chest.

Gallagher's eyes land on Lansha as he approaches, though blue eyes then cast about as though to try to find anyone else the enthusiastic teen might be speaking to. Finding no one, he yanks the shirt on over his head and pulls it down, resigning himself to answer, with a yawn and: "Walls aren't vibrating yet, so I'd say they're not humming yet. You know it could be days yet." It's happened before in the Weyr's long history. "You're going to wear yourself out if you stay this excited and it does take days."

Lansha deflates visibly and walks over to his own bunk, which he sits heavily on. "I know, but I can't help it. I guess I thought I heard something." He sticks a finger in one ear to try and clean it out. "Oh well." He take a few deep breaths to calm down and center himself. "At least I had a day off today, so I can try to relax a bit." He cocks his head as he glances over at the older candidate, as if wondering why he's not excited. Then he remembers that this is Gal he's talking to and shrugs. After a moment, he stands again and begins pacing, unable to stifle his nervous energy.

"You grew up here," Gallagher points out, "You know that you'll know when you hear it. And it'll be your job to tell all the others," He makes a gesture toward some of the refugees that asked for white knots, "That's what dragon humming sounds like so they don't wet themselves. You won't want to stand next to them on the sands once they've gone and done that." Blue eyes track the younger candidate. "I'm not sure a day off is what you need. Seems like you have more energy than you know what to do with. You should go for a run. Or swim. Or something." Maybe watching the pacing is starting to make Gallagher motion sick or something.

Lansha stops as Gallagher mentions candidates wetting themselves. "Eww, definitely no." He suddenly snaps his fingers and sits back on his bunk. "I know what I can do. This always relaxes me, takes my mind off things." He opens his own press and rummages through it, eventually producing a nearly-finished wool scarf, a ball of yarn and some knitting needles. The scarf is quite long, with alternating blue, light blue and white stripes. He sits down and begins to knit at the unfinished end, looping the yarn around one needle, then the other. Soon enough, he develops a rhythm, his fingers seeming to move by themselves. "You like it? I'm making it for Alida, actually. Just a thank-you gift for Searching me. It's not great, I messed up a bit on it over here," He points to a small tangle in the wool, "but I think it's not bad for a first effort."

Gallagher watches Lansha warily as it moves to his press and produces... yarn. The older man stares. In fact, he's too busy staring at Lansha and his yarn to interrupt him before he gets all the rest out. His lips press into a thin line and maybe he's recalling that auntie-perpetuated saying 'If you don't have anything nice to say...' Only, he's Gallagher, so he answers plainly, "I don't think she'll wear it. Liking aside. Scarves present a choking hazard if one should get into an altercation. She's a guard." Was a guard. Is a guard? "Guards minimize threats to their person." He speaks like he knows, because according to the rumors, he does: he was or is a guard, too. If he were someone else, maybe he'd add a kind 'but it's a nice thought', only... he's Gallagher. So honesty is where it ends.

Knit one, purl two, knit one, purl two... Lansha is undaunted as he knits on. "Well, I don't mind, she can do whatever she wants with it. Hey, she could use it as a weapon, y'know, sneak up behind someone and garrote them with it. Do guards do that sort of thing?" He shrugs and beams happily as the needles click and clack. "It's something of a peace offering anyway, I was kind of annoying and obnoxious when Ilicaeth Searched me." He smirks and glances over at Gal as if expecting his retort. "I know, right, me being obnoxious, big surprise. But I wanted to give her something and this is all I could think of. Other than a knife, but I'm sure she's probably already got the biggest knife collection in the Weyr."

"Garrote things, sometimes. With knitted scarves, not unless there's nothing sturdier around. Like a belt." Gallagher stands and tightens the laces on his pants before reaching for the belt he slung over the top of the bunk, as though saying the word reminded him he'd shucked it for the attempt at a nap. He stops mid-way through lacing the belt though the loops on his pants though, because he can't help a meaningful look at Lansha that suggests if the teen hadn't beaten him to the punch about being obnoxious and what a surprise, Gallagher certainly would've gone there. "She might. Leastways until I move the rest of my gear here after I Impress. Then she'll probably have the second biggest collection. "Don't know that you really need to make a peace offering to her anyhow. She seems the type to find most people obnoxious, if you ask me." Maybe it's a guard thing.

Lansha nods. "You should've seen the look she gave me when I was Searched." He catches the look on Gallagher's face right now. "Yes, just like that, only scarier." He arches an eyebrow, the smirk reappearing on his mouth. "You seem to know an awful lot about her. Is there anything I should know?" He flutters unusually long and dark eyelashes at the older Candidate.

A single brow arches at Lansha's question. "Just that the last person I knew who tried to pry into the business of a guard got garroted by something a lot sturdier than a scarf." Beat. "But feel free to try asking her about her business. I'm sure she's the forgiving type." Gallagher probably is too, right?

Both of Lansha's eyebrows shoot skyward. "Ohhh-ho-ho-ho-ho, that's a big yes! But no I won't pry any further, I like my neck just the way it is, thank you. Besides, it'd be a shame to ruin something so long and graceful." His voice oozes with mock vanity, followed by a snort. He holds the scarf up, inspecting it, then unravels his fingers from it and returns it to his press to be finished later. "Well, if it'll bring some warmth into someone's life, it's worth it. That's why I'm here! Everyone in this weyr is so grumpy all the time, going around looking like they want to kill each other. I'm here to bring cheerfulness and warmth! Somebody has to do it."

"Please, ask her." Gallagher invites more directly. "Do me a favor and make sure I'm in sight so I can see what she does to you." His expression is serious; then, it almost always is. "She accused me recently of not having enough to smile about. Watching you ask her if there's something you should know about her and I... I'm pretty sure that would do it. I might even smile for a seven depending on how she responds." Which could just mean he's getting Lansha to find out how Alida feels about him.... but, he's a little on the old side for such a game. It's more likely that he means what kind of beating she might dole out. "There's plenty of time before hatching..." ... to get a broken limb or some such. Yes, he's definitely one of those gloom and doom clouds Lansha's observed. "We could go find her right now."

Lansha chuckles. "Oh no, I like the rest of me just like it is, too. Besides, it's not done yet." He glances at his press a bit sadly, then turns back to Gallagher and laughs. "You would've smiled if you saw me the other day, I was cleaning the flue in the nighthearth and got a giant faceful of soot. I was covered head to toe, completely black. Nearly ruined poor Tayte's beautiful pink sweater. You might even have laughed!" He smiles knowingly. "I think you'll have something to smile about soon, though. When those dragons really start humming."

"I think you, like others, have a skewed opinion on what kinds of things make me smile." Gallagher responds without any definable emotion either in inflection or expression. Then his fingers finish with the belt and without so much as a 'see you,' he's heading for the door.

Lansha grins. "We'll see about that. See you on the sands, old man!" He stretches out on his bunk and stares up at the ceiling of the caverns, listening and waiting for the humming to begin.