Difference between revisions of "Logs:Buns"

His portion of chores done for the day, a slightly-damp Breirande - fresh from the baths - ambles towards the Galleries. He's quick to assess the mood of any dragons down on the Sands (or hiding in other places), and finding things 'okay,' picks his way along stone stairs, looking for a likely seat.

Catling is done with her chores as well. She's a bit damp too, though it's hard to tell if it's from the laundry she was helping with or a bath. Maybe both. She comes to the galleries with a small basket, and from the basket the scent of warm buns is rising. Seeing Breirande she pauses, then nods her head before coming closer.

He's found a good spot - free from the likes of little kids or boring adults, free from anyone, really - and plunked his butt down on a bench. And then there's the scent of those buns on the air. Tantalizing. Making 'Rand salivate and his stomach growl quite suddenly. Even before Catling's moving closer or nodding to him, the tall teen is eyeing her thoughtfully, and finally offering her a quick hint of a smile and his own brief nod. If he remembers his first meeting with the other candidate a month or more ago, it's not showing, now.

The girl smiles back -- a shy smile, sure, but friendly enough. She comes closer, then takes a seat. She settles the basket beside her, then looks at the older teen. "I... erm... probably have more than I can eat. Apparently I look perpetually underfed, and they're trying to fatten me up, or something. Anyway." She chuckles. "I think we met before. I mean, more than just in passing. I'm Catling."

Breirande's not shy, that's for sure, and though he's not necessarily super-outgoing, either, the tall teen's mostly at ease around others...and it shows when he simply accepts what Catling has to say, accepts her manner, and just nods, cocks his chin down at the bench beside him. "I remember...Catling." He didn't get her name back then, given the situation they 'met' in. "Breirande... Just 'Rand, though." Smirk. Everyone seems to call him that in the Barracks. As for the girl's waifishness, he just shrugs strong shoulders, murmurs in lightest baritone, "You eat as much as you *want* to, when you will." Beat. "But... I'll help those kitchen workers feel better about you, if you want the help." Grey-blue eyes twinkle merrily, and he cants a definite look at those warm buns in the basket. May he?

Her lips twitch into a smirk, and Catling holds out the basket to Breirande. "Help yourself," she breathes. "I've put on weight since I got here. That's the sad thing." A soft laugh, and then she reaches up and takes down her hair. THen she blinks, and begins to laugh softly, her cheeks flushing. "Please. I missed lunch, so, this is my in-between meal."

He'll happily take a couple of those buns, and start to tuck into one with the barely-restrained, near-rabid gusto of someone still eating to attain their full growth, a toothy grin soon flashed back to Catling for her words. At some point, 'Rand does stop his eating to shake his head, nab up another bun, and try to pop it into the girl's mouth. "They should've given you better than mere buns for a missed lunch," he sort-of admonishes. "There's the stew or chili or whatever that's almost constantly going in the nigh hearth." He should know: the teen's raided it enough...even in the dead of the night, sneaking out of the Barracks to assuage his near-constant hunger, it seems.

"Well, I think they wanted me to take more, but this is enough. They're stuffed, after all. But don't worry. I won't tell anyone you ate my buns." Catling turns her head to look at the eggs, sighing a little. "I wonder what they'll be like," she breathes "What do you want them to call you, if you Impress?"

Well, even if he couldn't get that bun into her mouth, 'Rand tries to place the thing in Catling's hand, even trying to nudge at it so she eats *something*. "Try just the stew, next time. Everybody *our* general ages needs protein." Smirk. Finishing up one bun and lifting the second to his lips, the tall teen manages to get out a chortle and then turns his unconcerned gaze to the eggs down below. After some longer seconds for thought, he merely shrugs, takes a bite, and answers around a half-full mouth, "As long as they don't slash or bite us..." It's not important. Shrug. "Eh. Don't much care, really. Well... not 'B'rier,' though." Because UGH. Frown.

"B'rand, maybe?" Catling takes the bun, now, flushing. "Sorry. I.... erm." She giggles softly, then shakes herself. "There's cheese inside, and a bit of meat in a couple of them," she protests. "And I'm honestly not used to .... well. I've been here five months now. Still getting used to a meal's worth of protein more than once or maybe twice a sevenday. So. Now I have it maybe once a day. The meat seems so very rich." She nibbles daintily.

"Sounds okay..." 'Rand murmurs in agreement with that elided name, the older teen not looking concerned, nor terribly interested in 'dragon stuff,' though he does grin at the contents of the buns. "Not nearly enough for growing bones...so my mother likes to harp." Eyeroll, smirk. Mothers. Blink. "Come from a tiny cothold, or something?" is inquired around another bite. Mmm. So *delicious!* "Minecraft'd always feed us well...or they'd not get any solid work out of anyone." A small grunt of knowing laughter quiets quickly as thought of the dragons out there returns. "Not good food, of course. They keep the best for the students and Crafters." Snerk.

"Tiny cothold. My stepmother didn't really.... ah... appreciate my existence. My father.... loved me in a... sad sort of way. So." Catling shrugs. "When there was enough food... but when there wasn't, his sons got the biggest share." She shrugs, biting her lip. "So. I don't think I've eaten as much as I wanted for ever so long. I still worry I'll get told to put things back, you know? I managed to work, whether I was hungry or not. It was... best that way."

Nobody's ever called 'Rand the most politic of teens. So when Catling talks of her past, the older youth looks a little outraged, a bit disgusted, and a tiny bit pitying. "Good thing I'm not in any position to 'talk' with your stepmother and father, and your 'brothers.'" One large fist curls slightly, then relents with another nip of bun. Grey-blue eyes flick away from the eggs to look into the girl's light greens, assessing her. Shrug. "Kind'a understand."

"Plague took my father. Stepmother kicked me out, and my stepbrothers are just little children. Isn't their fault." Catling shakes her head. "But it's kind of you, and I appreciate it."

Oh. Well, the first one sort-of levels the playing field, in Breirande's mind. "I had it, too. Healers say I pulled through because I'm strong...younger, I guess." He looks a little sobered by his brush with death, seeks to push aside the attendant feelings with more bun ingestion. Stepmother, however, gets a dark look, then a shrug. He's in no position to put things right. "Ah. Kidlettes. Yeah...too small ta know what's up," is for her half brothers. Psh. Her thanks gets the older teen's lightest brush-off and a faint smile, before he's next looking for yet another of those damned-good buns. Before they get cold.

"I had it too. But..." Catling sighs, looking down. "Better place now. I... erm... here. I'm not...." She shoves the basket towards him, bites her lip, and then leaps up and dashes off without another word.

Well, he's not the most empathetic sort, but 'Rand isn't going to let Catling disappear without even trying to follow her. Bun in hand, he watches the girl retreat in cofusion for only a few seconds, shakes his head, then is up and off after her...seeking to make certain she's just enough 'okay' to not require his company any further. Sometimes people just want to be left alone, after all.