Logs:Teenage Girls Are Crazy
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| RL Date: 29 March, 2013 |
| Who: K'del, Mave |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: K'del and Mave don't exactly communicate very well. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
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| Records Room, High Reaches Weyr Books. Scrolls. Bound hides. Maps. If it's a record pertaining to the Weyr, it's likely to be in this roughly oval room with its floor-to-ceiling cherrywood shelves, its multitude of slots for scrolls, and its wide drawers for materials that shouldn't be rolled up or folded. A scribe is usually on duty at the tall desk up front with its good view of the room, and is able to help visitors find what they're looking for via the big bound index on its rotating stand. Past the desk, several tables stand in neat rows for note-taking, each stocked with glowbaskets, scrap hide, paper and pencils. Additional lighting is provided by a many-armed wrought-iron light fixture, its glows gleaming through luxurious glass containers in fluted shapes instead of baskets. To one side of the room, a gap between two sets of shelves outlines where another set once stood, now replaced by a tapestry-covered aperture. Peeking behind the tapestry reveals another cavern, this one likewise full of shelves, but occupied by only a few boxes of older records and a somewhat musty air of disuse. As well, two narrow but solid doors are locked when the room is unattended and a discreet staircase provides direct access from the Weyrleaders' weyrs. "Yes. Thank you!" Enthusiasm produces a slight echo, down from the raised desk seat of the records room's keeper. Clamping a hand holding a half-scribbled on paper over her mouth, Mave nods, eyes a'twinkle, to the attendant before excusing herself. The paper's pulled out in front of her, in the light of the next table over's glow, to remind what | / and half a circle mean in terms of getting to the indicated shelving. Shelving that, as she prowls in near the correct placement, towers high, high above Mave's head, even with the extra inches provided by a top-of-the-head bun keeping her hair from mischief. Even as she, preparatorily on tip-toe, approaches a shelf, she second-guesses with a hard squint that has her shuffling back towards the desks, sliding the paper under another light that she manhandles towards her -- nevermind that someone might have been using that. Not K'del, at least, though he is down here in the records room, standing a few bays away from Mave, with a book open in one hand for his presumed perusal. To that end, he's not paying much mind to anyone else who might be nearby; as Mave deals with the light, he snaps his book shut with an audible thud, and turns away, aiming to slide it back onto the shelf in a position that's in easy reach of his long arms, despite being towards the top of the bay in front of him. He reaches for another, blowing dust off of the cover with a thoughtful glance. The answer sends no relief to Mave's face, instead a light scowl as she turns over her shoulder to regard a shelf that is-- thud-- her head whips in the other direction, noting K'del idly, before going back to the source of her problem: a book much too high for-- the double-take is even faster on the reverse. Stepping back from the desk, determined palms pushing against the table seeing her off while crinkling the paper, she uses the few steps over to K'del's area to scout for a step-ladder. None in sight, except one in use down a corridor, she steps in towards the bronzerider's sight-line, waving her hand at the aftermath of a dust cloud. This book seems to be more satisfying to the bronzerider, who flips it open to skim pages with only a cursory glance, his fingers already curving possessively about the leather spine. With his gaze lowered to the words on the page, he doesn't immediately notice Mave's approach, and even half turns as if in preparation to leave. But-- there, at the last moment, K'del glances up again, apparently only now registering the waving of a hand. His brows raise, asking a question that isn't echoed by his mouth, which remains closed. Curiosity demands Mave try and get a glimpse of the spine, but not through any extraordinary means; she glances, then is sure to make eye-contact to smile in greeting. "Hey," soft, respectful, and practical. Bringing her hands together, she sweeps them over one shoulder in a hefty point of all clasped fingers at the shelf behind her to the left. "If you could spare a second to help a shortie with a shelf beyond her means?" Smiling widens in imitation sheepishness into a grin, reminiscent of younger-- not much younger-- years when round baby cheeks got favors by their own power alone. K'del's fingers cover most of the book's spine, and with it tilted in such a way, there isn't much too see-- especially not when he lets his hand, book held within it, drop towards his side. He makes no bones about the way in which he regards Mave: a studied glance, his brows knitting together as he pulls himself out of his own thoughts enough to actually grasp what she wants. "Oh," he says, then, finally. "Oh. Sure." It can't be said that he sounds excited at the prospect, but if he's reluctant, he bites it back, and shares only a vague, distracted smile. "Show me what you need?" "You must be sick of gettin' that," proclaims Mave, without any true understanding, nor a lick of embarrassment at being the next person to abuse K'del's height. To her, it merely seems the practical order of things: it happens, he's tired. So shall it be, etc, etc. "See, this is why it's handy being good for nothing. Right there." Having led him to the necessary shelf, she points both fingers straight up next to her ears, "Two above my head. Green spine." It reads Varied Tales for the Road. Nary a second waited, she twists, stepping backwards, out of the way, to watch, not just him, but down the shelves at nearby patrons then up, to where she squints to be sure she's even specified the right-- "Oh! Fuddlesticks-- it's the red." A Summary of Theater, the neighbor. "It's this room. I don't know what it does to me." Having dutifully followed Mave to the appropriate shelf, K'del's already in the process of grabbing down that green book when the correction comes. He pauses, closing his eyes for only a second (as if that will ease all annoyedness; he certainly hasn't responded to her earlier remark), and then draws his hand back so that he can see for himself. The red one: he reaches for that instead. "This room? You're... intimidated by this room?" Evidently, in this state of-- whatever mood he's in-- K'del can't quite moderate his disbelief into something more friendly. Instead, he offers Mave the book. Lip bitten, she gropes for it, as if sweeping the book out of sight might faster erase all memory of the event from K'del. If so, then not consciously; Mave looks little aware of annoyance or mood, puffing out a breath that shoots up over her forehead, free, for the moment, of hair. "Something like that," though she purses her lips unhappily for wording, grasping with bending eyebrows for better, "Or-- I can't see. Or it's stuffy. I'm not sure. Sorry!" The offending book used as gesture for the apology, then she spreads her hand over the cover with a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth, sneaking disobediently out at the sight of the volume's titling. "The lighting up there is beautiful and all, but don't you feel graded? Weighed down? I feel weighed down. And not like I want to be reading, even though I came here to read." Though she rambles, it remains in that low practical tone, neither bothered nor enthused; almost intrigued. K'del certainly seems to have no desire to hold on to the book any longer than is necessary, and relinquishes it, taking a step back from the shelf. That Mave keeps talking seems to surprise him, though surely it shouldn't; clasping his own book to his chest, he gives her a wary glance, one eyebrow raised. "Weighed down?" He blinks - once, and then a second time. And then, "Honestly? Got no idea what you're talking about. Always liked it in here. It's comfortable." "Oh, well, suppose it's just me, then." Easily enough attempted by Mave. "Did studying in here and that's what it makes me think of. Give me a spot with a window, a cushion, and a big ol' shelf," her hands form a demonstrative circle, that the book somewhat deforms, "Just for adventures stories any day." Lowering her hands, she presses a thumb to the book, contemplatively feeling its pages in preamble to flipping to one. She shrugs, shoulder nearly overtaking her; it takes little to overbalance such a scrawny figure. "Guess I've always been simple." A little snorted laugh, "Like, for instance," her chin jerks towards his chest, "Keeping you from what you in for." Something about Mave's description softens K'del's expression - a little, anyway - and makes him nod, as though he, too, can accept that preference. Even so, his admission is, "Suppose I felt somewhat similar, when I was your age. Things just - change, though, as you get older." He seems hesitant after that, as though torn between being polite... and removing himself, before he gets called into duty to do anything else. "But... you're not reading adventure stories, this time." It's a half-hearted attempt. Notions of age turn Mave's mouth up and to the side in animated contemplation, ranging toward the negative because of her general nature, the effort shown when thinking. Hesitance flies over her head-- like most of the shelves-- if K'del's here, then: "Oh, but I kind of am." A palm soothes over the book promisingly, "At least... I hope." Nose wrinkling with the force of her sudden uncertainty, it calms as she considers matter-of-factly, while staring at the red binding, "Anyway, change's not so bad. Shirts get older, too," from spotting her own hand, its patterned sleeve, or else it's Faranth's guess the leap she's made, "Torn, even. But they can be patched. And when you do, it's not with the old, broken thread, it's with a new one that's stronger. So I've always thought..." this time her shrug seeks to pardon any stupidity; excuse him from listening, "When I change, I just have to make sure I'm adding in something better. Can't stay the same all the time. Or I'd be a-- " her nose wrinkles and her face lifts as she suddenly acknowledges the silliness she's hearing, "A-- rag. Wow, I think I even lost myself there." K'del's eyes, certainly, are glazing over: the look he gives Mave is probably not intended to be quite so 'huh?' but it's all he's got. "Uh--" he begins, but only after she's finished, and self-acknowledged her own rambling train of thought. "You've definitely lost me, I think. Sometimes, change isn't for the better, though. I mean - sometimes, people get hurt or broken, and it's not so easy to fix that." "And everyone took a moment to thank the fish lords that Mave wasn't a harper." A quick, humored murmur between his uhhs and an actual intelligent thought that prickles her nose the same. "Oh, I dunno," she suggests unimportantly. Fingers tug self-consciously at her own cuff as she shifts her weight. "Do you really think it's the change doing the breaking?" A nervous squint watches K'del, wary of an answer, from a girl with a ways to grow. "I was kind of hoping it was... y'know. Just the bad way of the person making the change." There's almost a smile, from the bronzerider, in reply to that first remark from Mave, but he's clearly still not in the mood for real humour. Certainly, it doesn't linger, especially not as she continues talking. "'The bad way of the person making the change'," he repeats, in a tone that is probably intended to be even, but comes out a little more towards the dismissive. "Don't even know what you mean by that. It's-- more complicated than that. Everything is. Change just... is. For better or for worse. Eventually you learn to live with it." Mave swallows, hard. Even through her thick skull, she's beginning to look tentative. "I think that... is what I was saying..." she laments, barely to him as she eyes the corner of the shelving, almost scolding herself. "Just... umm. That people make change? And not that change, itself... is bad." Words definitely come slower to her mouth as she eases them out with unhappy measuring. "Or good. I think," her whole face winces regretfully even before lips have fully formed; like a wagon-wreck, nothing seems to stop her, "If it's broke you can... use that chance to take a look. Find a way to make it stronger. Cause, sir." Both shoulders rise, not quite shrugging, not quite defensive, "'Live with it' sounds cold." "Maybe," says K'del, but oh, it really does look as though he's withdrawing, now. "But life is like that. It's not all-- adventure stories and sunny afternoons. Sometimes things do get broken, and some of them can't be fixed, and sometimes, there's not a way to look at it to make it seem any better." His tone is bleak. "Knowing that is part of what growing up is all about." He hasn't moved, yet, but there's definitely a sense in the way he holds himself that he's about to-- that, perhaps, all he wants to do first is try and press his point home. "Sometimes, things have to be thrown away when they're broken. And sometimes they're never the same." Bleakness travels to Mave just fine, smoothing out even the self-conscious wrinkles of her face to blankly process. A light pinch of her mouth tells of an argument, but one she never quite figures out. Her clasp of the book has become something akin to a hug and her shoulders have frozen halfway up. "Okay." Tiny bobs of her head form vague agreements. Yes, fine, sure. "I'll-- remember that. But, until then... if you'd like to try an adventure anyway, I'm going to find one to put on." Fingers rise on the theater book, labeling it as the source: the index of plays. "And I could use help keeping it together." She half squints at him, doubtfully hopeful, with those round cheeks. Even in this mood, K'del must, surely, be aware of the impact he's having. Probably, in another mood, he'd be more caring of it; more awkward. Right now, though, his thoughts already seem to be out the door, and those last few sentences of Mave's catch him unawares: it takes several seconds for his brain to catch up with what she's actually said. "I--" And then he stops. And stares. Sorry, Mave, but... "My Weyr is currently being led by a convict brownrider and the daughter of a thief who is determined to destroy me. I need to save it, before they destroy my home. And you want me to help you with a play?" "No." The answer's simple enough, and stated so, though it has Mave flushing up to the top of her childish cheeks. "Not if you didn't want to." Another little swallow; she licks her lips. Everything's dry, except her tone-- which is perhaps an octave too high, if anything, while she maintains that sense of practicality, even if it's a shield. Her eyes have stopped quite focusing on his face, drifting. The flush cools as she blinks, forcing down a more impetus gleam in her off-target gaze. "That's all I needed to hear." As such, she sidesteps, head tilting lightly towards an exit route. "I'm sorry," K'del says, abruptly, but he seems both bewildered and uncertain, running the hand that isn't holding on to his book through his short-cropped curls. He won't move to stop Mave, though: he'll watch after her, his expression set into something that resembles complete and utter confusion. "What? No!" She doesn't learn, Mave; she twists on a heel to shake her head at him, wave the book at him before tucking it against her with startled vulnerability, "I'm sorry. You're obviously doing something." Important! Not at all sarcastic-- she means it, like the awkwardly polite smile before she shuffles around the shelf. An exit route then that, hopefully, he chooses the opposite of, since she stops right there to press against the shelf and breathe out with a roll of her eyes judgmentally for herself. Obviously! Unless you're simple. Luckily for her, he turns and more or less flees in the opposite direction. Reasonably good with teenage boys he may be, but teenage girls? Total mystery. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 30 Mar 2013 18:41:54 GMT.
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*laughs* Remind me to never get in the way of K'del's reading/research.
And... Mave. We need a Mave-to-People translator when she gets going on one of her tangents. XD Teenage girls, man. <3
K'zin (Wakizian (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 30 Mar 2013 19:26:29 GMT.
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I appreciated seeing another side of K'del. And how ridiculously awkward he is with teenage girls. Mave... Mave... I just don't even know what to say. Your teenage girl RP skillz and character development are so awesome! I am awed.
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