Logs:Insult to injury
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| RL Date: 8 March, 2013 |
| Who: Nicky, Wakizian, Mave, Alida |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A bromantic lunch is interrupted by girls. Bargains are kept. Accidents happen. Waki walks away with a shiner. |
| Where: Stables, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 3, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Steady, today's snowfall sticks, creating dunes on the bowl floor. |
| Mentions: Hana/Mentions, Kaeden/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Leova/Mentions |
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| Stables, High Reaches Weyr Taking advantage of a natural overhang in the side of the mountain for its roof, this building boasts sturdy stone construction braced by beams of tough-as-nails skybroom. Just inside a pair of broad doors, the ceiling rises a full two stories high for the full length and half the width of the building. Beneath the overhang, wide windows admit light and more fresh air, while opposite is the second-story hayloft. The stables' main focus, however, is the double rows of stalls that line the walls below: one large stall serving as tack room, the rest housing a remarkable variety of beasts. (+views) Lunchtime finds the stables fairly vacant of bipeds, though the resident quadrupeds are found in abundance, avoiding the snowfall without, Most works have made their way to the living caverns to grab a bite to eat, but for one lucky one, it seems, lunch is being brought to him. Wakizian isn't on stables duty, but the roster says one of his fellow candidates is. So the Smith appears with a tray with two covered plates and two covered mugs. "Nicky?" The man doesn't bother to keep the call at a polite level, instead the sound loudly rolls through the two-story structure. Nicky's in the back of the stables, half-hidden behind the bulk of a runner. He's perfectly at home in the stables and especially comfortable amongst their inhabitants, as he shows with the way he's currently trimming the runner's hoof, which is held between his thighs and resting on his heavy leather apron. By the time Wakizian's calling him, the teen's almost done with his job - he pokes his head up over the sorrel's back, waves his friend over, and then wraps up with a final scrape of his heavy-duty file across the mare's horn. His hand runs along the runner's side and across her haunches as he steps around to meet his fellow candidate - who gets a look that suggests Nicky has something to share. Boy-gossip! "Lunch?" But first, food! Whatever motives Wakizian had for coming to find Nicky are forgotten in the moment that the Smith sees and recognizes that look. Suspicion wrinkles his brow, and his tone sounds distracted, "Yeah. Figured we could steal a few minutes to chat. I'm on Weyr clean-up today. But the stables is part of the Weyr, right?" He moves down the open aisle between stalls towards his friend and finds a couple sets of short stairs, used by shorter or less agile riders to mount a runner, and settles himself on one of the sets. The tray gets placed on his knees as he carefully removes first one mug, then the other, placing them on the ground. "Brought klah. Figured it'd be chilly out here." Which it is. Hazard of stables construction. Then he's uncovering the plates; both hold Waki-sized portions of a mix of food, which is to say a mountain of whatever looked good. He waits. Patiently, so far. Mave has arrived. The klah is homed in on, and Nicky wraps his fingers around the mug gratefully to warm them up. He takes a long gulp, then settles on a step below his friend, resting the mug to one side and reaching for the plate, which he sets down atop his leather apron. Working's built up his appetite, and he happily sets about demolishing the heaped-up portions he's been presented with. "It's not warm, but it's better than working outdoors," he says while tearing up a bread roll. "How's your day been, Waki?" He's not spilling the beans just yet! It's lunchtime, and the majority of the stables workers have cleared out to get a bite, leaving the beasts, Nicky, and Wakizian mostly on their lonesome. Wakizian is sitting on a pair of low steps used to mount runners, Nicky a stair below, a tray settled on his knees, a mountain of food on a plate there. He hands over Nicky's plate without a fuss (only because 1. he brought it for Nicky, and 2. he has his own plate, otherwise, and as always, there might've been trouble). "Yeah, that's true," about the temperature. The look of suspicion hasn't left his face, and the past will say that his patience is about to run out if the next thing out of Nicky's mouth is whatever boy-gossip he has to share. And with the question, it's not. A finger is extended and wagged at Nicky, "No. No, no, no. You know the drill. I'm not mundane-chit-chatting-when you've got something exciting to tell me." And if Nicky doesn't like it, then he'll have to finally learn not to get that look when he does and sees Waki. Lonesome gets broken by the scuffle of approaching boots, muted some by the lightly packed snow on the path outside, then louder as Mave touches down on the stable stone floor. Dressed like she's been out, with a hat and scarf, and dusting of flakes on her surfaces, she maneuvers into the building buried under a heap of blankets much too big for her. Not a normal difficulty, but the runner covers, fresh from being recently cleaned off, are thick, stacking up against her shoulder and the reach of her skinny arms. Still, she muscles into the stables with some practiced exertion, finding the first stall by memory and the patting check of her palm against the wall, and then the wooden door. There's an older blanket there, dirtied and ready for its turn, that she latches onto, huffing, and humming between the huffs, non-deliberately. Unaware she might be trespassing on some brotherly pact. "Am I that obvious?" Nicky rolls his eyes. It's all mock reluctance though - they both know how this goes. "Hana." One name, two syllables, that have him grinning stupidly. "Kissed me." Cue even bigger stupid grin. "Here." He pats his cheek with one fingertip. "Riiiight after she said she wouldn't go to the Hatching party with me." That soppy expression darkens for just a moment, but then Nicky shrugs it off - he got lip action, which makes it all' better. "And --" He's about to spill more... but then there's a Mave! Coming towards them! The coltish candidate buttons his lips tight, filling his mouth with food and pointing out the new arrival to his buddy. "Always. You're just lucky it's only me who can tell." Well, not only him, but it's a nice thought! Wakizian quips this back to answer the largely rhetorical question. His eyes widen as Nicky says Hana kissed him, not even letting the fact that it was on the guy's cheek detract from the excitement. "Dude. That's awesome!" He grins almost as big as Nicky, one hand moving to give the other a congratulatory slap to the shoulder. "Why wouldn't she go with you? Is it because of Kaeden?" This is asked in a way that suggests he didn't notice the trailing off or the approaching footsteps, but after a moment, he follows Nicky's point, and moves his tray off his lap to rise and set it where he was sitting. "Mave!" He greets, perhaps a little too happy to see someone interrupting their bromantic lunch. "Hey! I have something for you!" And so a fishing expedition begins - into all of his many pockets, one after another and then back again. Thwap! Clean blanket tosses up onto the stall door next to the one its replacing. Its detraction frees Mave a bulk of material's worth of eyesight, tipping her head around the others to peer down the stable path. "Hey, W-- " noticing Nicky mid-word, "Well, fellas," she adjusts. Tugging the dirtier runner blanket down onto the floor with one hand, it taking a few tries to bully it over, she steps around the pile it makes, carrying her heap to the next door. Treading closer now to the boys and their stare, her eyes skim each of the pockets Wakizian reaches for, eyebrows catching lightly as she puts a vein of thought into guessing. "I hope it's not another mitten," she determines, yanking the next blanket down. Nicky swallows hard when Wakizian calls Mave over; that signals the end of his story-telling session. Not that he's being unwelcoming, of course - the younger girl is given a crooked grin as a greeting, and he looks back over his shoulder to see what Waki's got for her. He rubs one of his hands across the leather apron that covers his legs, then tucks into his food. For the moment, at least, Nicky would seem to be content to simply be a spectator, watching what unfolds between Wakizian and Mave. Wakizian has a lot of pockets! So he has time to say, "Wouldn't give you another mitten. You didn't even hang onto the last one. Nicky gave it back to me." A glance is shot over his shoulder, the look probing - so it's clear that Waki's not sure how it got from Mave to Nicky. "Ah-ha!" The man's large hand comes out of a vest pocket triumphant. In his hand is a pair of writing hides folded together. "As per our agreement." He offers it over to the woman. "Though I'm not sure how helpful it will be. I'll keep looking." He slides a glance towards Nicky, obviously wanting to ask more about previous topics, but knowing better than to violate the bro-code and be the one to bring it up in front of a girl. A smile flashes brilliantly over to Nicky, answering none of Wakizian's questions. "Oh-- !" Mave's happy piping to the quieter of the two gets cleaved by Wakizian's own exclamation, leading her to shoot her gaze to him and his handful. Sighting the hides, eyebrows dip, passing concentration with a sniff that perks up cheeks, making it look like her freckles are shrugging. A beat, then her eyes light up, round face brightening as she lifts from staring at the hides to Wakizian's face, "Th-- " then back down, "Yes. Anything helps. You don't know what it means, really. Or you do, huh? Cause I guess I owe you." In a bid to almost grab for the hides, she loses a folded blanket. Feeling it slip, she re-gains a harder grip underneath, jumping the blankets up against a jutted out hip to keep them all there. "You're going to have to put those in my mouth, or my pocket," she advises, mouth tugging, "Or one of you's gonna have to help me with these." She kicks the dirty lump of used blanket at her feet. With Nicky's levels of shyness, talking about anything girl-related in front of anyone but Wakizian would be next to impossible for him, anyway. When the hides are produced he looks at them curiously. "Wh-what're they?" What dodgy deal is Waki making with Mave? The way that she responds to what she's given only heightens his curiosity. Looking from one to the other, he takes the hides in Mave's stead, holding them out towards her. "What are they g-going to help with?" "Research about who might Impress this clutch." Wakizian has no secrets from Nicky. "Mave promised me lessons in how to talk to girls in exchange for intelligence on the candidates. Don't tell them, yeah? It's nothing bad." This is asked of Nicky with the assurance, lest he think less of his friend. To Mave, he explains, "I cross-checked hatching records with weyrlingmaster reports to see what kind of personalities seemed to get taken, but seems not to be much rhyme or reason to it. I asked K'del and Azaylia both, and they said the same things. Rider Leova-" Notice that K'del and Azaylia were both just K'del and Azaylia and Leova is Rider Leova? It speaks silent volumes to the tenor of his relationship with the various riders, "-seemed to think that those with a real passion for becoming a rider should be the ones to Impress. But it seems to me that most of us candidates," He glances to Nicky silently asking him to weigh in on the subject, "Either think we won't Impress or that it's unlikely. I don't know that I've talked to anyone who's sure that they will." Again, a look to Nicky - this time as a check of his own perceptions. As to what this is all going to help Mave with, well, that's Mave's secret to tell or not tell. Waki, instead, looks Mave and her substantial load of dirty blankets over, even going so far as to lean around the girl to observe where all possible pockets are before he steps closer to her and with an evil grin, nimbly tucks the folded hides into one of Mave's butt-pockets (no feel copped! but it sure looked like he was going to!). "There you go." Amidst Wakizian's lengthy explanation, Mave divests herself of another clean blanket, tossing it over the stable wall a little quicker than before, trying to free a hand for Nicky when it seems like he has things, then lifting the remaining blankets higher to show off her belt -- a good storage place, apparently -- when Wakizian comes near. But as he loops around her, she lowers the stock and-- jumps lightly, a wiggle running up her spine. "Thhhanks," trends back towards practical. It was, after all, her suggestion, despite how it looks for anyone else, with Wakizian's hand skating off of her butt. Clearing her throat, chin jerking to the side for a second of gaining composure, she strides up towards the next stall, looking passingly like she's attempting to put distance between herself and the friendly hand. "I met a couple of candidates since," she mentions to Wakizian, adding a little mischievous grin to Nicky-- he's one! "Including a guy who seemed far too into his craft to have accepted. I wouldn't bet on him," her lips frown gently, "It would seem almost rude." Indeed; tis lunchtime, and it also happens to be Alida's day off...given that she's been slaving extra hours at chores to make up for her escapade in the Galleries. A roasted and gravy-dipped wherry sandwich in one hand, a mug of klah in the other, the palest-blonde pads on light feet into the stables, looking up and down at the stables full of runners, and various pack and burden animals. What she finds first, however, are the sounds of her fellow candidates' voices. Giving a soft sigh, the a-social woman recalls her words of trying to be at least a little more interactive...and steps farther inside the stable, until she's standing about 10 feet from the little gathering of humanity. Chomp, gnosh, peer. "Waki," Nicky hisses softly when his friend's tucking the hides into Mave's pocket. "You c-can't do that!" He squirms, a little uncomfortably, watching the interaction between the two. His food's ignored for the moment, but then again, it's nearly all gone anyway. He's practically inhaled it! "Wh-who's on the list?" Now he gets up, plate set aside on the steps, and he steps around Mave to pull the hides from the girl's pocket and attempting to unroll them to have a look at the contents. "Are you p-putting bets on? E-either of you? Cos I bet you that A-Alida's going to---" Speak of the devil! Nicky's eyes go wide and his jaw clamps shut when he sees the blonde candidate enter the stables, his brown-eyed gaze flickering over to Wakizian. Could she have overheard? "Myyy pleasure." Wakizian quips back to Mave, his grin still sickeningly impish. Nicky's chastisement has his expression changing a little, questioning himself. "I can't? Can't date-" Pause. "-who we talked about. Can't put hides in a girl's pocket when she asks me to. Shells, Nicky. What can I do?" He raises a brow wiggling it challengingly, "Ask a girl to the hatching feast with me?" He leaves the and get a kiss part of the story unsaid, because he'd never betray a bro's confidence that way, but it won't keep him from teasing, gently. He smiles at his friend, showing that it's all in good fun, not mean fun. Speaking of mean fun, his eyes finally notice Alida, and they roll. "Great." Apparently, Alida found the defriend button for Wakizian. Or at least the get him off the trail for a while button. "I'd bet on her-" The guardswoman, "-to Impress. Azaylia said Hraedhyth wanted strong and loyal. She'd probably overlook less favorable qualities." His look to Alida is challenging, almost daring her to engage him, verbally. "But I've never bet on hatchings before." A glance to Mave suggests he might be willing to change that this time round. Mave's leaning against a stall to catch a half-falling blanket when the sensation of hides against her butt startles her a second time. Listening to Wakizian with a soft grin, given only to the complacent beast chowing down in front of her, turns into her jumping on her toes, fingers releasing the once-clean blanket. Overweighted, it slips contentedly into the stall's interior as she grapples along to catch it, too late. "Fff... fuck nut," is murmured, as she braces on the door top to twist. Expectantly looking for Wakizian's imp-face, surprise crosses her to see Nicky there, culprit with hides in hand. "I'm putting bets on," she announces, lightly put out -- or, perhaps, putting on. The admittance darkens with eyes with a hint of nervousness. "And it's my first time." Readily enough admitted, "And everyone's on there, if Wakizian can do his job." Nyeh, nyeh. Meanwhile, she has to do hers, undoing the stall latch in preparation to slip in and retrieve the fallen runner blanket. Mid-move, she catches on the door, spying around at the new entrance, her eyes suspicious on the boys, "That's Alida?" This deserves a better glimpse than she can give the girl now. And Wakizian wholly deserves the soft bag of runner-feed she plucks up and lobs at his shoulder. She overheard, alright. "Alida's gonna'what?" the blonde asks all too casually, lightly of Nicky as she pulls to a halt that spare 10 feet from the group of people, her mouthful of food having been swallowed just before speaking. A small and perhaps slightly wicked smile plays over the guard's lips, behind her vivid green eyes as she regards the stuttering candidate for a long moment, then taking a deep sip of her klah. She has keen ears as well as keen eyes, apparently...a good thing to be blessed with in her line of work. For Wakizian's roll of eyes, a patently false batting of long eyelashes and a blown breath of a kiss is returned in answer, the young woman then quirking her pale head and noting almost wryly to the Smith, "You would, eh?" Sip. "Personally, I'd think I have a big black spot on my record with Hraedhyth." A pointed look is given to Waki, as if she believes that he too shares in that particular mark of INdistinction. To Mave's words the guard gives a slightly mocking little bow and half-smirk, the woman then noting almost blandly to Wakizian, "Head's up." A sudden commotion from one of the stalls further down the row has Nicky running, lists forgotten in his hands. But that's not the only commotion going on. Wakizian is yelping, for it had been at just the moment that feed sack was lobbed that he started to lean down to reclaim his klah from where he left it on the ground next to the stairs, and the timing was perfect to have the bean-bag-like object smack him hard on the left side of his face - impacting his cheek and eye. "Faranth's fancy farts!" He curses, klah forgotten in the wake if the stinging impact, left eye squinted now and immediately starting to swell. Alida's casual warning came not in time, it seems. "Would someone get me some sharding snow?" At least he knows what to do for the injury. With his bro gone to help something equally pressing, he looks to the ladies for assistance. "What the Thread-ridden-dragon-eggs was that for?" He demands of the thrower. "Bloody shells!" Shooting up from behind the stall, blanket messily clutched at her chest, Mave addresses the runner next to her with an absently soothing hand. Wakizian's position forms hazily in front of her, a dizzying change for a five second glance away. Startling her chin back at the accusation, she frees a hand from the heavy blanket to point dully at herself. But. "I-- " with a whoosh of material, the blanket's thrown nonsensically over the stall as she slips out, grappling out with the hand not closing the door for a smaller cleaning cloth nearby. Bunched up in her palm, it's tossed at Alida -- not in the face, please, Faranth, "Lump some in this." A few strides get her towards Wakizian, boots slowing minimally as she nears, casting her over with a slight anxiety as she reaches up, touching on the shoulder she'd meant for in order to peek at the damage done, squinting shamefully. "It, um." Mouth wincing, "Was supposed to be a... lesson." Lucky, perhaps, for Nicky, is that runner's commotion, as it spares him from having to react to Alida's diggings, the blonde simply grinning sharkily at the retreating youth before returning her gaze back to Waki and Mave...just in time to see him catch that sack smack in his face. A blink of minor surprise is followed by a shaggy hint of laughter from the guard, that dark humor of hers cut off with the Smith's bark for a natural cold compress. From her smirking lips: "You want that immediately, 'r in a few moments?" Already she's pivoting about, moving off back to the outside of the stable to gather up some of the almost ever-present white stuff...cramming the last of her sandwich in her big yap. A look over her shoulder to the stammering Mave allows the guard to snatch that tossed cloth from the air with her one free hand, the motion as smooth and fast as a runner's gallop. Good reflexes, too. Moving at a smart pace, the still-chewing and klah-sipping blonde disappears for some moments, then returning with what looks like a big-ass double scoop of snow in aforementioned cloth. Pacing closer to the pair, closing the distance...Alida suddenly lifts her once-hidden hand (the one that used to carry a mug of klah), and hurls a good-sized snowball as Waki's torso. Unless he moves quite suddenly, it'll smack him square in his chest, center-mass. During this whole sneak attack, nothing is emoted by the holder. "A lesson about what? Haven't you taught me enough lessons like this? I thought you were different now." Though perhaps the past was destined to repeat itself with a pair like this. The accusation of Mave is in a tone of mixed anger and hurt. With one eye squinted, his balance is already impacted. And with an unexpected ball of snow catching him in the torso, Wakizian stumbles backward, kicking over his klah mug and falling onto the low steps, his half-eaten lunch ending up squished to his back as he goes down. Thankfully, it's not a far fall, but embarrassment is certainly added to injury, and the uninjured eye looks reproachfully from one girl to another. "Nevermind. I can see I'm not getting any help here. And this is why I don't have girl friends." That last is a shot at Mave. Experiment over! his tone and look say together. Nevermind that Mave donated a rag for snow collection and was trying to help. "I'll just go to the sharding infirmary!" He declares, struggling now to get up, plate squelching as it drops off his back and clatters onto the steps. Gingerly reaching a finger towards his eye, Mave winces, "I was aiming for your shoulder," with her guilt weaning most of the sass from the statement. The quick flutter of her eyes as she hears his tone barely has time, before Wakizian's rocked out from beside her. A noise of airy surprise shoots out of her. Her head flies over her shoulder, hair tumbling messily out from underneath her hat, to stare at Alida; cut short, when she jerks back to meet Wakizian's narrow glare. Feet spread awkwardly apart in half a motion, she stands there, frozen by his accusation. Hurt shines transparently in brown eyes. Till it hardens, the shell of annoyance a convenient wall for vulnerability. Boots squeak on stone as she juts her heels back. "It was a lesson about being an ass." Shot at Wakizian, though she shoots a quizzically frustrated look over to Alida. As the boy lurches, her hand jumps out to steady him rising, but she retracts it like she was bitten, dropping down to clamber at the plate rattling on the stone because that makes her red-brown hair fall like a shield around her face. A small bit of an almost-wince is given up by Alida as Waki manages to pitch backward and over the stairs, the young woman shaking her plaited head then pacing quickly forward to the Smith's side where she squats down to peer closely at him. "Well, yer' bitchin', so you must be okay..." the guard murmurs around a smirk, her greens laughing darkly. And how does she respond to the guy's last words? Why, she puts out her formerly snowball-holding hand to seek to keep him on his ass, while the cloth with more snow in it is lifted, and applied to his new shiner. "Quit complaining..." is huffed out in minor irritation if he gives her any bullcrap. "Crybaby." For Mave's irritation-cum-hurt, the more callous female notes in her usual clipped tones, "Best ta' say what you mean. Leaves no room for mis-translations." For the first time, Wakizian wishes his hardest that he had a dragon. Then there'd be someone to sound the alarm to his captivity! Well, temporary captivity. The fact of the matter is that it's not easy to get up from the odd angle at which he landed on the stairs, and even the pressure of Alida's hand is enough to keep him where he's at, food stuck to back, if not plate any longer. "Being an ass?" He demands, perhaps because he finds verbally fighting with Mave an easier fight than to try to get up when Alida's keeping him down. "What did I do?" She hasn't given him his talking to girls lessons, how's the boy supposed to know? "All I did was more research than I've ever done before to help you out." And that whole putting the list in her butt pocket. But-but-but! He didn't even cop a feel! To Alida, he glowers, not questioning why she would make him a target, and he winces as the compress is applied, "Don't become a healer." He recommends, tone serious, still with traces of annoyance. Having Alida stop by, speak to her, raises Mave's head, teeth skimming over her lower lip to suck back signs of upset to eye the guard-candidate with breezy skepticism. "Like chucking a snowball at them?" No one's off the hook; even Mave, who struggles, shoulders writhing. Breathing strongly out her nose as she climbs to her feet, she winds a hand uncomfortably into her hair, perchance to tidy it and immediately forgetting. "You don't talk shit about a woman in front of another woman." Lesson one: dreadfully late. "We chatter like-- " Her hand splays out beside her in half-hearted, dying gesture. Brown eyes hover distinctly above his head, never quite managing to lower to his bruised face. "live wherries on a roast." She's low on steam, though, so, instead of a determined lesson, it sputters out with her lowering voice. Fingers twitch near the cloth, needing to claim responsibility for what she's done, but, after a second, she twists on her heel, stepping over to the stall where she hastily dropped her work focus intensely on straightening the draped blanket. "Would it surprise you that part uv' my guard training included a bit uv first aid?" Alida smirks even more toothily down at Wakizian, the blonde perhaps enjoying both his emotional discomfiture and the fact she's got him kinda-sorta pinned down. And maybe the fact that she's tagged him with a snowball AND is currently making him hurt without even touching him. Let's face it; the blonde's enjoying this after her own fashion, even as she's holding the snowpack to the Smith's bruised eye/cheek. A quick inquiry is flicked at Waki like a whip: "Yer head hurt? Legs, arms, anything else? Feel lightheaded 'r dizzy? Unfocused?" Over to Mave, she directs a cool, "Yep..." to her first inquiry, soon following it up with a slightly brusque, "Speak uv yerself. I'm no wherry-headed femme with her mouth rattling on non-stop." Damned tootin'. "Who did I talk shit about?" Wakizian demands, continuing to protest his innocence. "I complimented Alida. Saying she's the clutchmom's type. Saying she'd Impress and that I'd put money on it!" Complimented. Yeah, sure. Maybe partly. He's clearly uncomfortable, wriggling a little on the stairs, as though starting to poise himself for an escape. "No. That wouldn't surprise me. It's your bedside manner that tells me you shouldn't become a healer. People don't need people enjoying their pain while they're trying to get better!" He didn't miss the part where she's liking this a little too much. "My head does hurt, but that might just be from the both of you! Are all women in league with one another? Is there some rule that when one does something mean, the other one's all pile on?" Is there a sister-code to rival the bro-code? Could there be? Staring into the runner stall, Mave mouths the odd femme, lips quirked as she attempts to determine if she's been called something dirty or not. That aside, her eyes roll up, and she twists to face them, elbow across the stall front, and the end of her eye-roll landing her on Alida's inappropriate look. "Can you not right now, please?" Mind: spoken. Only to be, seconds later, accused of a lady-gang-up. Exasperation flares in her eyes, chasing and smothering the secondary struggle with self-loathing. Much rougher than necessary, she hauls the last dirty blanket into her arms, failing to fold it properly so that it tumbles against her chest cumbersomely. "As if you've never done anything stupid," she complains pointedly; hair not in pig-tails but fluttering. Strutting to the next blanket, she whips it into her unready arms, "Or boys've never shinned each other for dumb reasons then made up." Grumble, grumble. But looking at Wakizian remains difficult, so she squares on Alida with a hardened jaw. "Not a wherry, suppose. You seem a bully. Which is a dishonor to your guard trainin' and to Hraedhyth. So." So. Shit. She has no elegant wrap-up, nor clever sign-off. Eyes shifting, lost, she abruptly follows them, bundling up dirty runner blankets inelegantly and clomping off. Sadly, there really isn't a 'chicks before dicks' code, but Alida isn't letting on. What she *is* doing, however, is gazing quite suddenly and in very focused fashion upon Waki when he says his head hurts, the guard looking him so deeply in the eyes that it might make him uncomfortable. A snap of her free fingers seeks his instant attention upon her, as does a very no-nonsense frown. Holding up two fingers before his eyes, the palest-blonde clips off in a tone that brooks no resistance, "How many fingers am I holdin' up?" No matter what the male candidate says, she then holds up five fingers. "How many now?" Someone's all business, all of a sudden. The grumbling back and forth between Waki and Mave is mostly a stream of consciousness at this point to the crouching young woman, but when Mave spouts off that 'bully' thing upon fragrant air, the guard snaps her gaze about and levels a stare touches with hints of fire and ice upon her. "Shows how much *you* know..." is commented around a grunt after she swivels her neck around to regard the Smith again. Wakizian's attention is claimed by the snap of the fingers: boys. Too easy. Snap of fingers, something shiny. "Two. Five." It's not his first head injury so the questions are familiar, "Would it surprise you to learn that first aid is also taught to us Smiths? We do a bang up job at banging ourselves up." This is asked of Alida only after Mave has made her exit, his eyes having flitted to follow her, expression one mixed of hurt and annoyance. "I'm fine. Except for the obvious." His hand moves up to try to take over holding the compress. Obviously, he's calmed down a bit, sobered perhaps by Mave's exit or parting words. "I wouldn't take it to heart. The bully thing. She called me one too. And punched me in the nose. When I was twelve." The story comes haltingly, filling in only the details that seem relevant as it occurs to him that they might be. "Nope. Sound procedure..." Alida quips off in rapid fashion back to Wakizian's words of Smiths having first aid, the guard then moving to offer the taller dude a solid pair of arms up. "Off to the infirmary ya go..." is muttered, her eyes barely flicking to the side to note Mave's exit, her fellow candidate's words of that 'bully' not seeming to affect her much anymore. "C'mon, get yer ass up 'n on the move." Wakizian eyes the arms offered in help, and reaches tentatively to take her up on the help, though seeming to half expect them to be withdrawn at the last possible moment. Whether with her help or on his own after that coming to pass, the Smith does end up on his feet. He holds the compress to his eye with one hand while he works his way out of his vest, switching hands on the compress in order to accomplish the task. He holds the vest out in front of him to survey the food damage, and the trail of all kinds of things leads down far enough to guarantee it's on his shirt and top of his pants as well. "Great." The tone is sarcastic. "Yeah. Infirmary. By way of the laundry and barracks. Thanks for all the help." That last is a perplexing combination of sarcasm and sincerity. He turns, stooping carefully to pick up his overturned klah mug, plate and tray that it came on. She doesn't screw around when it comes to stuff like this. Those hands and arms are rock firm, working to help haul Waki's tall frame up from the ground, Alida then shaking her head at his first words. "Nope; Infirmary first. I don' wanna have ta carry yer sorry ass if ya' decide ta' fall again on the way to a clothes change." Snort. A wizened, darkly humored look ripples over the blonde's features for a moment, making her appear about 5 Turns older in that instant. And then she's back to her usual self, smirking thinly at her charge as he takes up his scattered utensils, her coat-clad form adopting a patient, alert stance. "You won't have to." Wakizian assures the woman. "You've helped enough." Whether that's meant kindly or harshly, it's hard to tell from his suddenly neutral tone. He collects up Nicky's lunch dish and klah mug as well. Then he's heading for the door, vest tossed over top of the tray, and his long stride has him trying to leave the guardswoman behind. "Apparently..." Alida notes around a smirkity-smirk to Wakizian, the guard simply letting him wander off. He's not unattended, however...Alida staying just far enough behind that he can't easily see her. She'll allow the Smith his precious dignity in getting his daft head attended to...and if he *doesn't* go to the infirmary? She'll tattle on his dumb ass. |
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Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 10 Mar 2013 02:23:45 GMT.
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- blinkblink* ...Teenagers. o.o
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