Logs:Candidate Introductions
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| RL Date: 15 October, 2015 |
| Who: Everett, Pia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two new candidates introduce themselves. |
| Where: Candidate Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 1, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
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| While he's had the knot for a bit now, Everett has taken his sweet time about moving his stuff to the barracks. Not that there's much of it, and certainly not that his other living arrangements have much to recommend them, but here he is, at long last, lugging a bag full of clothes and dropping it heavily onto a bunk that looks unoccupied about an hour before supper. He drops himself right beside it, sitting and then leaning heavily into a hand flat on the mattress like he's testing it. The face he makes suggests it's somewhat wanting. A similar test of pillow. A glance inside the trunk. A very unimpressed noise. "I found someone's dirty socks in mine," chirps Pia, from one of the bunks across from Everett where she perches, cross-legged, with a drawing board in her lap. "I mean, I threw them out, but I guess someone didn't miss them. I wonder if they were lucky socks? Maybe I should have kept them." Having ended this story on a more thoughtful note, her nose wrinkles, but then she shrugs and, with a beaming smile, offers, "I'm Pia. Welcome!" If Everett gave no sign of noticing her before, he also doesn't startle noticeably to find a girl there now. He eyes her, for a moment like he's measuring her up just like the bedding, and then there's a sudden smile. "If they were lucky socks, then their owner might have used up all the luck getting out of here. I don't think the beds are any worse than the rest of the caverns, but you know, I'd had some vain hope they might be a bit better." Big theatrical sigh. "Everett. I tend bar at the Snowasis. For now. Where're you from?" "Presumably," Pia allows, "the socks weren't worn at the actual hatching, since otherwise why would they still be here? So maybe you're right." She sets down her pencil, stretching in a wiggly kind of way. "I had a private room before, so imagine my travails!" Only she's smiling too much for it all to be too troublesome. "Oh, I've been to the Snowasis! Nice place. I'm a starsmith, but here via the Seacraft. Maps-- that's my thing." "If I had a room of my own... I'm not sure even a dragon could have tempted me to give it up. No, here I am, twenty," like this is a really big deal, "and still probably going to be sharing space for the rest of my natural life if this doesn't work out. Guess I will be even if I does, huh?" Everett finally opens the trunk back up again and starts pulling clothes out of his bag and putting them away. He's not very precise about all of it. Probably a wonder he doesn't wind up looking more rumpled, if this is how he usually treats his things. "And having to get up mornings." He's so, so put-upon. Pia uncurls one leg so that she can let it hang down towards the ground (she has a top bunk, see) and wonders, "Does it count as sharing, if it's with your dragon? I mean, eventually. It'd be sharing with nearly thirty dragons and their riders at first, but after that." Her expression is wistful but also excited; such possibility! "I suppose you must work nights at the moment. I get that. A lot of starsmiths do, too, but not me... you can't see things at night, not the way I need to, and anyway, I like mornings, though there is something nice about getting to roll over and go back to sleep." A non-commital lift of shoulders from Everett. "As much so as sharing with a partner," he observes. "It's still not-privacy even when it's somebody you like. It's just worse when it's someone you don't, and they snore like two guys with a felling saw. But there's nothing quite like getting to fall asleep with no disturbances at all. If I can stay up until breakfast, usually, it's very nice. Usually end up falling asleep bit before sunrise, though, these days." Twenty: It's not as young as it used to be. "What kind of seeing is it that you need to do? I thought starsmiths needed to see stars." "Except that they're in your head," presses Pia, determined. "They're... more than a partner, I think. I mean, from what I understand." She's no expert, granted. Her toes wiggle, bare despite the winter weather. "Oh, I'm not one of those star-focused starsmiths, or one of the math ones, either, even if Master Rivechi is dreamy." And gay. Don't forget that. "I," she continues, lifting the drawing board in her lap and showing it, for all that the pencil sketch is probably not all that clear from any distance, "make maps. That's the plan: if I Impress, I can be my own transport." The trunk lid, shut carefully, perhaps attentive to the fact that with an audience he shouldn't just be slamming it closed. Everett sits back, then, finally gives Pia another proper look-over, eyes less critical this time. "Maps. Well. That's important, certainly. All those squiggly coastlines aren't going to squiggle themselves? I guess I didn't realize starsmiths did maps. I've never met one, before. Or, well, had a conversation with one. I meet plenty of people, in this line of work, but a lot of them, all I know is what they drink, not what they do with their days." "Precisely," agrees Pia with a wiggle of her fingers, which may be intended to convey some kind of meaning but... doesn't. "Most don't, though, so it's completely excusable. I get that reaction a lot. But-- well, if it helps?" Now, she's all dimples. "I like fruity cocktails, only sometimes I get a little over-excited if I have more than two, so you should probably remember to cut me off. Also, beer is gross, and so is, like, whiskey. And wine. Yuck, wine." "Nothing wrong with fruity cocktails," Everett tells her, absolutely placid in the face of the insults to these stalwarts of his professional tool-set. "It makes for a nice change of pace to get to mix something up that takes a little bit of finesse, instead of just pouring beer and liquor all night. But you might be surprised, a lot of young women at least grow to appreciate a nice white wine at some point, that sort of thing. Tastes do change. Anyway, might as well stick to what you actually enjoy, as long as you enjoy it." He ponders the rest of the bunks in this cavern, the few other people milling about. "Never know if we'll be able to enjoy such things much longer. They do seem determined to keep the weyrlings joyless." Pia is pleased by this, her nod enthusiastic. "It's so much fun to watch them being made," she tells Everett, firmly. "As long as the bartender enjoys it, anyway. Sometimes... I suppose you just have to pick the right bar to go to. Some of them don't really cater to my tastes." That foot is drawn back up onto her lumpy mattress, curled up beneath her rear. "I think it'd be worth it, to Impress. It's only for a while, right? And for good reason. I don't suppose I will mind so much. If, I mean. If I Impress." "Bars," Everett says, "have their own personalities. Some of them are more refined," and here he straightens his shoulders and brushes his shirt off primly, "and some of them are a little rougher around the edges." This doesn't seem to require illustration. She is, of course, not a known quantity as yet. "But yes, it's only for awhile." As to whether he'll mind, on that score he keeps his own counsel. "In the meantime, I'd best be getting ready to head in to my personal den of iniquity, as for the meantime they're not forcing me to give it up. I swear, of all the things I'll miss, the tips... it's a good job." He grins, there, and then pulls himself up to stand. "Especially here. The girls are a lot prettier here, I think, and not shy about going out for a drink." Pia lifts a hand to waggle her fingers at Everett, and this time it's pretty clear what her meaning is: bye! She follows it up with a, "Nice to meet you, Everett! Enjoy yourself. I might even see you later, if I get this finished." But maybe not. One more disparaging look at the bed, and then Everett turns to Pia, smiling, mirroring the hand. "Tonight, another night--come down whenever you like, you know? I'm going to be trying to take more shifts while I've got this," and he flicks his fingers at the knot, "just to make sure I've got a few marks set aside to keep me a bit. Sure I'll be there plenty. You have fun with the maps." And then he heads back out. |
Comments
Squishy (01:25, 16 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
Bahahah this amuses me so!!
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