Logs:Accusations
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 8 June, 2013 |
| Who: B'rant, Dal, Elise, Razi, Wyriker |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Candidates work on cleaning the barracks, and things get tense when Dal's suspicions of Razi turn to accusations. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 13, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions |
| Razi is here, with pails of water, scrubbing brushes, and other cleaning implements and... no idea where to start, really. He kind of eyes the room bemusedly - it's likely rather bigger than he expected, and he looks rather at a loss. "I don't even know-" he starts to comment to his fellow candidates "-where are all the girls? They're better at this stuff." Cleaning, he no doubt means. It's certainly true that Dal doesn't seem any more comfortable with this whole cleaning thing than Razi does; the glance he gives the barracks is a dubious one, filled with trepidation. "Better at it or not," he declares, sounding determined despite his expression, "We're here. So... we /clean/." That said, as he reaches for a broom, testing the weight of it between his hands, "My mother did the cleaning, at home." Wyriker is probably a little more experienced in this whole ... line of inquiry. "Seriously, guys?" His incredulous look is at odds with the general veneer of cluelessness that hangs about his puppy-dog self. "It ain't like this is-- smithcrafting." He gestures vaguely, grabs a broom with the familiarity of a young man WELL acquainted with a) being a younger brother and b) getting stuck with all the dumb chores. Like sweeping. "Yeah, but-" for a moment, Razi mimics Wyriker's Bollian accent, but then with a sharp look at Dal, clears his throat. /Sweeping/ is easy, and he reaches for another broom. "I wasn't sure if we should like- clean out the cots first. Or the dragon beds." More Fort-Sea laced, now, deliberately, as he moves past Wyriker and pauses to peer into one of the empty cots. Why yes, Dal /did/ catch that slip, and yes, his eyes narrow as he lifts his chin to /look/ at the other candidate. "Oh," he says, with a shrug of his shoulders, as he steps towards the nearest cot. "Huh. Maybe. I think that's how ma and my sisters do it. Empty it all out, and then sweep it." The cot in front of him gets an experimental nudge. Wyriker eyes Razi a long moment. It's not really distrustful. It's more like an adolescent canine trying to figure out if a random object laying on the floor is a toy or a minefield of punishment. Then he shrugs, 'cause who really cares? and eyes one of the couches. "Well," and here comes the doubt, "Maybe we should muck those first." His eyes switch to the cots the other two are looking out, and exponentially more doubt creases blonde eyebrows together. "And strip linens off of those. Do we got a cart?" He rubbernecks around a minute, fruitlessly. Well, Razi's got his own not-very-confident suggestion, and Dal's however-tenuous backup, so the former baker leans his broom against the foot of the cot and reaches in to tug the sheets off and dump it to the ground in a big messy pile. That's what he meant, right? Wyriker's mention of the couches makes him cringe - he's not looking forward to that - and besides, he's already started. "You can do the couches," he decides, trying hard to ignore both of the other candidates looks. Someone isn't a fan of touching dragon presents. Long-suffering sigh the first - Dal's. "/I'll/ have a look at the couches. They haven't been babies for months, surely, so it shouldn't be that bad. Better than human babies... though I suppose there's probably more volume." The oldest of the candidates abandons his broom to fetch, instead, a bucket and a scoop, and peer into the first of the couches.
Enter Elise! With a supply of more tools for cleaning of things, like a broom and mop, rags, and one of the lower caverns workers helps her by wheeling in a wheelbarrow with a couple of buckets of fresh soapy water and some other random things which, after she sets her things down, she unloads for him while he holds the wheelbarrow steady. Once that's done he leaves it there and also leaves in general, and she turns to survey the boys and their work so far. "Sheets in a pile in this thing," wheelbarrow, "I think, and sweep from one end to the other, we can mop after the mucking?" The question mark isn't as obvious as it could be, but it's heavily implied. Razi certainly doesn't look like he envies Dal, and there's a little glance in the older boy's direction as if to see how he fares. "I think they left a month or so ago?" the teenager hazards, in a distracted Bollian drawl. "Apparently they get their pick of furniture in the stores - whatever they want." Again, that note of jealousy, so richly apparent, and he doesn't even try to hide it as he moves towards the next cot, reaching to tear off the sheets and dump it onto the growing pile, pausing to frown in Elise's direction at her words, then down at his pile. To the boys, over his shoulder, "I /told/ you a girl would know how to do it." /Boll/. Again. Dal's back straightens from the shovelling - and actually, there's not all that much to shovel, thankfully - at the sound of Razi's so-obvious drawl. /He/ turns to glance over his shoulder at the other candidates, too, but his expression is dubious, suspicious, and seeking some kind of answer: they noticed too, right? RIGHT? And yet, he still manages to say, "That sounds smart, Elise." "So what part of home are y'from?" Wyriker asks absently at Razi's drawl, his own such a picture-perfect mirror: and then he looks up from his distracted sweeping to notice Elise the Queen of Mops and Buckets, and pauses, one hand still on his broom, his brow furrowed as if he can't quite decide WHAT to make of this picture or what to make with his face, either. And then that dubious look from Dal and he's distracted again, ADHD, oh look bunn-- "Uh. What?" So intelligent. For all of Dal's suspicious glancing and eyeing, Elise has lifted eyebrows. She glances at Razi, reaches for the push broom she brought in, and carries it with her as she crosses slowly to near where to Dal is shovelling that couch, presumably to sweep any mess that makes it to the floor. "Oh hush, Wyriker, Razi is from /Fort Sea/. Or was it Fort. Razi." She gives him an innocently curious look and leans on her broom without actually using it yet. Razi's eyes narrow briefly at Wyriker's question. "Fort Sea," he says, carefully neutral. And totally not Bollian, y'all. The fact that he has to move to the next cot along puts him further away from their questioning eyes, maybe, and there's a certain /vehemence/ to the way he rips off the sheets. Dal does /not/ answer Wyriker's question, but that's got to be at least partially because he's turning his attention back towards Razi, more suspicious than ever: paranoid Dal is paranoid. "Ugh," he says, as he tips some dried scrapings off of his shovel and into his bucket, turning a glance towards Elise as, carefully, he tries to avoid making a mess for her to clean. "I guess I must've missed the Bollian Fort Sea folk, when I lived there." Wide-eyed Wyriker: he's so eternally gullible, isn't he? "Fort Sea? Hot d... I mean, y'all sound just like we do." Beat. "From Boll." If he was just a little less guileless it would almost seem deliberate. But it isn't, because he's so very obviously clueless. He pauses in his sweeping, brow furrowed in consternation. "I wonder who *else* sounds like we d--" And now he's contemplating Dal as if he isn't quite sure how to take that last comment. On second thought, maybe he should just push that broom around some more. Looking pretty: can-do. "Right then, see? Why would Razi want us to think he's from Boll if he's from Fort Sea. He would have to have something to hide." Elise ducks her head to take the broom in both hands and, as Dal turns the shovel, she runs it along the floor to catch any bits. But if he's going to be so careful, she gives up on that area for the moment and carries the broom over to another section to start /pushing/ it along the floor. The little kick Razi gives to the pile of sheets to kind of move them in the direction of the wheelbarrow is half-hearted. Dal's comment has him grimacing, and with quick strides the candidate's standing on the edge of the couch, hands on his hips, glaring down at Dal. "What are you implying?" Wyriker is given a brief /look/ but it's meaning is obscure as he refocuses on Dal. While his expression visibly tightens at Elise's words, she's a /girl/ and he doesn't feel as comfortable confronting her directly. Dal /has/ been crouching, knees bent, but as Razi approaches, he rises back up to his full height. He's shorter, but more visibly muscular, and now, as he wipes his hands down on his trousers, there's something unusually hard in his expression. "Given... /everything/, I would have thought a person would want to be anything but suspicious, here and now. If they actually want to Stand. Do you want to explain yourself, or should I report you to the Weyrleaders?" Wyriker gives up on the pretense of sweeping, brow furrowed as he catches up on -- /oh/. When he gets it, he GETS it, the look on his face similar to the look on that one kid's face. Y'know, the mindblown videogame meme. That one. Lightbulb~ "Oh, /shit/." There's hope for him yet. Then: "There ain't nothin' wrong with being from Boll." And now his eyes are on Razi too, furrowed-brow and narrowed eyes; and maybe Dal, a bit, too. Straightening, eyes closed when Razi confronts Dal, to collect herself, then open again as she calmly sets the broom down to lean against something, out of the way, she approaches the two stand-off participants, touching Wyriker's arm briefly on the way as if to calm him, it isn't about Boll dear. She doesn't say anything to break it up, not yet, but she does look poised for such. "I don't have to tell you anything. Any of you!" Razi's voice is probably a little louder than he meant, and more /Bollian/ drawl than he means. Wyriker's backup - even if it's laced with suspicion, makes him puff himself up, and drop down into the couch area where Dal's standing, with the intention of making his displeasure known. However, there's a bit of /something/ - and maybe it's just dirty rushes - that makes him lose his footing a bit. What's supposed to be a manly confrontation becomes a flailing, accidental punch that's (not really) aimed at Dal's arm. Dal may be standing, and may have wiped down his hands, but he /hasn't/ raised them in preparation for a fight - hopefully because actual fighting is not the first thing he thinks to do (hopefully). So he's caught by surprise when Razi's punch connects, and it's basically instinct that has him shoving at the other Candidate, an obvious attempt to push him back. "If you're not suspicious, then you have nothing to hide, you idiot," he says. Mutter, "They look like a pair of roosters." Read: Wyriker thinks that Dal and Razi are a pair of dumb cocks. "Hey," louder, more concerned, and he's dropping the broom - it clatters to the floor - to catch up with Elise, a hand hovering at her shoulder, reluctant to touch but obviously ready to pull her back. He instead directs his voice to the scuffling pair, raised in the moment: "If you fight," plaintive, "They're going to kick us *all* out." As soon as the tension kind of mounts, Elise takes a step in with her hand already lifted to calm them when Razi makes his move and throws the punch, accidental or no. She darts back, eyes wide, right back into Wyriker's hand and probably also the rest of him, then narrows her gaze and shouts, "Hey!" And whatever should come after that, she's moving in to step between the two boys, just nevermind that she's many inches shorter than they are, to act as a buffer. Or maybe just to make a force field of untouchableness. The momentary satisfaction of a connected punch fades pretty quickly from Razi's expression as Dal shoves him back. He stumbles, manages to keep his footing, and glares as he moves forward to shove /back/. "What if I just don't like nosy people getting in my business, huh?" Wyriker's question is suitably distracting, such that he actually turns to look at the Bollian. "They wouldn't do that!" And then Elise is there, and he has to settle for glowering at Dal over her head - which is relatively easy to do. "I don't want to fight," says Dal - and actually, he really does seem a little relieved when Elise positions herself between them. Both of his hands raise: no more punches, no more shoves, he /swears/. "You don't have to tell us anything, Razi, but by shells, I'm not going to just sit back and hope that you can be trusted. If you've nothing to hide, you can prove /that/ to the Weyrleaders." He takes a step back, now, reaching for his shovel and bucket. "I'll go work over /here/." Surprisingly cool for the Elise-bumping-into-him thing: at least he isn't mentally falling apart about some Lord's brother wanting to kill him for touching his daughter? At least. He stares dubiously at Razi, now. "Yes they *would*," Wyriker states with all the fervor of one's very real riding-crop belief. Punishment. It happens. After a moment of uncertainty, he decides to follow Dal's lead, slowly - ever so slowly - heading back to his fallen broom. Elise looks from one of the two to the other, both hands out to either side in case one of them has another shove ready. When it's clear neither of them are going to carry on like that, she lowers her arms and then sets hands to hips instead. "Well now, I hope we're all feeling like very big men." When Dal decides to separate from the herd, as it were, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, only then going back to her own broom with another hard look for Razi. "Have they asked /you/ to have a mindhealer exam yet," she wants to know of him, but bends to the task of sweeping regardless of if he answers or not. Razi's fingers clench as he continues to look narrow-eyed at Dal, but he appears to be at least respecting the distance between them, given, well - Elise is in the way. And probably Wyriker's warning is in the back of his mind, making his jaw tighten momentarily. "And you've been such an open book, Dal. What /did/ happen to your wife, anyway?" he says to the man's back. Elise's comment catches him off-guard, and he pauses obviously for a moment. "No, why would they? /I'm/ not crazy." Dal's whole body stiffens at Razi's question. His chin lifts, and as he treks across to another of the couches, across the way, he makes no answer. It's only once he's there - a safe distance away, safe enough that he's not close enough to launch himself at the other Candidate again - that he answers, "She died. Is that so hard to believe? I think we should all have mindhealing exams. It can't hurt. /I/ don't want to be kicked out." His gaze slides, briefly, towards Wyriker, and then drops towards the couch at his feet. His shovel gets ready to work. Whatever snide comment Elise might have had in reply to Razi's claim of lack of crazy, she doesn't get to make it because he so totally stunned her with his question for Dal. She stands immediately and whirls, rounding on him, the broom's handle making a loud bang when it hits the floor. In a very low voice, and with a cold fire in her eyes, she grinds out the words, "Bad. Form." When Dal reacts she watches him, then sets her jaw and puts on a face she hasn't worn in a while. When she turns back to Razi her eyebrow is cocked. "The mindhealer exams aren't for weeding out crazy people, you know. They're for sorting out questionable sorts. You know, like people who can't be truthful about where they come from, and throw punches when questioned about it." Razi's standing in one of the depressed dragon couches with Elise, though his gaze is on Dal - a hint of satisfaction in the baker's gaze. "I'm from Fort Sea. Is /that/ so hard to believe?" he counters, quickly. And then when Elise turns on him, he actually whips his head back to look at her, and takes a step back before he catches himself. "I didn't throw a punch, I slipped." That's his story and he's... mostly sticking to it. As long as Elise doesn't get too close. Even so, his hasty retort is too-obviously a drawl more Bollian than Fort Sea, and the fluster of color suggests he knows it, too. They're on a quick morning break from their weyrling duties, and for once, B'rant isn't trying to stuff food into his still-growing frame. Instead, Rhenth has figuratively dragged his rider over to the Barracks in order to satisfy his curiosity about what's going on in there, since there's no weyrlings currently /in/ there. Imagine the tall young man's small surprise when he and his dragon spot a candidate cleaning crew...one that's being serruptitious about /something/. In an upper-crust, southern Fortian drawl, the bronzling notes aloud towards Rhenth, "What do we have here, my good dragon?" Smirk. "Leave him alone, Elise," comes Dal's reply, from across the barracks; it sounds one part defeated, and one part determined. "We should let the Weyrleaders deal with him, if he's so determined to be evasive." He's no longer paying Razi any heed whatsoever: studious ignoring might be a good way to put it. It's pretty blatant, and made even more so by the way he so abruptly turns his gaze towards the newcomer and his dragon. His mouth opens, and then closes again; then, he lowers his gaze towards his work, shovelling some old rushes into his bucket. "Well there's one down," Elise replies coolly, which would suggest that her other mention, the bit about where he comes from, is still up for question. Her mouth opens to dole out another, but Dal's voice stops her instead and she looks over at him. It's enough, and she turns back to Razi with a scathing look before turning away. B'rant is glanced at as well but she doesn't have much of a greeting for him, and whatever it is he was hoping to be amused by is over now anyway it would seem. She too goes back to her broom and bends to pick it up, begins to sweep in silence, just the sound of the brush moving, scraping the floor. Razi's undoubtedly surprised by the unexpected defense from Dal... even if it's followed by a condemnation that makes him narrow his eyes. He's quick to step out of the couch, moving across to the cot to strip off the sheets, instead, throwing them into that great big pile in the middle there. He glances at B'rant, as well - too quick to get a look at his knot, and too surly to engage. He can play the silent treatment game, too! B'rant's handsome features hold some wry and crafty humor upon them as his boots step him deeper inside the barracks, Rhenth cautiously picking his way in just behind his rider. With the silence that appears to reign as the pair's combined presence becomes apparent, comes the young man's arch tenor, "Oh /come/, now. I can't inflict punishment on any of you, so loosen up." Why is he grinning softly? Behind and above him, Rhenth's stretching out his neck, and giving all the candidates a thorough eyeballing, his mellow blue gaze, swirling in subtle tints of aqua and sky...the bronze even crooning softly as his human leans against his near leg. "It's nothing to do with you." Dal is the first to address B'rant, his words quiet. The weyrling's present rank prevents him from adding his more customary 'sir', but there's nonetheless an element of respectful submission, even so - aided, perhaps, by the way he keeps his gaze lowered, even if it is towards his actual work. "Did you need something? We've work to do." Elise just rolls her eyes in secret there while she pushes her broom. "Why would we be worried about punishment? We're doing chores, like we're meant to do." A backwards glance is given to the weyrling, then she bends back to the task pushing her broom along, along. "Don't mind him, he's always like that. With the /questions/." Razi says B'rant-wards, nudging the mattress of the cot back into place as he draws a hand across his forehead. "But, if you're just going to stand there, you /could/ help. Those sheets need to go in the wheelbarrow." Will it work? He's going to try, anyway! "Someone's got a crappy attitude, I see..." B'rant calmly, evenly projects to Dal, the weyrling's easy grin remaining in place, his gray eyes glinting. Elise's perhaps rhetorical inquiry is almost chipperly answered, "Well, you /obviously must/ know how delicate things are with this clutch. We most certainly wouldn't want to have word reach weyrwoman Ali's, or N'rov's ears that some candidates were having temper tantrums." Gray eyes flick over to Razi when he speaks, the tall youth offering him a somewhat more true bit of a smile, which immediately morphs into a smirk and headshake at the 'offer' of work. "No thank you. I already did my duty hauling around things /much/ worse than laundry. Have you ever shoveled dragon crap?" A look up, up at Rhenth, then a glance backward towards his lifemate's haunch presages his gaze flicking back to Razi again. Grin. Dal's mouth opens, as though he'd like to argue something with the weyrling, but he closes it again a moment later. Instead, he turns his head, glancing in Elise's direction for a moment - he'll shrug his shoulders, if he meets her gaze, and go back to working right afterwards. He doesn't engage. "Oh and we most /certainly/ wouldn't want to have word reach Weyrwoman Hattie's ears that a weyrling wandered into the barracks to uselessly pester the Candidates while they did their jobs and threaten to tattle on them with absolutely no proof that he saw or heard of any such 'temper tantrums'." Elise straightens, turns, and smiles sweetly at B'rant before leaning her broom to one side again so she can go and pick up those sheets, like a good little Candidate, only then meeting Dal's eyes and curving a small smirky smile for him before she begins to whistle an aimless tune and turns her back on the room. There's a brief grunt from Razi, and with a flickered look at Elise, he responds to B'rant, "No one was having temper tantrums. It was just a- spirited discussion." Backed by a decidedly Bollian accent, too. Another of those sheets goes flying off to be added to the pile. "Really? That's what you did? You should look at getting another job." "Apparently someone else hasn't learned how to properly play the game, either," B'rant notes in unruffled fashion to Elise, that perhaps-aggravating little smile settled back upon his mouth. "I've heard the scuttlebut about you, young lady. It'd be a shame if your disrespectful temper got you tossed out of the Weyr, as well as the Hold." A look over to the now-silent Dal ends in gray eyes lighting upon Razi, the weyrling giving him a lazy wink and impish bit of a grin. "Oh, I didn't get the job handed to me; it comes automatically if you Impress." A deliberate pause. "/All/ young dragons take dumps...and not /between/." If they catch his drift. That stupid Bollian accent: Dal can't seem to ignore it, even when he's supposedly ignoring Razi. It makes him glance up again, and if he's not actually /glowering/ at the other candidate, he's not terribly far off of it. But it's to B'rant that he says, "She wasn't being disrespectful. She's done /nothing/ wrong." Also: "Don't you have your own work to be doing, Weyrling?" "There are people to do it for you. Clean up after your dragon. Or... don't tell me you did it /yourself/?" Razi asks B'rant, disbelievingly. Of course, he's Hold-bred, so how he sounds so certain and /wrong/ about how these things work is anyone's guess. He might glance in Dal's direction, but he's careful not to otherwise acknowledge the other candidate's words, even if the twitch of shoulders might be agreement. "You both don't seem to be able to get with the program..." B'rant clips off low, a bit more darkly to Dal, the weyrling pushing up off his dragon's foreleg, and standing tall as he looks quite directly at the somewhat older male. "You're not to create any more tension around the Weyr than is already evident...or don't you give a damn about the clutchparents? Give it a thought, if you /can/: if you carry too many negative emotions around with you, you could just get on not only people's nerves, but also dragons'." With a sudden and inward draw of breath, the young man counts to a silent five, and then relaxes in an outrush from his lungs. Again, he looks over to Razi, shaking his pale head and lightly grinning once again. "I used to think so, too." He does look like a Holder boy himself, somehow. "I learned it was otherwise...to my sorrow." Eyecross. And then Rhenth's chuffing softly, and the bronzling's eyes get that distant look for a moment. "I need to return to my duties. It was...informative to meet you all." A fractional hint of a bow, a chuckle, and soon the busybody and his big buddy are about-facing, and stepping smartly out of the barracks. Utterly bewildered, Dal simply /stares/ at B'rant. His expression is as legible as a page in a book: he has absolutely no idea what has bothered the weyrling so much. Still, he says nothing, only watches the weyrling depart with that expression unchanged. Razi... well, he'll go back to ignoring Razi. Razi's expression, truth be told, is not unlike Dal's, and if he was aware of it he'd probably be angry rather than baffled. But as is, he just /stares/ at the weyrling like he's not convinced the boy's entirely all there. By habit, he goes to share this look with... well, not with Dal, no. He'll just get back to work, leaving the silence sullen and awkward. So much better! |
Leave A Comment