Logs:Afflicted
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| RL Date: 14 November, 2009 |
| Who: Amerie, Kash |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Amerie and Nakasha talk about unwanted pregnancies and gather gowns; they hit it off relatively well. |
| When: Day 15, Month 3, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Occasionally, once in awhile these days, a tall dark weaver is actually seen to be outside the crafter's workrooms or her own room - and that's this evening, as Amerie has found herself a seat in some corner or another of the commons. Though the night is pleasant enough, she'd not dressed for the outdoors, if only due her terribly impractical footwear. Her long legs are folded up into the chair with her; her sketchpad is balanced atop her knees, though it's less the focus of her attention than the evening traffic through the caverns and the denizens of the commons. Amidst that evening traffic, Nakasha strides defiantly from the Resident Quarters, a figure only slightly shorter than the Weaver, though more notable at the moment for the six-months-in curve of her pregnant belly. The resident doesn't seem to have any particular destination in mind, despite the form of her stride; ultimately, it's by chance that she ends up angling in such a way as to take her towards an empty seat not far from the weaver. A defiant stride is always interesting - at least, it seems so to the weaver. Amerie watches Nakasha be purposeful without a purpose, dark gaze thoughtful. Tilting head to one side, pencil still poised between slender fingers as if she might begin to sketch at any moment, she points out in smooth tones, "The chair with the blue upholstery might be the most comfortable at the moment, if I understand correctly." Pause. "I've heard." Nakasha's defiance carries through into her stance even as she pauses, one hand sliding to her hip as she considers the weaver. For a moment or two, it looks as though she's going to say something unpleasant, but even as her mouth opens, she closes it again, managing a somewhat rueful smile. "Thanks," she says, after a beat more, turning her path so that she can claim said chair. Sinking in to it, a sigh escapes even without her intending to; she makes a face. Amerie merely arches a fine brow slowly for any potential unpleasantness - though there's something amused about the curve of full lips that comes close to a smile. Looking down to her sketchpad, her pencil beginning to move in what seems like an idle manner, "I tend to see the pregnant women sit there - and it seems to help. I haven't been so-- afflicted myself, but I can try to empathize on occasion." With a sidelong glance, "I hope you are well, at least? As can be expected?" Someone's not the maternal type. "'Afflicted'." It makes Nakasha laugh - a genuine laugh, albeit touched with a note of wryness that infects her expression, too. "You know, I reckon you're probably the first person who's outright said as much... good for you." Despite her words, one hand slides from her side to rest atop her mid-section, perhaps even unconsciously done. "As can be expected. Right. Aside from feeling like a house on legs, swollen ankles, backache..." Though from the sounds of it, she could probably continue for a while, she breaks off after just that much, and looks apologetic. "Just gotta get through it. Three months to go." "I do not make a particular effort to hide my likes and dislikes," Amerie notes, her own tone dry. "That has its advantages and disadvantages. In the case of children, I'd rather not partake." As if it's a cigar, or dessert. Her expression fading back into calm neutrality, dark eyes shift Nakasha's way again - and might actually have some of that empathy she claims in them. "You don't look like a house on legs," she assures. "There's that at least. Though the rest sounds terribly compelling. And for three months yet - well. You'll be through it in time for gathers." There's distinct interest in Nakasha's gaze, which rests so thoughtfully upon Amerie, as though she's appraising the weaver. "Not many people like you around," she declares. "But it makes sense to me. I'd rather people know what I actually think. Which," she adds, brightly enough, "in this case? Means I agree with you wholeheartedly on this baby thing. Believe me, this mess wasn't intentional." Glancing down at herself with a low sigh, she adds, with a self-depricating laugh, "Maybe not yet. But I will." Not that this stops the pleased little smile that adjoins her added, "Gathers! If I can get the weight off in time... that's something to be glad for, you're right." Appraisal seems to entertain Amerie as much as Nakasha's initially somewhat foul mood; her lips manage to quirk into the barest smile, pencil scratching against the paper again. Eyes on her work, "I will admit that I will make certain concessions to manners and propriety, however - those observed, I prefer exactly that. I find it limits my company." Which seems to suit the weaver fine. Though her tone is threaded with sympathy for unintentional messes; "Ah. Well. I suppose it could happen to any of us." Unless you're paranoid about it. Gathers! "Even if the weight isn't an easy thing, there's always another dress. If it fits right, you'll look wonderful." Foul mood apparently cleared up, Nakasha doesn't seem to be much bothered by the amusement she's evidently providing her companion. She settles herself back in the seat, stretching out her long legs with a faint sigh before she adds, "There's that. Manners and whatever. But... granted, I /do/ like people a lot, so I guess I do monitor my mouth a bit. I'm... not bothering you am I?" Beat. "But, no, you'd tell me if I were. Anyway. This? Won't happen to me again. Oh no, next time, I'll be prepared." Consideringly, she adds, "Another dress. Hm! I probably needed one anyway, so maybe that's the best idea all around. Though it's a little difficult to plan that, not knowing what size." "I like people much less, yet I occasionally find the need for company. However, my companions are few and occupied for various reasons, so I will consider myself fortunate to have found the least excited mother-to-be in the Weyr." Something about that strikes Amerie funny enough to make her laugh - a short, sharp little thing. Nodding Nakasha's way approvingly, "I would tell you if you were. And that is good to hear. Lesson learned, so to speak." Beginning to shade idly, "You need only decide whether you wish to commission something or buy something and have it tailored. The latter takes less time than the former - though there are advantages and disadvantages to each." /That/ makes Nakasha laugh, too. "The least excited mother-to-be. Glad my misfortune makes for your good fortune." She's teasing, though, no more offended by this than anything else. "I rather believe you would tell me. So: good. I tried to spread the wisdom of my lesson amongst some of the other holdbred candidates, but they didn't seem to take it too well. Their loss." Of dresses, musingly, she tilts her head back considering the ceiling above her as she says, "I imagine the latter costs less, too. I'm new to this: my mother used to make my things, but we're not... exactly on good terms, now, and anyway, it was never terribly fashionable. Suppose I'd better start counting my thirty-second marks." Cryptically, "It's fate." Amerie offers up another slight smile over the top of her sketchbook, one that edges into a smirk at Nakasha's attempts at being an object lesson. "No, I don't imagine they did, particularly if they're of an age or of a type that don't speak of such things." She shakes her head a little, brows arching - like /that/ ever helps a girl out. The weaver, who mainly makes dresses and astoundingly expensive little outfits for herself, must admit, "Cost is a primary advantage, as is time - tailoring to fit takes days, a proper custom gown can take weeks. And there is also stores - though they've been rather depleted over the winter." A very, very sharp nod marks Nakasha's agreement with what Amerie says about her object lesson attempts. "Right. Like getting rid of an unwanted pregnancy is... you know, something that should never be mentioned. If I'd known sooner..." Everything would be different. Of cost, looking both intent and thoughtful, as she lifts her hand to run through short-cropped curls, "No way am I wearing someone's hand-me-down dress. Done enough hand-me-downs in my life. No: even if I have to beg marks off my brother, I'm getting something /new/. Being sensible, though, I suspect a custom gown should wait until I'm at a size I intend to stay at, right? As a weaver," head bobbing forward; she's picked up that much, "it'd make you more money, but you wouldn't really recommend it, right?" "Mm. I've seen as many girls not know enough about what they'd gotten themselves into that the question doesn't even arise until it became more physically obvious. Either way..." Amerie agrees. With a slight quirk of full lips for Nakasha's certainty on hand-me-downs, she has to agree, "After a time, it does become somewhat /old/, wearing other people's clothing. Perhaps that is the reason for my varied wardrobe. And I am sure family would be willing to help out, if you're close." She says it like it's pure theory; no related experience. "I wouldn't recommend it. I don't know that I would necessarily even recommend my work for a gown until you've seen my work - it can be a little /much/ at times - but I am a remarkably skilled tailor and should be happy to alter something you found if you see fit." "That's sort of me... Well." Nakasha corrects herself after a moment, "Sort of. It's not like I didn't know that sex can lead to babies, or what the symptoms of pregnancy are, but... my pregnancy was a bit different to the ones I'd observed at home, and anyway, I was pretty distracted by other things." Her contented chattering reaches a pause as, again, she considers the weaver for a long moment before, more carefully, she agrees, "My brother - he's the Weyrleader of High Reaches - would definitely help me out. He never knows what to do with his marks anyway, and I think he feels bad for me. Your family wouldn't help you?" Not that she pauses after the question, chattering on, instead, to say, "Suppose that makes. Would /like/ to see your work at some point, though, if it's as interesting as you suggest it is. Even if I can't afford it, and couldn't wear it. I /will/ get you to tailor anything I find, though; thanks." "I suppose that's what I meant when I said it could happen to any of us. Though I am glad I have never been so distracted. I shudder to think." And Amerie does, actually - dark eyes going wide, presumably imagining the consequences. Still sketching, glancing over to Nakasha from time to time, the revelation does cause a reaction - but it's not 'weyrleader', but 'High Reaches' that has slender fingers tightening on her pencil, has one fine brow raising. "Well, that makes sense," she says, evenly enough. "And I don't have family. As for the work - I could pull some things, or you could wait for the next party. The weather is good and I do my best work for spring and summer. Though I do thank you for the business..." Pause. "I have been remiss. Amerie, Journeyman Weaver." Nakasha notes the way that brow raises, and her own raise in turn, asking the question without actually saying it out loud. Of course, it might actually be raised in asking the question of family, too; her expression doesn't shift throughout most of the time in which Amerie is talking. Distractedly; "Kash. Nakasha, but generally Kash. Resident, these days; no real title. Well met, Amerie. Shall I drop in sometime, and take a look? I'm curious. The world of high fashion is new to me." She has to stiffle a yawn, and looks grumpy at doing so. "Because I'm going to have to go to bed sooner rather than later. These babies! Ruin your figure, /and/ make you want to sleep all the time." By way of explanation, "I used to live at High Reaches. It seems unavoidable." Amerie has something of a tight smile for that; no offense. Even so, that's about all the backstory she's willing to give up. "And you can certainly drop by. I have no small amount of vanity, I enjoy showing off my work." She also betrays it in looking pretty much as perfect as possible, but the weaver seems less aware of that. "Nakasha. Well met. And I feel the need to retire as well, so perhaps it's simply late. Either way..." As she unfolds herself from her chair, "It was a pleasure. I hope you rest well." "Oh," says Nakasha, still curious, but not - now that /something/ has been offered - quite so pushy about it, verbal or not. "I can imagine you do," she adds, then, as she begins to pull herself out of her chair with a wince that betrays some small amount of the symptoms she's already talked about. "You, too, Amerie. A pleasure. I'll drop by soon, I promise. Good night." |
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