====September 15, 2013
====Dimitri, Kultir
====Introductions are made, and naturally, talk of women ensues.

Who Dimitri, Kultir
What Introductions are made, and naturally, talk of women ensues.
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 21 days until the 12th pass.
Where Candidate Barracks, Southern Weyr

dimitri6.jpg kultir2.jpg


Candidate Barracks
Perhaps the safest place in the weyr, these barracks: the stonework here is old, perhaps as old as the weyr is itself, for the uncanny cleanliness of ancient stonecutters marks neat corners and perfect arches. Richly-lit by glowlight, tapestries reflect scenes of yore from the walls - dragons flaming, holders farming, and one particularly well-made that depicts the impression of a dark-haired girl to a light-toned gold dragonet, dripping and fierce. The barracks themselves are open-air, with not even a curtain to divide the space of male from female. Bunk-bed style cots line each wall, hammocks strung along the middle for those unfortunate enough to lack the privacy that an adjoining wall brings. There are privies in the back and locker-style item storage in the front, and one especially large table next to a book-case filled with basic Harper texts.

Kultir rolls over from one edge of his bed to the other and *bam* falls right out of the narrow bunk … again. When is he going to get used to this? "Oh for the love of little dragons …" he grumbles as he shoves himself up off the floor and crawls back into the bunk. How many times was it now that he'd fallen out of the bunk? Maybe he was lucky he picked the lower of the beds, otherwise he might crush some poor sod that chose to bunk below him. Whatever, it's one hell of a way to wake up.

Guess who did pick the upper bunk? That's right. Dimitri did. And it's not long after Kultir hits the floor that the aforementioned performer-turned-candidate draaapes himself over the edge of his bunk, on his stomach, arms hanging lazily as he peers downward. "Little dragons, eh?" He gives a thoughtful stare, jaw jutted forward. "At least I don't need to count you into the tally for who gets which girl, then. Though you should probably know you have issues." Yes. He is completely and utterly serious.

Kultir peers up at Dimitri from his position in his bunk and smiles wryly. "Hmph! I'll let you have all the girls, man …" he says with a normal, hoarse morning voice. Still sleepy till he gets his bucket of klah. "I got one waitin' f'r me." He'd like to be smug about that but a certain greenrider would probably kill him if she found out. He laughs softly as he rolls to a sitting position on the edge of the bunk and shrugs. "Yeah … I got issues with this bunk bein' too narrow. Hard t' sleep when I keep expecting to be able to roll completely over in my … much larger bed." Not to mention it's usually got someone else in it too. *smirk*

All the girls? Dimitri considers this, eyes rolling up as he just sort of… hangs, fingers occasionally and somewhat restlessly twitching. "Well, I mean, you can have Cerise." Once Kultir's taken a seat, Dimitri peers at him upside down, appearing to have little problems with the blood rushing to his head. "Aren't we fancy. I share a wagon with my sister. One of these things? TWICE the size and as a bonus, it doesn't double as the bottom end of a costume rack." Not that he seems overly excited about it, eyes darting over Kultir's form. Bored. Oh so bored.

Kultir hmms softly as he pulls his trousers on over the shorts he's taken to wearing to sleep in … once he'd figured out that the females would be sharing the Barracks. "Dunno 'bout fancy … kinda important t' have a large bed when more than one sleeps in it." he says, matter-of-factly as he rummages in his clothes chest for a shirt. He sighs when the selection is much smaller than normal. Looks like it's time to do laundry. A tunic is grabbed, whatever is on top, and dragged on over his head. He glances at the older guy and frowns, not recalling if he'd met him yet. "When'd you get dragged in here? I been here a few days an' …. don't remember ye." Then again, he doesn't spend much time in or around the Barracks if he can help it.

"Neh, barely been here a day." Answers Dimitri, giving a little wave of a hand — though, with his torso mostly upside down, he spends a split second confused as to whether to raise his hand or lower it. "Dimitri, pleased." This comes out almost automatically, before he furrows his brow and promptly sneers. "No— actually, not pleased. Headman practically dragged me in here. Did you know he grabs people by the EAR when they don't do as he likes? PFH." With nary a second's pause, he then asks, "'S your name?"

Kultir chuckles at Dimitri's description of how he was committed to the insane asylum and raises his hand to shake the proffered hand. "Kultir." he says with a nod. "Well met." He does smirk a little at the idea of Renalde dragging the older fella in by his ear. "I had heard that … never had cause to meet the Headman though so … no idea what he's like." He sighs and fishes for some clean socks, trying to finish getting ready for the day … or at least the morning. "I got dragged in by Wingrider Nika … 'least I think she's a wingrider." He shrugs slightly. "She rides a blue … Atmanth? Yeah, think that's right."

"'At's the one," answers Dimitri with a hardening of his expression. With a groan, he haaaauls himself back up and rolls onto his back, arms sticking out over the edge of the bunk, legs splayed awkwardly against a wall. Up at the ceiling, he continues, "Whatcha think of her, then. I mean," One of his hands gives a rotating little gesture, dismissive. "If you didn't 'have one waitin' for ya.'"

Kultir grins up at Dimitri as he rolls onto his back and shrugs. "She's cute enough, I suppose. 'Course, last time I saw her she was draggin' me in here cuz she thought I was tryin' t' drown m' mate." he says with a hint of laughter in his voice. "Said she was gonna teach me t' mend me ways." He glances around and shrugs. "Other than that … she makes me …. nervous." Apparently he had to search for a polite way to say the bouncy little bluerider terrifies him.

Colour Dimitri interested. Apparently he just can't lie still today, and flops back onto his stomach to puuuull himself over the edge and peer at Kultir over bunk-grabbing hands. This time, with confusion clear on his face, eyebrows low and mouth open. Whh? "Nika? Nika makes you nervous? Your ways've got to be something— ppfwhoah." He can't help but grin, though a hint of smugness soon vanishes in favour of a more welcoming smile — the smile that regularly taking to the stage teaches a person. "Tell me more." Come on.

Kultir leans against the bunk, arms crossing over his chest and shrugging both shoulders. "What's ta tell." he says, not quite what Dimitri is asking. "Nika's just … different from what I be used to, I guess." He searches his mind for how to describe someone he's only met twice for a very short period of time. "I ain't used to women who …. squeal and bounce and … act like kids?" He's not sure he's explaining this very well … how do you explain something to someone else when you don't even know what you're trying to say? Poor backwater boony-boy is still getting used to the Weyr and riders and all, you see.

But though Dimitri isn't quite backwater boony, he certainly isn't at home here either. The roads are his home. Far is he, however, from making that clear right this moment. He'll happily pretend to be right as rain where he is. "Not a kid s'very much once you've got her pinned down." He mentions, so offhandedly he might as well be talking of the rain. The subject matters brings some Bitran roots back to curl around his pronunciation, smile turning to knowing smirk. Confidence is not in short supply with this one.

Kultir isn't so innocent as all that and chuckles at the reference Dimitri makes to pinning her down. "Aye … suppose tha' might be true." he says. "Ye'r jes lucky, I guess. Ye din' go down her dragon's gullet and she din' make ye walk funny f'r takin' liberties so … she musta cal'clated what ye'd do and wanted ye t' do it." His eyes sparkle at the older guy and shrugs. "Last time I went grabbin' after a rider … she laid me flat out with one hit. Bout the same size as Nika too."

Oh, the pride on Dimitri's face as he listens. Either for the memories the subject matter brings up or maybe the fact that he may, just slightly, have dished out a hyperbole. Whichever the case is, he seems pleased as punch before he withdraws out of sight again, fumbling about on his bunk until, moments later, he slides off and lands on bare feet in trousers and an untied shirt. Almost flawlessly! … Save for the fact that the shirt's still halfway over his head, and causes him to nearly bump into another bunk upon taking his first few steps since waking. "Hey, don't worry about it." He pulls the shirt down in place proper, to reveal a feigned look of pity plastered over an otherwise cocky grin. "Can't all be lucky, can we!" He jerks a thumb at himself. "I'm out to see what they're serving us future heroes." Is that a bit of cheerfully exclaimed sarcasm in his voice? Yes, yes it is. And without a further good bye, he stretches his arms hiiigh over his head and starts a-walkin' toward the exit.

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