==== September 15, 2013
==== Cerise, Daycen
==== Getting dressed.

Who Cerise, Daycen
What Getting dressed!
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 21 days until the 12th pass.
Where Candidate Barracks - Southern



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.

Whose bright idea was it to position the baths so bloody far away from the barracks? It makes no sense! People sentenced to hard labor need frequent bathing or this place will start smelling like old socks, or the inside of old leather workboots. The only bright side to this conundrum is that the weather is nice enough to walk. Enter one Cerise, stage left. The performer has one towel wrapped around her body, one wrapped around her hair. The rest of her (minus a pair of sandals) is otherwise completely bare and rather sparkly from water that hasn't been shed in her trek across the bowl(s). "Shit," she huffs as she makes into the barracks and makes the turn towards her bunk, "I need another soak after that hike."

With all the young boys in here… it probably smells like dirty socks -anyway-. Alas. Fortunately, Daycen is now old enough not to be accused of smelling like such; he even bathes daily. Twice on restdays. And it's really not all that busy here in the afternoons. Which is why the barracks are nearly empty when the starcrafter is trying to get up hours earlier then his normal time. Rescheduling the internal clock takes time. Time. But if he's going to get to see half naked women… *gawk*. "…" he clears his throat, and tries again. "What time is it?" He also stuffs his face against his pillow. NotlookingNotlooking. Don'twantawoody.

Cerise's path takes her directly past Daycen's sleeping place. She tosses the most amused of glances at him as she ambles by- no wait, she's pausing right there at the head of his cot. Danger, danger! "Couple of hours until supper, I think. You should've been up already," she points out, resting a crooked arm against the bunk's top brace and reaching out with her other hand. The edge of his blanket is snared and given a testing tug. "Daycen, isn't it? Starcrafter. My brother mentioned meeting you in the baths. C'mon, sleepy head, it's gorgeous outside. You're wasting the day."

Daycen is crying inside. He really is! He's also totally peeking, because what guy worth his salt (nerd or not) would turn down the opportunity? "Your brother? Who's your brother?" he mumbles into the pillow, finally turning his head a little and peering up so that he can try and see whether he's able to place this answer just by scanning her face. "Nnhnn. Starcraft. I'm gettin up a little earlier each day." Mumblemutter. He's not a morning-afternoon person. Or something. "Have mercy, Cerise. I'm awake now. Honest." He's even running a hand through the back of his hair to make sure it's not sticking up in ten directions. See? Totally awake. "You're all done your chores for the day already, then?" He gestures at glistening wet skin. With an attempt not to look longingly. It's all Jay's fault.

Once he shows signs of consciousness, Cerise relents and releases the blanket. Does she recognize that look she's given? Prooobably. Her smile slants a little crooked anyway, as she backs away from his bunk. "That I am. And starving now, all I've had were these breaded fish things down on the boardwalk. They were good but…" Not enough! She's a healthy girl! And it certainly shows when she turns towards her cot, back to Daycen- and just whips that towel right off. Lest he have a heart attack, it should be noted that beneath the towel, she is wearing an Oldstyle bikini in faded purple. Technically, she's completely covered! "Dimitri's my brother. He said you two cuddled?"

Daycen has a heart attack anyway. His brain seizes right up and he just -stares- until he realizes what he's doing and turns his head the other way so that he can rummage through his chest of things to pull out a shirt and pants to make himself presentable for 'breakfast' when he goes in search of it. The reddened face is her clue that he's… well, he's just him. Yeah. "Dimitri. The dude that was -mauling- me in the baths, you mean? He's like a leech. Try and move away he just clings tighter. What is up with that?" Inquiring minds want to know. "I also saw him getting reamed by the Headman. Tried to give him a little advice. But, not sure how well THAT worked out."

Cerise absently pulls the left hip strap of her bikini away from her skin, running her fingers beneath it to resettle it. It's a girl thing; they do that, Daycen. With her back to him, she seems oblivious to any outright staring, and any peeks are sure to fly right over her toweled head. Speaking up, she's reaching up to undo that turban to begin scrubbing at her hair to help speed its drying. "Dimitri's allergic to advice," she admits, "and if he realizes you don't like something, he'll do it at least twice as much. I'm fairly certain he's been that way since birth, though he's my elder. If you'd convinced him you liked it, he'd have become bored and wandered off. That's something he does well too."

Daycen is obviously terribly unfamiliar with what girls do. But that said, he at least doesn't call them whores right? That has to count for something! "He did seem to take an altogether perverse amount of pleasure out of invading my personal space. And Nika… but she's too cute to be upset with." he admits, pulling a tunic over his head and shifting out of his bunk to go splash some water on his face from one of the urns and bowls on the table. "Are you two -really- siblings?" is asked, with a thread of suspicion in his tone. "He's… you're…. it just doesn't seem probable." Yes, he settles for that. Better to only stick one foot in his mouth rather then two.

Cerise, fresh from the baths and clad only in a bikini and sandals, is standing beside her bunk toweling her hair dry. "Unless cute is something that drives you insane?" Though she sounds amused at the concept. It doesn't bother her but people can be strange. When her curls are dried to her satisfaction- and making a dark halo of disarray around her head- she tosses the towel to the floor and goes for her 'press to find a chance of clothes. "We are indeed siblings. Full siblings! Ma and Da were together until the end, so far as I know. He's my elder by a Turn and a bit. I am the better one though, aren't I?" she inquires, turning her head to flash the young man a dimpled grin. "Thank you for that."

Daycen is at the back of the barracks near the table with the wash basin; in his boxers and a tunic. And now putting on his pants! Pants are -good-. But he's keeping far busier with grooming then he would otherwise, cause no way is he turning around again before he's certain Cerise is fully dressed. Nuh uh. "You're from Oldtime, then." Something he hadn't quite clued in on before. "I'm sorry for all that you lost." One has to wonder just what level of guilt the Starcraft has carried those 400 Turns between the comet and now. Is there anything they could have done? Or seen sooner? Maybe that's why he works so hard. Nevertheless, there's a quick smile on his face and his head dips into a nod. "You're welcome. Just don't tell your brother or he'll probably maul me again to try and prove it wrong. Or something equally horrible."

Her smile takes a hit at the condolences but it's just a brief blip on an otherwise strictly controlled expression. Pleasant. Cerise is pleasant. At least for the moment. The dress she pulls out of the chest is thankfully more modest in cut than most would wear, for all that it leaves her shoulders bare. Everything else is covered, at least. She pulls it on over her head, arms and fabric flapping as she shimmies it down before securing the wrap belt around her waist to cinch it in tight. "The only thing he's ever properly mauled is a bubbly pie, I promise. He is a little bony to be cuddling though so consider my lips sealed, if he isn't your type."

Daycen is probably more relieved then he can properly express when he ambles back to his bunk to straighten it up and Cerise is fully dressed. Except for his expression, in which he is a nerdy open book. Poor bastard. "He's not my type." is assured, in a fairly dry tone. "If you're heading to the living caverns, mind if I tag along? Breakfast time for me, and I think you said something about being starved because the food on the boardwalk sucked." His paraphrasing leaves something to be desired.

It's the dry tone that snares Cerise's attention again. She looks over at him while fighting her hair back into a tie, making a large and desperately curly poof at the nape of her neck. "Something about you is a little different," she muses, each word drawing out a little to mark just how thoughtful she's being about this. Something has changed. What could it be, hmmmmmm. "The first time I saw you, I think you gave yourself a nosebleed trying to pretend I didn't exist. And now look!" She gestures. "A full conversation! It's incredible. Food would be incredible too. Shall we?" Here's an experiment a scientist like Daycen can appreciate: she turns and offers her elbow to him, eyebrows quirked up in curiosity.

"You had a basket of… things." Daycen protests, in his own defense. Panties. Does she not remember this!? He's definitely not going to let her linger on just what might have changed. Nooooo. "A full conversation. Sort of." he agrees, his voice now a bit of a mumble. But, one can assume that at least he was taught some manners at the Hall. Since offering his arm in return to link with hers appears like an automatic thing to do. One of those things that happens without conscious thought. "We shall." he agrees, almost entirely too serious for her amused sort of tone.

"Panties," Cerise remarks to give name to the horrible, horrible things she subjected the poor man to. "There were other things in the basket too though. It's not my fault you fixated." Maybe she's a lot like Dimitri after all- check out the grin she tips towards him while allowing the Starcrafter to lead her out. "Most of the items in there were just costumes. I have so many costumes, you've no idea. You should come by the wagon sometime. It's a paradise of dressing up. And my cosmetics." She sighs. "I haven't been able to use them nearly enough here…" One day, perhaps! But first: food!

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