Who

Jaune, Khaylia, Xanthee, Zetali

What

Tensions run high in the Candidate Barracks. Things get a little awkward.

When

It is the sixty-first day of Winter and 32 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.

Where

Candidate Barracks, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 15 Sep 2018 07:00

 

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"Nah, it wasn't a bad day till I ran across those two sour pusses."


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Candidate Barracks

Hopes, dreams, and fears are contained in these cramped quarters, full of small cots and smaller trunks; thin ragged curtains barely provide privacy between the bunks, shining patches in the material suggesting one too many mending attempts. The minimal floor space is kept clear of debris and personal possessions, wide enough for a single broad table often used for study in the art of dragon care. It is a cramped space despite it all, when dragoneggs lie upon the Sands: there's no helping the worn surroundings, when use is at an all-time high. Near the entrance, one cubby exists, large enough to contain a bit of luxury for an adult overseer of the candidates, and a desk – for once in reasonable shape – is set to the left of the entrance, conveniently placed for the monitoring of comings and goings.


Khaylia is folding clothing. It's something she's actually… NOT terrible at, weirdly. Every line of the clothing is crisp and clean as she takes extra time with it. There's a red rim about her eyes but she's determinedly not paying attention to it. Just Fold. Fold. Fold.

Into the barracks comes the apprentice Harper with the vivid sea-green eyes and the frizzy brown hair. Her hood's swept back, sleeves pushed back from her hands, and in them she carries hide and something to write with. It's time to write a letter home and fill the family in! Coiled around her shoulder is her blue firelizard, the end of his tail flicking this way and that, eyes a pleased green-blue. Zetali slows to a halt at the sight of… "Khaylia. What's the matter? Are you all right…?"

Bathing is occuring. Jaune's Firelizards have dominated his pillow have it divided evenly between them. His dirty clothes draped at the end of the cot. Vaguely a few moments after this conversation begins, does he come sauntering bare foot from the baths, attired already in a pair of trousers but only a towel about his head for further adornment. But stops now that he can see Khaylia is here, and Zetali questioning. Maybe. He can sneak past to his cot. Maybe.

Several moments after Zetali and with a heavy sigh, Xanthee enters the Barracks with a stormy look on her face as she lifts her arms to pull her oversized green knit sweater over her head, revealing a tank top underneath tucked into her wherhide pants. Tossing it onto her cot, she surveys the room briefly before spying who she wanted to see. Marching over to Khaylia's cot, she tosses the little metal rose onto it, "I'm not getting into the middle of this. Just talk to him for Faranth's sake." She says with an exasperated sigh before stomping back over to her cot to throw herself down on it with a groan.

"Nothing. Not a singled blasted thing." Khaylia clips when Zetali inquires into her wellbeing. "Just doing my part to keep the barracks tidy, you know, pulling my weight when we're all so stressed." So much bitterness in that last word. She catches sight of Jaune when he enters in and turns her back on him. When Xanthee throws that rose on her bed she looks at it and doesn't answer. No, instead, "Do you need any help Zetali?" Avoiding BOTH Xanthee and Jaune now. This isn't awkward at all.

Brows arching until they're nearly hidden in her bangs, Zetali's eyes flick rapidly from Khaylia, to Xanthee, to Jaune – a nice view, but it'd be a lot less distracting if he'd put a shirt on – and then back to Xanthee, before they arch high enough to actually be hidden in her bangs. Zetali doesn't say anything. She knows better. Probably. Maybe. The arched brows are as good as a silent plea to Xanthee, though. What in the name of Faranth am I walking into the middle of?

Jaune continues his stealth impression, moving towards his cot and picking up a clean tunic to sleep in. Except, the firelizards erupt into crooning and trumpeting at his return, dashing to the end of the bed and turning in place. Now he is impossible to miss. Dry towel to bed, tunic over his head and pulled snug down. "Shhhh!"

From her vantage point on her cot, Xanthee lays on her side and props her head up on her hand as she notices the looks she's getting from Zetali. In return, the raven-haired girl just sharply rolls her eyes and shakes her head a little bit before looking furtively between Jaune and Khaylia. Grabbing a necklace from her trunk, she slips it over her head and starts to play with the pendant, a smooth, round piece of opal between her fingers. At Jaune's failed stealth check, she tries not to chuckle as she shoots him a look then one at Khaylia, before saying very loudly, "Ya know, avoiding each other doesn't actually solve anything." She states to the room at large before pulling over her journal and turning to a blank page.

"That's fine. Let me know if you do." Khaylia announces when Zetali doesn't answer if she needs any help folding her stuff. Instead Khaylia puts her things away and looks momentarily lost. But only a moment. "Right. I think we have enough socks laying around." With that she picks up a scarf and begins to pick up socks from the floor of the barracks and flick them onto beds. Not TOUCHING them, because gross. Very carefully she avoids Jaune though, and the metal rose tossed on her bed.
Ignoring Xanthee the peanut gallery also. Because Khaylia's a jerk.
The peanut gallery is going to stop offering useful advice…eventually.
It really is good advice.

The harper blinks and tries to read the situation at a glance. The finer details aren't all that easy, so she acknowledges Xanthee's silent explanation with a slight raise of her chin. This is incredibly awkward and she's sure there's a good juicy story here whose details are absolutely worth wringing out of Xanthee later. "Oh. Oh, sorry." Zetali blinks again like one coming out of a daze, looking over to Khaylia with a sheepish half-smile. "I think I'm alright, thanks. I was just going to write a letter home to my da. Let them know how things have been going. They know I'm going to Stand, and maybe they might still travel here for the Hatching. I hope they do. I'd love to see everyone again…" She trails off into an uncomfortable silence. Awkwarrrrdddd. "So… uh…" Shrugging, she takes her place on her cot, which is coincidentally right next to Xanthee's. She might have dragged it over and done some rearranging. She might not have. "What're you up to, Xan?" Xanthee seems like a non-awkward party, so she'll just hang with her non-awkward pal, there. "I hope your workload wasn't too overloaded, today."

Parents! Family! Such a better conversational topic than what people were talking about. Jaune waves away his firelizards before settling upon his cot and flopping backwards. "I mentioned it very briefly in my last letter. I was hoping they missed it. They are all coming. Arranging to stay. In something like four days. I can't see them much. They don't care. Anything is better than vintner." Rather than endure Khaylia's ignoring and all these furtive glances…..Jaune takes his pillow from behind and covers his face with it.

Xanthee looks up from her journaling, her hand resting casually over the page she was just scribbling in, to smile at Zetali, "Nah, it wasn't a bad day till I ran across those two sour pusses." Her voice is low but she isn't exactly whispering, as she rolls her eyes a bit. "But, like I said before," she states, looking pointedly in Jaune and Khaylia's direction, "I'm not getting in the middle of it," she says louder, making sure they hear. But Zetali gets a covert look that clearly states Xan'll gladly unload on the harper at some later time. Clearing her throat, she pipes in on the matter of family, "Not sure if my Da is even going to make it, he doesn't much like women on fighting dragons, much less his own daughter, but I bet his bronze will make him go. We don't talk alot," she tacks that last bit on, "But I hope Amani and Evka can come up from Southern for it. Other than that, I'll definitely have Mal in the Stands."

Khaylia flicks a sock here and there onto bed, and eventually works her way around the room. She doesn't have anything to add to the talk of family and tries to remain stonefaced. A single tear works its way down her cheek but she does her best to look away. Nope Nope Nope.

"Maybe I'd better not touch this, either," Zetali half-mumbles toward Xanthee, at about the same time that a tear rolls down Khaylia's cheek. The way her eyes slide right off Khaylia suggests that she did see it and she's studiously ignoring it. Plopping down on her cot, Zetali arranges her stuff so she can sprawl on her stomach and write. "Sorry to hear that," she offers, with feeling. "My whole family's in support, but that might just be because they feel they owe the Weyr. I'm not so sure Da likes the idea of women on fighting dragons. Or Ma, either. I guess my sibs support me just because they'd probably kill to be in my position." Grin, grin.

Xanthee just shrugs when Zetali asks if she should get involved, leaving it up to the former harper to make that decision for herself. Following Zetali's gaze and seeing that tear, Xan's heart aches a bit and she almost reflexively goes to comfort Khaylia before she remembers she's not getting in the middle of this, thinking this is a reaction to the previous altercation and not at all the talk slipping to family. With a wry chuckle, Xan shakes her head at Zetali, "I only met the man two turns ago. My mom never even told him about me, or anyone else that he was my dad. Only good thing was that I found out I have half-siblings, lots of sisters and one lil brother. You met his mom actually, Miel. And I don't know if you met the Weyrlingmaster Vosji, but I believe her daughter is also one of his get." She blushes a little then, "It's been an interesting few turns, I'll tell you that." Then a woman with a journeyman healer's knot is standing in the doorway and waving the raven-haired girl over. With a frown on her face, she puts her journal aside and smiles weakly at Zetali, "I'll be back in a bit," before heading to slip out the doorway, already speaking quietly with the healer, a concerned frown on her face.

Jaune slips his pillow from his face, in time catch Khaylia actually losing a tear. This whole being upset thing is getting to be a bit much. He sits up slow to watch her move about again. Zetali's watching has his attention before sighs inwardly, almost unheard. "Khaylia…come sit with me a moment?"

Khaylia picks up one last sock and tosses it on the bed. Jaune calling out to her has her rubbing her face again before straightening. "I'm from Igen Hold." It comes out in a rush, announced to the whole room. Not going near Jaune, not yet. "I ran away because my father wanted me to marry this horrid man and I decided that it'd be better to just go. They don't know where I am at and I don'twant them to know. And I don't care what you think either Jaune. If I'm selfish or useless or…. or whatever. Not everyone can be as perfect as you."

"Oh. Well, that's kind of awkward, isn't it." Despite the phrasing, Zetali's comment isn't a question. It would feel very strange to never be sure of your own family, or to constantly question whether you're related to a complete stranger. "Yeah. I met the Weyrlingmaster. She seemed like an interesting person…" Her brow furrows even more as Xanthee is absconded with by a journeyman healer woman of some persuasion. What in the blazes is that all about? She has the tact not to ask aloud, though, instead looking back over to the others, eyes skimming over Jaune and suddenly deciding this is a really good time to go deaf. Dipping her wherry quill to her tiny inkwell, she starts writing, hand crossing the hide in smooth, practised, movements; a woman wholly focused on finesse and technique. Her handwriting she obviously takes pride in, at least in the sense of how much she commits herself to the act and art of writing. The former Harper remains studiously silent as Sforzando resettles himself over her shoulders, translucent wings flipping this way and that to keep his balance. And then Khaylia recounts her life story. Silence. And then, Zetali picks up her head, mid-word, quill hovering over the hide. And she stares. Khaylia did what? Slowly, both brows creep beneath her bangs again at the enormity of what the other girl had done. "Wow. You really left home instead of marry. No wonder you don't want them to know where you are…" Her head tilts to one side. "That takes some serious guts. I think I like that. And I don't think you're selfish, or useless. You just… uh…" She thinks back to the Food Fight Incident. "You just need direction, sometimes. But don't we all?"%r%rYou went off on your own rather than let them marry you off?" Uh oh. This could go either way. Zetali originally came from a Hold, too… "That takes guts! I think I like your style." Nope, no explosions. Zetali's tone is downright approving. "Good for you," she says, heartily. "I for one am happy to support you in any way I can!" A look is flicked to Jaune: Don't say anything stupid, man, for the love of the First Egg. Whether he interprets it as that silent plea, however, is alarmingly undecided.

Jaune isn't shocked at all. Not at all by Khaylia's sudden outburst of an announcement. But she isn't coming over, so he eases down his cot as if the three feet might make a difference. "I don't think you are useless. Or that you can't help anyone." Jaune's hands find each other and clasp nervously. "The Rose, I am trying to get you to realize. People do like you, its not like Kaelige. People want to be your friend, want to help you. Friends do chores and suffer and get in trouble together. I can be your friend, if you will let me. I have been trying since I met you."

Khaylia wipes at her eyes again, so many tears are trying to leak out. Zetali's open vow of support doesn't help her control it even a little bit. Finally she just can't do it it any more and throws her arms about Jaune's shoulders and buries her head in his shoulder. "I didn't know you were a smith and the rose was just so beautiful and I loved it so much." She sniffles there as she lifts up to look at both of them. "If this doesn't work up I don't know what I'll do except just… do it and eventually maybe go home. I'm just not good at all this and you were so nice and I just…" giving up on all the words Khaylia slumps onto her bed and curls her legs against her chest.

The apprentice harper is studiously silent throughout this whole exchange. Even more silent as Khaylia sobs and throws herself on Jaune. Or at least retires to her own cot. Her pen, almost of its own accord, returns to skittering across the hide, scratching in the uncomfortable silence. "Nobody knows who's going to Impress. So you've got just as good a chance at anybody, right?" Zetali offers, looking up and focusing on the other girl with an easy half-smile. "You could ask the Headwoman if there's any work to be had in the Weyr. I'm sure they could find you some kind of work if you don't Impress. Right?"

Oh no. Jaune is suddenly latched onto by Khaylia and just as suddenly he is free, with a fresh laundered tunic now with wet stains upon the shoulder. His jaw drops, closes then opens again to talk. "No. You will stay here, impressing or not. There are enough jobs to be here for. Any craft might be convinced to take on an apprentice." Firelizards are on the roam for the tears and confusion. "We will make sure you are okay…No matter who impresses when. I think you will though." Jaune's legs cross under him and he glances towards Zetali slow as if he might not get seen doing it. "My family will cheer for you. They will recognize the rose."

"I'm being selfish again, aren't I?" Khaylia hugs herself tightly before reaching for a pillow. That is good for hugs. So much hugs. Her own little blue crawls up to her shoulder and headbutts her gently. "You two really are nice. I'm sorry I've been so very very horrid."

Staring, Zetali keeps her eyes on Khaylia until it's clear that Khaylia isn't looking at her. Her gaze then slides over to Jaune, very slow and bland, before sliding just as slowly back to Khaylia. "I don't know if you'll Impress or not," she says, truthfully. "Nobody knows if any of us will Impress or not. I can't make that call; I've been trying not to get my hopes up, too much. But I can tell you that we'll help you out no matter what happens. I'm not going to leave the Weyr if I don't Impress, unless my Journeyman decides I'm better off elsewhere." One shoulder rolls. "Hm. It's okay. It takes all kinds." Her voice drops into conspiratorial tones. "There's only one or two people here I have a hard time getting along with, and you're not one of 'em."

Zetali gets oh so mad-side-eye for that little comment. "I think she is talking about Kaelige. So. Not you. But we will help you regardless." Jaune tries to keep his bronze from hopping across the way towards Zetali and gliding over. To look for his blue friend. "So. Just. Be yourself, Khaylia."

"Jaune is going to impress." Khaylia can't know this but she sounds oh-so-sure about it. The pillow is pressed to her chest tightly even as she lets her little blue comfort her just a bit. "Any baby would want him to take care of them because he's so good at…. everything. A smith and a vintner and a sweeper and just…. everything." She's trying to make up for being mean. "You too Zetali."

Waiting until Khaylia has her back turned, Zetali raises her eyebrows at Jaune. What? I'm not going to lie to her, that expression seems to say. She looks to Khaylia and watches the girl with some sympathy, as though she were already working over the problem and trying to figure out a way to help. She looks a little bemused at the 'you too' comment, shaking her head in amusement as she picks out a few more words on the hide in front of her. "If that's what you think. But I'm not going to stop planning the rest of my life, either. I have to be prepared for the eventuality that I don't Impress, and that way I have a plan if things don't work out." She tactfully doesn't mention Xanthee, or the fact that the other young woman failed to Impress no less than three times. Meanwhile, Sforzando pokes his head out from around Zetali's head, wing vanes rattling and translucent cerulean rustling. He emits a tactlessly loud, hopelessly-timed squawk; despite his forceful tone, he looks friendly and curious, tiny glowing eyes whirling in contented colours. Company, woo!

So much company. Jaune's firelizards are making friends and moving about the barracks. "I am not so sure. More crafts just means I can't stick with anything. I would think that would worry a dragon." His teeth worry at his bottom lip, tug back and forth before sighing. "We will find out though. Sometime soon. Maybe."

Khaylia is one that throws her WHOLE SELF into a thing, and right now? Totally candidacy. She's hung everything on it. "If I don't impress… I'll go back and marry him." Declaration made Khaylia reaches out to the rose and cuddles it again before leaning forward to impulsively kiss Jaune's cheek before standing. "Right. I should… be useful." Or cry in a corner a bit more. Whichever.

This is definitely a nice time to forget how to listen to surrounding conversation. Zetali's eyes drop back down to her letter, which she pours her whole attention into. Sforzando, already grown bored, returns himself to Zetali's shoulders with a flip of his tail, tucking himself against the side of her neck. Besides, she's slated for early chores, so she'd best finish this up and then, still feigning deafness, turn in for the night.

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