Who

evka, Talya

What

Talya and Reveka talk while they sew and it is determined that cussing doesn't help the sewing, but it does help Talya

Mild Language

When

-- On Pern --
It is 6:23 PM where you are.
It is evening of the sixteenth day of the fourth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the seventy-sixth day of Spring and 75 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.
In Southern:
It is the seventy-sixth day of Autumn and 66 degrees. A light drizzle is all that remains of the storm. A soft breeze ripples leftover standing water.
In Southern Mountains:
It is the seventy-sixth day of Autumn and 14 degrees. It's really damn cold out.


Where

Southern Weyr Candidate Barracks

OOC Date 22 Jun 2018 06:00

 

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"It helps /me/"


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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.



There's a lull in chores for some candidates and Talya is settled onto her cot, trying to keep the evening chill away. It doesn't usually bother her when the barracks are crowded, but right now she's feeling chilly… and frustrated. She's got two jackets over her shoulders and is slouched crosslegged on a bottom bunk (this may or may not be her cot) with a cloth of white draped over her lap and long enough to reach the floor of the barracks. She's trying to stitch in a straight line, but all she manages is to curse and hiss, loudly. If there's anyone trying to take a nap before dinner or evening chores, it's not just the snoring that is probably keeping them awake.

Reveka comes back to the barracks from her own sets of chores and errands. Her hair is tossed up in a messy bun and she's in a tank and pants underneath her long coat, which she removes on her way in. She's got the supplies for her hatching robes tucked into a bag and she begins unpacking it, cloth, needles, sheers and thread. She also pulls one of her dance outfits from her trunk and sits down. Apparently this Zingari woman is determined to give these roabes some fashion flare, though still white, and not too flambouyant. Talya's cursing is grinned at. "I don't think that helps much…." She quips.

Talya gives a very enthusiastic curse when she stabs herself with the needle, having to stop or bleed all over the robe. The fabric has already seen better days, likely scavenged from the stores to be reused, as her own hand-made Igen robe was probably used up by some candidate in the desert Weyr. Tal never brought it with her. She sticks her finger into her mouth and gives Reveka a long stare from the bunk. "It helps /me/," she says around the finger. "Do you have clothes to mend as a chore now?" she asks after pulling the finger from her mouth and inspecting the tiny wound. Her dark eyes glance back and she nods to the other woman's outfit that was not a robe.

Reveka shrugs. "I've worked in the laundry some, mostly linens. But I've been making my own clothes for forever…" Saving the ones Timo used to make. There's a sudden flash of sadness that runs through the woman's face, but is gone just as quickly. She could always send an order for clothing, right? Maybe. She hopes so. It would be a travesty to lose out on Timo's skills. "But I haven't been assigned to mending anything, no. Why do you ask?" Reveka begins marking the cloth where she's going to need to cut it, her eyes focused on the task even as she speaks and listens.

Talya seems more interested in watching Reveka work on her robe than continuing on her own task. She's smoothing out the white fabric with her uninjured hand, however, shaking out where it has twisted in her hands when attempting to stitch. "I assumed you had some mending to do alongside your robe, and here I was thinking: That fucking sucks. Have to make or fix up your own clothing before the eggs hatch /and/ work on someone else's stuff." She shrugs both her shoulders helplessly. "There was a seamstress in the last candidate group I stood with, and others that knew how to work a needle, at least it was easy work for them as I am guessing it'll be for you." Sadly Talya may have either forgotten or did not pick up the skill very well. Still, she did remember not to start from scratch this time, though the robe she selected had way too much fabric for her tiny frame.

Reveka has decided to start from scratch, but it seems not to bother her at all. "Work is work." Reveka singsongs as she makes out her pattern in khol on the fabric. "At least it keeps us busy, and really, I grew up in the desert caravans, everyone had to help with the busy work and mending." Granted, it was mostly all the auld aunties that did the darning and mending, but that didn't mean everyone else was immune. "It'll be an alright task to make this, as long as I can get some fashion into it and not have it be so……bland and boring." Of course she's been warned against making anything too flashy, and no colors but white. "You get the hang of it after a bit, and after you learn to keep your fingers out of the way. Have you ever thought of using a thimble?"

"Busy is definitely good, keeps us too exhausted to be worried or thinking 'bout other things," Talya says though she also adds a snort that signifies she doesn't completely agree with it. She watches the outlining with a raised brow, giving a slow nod even as she notes, "We're all just going to be bland and boring things out there for the dragon babies to choose from. I mean, the people in the crowd seem more focused on the hatchlings than checking out our fashion choices." Blocky and bland for short and stick-like Talya! She doesn't care to have anything on disply, will just be happy with a long robe. She suddenly stands up to check just that, stitching what appears to be the hem of the robe so it doesn't look so jagged where she cut it. At least she's making it a /little/ nice. "I've heard of these thimbles…" is all she says as she measures the robe out on herself, satisfied with it. "But I keep forgetting to grab one." She frowns now at her own stubbornness.

Reveka laughs, shaking her head over her project. "They may not care what we look like, but I do." Ask anyone who knows Reveka, she's Pern's very own fashionista! Stepping back, Reveka looks at the pattern, steps in to make a change or two and then begins cutting. Good thing a decent soapsand and some lye will take the kohl right out of the fabric. "I used thimbles for forever, eventually you learn not to stick yourself, but it's a good tool to have." Rev stops cutting to look upwards and see that Talya heard her before continuing.

Talya lifts that dark eyebrow again at Reveka in confusion. What is this thing, caring what you look like? Talya is obvious the exact opposite, in her baggy clothing and a jacket that looks like a man's. Well, half her clothing is usually stolen from some guy or another. She looks down at her own clothes briefly and then goes back to focusing on her robe. She sits back down to get back to the sewing, regardless of not having said thimble. "I don't plan to really do this long enough to learn, unless I'm making candidate robes for the next several Turns. Though I admit, I probably won't stand over and over again like some weyrfolk do. Is this your first?" She asks the other woman, occasionally glancing up but still needs to keep an eye down to prevent maximum stabbage.

Reveka chuckles. "Aye, I guess you wouldn't be planning that. But take my word, it's a valuable skill to have." As she cuts, it becomes quite obvious that she's patterned the robe after her dance outfit. At Talya's question, Reveka nods. "Aye." She stands, straightening and stretching. "Never thought I'd be here to be honest. Not many from my caravans are searched, up until I was ten or so turns old, it was against tradition to let riders search our ranks. And well…I had other dreams." She sighs. "But life rarely takes us where we expect to go, eh?" And well, Reveka has her secrets, and she plans on keeping them.

Talya frowns at Reveka's reveal about the culture of her people. "What would they tell a rider if they wanted to Search from the caravans?" She doesn't seem to think it's smart to tell a rider to fuck off when they wanted to Search among a group of people, especially during Thread-falling times. "I think everyone has other dreams— okay, no, many weyrfolk seem to really be hoping to follow in the footsteps of the Thread-fighting business. I guess you can say back up plans. But dreams are just on hold, if you get of the Sands without a dragon, right?" She's honestly /trying/ to be comforting to Reveka, even though she knows nothing of the younger woman's past. "This is only my second time, but I'm hold-bred and don't have the motivation to do this every freaking time like the weyr-bred ones." Her eyes rove around the barracks as she says this.

Reveka chuckles. "Up until a little over a decade ago we really didn't have to worry about it. No thread. And after… My people are as old as the last pass, we've roamed the Northern continent, since the time the Oldtimers came forward from. The Weyrs had the holds and cots and their own ranks to search from, my people had no issue telling the weyrs to search their own. Supersticious lot, my people, don't trust outsiders much." Though clearly, Reveka isn't of the old traditionalist mindset. She nods at Talya's last however. "Aye, if I get left on the sands, I'll probably not stand for another clutch…" Her heart couldn't handle the disappointment.

"Yeah, that makes sense. But they must have had a lot of guts to tell a rider no even just after Thread starting falling." Talya squints at Reveka, not really pegging her as /that/ old after all. "Until they gave in, probably? Not that I know when riders really started Searching outside the Weyrs, I didn't really pay much attention to that at Black Rock." She's finally getting some momentum with the hemming, apparently talking keeps her from cursing loudly… in fact, there's not been much puncturing of her fingers going on. She pauses, satisfied with how much work she's gotten done. "I didn't think I would either, yet here I am. Especially since dragons are still… big." She doesn't elaborate there. "And the whole fighting Thread thing." She doesn't give a lecture on not giving up on a lifemate or something silly like that. Instead she drops her work on her cot with a sigh. "I think I have dinner cleanup duty." Maybe. Maybe she's late. Who knows. She should probably get to that. She gives Reveka a way on her way out, leaving her with a "Good luck" and "Oh, and I'm Talya in case you didn't know."

Reveka chuckles. "Aye, they certainly are big." She's been near enough dragons to know, and she's ridden a few behemoths in her lifetime. "Hah. Fighting thread seems cake compared to some things." Like fighting your own culture, but that's neither here nor there. She waves Talya off when she mentions having duties to attend to. "Go then, I'm Reveka, well met Talya. Have a good chore shift!" And with that, Reveka is back to focusing on her robes, and just how much Zingari flare she can get away with adding.

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