Who

Jaymes, Kelati, Kyriatis, evka

What

Robes require special underwear; did you know?

When

It is noon of the seventh day of the fifth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Nighthearth, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 28 Jun 2018 23:00

 

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"I definitely don't want my panties showing up on the sands."


nighthearth.jpg

Nighthearth

A comfortable nook, this natural extension of the living room is cozily attired with overstuffed chairs and a couple of well-worn loveseats. All have been covered in various shades of green, giving the very incongruous appeal of a miniature forest hidden away inside… a grove of man-made proportion. Fish stews and spicy white-wherry chili are often kept hot on the minor hearths east and west of the main, for those whose hours defy when meals are kept. Ornate, the largest hearth towers high, rich with carving and utilitarian in fashion: it holds court by providing the weyr with rich klah, the air thick with the scent of cinnamon wafting.


It's a rather dreary autumn day and given that the obstacle course is starting to turn into a mud pit after each rainfall, Jaymes finds himself seated on a comfy couch at the nighthearth with his robe. Or what's supposed to be his robe. At the moment, he's trying to thread a needle and it's… not going to well. "Shards." Muttered under his breath, that. The end of the thread is then pressed between his lips before he aims it at the eye of the needle again. Maybe this time he'll be successful!

Since rope-burning her hands, Kyriatis hasn't made it back out to the obstacle course thanks to the weather— despite wistful, determined glances in its direction, now that her hands have (mostly) mended. With a gap in her chores and a caffeine addiction to placate (as if she really needs more pep), it's to the nighthearth that she's ventured, and in time, too, to overhear Jaymes in tone if not in verbiage. "Need a hand?" she wonders, wandering closer.

Jaymes lifts blue eyes over toward Kyriatis as he continues his attempt at threading the needle, which, while distracted, he stabs himself in the thumb. "Ooouuch." Grumbled, that. "I can't get this thing to work." Rather than throw the needle across the room, he sticks it into the white fabric and shoves everything off his lap and onto the couch next to his lap. "Not that I can sew to save my life anyway. Not sure how I'm going to get that thing ready in time to wear." The robe, that is.

"Tell you what," Kyriatis says, sidling right up to Jaymes and reaching for the white fabric he's so recently discarded, "I'll help you with this, since you helped me up that wall. Not," she adds hastily, "that I'm some super amazing seamstress or anything. But I can thread a needle." Fabric in hand, she sinks into the couch alongside the other candidate. "It's ridiculous, really. Making new ones, I mean."

"I have no idea what I'm doing." Jaymes says, tossing his chin toward the robe he currently hates. When Kyriatis takes the fabric, he leans forward and props elbows on his knees while running both hands through his hair. And speaking of hands… "Did you get some numbweed for your palms?" He glances over at the fellow candidate, curious. "My calluses come in handy sometimes." Life as a Herder helped harden his hands and prevent rope burn, that's for darn sure. His attention then shifts to his own hands as he turns them over to look at how weathered his palms are.

"You'll probably be ok in weyrlinghood, then," supposes Kyriatis, with a nod towards those palms. "If you Impress, I mean. Mmm - numbweed and the rest. They're all right, now. I think I just slid a little too much on the way down. I need to get back out there." She threads Jaymes' needle without incident, barely paying attention to the process. "I can at least get you started on this robe. I mean, all that really matters is that you go out there with the relevant bits covered."

Jaymes sits back against the couch again and folds his arms across his broad chest as he watches Kyriatis thread the needle like it's her job. "Now why couldn't I do that?" Not expecting an answer, he might snort a little and stare across the nighthearth with a grumpy narrowing of brows. At least for a moment. "Don't need the thing falling off on the sands. I'll just make sure I'm wearing matching white shorts underneath." His expression softens a bit and he half grins over at Kyriatis. "You know, just in case."

Kyriatis and Jaymes are sitting on one of the couches, the former with white fabric that might one day be a robe in her lap. "If you want them not to show up beneath the robe, you want something more… like, peach? Nude. Skin-tone," the brunette candidate reports, making a face as she says it. "Which obviously differs person to person, but. I don't know why I know that. It's not like I make a habit of wearing white. Just, white shows up beneath white. I definitely don't want my panties showing up on the sands."

Jaymes, with his arms still folded across his chest, looks sidelong at Kyriatis with slightly raised brows. "I… didn't know that." Random facts? He kinda digs 'em. His expression turns more thoughtful as he squints over at something across the way now that he's thinking of color possibilities. "Peach. Don't think my legs are peachy toned." Too bad he can't look since he's wearing trous. "And I think the Weyrlingmaster would probably pitch a huge fit if we all wore floral or striped patterned underthings on the sands for all to see through our robes." The smirk that follows is rather genuine.

Kelati is late to the party; rather, Kelati is making an appearance from a different chore that must have been in a dusty part of the stores because her inky-black hair is grey-tinged and it's not coming from age. Because she was down there anyway, she also has her robe: it's just needing some alterations from previous clutches. She flops tiredly into a chair and just looks at it: maybe no actual work is going to happen here. "I was going to say them what, but further context gave me an answer. Your legs are probably really similar-colored to your forearms, so." They're peachier than hers, at any rate?

Kyriatis' smile is about as much greeting as she can offer to Kelati, because despite her apparent lack of interest in fashion as such, this is a topic of interest. "Find something that's at least similar to your skin-tone," she advises. "Though it might be kind of fun to have the stripes showing up. I mean, on you, not on me." She is adding a couple of stitches to the robe, true to her promise of 'helping'. "Though if wearing floral underwear would promise me a dragon, I'd probably do it."

"Yeah? I always thought my upper body was waaay more tanned than my legs." Jaymes doesn't really want to see how pasty white his legs are. Hey, it's what happens when you wear trous and boots all day long — ahhm, his good ol' Herder days. "I see what you mean, though. About at least trying to find a similar color to skin tone. Unless," A half grin returns. "You want to wear something purple and gold. Not that I do." Even if Kyriatis does think it might be fun.

"Similar. Not the same, that would be odd with this sun," Kelati doesn't know that much about what she's talking about, but she does know a fair bit about skin. Just more about skin treatments, which no one has asked for. Yet. They're all going to want her heat protection on the Sands. "My robe is nice and cream colored, and I think the underwear I wore last time was also cream colored. I've got to say, I've been here for five turns and I don't think I've ever sat and had a conversation about underwear colors before." Which is actually unusual for Southern! "Purple would suit your coloring. Not gold, though. Gold would match you better," that's to Kyria.

"My fault," says Kyriatis, cheerfully unrepentant. "I just think it's worth thinking about ahead of time. And," she adds, frowning, "probably not a good idea to go without any at all, though I suppose we've sort of covered that already. Robes." She peers down at Jaymes' robe, but seems to have been largely distracted from actually adding more stitches (though at least the needle is still threaded). "Gold's nice. Maybe I'll save it for after, though. If I Impress. The Weyr will have to go without seeing my undergarments this time."

Jaymes slides forward on the couch a little as if he's about to stand up. "Purple, right. My favorite color." Is he joking? Perhaps. It's difficult to tell because he's standing up and stretching a bit as he does. The robe in Kyriatis' lap has him nodding toward it, a hand outstretched should she wish to surrender her stitching. Faranth knows he ought to take it back unless he wants some orange flowers embroidered on the backside. "Thanks for the help. I'll try a little harder next time to thread the needle myself." Without stabbing his thumb. Once the robe is collected, he bids adieu to his fellow candidates. "I've got kitchen duty in a few. And guess what's on the menu tonight? Tubers!" Shocking, right? With that said, the former Herder makes his way out of the nighthearth and toward the kitchens with purpose.

Purple should be his favorite color, if you ask Kelati! It might be hers. Or her second favorite, because twenty-two is not too old to have second favorites. "Threading the needle is the hardest part," the trader girl agrees, giving escaping Jaymes and his constant, steady tuber duties a sage nod. "I'm supposed to be going from stores sweeping to stall mucking," she should have traded with Jaymes, "but right now I'm determined to get a whole six stitches into this before one of the headwoman's assistants yells at me. Or at least firmly remind me." She's gotten to two. "Someone should suggest a robe-themed sale to one of the lingerie shops …"

Kyriatis lets go of Jaymes' robe with more amusement than anything. With her hands free, she settles back upon the couch, and laughs. "That might actually make me spend money on fancy lingerie," she comments, glancing down at herself. "Though it'd probably be wasted on me really. Are you just making repairs? Mine still seems fine from last time, though I suppose that's not all that long ago."

"Yes, Orion tried to eat mine when he was just a baby." Kelati, forgetting that not everyone knows the names of her firelizards — then again, it probably makes sense that she means either a lizard, a canine or a kitten in this context. "So I have to fix it up a little as it's been nearly a turn since I've been on the sands. Thankfully it doesn't need much. Nothing you buy with enthusiasm is wasted," she adds, businessperson's smile visiting for a flash. "Though most people think fancy lingerie is supposed to have someone to show it to. I'm not sure that's right, since most purchases that aren't outright gifts are about you." So says someone who has willingly never dated.

"I've heard people say that lingerie is worthwhile even if you're the only person who sees it," opines Kyriatis, no doubt repeating other people almost word for word, given the way her nose wrinkles in honest lack of compression. "But I've never really got it. I like myself just fine in plain cotton, you know? I'm not fussed about anyone seeing it, or not." Without Jaymes' robe to work on, her hands are idle and restless; they fidget within her lap. "Good luck with the robe, though. I'm glad… well, it's always nice to have more veterans around."

It seems a day for dwelling indoors, what with the rain outside, and Reveka is inclined to agree with the general populace. Having finished up some of her other chores she's determined to work on her robe for awhile. So,sewing basket in hand, she collects a mug of klah and heads for one of her new favorite haunts. She slips into the nighthearth area to find it already occupied by a couple of her fellow candidates, whom she bobs her head to in greeting. "Good afternoon." She'll find a plush chair not yet occupied and fold herself into it, setting her basket aside in lieu of sipping at her klah a moment. SHe catches a few snippets of the conversation at hand and it brings a bit of color to her cheeks. "A simple silk or cotton slip has the same effect as a facy piece of underclothing really, and if someone else is seeing it, it's only for a moment or two anyway, why waste the marks?"

"I kind of understand the concept," Kelati says with a one-shouldered shrug while her other shoulder is busier positioning the robe. She glances over at Reveka as she moves to sit down, giving it a nod, and then pretends to know what she's talking about in the context of, "Depends on why you're wearing it and why you're showing it to someone else. My sister," this is the first time she's ever mentioned having any family and actually bites the edge of her lip for a second after having said so, "Used to have lingerie sleepovers. So she and her friends would be in fancy underwear … because they could and it was fun."

Kyriatis aims a brilliant smile in Reveka's direction, tapping her fingertips thoughtfully upon her leg as she does so; she's half-distracted at least. "Perhaps we should all be wearing pretty slips beneath her robes," she proposes, cheerfully. "Though— that's a really lovely idea." That last to Kelati, the younger girl's expression turning thoughtful and perhaps a little enthusiastic too. "I like the idea of it being more than attracting just one person in particular. What do you think… Reveka, isn't it? Though perhaps not in the barracks, with all the boys around."

Reveka gives a bit of a giggle and a shake of her head. "Lovely idea that." She says of Kelati's first and begins pulling her slightly altered robe from the basket she has it in. As to the next, she shrugs. "I…don't know. To each their own I guess? I try not to think much about that stuff these days." And for good reason, though she doesn't seem to be quite forthcoming with that at the moment. She laughs when wearing nighties around the boys is brought up. "Good roads, we'd all end up expelled from candidacy. Just a recipe for disaster, that."

"No," Kelati, now stuck being the Mature and Respectable Feminist in a group of girls who are both teenagers, points out in a friendly-but-firm fashion, "They might. Wearing attractive underwear isn't anything that will get you in trouble on its own. If boys try anything, it's their fault, not ours." So there. Maybe she will wear pretty underwear around the boys just to make their days bad or see who is strong enough to ignore it instead of running away. Maybe she won't because she's older than the majority of males (so that's just Treivyshe and Jaymes who get to deal with her in pretty underwear). "My sister had good ideas about self-image stuff in general, though, I don't think she ever had a bad hair day in her li-" She does not get to finish that sentence, though, because one of the pricklier and harsher Headwoman's assistants is staring right at her. "You," says the assistant, "are supposed to be -" And Kelati is not taking being scolded, so she just lets out a chirp of, "I know!" and then, "Bye!" and is off like a shot, robe included, to her next actual duty.

Kyriatis opens her mouth to respond to Kelati, but stops. Honestly, she's speechless all the way through the other girl being hurried away by the assistant. It's afterwards, perhaps several seconds afterwards, that she finally glances back at Reveka, expression caught between a frown and something more thoughtful. "You know," she says, "She's right. Wearing pretty things isn't an excuse for them to be bad. It's not about them; it's about us."

Reveka sighs. "I suppose you're right. But a lot of people don't look at it that way, it's a girl's responsibility to make sure she's not a distraction for the boys." Someone came from traditional roots. "It's sad, but it's true." Her irritation with that particular fact can be found in the puncture of her needle through the cloth, swift and sharp, though she's careful not to poke at herself. After a moment though, she tries a change of topic. "Any interesting chores of late? I've had the most unusual tasks asked of me at times…"

"Ugh, that's just wrong," is Kyriatis' opinion on that front. "If anyone around here said something like that, I'd probably punch them in the face or something. I'm not looking for romantic entanglements… it's definitely not my fault if someone tries to pretend I am." The dismissiveness of her tone makes her sound rather as if she can't believe anywhere would be so backwards, but at least she's easily distracted by Reveka's question. "Nothing interesting. I'm so bored of them all. I want… I wish I was back in the gardens, you know? Rather than stuck doing random chores. It feels like such a waste.'

Reveka nods. "Aye, I could see how it might seem that way, but it's all part of what makes a weyr run. It's not much different in the caravans. Everyone has their part to do." As to that backwardsness of boys and behaviors, Reveka shrugs. What else can she say about it really? "I'd personally rather have the chores than nothing to do." But she'd spent sevens doing nothing and it hadn't helped. "Though, I think I'd miss a job too if I got to work in a garden."

Kyriatis brightens, visibly. "You like gardens? I miss mine so much. It's… I understand that what we're doing as candidates isn't wasted, but I just feel like I could do so much more, you know? Once you've found what you're good at…' She breaks off, shaking her head. "It'sonly temporary, I know. And it's for a good cause."

Reveka nods excitedly. "I've found I have a liking for them…. We don't have them really, at home. It's not exactly easy to grow a garden in the desert." She chuckles and moves on to the next section of robe that needs attention. "I also think it's half to teach us patience…" She chuckles again and snips off her work as she runs out of thread. Looking around in her basket, she gives an irritated sigh. "OH shells, I seem to be out of thread, and I need a new pair of stitch rippers…I'll have to make a trip to the stores." She begins putting things away. "Guess that's what I get for not checking my supplies before I started."

Nose wrinkling, "That's yet another reason why Igen sucks." Does it? Really? She seems certain. Waving one hand idly, the candidate adds, "Go, go! I should get to my afternoon chores anyway. See you later!"

Reveka nods and chuckles, because currently, she couldn't agree more when it comes to the windy desert weyr. She collects her klah and waves, wandering off with a smile on her face. "See you in the barracks later!"

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