Who

Ev'rett, Verik

What

Ev'rett and Verik meet in the unlikeliest of places.

Language (as the title implies)

When

It is evening of the nineteenth day of the twelfth month of the sixteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Southern Weyr, Children's Sleeping Chambers

OOC Date 09 May 2019 04:00

 

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"Hope you never find who you're looking for!"


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Children's Sleeping Chambers

A place for older children than the nursery across the way: there are bunks in here, and little tables perfect for gawky pre-adolescents.


There's not really a rhyme or reason why Ev'rett is here, toting a sleepy slack-armed child of six or seven in the familiar carry of a young man who has grown up as caretaker and older brother. This child is obviously not shared blood with him, however; where Ev'r is light-eyed and -skinned, this kiddo is swarthy, with dark hair and amazingly beautiful eyelashes curving against pudgy cheeks. Ev'rett hip-checks the door open and navigates his way into the sleeping quarters, keeping his motions quiet as to not disturb some of the napping children within. (Shouldn't he be DRILLING right now?!)

He knows his father is here, but where in the Weyr? Verik knows not. But. The wildling has started to surreptitiously scouting within the Weyr, in search of a face that must be somewhat familiar or a voice that's likely less-so. Not that Vasilissa will be privy to these adventures, of course; no need to upset his twin any more than necessary! And while he's kept his creeping to public places for the most part, his lack of prey has forced him to delve deeper into the Weyr - largely because he doesn't have the means to reach higher. He's at least cleaned up some and is wearing a shirt to try to blend in, but the feral-seeming redhead still stands out if he stands around for any length of time. As a door is opened further down the way, he follows, more out of curiosity than anything else. Just a poking of his head into that dim-lit space and a scrunching of his features at something or another.

And that's when the nanny coming in AFTER Verik says, "Can you please, yes, all the way through the door please," because she has two children with her and would he be so very kind as to step fully in so that she can get her charges to bed? Ev'rett's in the middle of peeling off little hands from around his neck to put the little boy he carries to rights on one of them bunk-beds, and looks up long enough to capture the fact that there's some wildling kid probably about to spaz out at a nanny. (Just a little bit of precognition, there. Ev'rett thinks he comes equipped with that anyway.)

Oh, there is definitely some bristling at that nanny, with word that's so hissed that it's not even a word any more. It's definitely a swear. Definitely. "You're not my mum," is snapped irritably, though the impact is lessened because even now, indignant little shit that Verik is, he doesn't want to disturb the younger kids. This is likely because there is a healthy fear of his mum descending from the rafters to beat him if he does. There's even a darted look up, easy to miss for its quickness, before he glowers at the nanny. He doesn't go into the room, though, and instead retreats, snarl-spitting another swear at her for doing her job, but allowing her entrance, all the same. Once she hopefully passes, though, he'll fling a rude gesture at her back, easily visible to any kids looking his way. There you go. You're welcome.

"You sure showed her," Ev'rett says in totally normal volume once he's got the little snot under a blanket. His Harper's hands lightly trace the kid's hair off his brow with the neatness of any of the aforementioned mums, but he leaves him be to start striding toward the exit - and therefore Verik. "Aren't you a little old to be berthing in the brat cave?" he asks the wildling, because he just learned this whole 'brat cave' nonsense earlier and cannot stop using it in sentences, because… because.

The wildling doesn't reply until Ev'rett heads toward the door - and, only then, does he snap, "I didn't show her shit. Aimed at her back on purpose." For what and why? Don't expect any answers on that front. "And I ain't 'birthin' anythin'. I ain't a girl." Verik rolls his eyes at the bronzerider, all but articulating a 'duh'. He slinks back and away, a hand lifting to paw through his hair a bit to try to tame it. His jaw works a bit, thoughtfully, before: "That what you weyrpeople call this? A brat cave?"

"Oh my sweet summer child," Ev'rett starts, then stops and looks at the redheaded little shit with the suspicion that can come from being an only slightly taller dark-haired little shit. "Can you read and write?" Motifs on a theme. All worlds reflect Fionavar. "Because if you can't," he continues, "You might want to stay with these brats and learn." He pulls up by the exit and turns to survey the interior of the place. "Yes. That's what those weyrpeople call it. Because they call them weyrbrats, you know? Not .. children, like normal people."

There's a definite scowl at Ev'rett for that. "I ain't stupid. 'Course I can read and write. Even my sis can." Which is saying something here. Verik squares up a bit, but he's still shorter than the young man - and likely won't get much taller, unfortunately for him. "And this ain't my place, anyway. I'm lookin' for somethin' and I'll be gone when I find it." As Ev'rett draws nearer, the skittish wildling moves back and away, ghosting along on bare feet and with feral ease. "Seems like they're just askin' for trouble, callin' 'em brats. Or are they all brats here?"

If SOMEONE had asked SOMEONE point-blank if they could write — nevermind. It ended out pretty cool anyhow. "What are you looking for?" Ev'rett is never going to be tall - he might, just MIGHT hit six foot once his hair grows back (why tf did he clip it again?) - but probably not. He's just fucking doomed like that. Like Verik. "I find all dragon-people brats, actually," Ev'rett replies, like he isn't a fucking dragon-person brat himself. "But yes. Right to their face. It seems very…" he searches for a word, "…rude."

"Someone." But Verik's expression darkens and he bristles, the questioning clearly getting a little too close to a nerve. "But, they ain't here, even if I think they oughtta be." He turns his head and spits on the ground, only to look right back at Ev'rett in some kind of challenge. "Rude? Ain't right, either way, doin' that. Call 'em brats, then snatch 'em up and throw 'em at dragons? Weyrpeople ain't right at all." None of this is really endearing him to the weyrfolk at all, at this point, and it shows. He maintains a slow, strategic retreat as well. Wary much?

"Someone? Who?" Ev'rett looks down at that spit and back up to the wildling and then asks, "Were you born in a fucking barn?" LANGUAGE Ev'rett, LANGUAGE. There are sleeping children around. "What?" He blankly stares at the boy about the snatching up and the throwing and the, "You know they don't feed them to dragons, right?" It's okay, Verik can retreat as much as he wants, Ev'rett is moving forward in a slow, steady walk.

"Nawp," Verik replies with a sneer-smile. "That's for holdfolk and weyrpeople to keep their critters in, ain't it? Why would I be born in one? I ain't a critter." And, sure, maybe some wildlings keep barns and animals; he definitely doesn't. And now he flips that blank staring around, responding with condescending incredulity of the sort that he doesn't have the vocabulary for. "I know they ain't feedin' little kids to dragons. Dragons just steal folk is all." Matter-of-fact, that. He pointedly doesn't answer that 'who?' from before. Because nope. He's just going to continue padding his way along, sniffing from time to time like he's some kind of canine. Maybe it helps? Who knows.

"Uncanny," Ev'r says, tilting his head to one side; "You resemble a critter," the bronzeling continues, mostly 'coz he's an asshole. "And you dislike dragons stealing people that have to willingly volunteer for Search," well outside of stands impressions but come on let's not talk about the exceptions of the rule!, "For… what reason exactly?" And because he's a Harper and let's face it, it's more likely that he was trained for espionage than for teaching kids because he's AWFUL, he says, "Did you lose someone to a dragon theft?" CONTEXT CLUES, KIDS

Is Ev'rett fishing for a rude gesture? Because he's getting one. Verik rolls his eyes and snarks, "Yeah, s'what a weyrperson would say, innit?" More spitting, but at least it's on the floor? It could be worse. "And, sure. Dragons need people, but ain't real important to me why." He just knows what he knows and that's clearly enough. Although, that last bit? That has him bristling all over again. "Lose? Nah. Fuckin' coward ran to 'em." His jaw gets tight and his brow furrows and then he actually turns, putting his back to Ev'rett and picking up the pace to stomp-stalk off.

Ev'rett, exasperated: "Who's the coward running away now?" he calls, because he's just happy the kid didn't freaking salute him.

"Fuck you," is called back ever-so-cheerfully, with another gesture flipped up at him in lieu of a salute. Verik snaps over his shoulder, "You ain't who I'm lookin' for." The lad's on a mission, dammit. Really. He's not running, you're running.

"Hope you never find who you're looking for!" Ev'rett calls back oh-so-lovingly, before a nanny with outrage drives him out of this random-ass place in which he finds himself. Whups. Ev'rett doesn't run, but he sure does hustle his way out. Having your ears boxed sucks.

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