Talya, Ramita, Daenerys


Talya fights a needle and Thread, Ramita has no faith in the girl and Daenerys is the helpful one.


It is sunset of the fourth day of the fifth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Igen Weyr - Living Caverns

OOC Date 28 Feb 2018 06:00


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"You… should probably make some friends. Or bribe some one."


Living Caverns

Brightly lit by a regimented march of strung glow-globes, Igen's busy living caverns are cut of the same exotic limestone design that frequents the bazaar without. Tapestries line the tops of the walls, one for each of Igen's wings, past and present; beneath them, skybroom tables litter the floors in scattered profusion. Some of the wicker chairs have seen better days, but most of the worst offenders have long-ago been replaced. The seemingly random placement of furniture, however, at closer inspection yields a sort of cross-shape of negative space. The northernmost walls and nooks of the caverns are owned by the kitchen's buffet, food-laden thrice daily in regimented shifts by busy bakers from the curtained southern entrance to the kitchens. To the east is a large arch leading outside; westerly lies the large doors leading down into the bowels of the weyr itself.

After a long grueling day of chores, which still do look look to be over, Talya is hunched at a table by herself for an early dinner before the rush with a long trail of white fabric. It's the start of candidate-robe time. She's got the fabric, but the concept of needle and thread seems to be eluding her. She's been staring at the hole in the needle with a glare and trying to thread a too thick thread through it. She's determined though. "Screw you, stupid needle thing just the bloody piece of string," she curses some more silently to the needle.

The Weyr proper isn't a frequent haunt for Ramita. The Steen woman tends to stick to the bazaar and her business there, but it seems today she's making an exception. Someone fancy must deserve a house call of some sorts. The well dressed woman is also carrying a basket full of several different bottles. It wouldn't take a very educated guess to come up with booze being the contents. As soon as she steps foot in the caverns, she starts scanning the room, searching for someone in particular. The search so far comes up with nothing except for the candidate trying (and possibly failing) at making some robes which gets the tiniest of snorts. "Cursing at it won't make it behave more, you know."

It's like the worst of nightmares for Talya: A basket full of libations just coming up straight to her and unable to partake in a single drop of it. The young woman blinks up at the Vintner, pulled out of her string of cursing. She does not even look at the woman before her, dark eyes going straight to the bottles. "Oh please tell me that it is some kind of candidate vacation and those are all for us," she begs the woman. Her attention momentarily goes back to the needle in her hand, because she is still holding it and Ramita's words finally sink it. With a scowl she holds it up and pokes needle and thread together. "It makes me feel better about it, though. It's like they threw a bunch of random supplies at us and this is what I was able to snag." And she's too lazy to go find an alternative right now.

Those ice blue eyes dart over Talya once more, fully taking in the whole tableau, perhaps just a little more amused than Ramita has much right to be. "I don't believe so. You look much too short to be my cousin. You haven't happened to see H'rik around anywhere have you? He wasn't on the sands at the moment…" which was of course the first spot she checked. There may have been others, but now she's just resorting to polling random candidates about the weyrleader's whereabouts. Eventually she'll get the answer, right? At the scrowl, the corner of her mouth inches up in something approaching a smile. "You… should probably make some friends. Or bribe some one." She has no faith in Talya's seamstressing abilities.

Faith's for the weak. Others prefer a little adventure, as evidenced by the fact that someone's given Daenerys charge over some mending, and some pointy, pointy needles to do it with. Well, it seems they've lucked out, for the man knows how to sew a fine hem, taking the most delicate little stitches he possibly can — perhaps it's his way to get out of more… strenuous chores, or perhaps he truly enjoys reattaching that bit of tatted lace to that long shifty-looking undergarment. "THey do that — better get used to it."

Talya raises both brows simultaneously at Ramita, her eyes finally taking in the older woman. "I can be your cousin if it means getting some of that." The brows go down with her eyes, back to the basket. She does not immediately answer anything about H'rik, if it means keeping the woman around longer to try to get a bottle. If she can drink it… she'd probably save it, and sniff it, and be very tempted by it. Finally she sighs deeply, shaking herself out of her trance as well as her head. "Haven't seem him." When the older woman suggests finding a friend, her eyes trail away and scan the area, only to land on Daenerys doing exactly what she was /not/ doing: sewing nicely. "I like the way you think, ma'am." It doesn't take much to consider her options. "Hey pretty boy," she calls over to the other candidate, grinning toothily. "You seem to have lots of variety in supplies there." And talent. Plenty of that to spare.

"No, thanks," Ramita will quickly and cooly decline that offer of an additional cousin. "I already have more than enough to spare." Cousins that is, she's still got the basket of booze pretty close. And only some of her cousins get to enjoy the fruits of her craft for free. Namely the useful ones or the ones she likes. Some happen to be both. As Talya calls out across the room, Ramita just instinctively winces the tiniest bit. Even if she isn't as conservative as most of her family, decorum is important and hollering in crowded areas go all against that. But she does look over at Daenerys and his own sewing supplies.

So ladylike, that Talya — but they're all used to that about now, aren't they. Daenerys lifts his gaze from his picky, poncey sewing to eye Talya with open amusement, setting his sewing carefully back in its basket so he can carry the whole thing closer, thus avoiding shouting across the Caverns. Resettling himself — he'll even primly cross his legs — next to Talya, he picks up his task and begins again, giving Ramita a subtly wry look. What can he do, the girl just has no couth! "I have a name, Talya. Why don't we start there?" Besides, it's been well established that Daenerys is not, indeed, the prettiest of the pretty in this group — that would be that other boy.

"I can certainly be that cousin that you never want to visit but you secretly wish you were like," Talya points out, not leaving that alone at all. She fiddles with the needle in her hand, not really noticing any scandalous behavior in calling out to someone she knows. It's normal to raise your voice a little to be heard, right? Right. See, it works. She stares down at his supplies with a furrowed brow. "Yeah, sure, Deanerys right? And here I thought you'd like me appreciating the looks you seem a little proud of." She gives a shrug of both her shoulders and holds up her instruments of candidate torture. "You really know how to work with these well. This lady here- uh…" She gives Ramita a questioning look (her bottles a little longer than the woman) "gave me some good advice just now."

Ramita is just going to daintily take a seat at the table, although the basket is carefully stashed on her side further away from Talya. She's watching you, girl. Even if she isn't because she's busy jotting down a quick note into a small notebook that she pulled out of one of her hidden dress pockets. The note is then passed on to a little green firelizard to go try and find someone. But she was paying attention to the banter while writing. Names may have been filed away for later, if needed. She does look up again when it appears her name is needed. "Ramita. Steen."

"Oh, did you, now," Daenerys encourages gently, eyeing Talya with all the patience of a cat at a mousehole, just watching. And waiting. And sewing; ell, at least until he's done with that hem and takes up another bit of mending to do. Do they just slide around on their bums, these young Weyr children these days? With a sigh, he'll match obnoxiously yellow thread to obnoxiously yellow dress with a hole in its backside, and begin sewing again. "As well I should — I wasn't always just a Trader." He eyes Talya sidelong. Hmm… Ramita Steen — that's a familiar name, and he fixes his gaze upon that woman for a long moment A vague memory tickles the back of his mind, yet he says nothing. It'll surface eventually.

Talya could at least admire the goods even if she cannot purchase or partake in it. "Ramita, well met," she tells the woman. And before she can continue her train of thought to her fellow candidate, she glances back to that basket. "What /are/ all those for anyway? Are you just trying to sell them currently? Because… we can't drink them, does that mean we can't buy them either?" You know, for gifting. She turns again and looks back to Daenerys's work, picking up where she left off. "Well, Ramita advised to make friends. And you're just the kind I was looking for." She goes back to trying to thread the needle and failing miserable at it. "So what else were you than just a Trader?"

"These?" Ramita gently pats the basket next to her. "Like I said earlier. They're for my cousin. Which is why I was looking for H'rik." And probably Nasrin as well, but she can hopefully entrust one cousin with getting an extra bottle to the other, right? "If you happen to find yourself not a candidate any more," Eggs cracking and left standing or just general rule breaking, the manner is inconsequential for Ramita, "Then you could make a trip to the Pit. That's the only place where I currently sell my spirits. With only the best local ingredients." Her eyes do widen just a little bit when she catches the garish yellow that Daenerys is working on.

Daenerys truly wishes he didn't have to subject his own eyes to the hue; it's enough to make him squint just the teensiest bit against the tiny sun in his hands. "Ah, the Pit. It's an… entertaining place." If one likes to watch meatheads make mincemet out of each other, anyway. His attention wanders away for a moment, out into the Bowl and on somewhere — else. But oh, yeah, Talya asked him a question, so he'll have to return to the present and answer her. "Tanner. We had to learn to sew." Else they couldn't make all those fancy-ass leathers. "But that wasn't where I learned to sew." His grin's pure mischief, now. "Oh, so you want me to do your sewing for you, do you? So you figured you'd make nice so I'd be more inclined to do it?"

Mention of the Pit again makes Talya's eyes light up with brief excitement. That's one place she needs to visit when she's finally able to once again, which could be Turns if her hopes worked out. "It definitely sounds like the place to at least visit once," she muses to the both of them, giving Ramita a brief nod. "Alright, I'll look for you at the Pit to purchase." Someday. And then she's found out, her hands dropping into her lap with the white fabric. "When have /I/ ever been anything but nice?" she asks Daenerys with her eyes wide and hurt. "I mean, I've honestly never had to sew in my life. And maybe just some pointers you can show me. On my fabric. In the shape of a robe." She wiggles the needle at him. "I may not have learned like you did, but I know it does not even help when you don't have the correct sized supplies."

Marketing is definitely one of Ramita's talents and she'll just drop the seeds for future business later. If a candidate does happen to get their hopes crushed, they might indeed need to come looking for her wares very soon after all! There's a slight eyeroll at the banter between the two candidates, but the older woman isn't going to jump into that. It's not her place. But her little messanger does come back, with another note clutched in her talons, and apparently it was information she needed. "Good luck. Don't bleed all over it. And by the way, they usually have existing robes you can modify instead of starting from scratch." And with that, the Steen woman is heading over towards the inner caverns. Somewhere there's a weyrleader that's going to get a delivery or two of booze.

Aw. She even manages just the right shade of pathetic to catch Daenerys' attention. "Pff. It's easy enough. C'mere, kid." Wait, is he even that much older than her? Likely not. Ramita, however, makes a very goo point, one which Daenerys will casually rummage about in his basket to pull out as an example. It's old, and has seen many a Turn, but the thing is, at least, well-sewn. "Like this one: I got it from a candidate from before." Who's to say how long of a before it was? Daenerys is certainly not going to tell! "But if you want to learn to sew, I'll teach you. You don't have to go through any elaborate games, though I do appreciate being called 'pretty'." And he chuckles at his fellow candidate, almost teasingly.

Talya is distracted by the arrival of the firelizard from the important lesson-to-be, giving the woman a friendly wave and a longing look at that basket. It's like watching a lover leave on a long trip… So sad. Another heavy sigh before her head jerks back to Daenerys. "Wait, what?" Booze is distracting. "They have premade old ones? What the—" She takes a deep breath, shaking the white fabric. "They probably are laughing at me right now, aren't they?" She slumps in her seat but still gives the older candidate her needle and thread, helping by replacing it from that garish yellow he was working on. "Karlantro has nothing on you." She even adds a wink for the ego. "Teach me, wise one." She actually does want to learn, interested, since they have to be sewing their own leathers in the future. It's /useful/. Well, now at least. Talya is not going to complain about doing the task, just not knowing.

"Sho, you right." Daenerys confirms her fear, himelf laughing just a little bit at the trick played upon the poor Talya. Weyrfolk always want to get a bit of mischief in when there are candidates afoot. To keep them on their toes, runs the reasoning. The needle's eyed with a jaundiced view — ew, the thing's much too dull to begin with. "Yeah he does — half the Weyr's male-inclined population. Of both sexes." Daenerys isn't in the slightest bit jealous; he has a girl out there, waiting for him. He'll just stick it in the worn pincushion he has, and pull out a sharp one for Talya's perusal. "Now, I assume you know how to thread a needle? Sewe, this one has a conveniently large eye, makes it easier for a newbie like you to see where to put th thread." He's just gonna ignore being called 'wise'. Were he wise, he'd be chasing his girl rather than dragons.

Talya may have to retaliate someday at said Weyrfolk, considering they set her up to fail. She wouldn't be surprised if they were hiding around the corner just watching her curse and get frustrated at the task. "I won't complain about being able to enjoy the sights, but I doubt that's all the male-inclined population. Some don't prefer them so skinny," Talya admits with a shrug. She drops her dull useless thing on the table as well as the thread, because it's really all wrong. "I know the concept of threading it, but it seems I didn't even get the right sizes for that." Let's ignore her stuff, besides her fabric. She offers said thing to Daenerys to show off on. You know, if he got some stuff started, that's just a bonus for her. She'll be very attentive to his instruction, at least to pick up the basic. Thread, needle, how to do a basic stitch.

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