Fergus, Talya


Two candidates passing the time because no one is getting any sleep in the candidate barracks.


It is afternoon of the twenty-fifth day of the fourth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Candidate Barracks

OOC Date 25 Feb 2018 07:00


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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.

It's in that perfect lull time in the late afternoon when most of the chores have finished (for now) but dinner has yet to start. There's a smattering of candidates in the barracks - some quietly chatting, others reading or working on candidate robes and even more just quickly popping into change before dinner starts. And then there's Fergus, who seems to have opted to use this time to take a quick nap before dinner. It's not difficult to tell that's what he's doing, either, because of the loud rumbling snores escaping from his open mouth. He's sprawled on his cot on his back, clearly exhausted from whatever chore he had for the morning. He also seems to have a bronze fire lizard creeping through his bushy red-gold beard, clearly going for that tempting open mouth. Closer … closer … closer. Fergus suddenly jerks awake with a snort and stares cross-eyed at the bronze, "Shard it all, Stump!" Groggy, he starts to try to sit up, the fire lizard still clinging to his beard like a leech.

Talya was trying this nap thing during the few minutes or however long they have, but unfortunately for her she was located near Fergus's cot and the snoring was making her turn and grumble. Even putting her head under her pillow wasn't really helping. She finally leans over to yank at her curtain that seems to block out the rest of the barracks but not the sounds. "Was your firelizard trying to choke you in your sleep or do you always make sounds like that?" she grumbles at Fergus. The woman gives the little bronze on the man's beard an appreciative look. /Thank you/.

Fergus works at trying to disentangle the bronze from the massive amount of hair sprouting from his chin - it's certainly taking a while, as said bronze seems to be content to stay where he is and there is a /lot/ of hair. Distracted, he nearly misses Talya's words. Then, with dawning comprehension that someone was addressing him, he turns to look at Talya with a grunt of questioning, "Me? I don't snore." His deep basso voice is even and without inflection - hard to tell if he's being serious or not. "Stump just likes my beard," he adds by way of explaining about the fire lizard thing, tugging again at the bronze.

Talya watches in amusement as the leech of a firelizard seems to enjoy clinging to the man. She rolls onto a sitting position in her cot, grabbing her pillow to hug to her chest as she does so. If she wasn't going to sleep, neither was he. "Then was that sound I heard a feline in heat caught within the walls or something?" She glances around the barracks as if trying to find someone else to help support her here. "Man, you were snoring. You probably could wake up High Reaches with the sounds you were making." She points a finger at the firelizard in the man's beard. "Would you have to trim that thing when you Impress? I honestly don't know about beards and all, but your firelizard looks to be tangled in it." Or just loves it.

Fergus pauses in his disentanglement of his bronze to furrow his brow at Talya's words. Eventually, he gives a grunt of doubt, "Might be the dry air here, if it was me. Used to more moisture." He gives his broad shoulders a roll, shrugging, "Can't have been that bad, if it was." Reaching up with one hand, he digs a thick finger in between his beard and the bronze's front paw, managing to wiggle the creature's grip free without any loss of hair. The word 'trim' has Fergus giving a grumble of dismay at the thought, "Trim? Hope not too much." Because it seriously looks like this man has never trimmed that beard of his. It might have its own lifeforms living inside it by now. Who knows. "I've seen riders with beards," he counters in a rumble, grasping at potential lifelines of /not/ having to trim his beard.

"Keep some water by your bed, it helps." Talya is actually being nice and helpful to a fellow candidate. She reaches under her cot and pulls out a nice looking pitcher she probably filched from the kitchens, full of fresh water. They wouldn't deny a girl water. She even takes a big gulp out of it while she is demonstrating, then places it right back. "I'm not used to the heat either but I definitely don't snore like that. That snoring was definitely something. If you could win an award in snoring, you'd be first place." Enough about the snoring, she goes and reaches her own long hair, loose as it is right now. "I dunno. I haven't lived at a Weyr long myself before I was brought here, so your guess is as good as mine. I was thinking logically they may ask you to trim it. It probably has been turns since you've seen your own face," she points out. "Doesn't it get hot?"

Fergus finally manages to disentangle the bronze from said beard and, with a grunt of command, sets the fire lizard down on his pillow with a stare that likely means 'stay put or else'. Huffing a grumbling sigh, he leans back against the wall behind his cot, pale blue eyes shifting to Talya. Her words produce a snort of laughter and a twitch of something from behind that beard - likely a grin or a smile, "Who needs to see their face? Overrated." Idly he scratches at his beard, seemingly thoughtful. "I was in Southern - wasn't too bad. But maybe I'm just used to it." He eyes Talya's long hair, "Won't they make you cut that, too, then?" Because apparently riders have a vendetta against hair. Fergus is just hairy all over, though - even the hair on his head is long, thick and braided.

Talya gives the poor firelizard a pitying look when he was finally removed from his person. But then her dark eyes swing back to the man. She leans forward, studying his features and face and that long beard and hair. "Don't know if I've run into you before," she muses. "I was picked up at Southern too. Worked at the Tipsy Kitten." She'd be the angry bartender that refused to give pushy people drinks and threatened people constantly. She pulls at a lock of her hair and gives a shrug of a shoulder. "That is what I was just thinking. They probably will. Maybe shave you down too. New life, new beginnings, new faces to get reaquainted with?"

Fergus can't help the brief grimace that crosses his face at the mention of being shaved, though thankfully it's mostly masked by the massive beard, "Seems a shame. Took me turns to grow this out." He strokes said beard almost lovingly, rearranging the strands from the disarray the fire lizard left it in. Stump, the bronze so recently clinging to Fergus, chirrups from his place on the pillow, seemingly happy happy for now that his owner is awake - maybe it was his goal after all to stop the snoring? Talya's mention of Southern has Fergus grunting briefly in surprise, "Big place, though, Southern. Was posted there as a Woodsmith." He considers Talya a bit more carefully before shrugging, "Don't really drink much. Does funny things to me." He makes a negative sort of noise. "Wouldn't want to see me drunk."

"You got turns ahead afterward to grow it back out. Though I doubt anyone would recognize you if you were to get shaved," Talya says with a chuckle. She lifts her hand and makes to cover Fergus's lower half of his face from her distance, squinting one eye to try to imagine this. "If they shave you, wear a name badge— uh, what was your name again?" Yeah, Talya does not really go out of her way to learn people's names right away. "Lucky." She actually sounds envious at the mention of not drinking much. "You don't miss it when it's gone." And here she takes that pitcher again for another drink, as if it can help sate her desire for an alcoholic drink. "What happens when you get drunk?" she asks with renewed curiosity.

Fergus huffs out a breath that is half laugh, half sigh, "Forgot to to introduce myself again." Inclining his shaggy head, he grunts out a greeting in his basso voice, "Fergus. Name's Fergus. Originally from Lemos." He reaches up to make a motion near his head as though he were tipping an invisible hat, "You?" The word is punctuated by an interrogative grunt, one thick eyebrow lifted. Talya's next question has him shifting slightly on the cot and clearing his throat, clearly unsure how much to divulge, "Embarrassing things. Loud things." Though it's probably as difficult to picture Fergus being loud as it is to picture him without his hair and beard. "Don't matter anyhow," he reasons with a rumble, "Not allowed any alcohol." His lips twitch into a grin behind his beard, the only real indication being a slight movement behind the bushy hair. "You miss the alcohol?"

Talya waves his concern away regarding introductions. "Names are only important sometimes." Perhaps in candidacy, because these people were probably going to be her fellow weyrlings in the future. "Talya," she offers. "From Black Rock Seahold but I'm established in Southern Weyr now." Her curiosity grows into an intrigued grin as she listens to his vague answer. "Oh, come now. Gotta be a little more specific than that. And isn't that the purpose of drinking anyway? A little loose in the inhibitions to be loud and fun?" Alright, fun for Talya would would enjoy said embarassing things. In reply to missing the alcohol, she takes another gulp of her water than wipes her mouth with the back of her arm. "Let's just say if it wasn't for standing on the sands, I wouldn't give up alcohol for any other reason. It's /hard/. There has to be something to substitute the alcohol around here, but we can't even fight… I mean, not real fighting. I'd spar though."

Fergus grunts again, this time a bit more short and staccato, "There is such a thing as too loud. Too embarrassing." He's certainly not going to go into more detail than that - his lips are firmly shut tight on this sort of secret and there's certainly no alcohol to ply him with to figure out what that might be. "You'd have to ask the bartenders in Lemos," he notes with a snort, "Never drank at Southern." Stretching up with arms over his head, he makes several noises of pleasure as he stretches out cracks and sore muscles. "Best get to dinner," he notes, rising from the bed with a grunt and a sigh. "Unless you want to fight for your dinner. Then be late." He grins a little, the expression only a slight movement behind the massive beard. And then he's gone, heading out towards the door to catch a bit e to eat prior to whatever else is on the schedule for candidates tonight.

"I want to see this someday," Talya says with determination as she watches the hairy man. If only they were allowed to drink so that she could give this a trial, but woe is her. She's just going to have to stay curious from now on. With a nod, she gets up and, throwing her pillow down, agrees with him quietly by following him out to dinner. Better get food while she can.

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