Fish & Shirts

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Candidates' Barracks

Carved from a natural bubble in the volcanic stone, this small dorm room has room enough to hold around two dozen occupants comfortably. Along the walls are stationed sets of cots and clothes presses, each made up to the standards of the weyrwoman. Above, the soft white light from electric lamps cast down during waking hours.


Somehow, Sevran lucked out got not one, but two days off. In a row. And today, instead of napping on the beach, he's snuggled under the blankets of his cot. The morning sun is already over the horizon, but the butcher-turned-candidate has forgone breakfast for sleeping in. Ah. Luxury. It's not much longer before he's shifting and shaking, hands over head as he stretches and sits up, hair in disarray and eyes still blurry.

It is not Taline's day off, but rather a situation where given the task of handling fishing, she set out before the sun rose and has returned from her first round of tasks in order to brush her hair out and stretch a bit. "Morning, sunshine," she tells the sleepy-looking Sevran, continuing that pattern of how no one else ever sees her sleep.

There's probably some sort of face made in Taline's direction, but he's really too groggy to pull it off with any sort of enthusiasm. So instead, Sevran will flash her a wide grin and sit up a bit straighter. Rub the sleep from his eyes, run a hand through his hair, and he's good to go. "Hm. Fishing?" he wonders, giving an experimental sniff her direction. "Don't worry. I smell the salty air, and not the fish." Hopefully.

Oh, there is no doubt that Taline's hair smells of sea-spray and salt water; it's part of why she came to brush it out, but it's also a smell she thrives on. If there ever were a Weyr to hold Taline at all, Half Moon Bay would be it. "Yes. I got lucky." She looks happier than she often does with other chores, if still a little tired and wrung out. "Fish smell should only be on my hands now, you're too far away." While she may be tempted to beckon with two fingers to lure him closer to get a sniff of her fingertips, that would be incredibly odd, and so she does not.

"I shall take your word for it," Sevran replies. No need for confirmation there. With some reluctance, he pushes out of his cot and starts fishing for regular clothes. Time to get the day started, apparently. "You like fishing." It's a statement, and one that Sevran doesn't seem to find at odds with the dolphineer. "Interesting. Elixyvette doesn't like it. Or at least, she doesn't seem to be very good at it," he remarks conversationally. "Then again, she's got that whole Harper thing going. Probably not a lot of fish in the Library," with a smirk.

"I like water," Taline sort of corrects and sort of confirms, rather than putting any sort of specific weight on how she feels about fishing. Being near said water all day has put her in a good mood, though, that's for certain. "Elixyvette is an indoors sort of person, I believe, but she's very good at those things. Indoors things. It's important to know one's strengths." And not indulge one's weaknesses? "And your chore of choice is ..?"

The correction is caught and noted, a short nod given. "Ah, right," answers Sevran pleasantly. He bends down, fishing under his bed for something and coming up with a pair of pants that look reasonably clean. At least, no obvious stains. "Anything manual," is his answer, "So maintenance things, of course preparing any game, though I'm lousy at actually hunting. Sometimes the Kitchen staff will let me— well. Let me employ my talents." Butchery, though he avoids specifics. He holds up the pants to his nose, gives it an experimental sniff. "Dragon bathing isn't so bad, either," he offers. "Depending on the dragon."

Taline sums this up simply as: "Knifey things." Makes sense to her. "And things that result from knifey skills, manual dexterity kind of stuff. You can prep all the fish I catch for eating, that's never been my favorite part of the job," never mind that he's supposed to have the day off and not be doing part of Taline's chores. The fish for eating will be a lot better looking if he steps in. "Dragon bathing nearly ruined some of my clothes; Kassala came to the rescue on that, but. Dragons are gigantic." Obviously, but it's as if having to wash one really pushed that one home.

Sevran offers a bark of laughter and a wide, toothy grin for her summary. "Pretty much!" His pants have been deemed acceptable, and he drapes them over his cot as he resumes his search, presumably for more clothing items. "I'm just better with my hands, and I get bored if I'm inside too long," he explains. "I can't read for hours, like some people. I'd rather be… moving." He's got an arm under his cot, stretching as far as possible, fingers fishing around in the dark. As for gutting her catch? "Sure, I'm game," he offers, "If you'll take my inside-chores next time they come 'round. Not the real bad ones," he assures her, "but maybe, I dunno. Laundry?" though he'll likely gut her fish either way, cause that's just how he is. "And yeah, they are. Especially the golds. And that bronze Leketh is almost as bad."

"Can't sew," Taline disclaims, this time admitting it directly unlike her conversation with Kassala; then, though, it was implied and obvious. "I mean, now, especially, but even before — I couldn't sew. I like ironing, I'm decent enough at washing." Keep needles out of her hands, though, just like one should keep knives out of her hands. "And next time you get assigned to fishing, I can always do your actual fishing for you." She grins, then pulls her legs up onto the bed and returns to the hair-brushing, removing a layer of salt from dark smooth (wet) locks.

Sevran comes up empty, nothing but dust bunnies. He draws his hand out and goes to the trunk at the foot of his cot, contemplating the situation before he flips it open and starts rummaging. There's not much, but it does take some time for him to locate a shirt. "Yeah, I don't know if I've ever sewed a thing in my life," he decides, dry and humorous. "But it's folding those stupid sheets that just…" there's a sigh of frustration for the memory as he states, "How the heck do you make a square out of something with stupid pockets in the corners." Grumble. Shift, like pants, get a quick sniff before being tossed onto his cot. Socks next, maybe? "And that's a deal! You fish, I'll gut. I like this."

"Sold." Not that anyone's buying anything, but Taline is convinced. "Folding is — it can be frustrating, and it is, again, moreso now for me than it was before, but I'm getting the skill back, I think. Though I'm pretty sure fitted sheets have their own special rules and they don't … quite make a square." So long as she doesn't have to gut fish, though, Taline is set. "I should likely get back to the fishing soon, though. Feel free to meet me by the shore whenever's convenient with your knives."
(He must have his own, right?)

"Who needs folded sheets anyway?" is Sevran's reply, looking uncommonly annoyed by the bedding items. "They're just gonna get slept on, anyways? Pointless." Hmph. He comes up from his chest with a pair of mis-matched socks that will just have to do for now. "Sure thing! I just gotta get dressed, grab some food, and I'll be on my way. Plenty of time for you to catch a few more before I do all my knifey things to them." He flashes her a quick grin before he starts shedding layers and grabbing clean(er) clothes to throw on.

Taline is not the sort of girl to linger and watch the changing, even if some of the male candidates are probably the sort of guys who wish she were. "I never folded them, when it was my responsibility in full," she admits with a smile, "And I'll catch you soon." Twisting her hair back into a bun, Taline returns from whence she came: fishing, where there will be plenty of innocent piscines to knife.

Sevran gives a quick flick of his hand as a good-bye, putting himself to the task at hand.


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