Darsce Plays Dress-The-Wild-Man

Xanadu Weyr - Store Room

This large storeroom is lit with a series of electric lights, illuminating the smooth cut walls. Rows of shelving contain all sorts of items, while large trunks contain all sorts of clothing, and a mix-matched variety of furniture is stacked up in one corner.

Darsce leads Shae into the Caverns and past the workers just beginning to set out platters of breakfast food on the serving tables, the rich, buttery aromas of freshly-baked bread and pastries mingling with strongly-brewed klah, crisply fried tubers and meats, steamy porridge and eggs. Though food is probably the first thing a traveler might want, the blonde doesn't pause to see if he'd like to eat, the reason might be the few women gaping, then tittering as they catch an eyeful of Shae. She's ignoring them, casually pointing out things like the different entrances that leads to the hot springs, the Weyrleadership offices, the hearth and of course those tables where he'll be selecting food when mealtimes come 'round. Into the kitchens without hesitating, shouldering open the door they enter a different world. Whereas the clearing and main caverns were fairly abandoned, the kitchen is abuzz with activity. Clanks and clatters of pots and pans, the chop chop of knives on boards as things are sliced, diced and peeled, sizzles and spatters as more food is cooked, platters loaded with food swirling overhead as they're borne cavern-wards, dish washers, food-preppers and cooks alike ducking those as they carry on their various tasks with enough chatter to nearly drown out the chaos that is meal preparation at Xanadu. Thankfully most are so busy they fail to take note of the pair entering and then leaving as Darsce leads them into the storage cavern.

The walk was awkwardly silent. Shae was honestly expecting some kind of chatter from someone dressed so strangely, but Darsce moved like she was on a mission and Shae was in no position to question her. As the two made their way past the kitchen, Shae's senses really did remind his stomach that he had missed two or three meals previously. His eyes lingered on some of the food stuffs and his body slowed in its movement as he contemplated taking one or two for a quick bite.

His memory of his mother, scolding him for taking things not his knocked the idea loose from his noggin. She had been exiled for exactly that and he was there to make them proud, not to repeat their mistakes. Picking up the pace, Shae catches back up to Darsce when she enters the kitchen. The sound was immense, even the old 'bar' back on the island never got this loud, even with the fighting. Carefully ensuring that he doesn't interrupt whomever is doing whatever, Shae treads carefully and finally, as Darsce enters the storage room, he lets out a lgiht sigh and laugh.

"S'alotta stuff goin' on in'ere. I be wonderin' how y'can keep all calm like that, Miss's Darsce." He says as he stands up straight and examines the room, not really sure what to do next.

Oh Darsce chattered pretty much all the way. Shae probably wouldn't have gotten a word in edgewise had he wanted to, but she managed both sides of the conversation without seeming to notice if Shae was awkward or not. As she'd pointed out those passageways, she'd added commentary about when best to bathe if he wanted to avoid the old aunties who might pinch those lovely cheeks she'd admired back there in the clearing, mentioned that no one enters the administrative wing unless they have business to see the various Wingleaders, Weyrsecond or Weyrleaders (snickering as she told him with a saucy wink that she is the real wingleader of Galaxy but allows Ers'lan to wear her knot). Those food tables she'd casually waved at telling him they were for everyone but he - he's nearly naked (with a frankly admiring glance to go with that comment) so eating would have to wait. Blunt, perhaps overly casual, the young woman is at least vivaciously flirtatious rather than condescending. The kitchens, well, she doesn't even try to speak above the din in there, so when they enter the cool, dim recesses of the storage cavern and that heavy door swings shut behind them with a resounding THUD, the sudden silence is palpable. Shae's comment comes while she's flicking on the lights, causing the Iernian to snicker. "It's always like that. I try to avoid the kitchens mostly. A person never knows if the head cook will try to enslave a body into her workforce. You saw how fast I ducked though there - I'm terrified inside every time I enter."

That was talking? Shae was pretty sure Darsce was just prattling on about nothing useful! He probably should have been paying more attention to her words rather than her - moving on.

"A lit'le bit a har' work ne'er did hurt anyone. Though, I be thinkin' tha' from yer fine-lookin' clothes, yer more of a 't'inker 'an a doer, eh?" Shae adds with a sly wink before he looks around at the various shelves and finally, the chests. Propping one of the lids open, the young man pushes some lengthy strands of red from his view as he withdraws a leather jerkin, a sash of green and a pair of boots - all of which are of different shades of brown.

“There. That'll do't." He says as he stands up, leaving the clothes on the ground as he starts to get ready to undress, not even seeming worried that Darsce was in the room with him.

Darsce makes a strangling noise in response to hard work. A person might think it would certainly kill her by the way she shudders. "Knives and I do not get along," she remarks. One slim brow lifts though, at his quick ability to find where the clothes are without assistance, but she steps with him to where those chests are. "And dishwashing would ruin my hands," she continues, holding them up for him to see for himself the milk-white skin, slim shapely fingers tipped by a flawless manicure, "I do as little as possible to be honest." And she doesn't seem to sound ashamed of that at all. She, meanwhile opens another chest that complains with a creak of hinges, glancing over as he makes a rapid choice only to see that he's preparing to take off what little he's got on. Her face is a comical mixture of alarm and horror. "Ack. Wait!" Instead of turning away or fleeing the room, she straightens, steps closer, and runs an expert finger down the jerkin instead. "The stitching is fine and tight, the leather of good quality." That he's chosen something without having examined the garment he's selected seems to bother her a whole lot more than his lack of modesty. "You'll need trous with that," and she dips into the trunk he'd gotten the clothing from to draw out matching suede pants squinting at them, finding them suitable in quality. They ought to hug his hips but be loose-fitting elsewhere, giving him freedom of movement. Turning back to that other trunk, she tsks, "You sure you want to wear the leather now? You're going to roast in this heat."

Shae is stopped from lowering his drawers by the request of Darsce. He had fully intended to simply change out of his clothing right there, but her sudden outburst reminded him that maybe the people of Xanadu Weyr were a little more conservative with their outlook or shame.

Shae takes a moment to watch the woman look at the jerkin, his hands still holding onto the clothing. He takes a moment to look at the leathers as she mentions him roasting in the heat. "I'nnae a t'ing, Miss' Darsce. We Islan'er are always roastin' inna 'eat or freezin' our baw-" he stops and clears his throat before re-phrasing that. "Freezin' our 'ands off." He happily amends before looking at the pants with non-chalant scrutiny.

The boy watches the blonde for a moment before dawning the jerkin. It's somewhat of a loose fit on him, but it does seem to fit with his hair, as long and flowy as it is. The boots still lay beside him and the pants, well, now it's time to put those on. "If'n ya don' mind, I'd rath'r be wearin' th'pants y'offered. I dinnae mind a cute thing like hyu havin' a gander, bu' th'older'ns kinda get me hair inna'knot." He says as he decides that it's perfectly acceptable to disrobe his lower half in order to dawn the suede pants. Obviously she only asked him to stop to make sure the garments weren't reserved for someone else. Why else would she have checked on them so thoroughly?

Darsce snorts, turning her head over her shoulder drawling, "Sweating needlessly is a waste of body fluid, you should know that!" That the young woman is smirking suggests that there's a double-meaning behind that, she doesn't elaborate because she catches him just as he says he doesn't mind an audience and whoops! She may be a terrible flirt, giving the appearance of wordly-wise experience but that's largely a front. She whips back around and paws through the contents of the trunk she'd opened. Meanwhile that store room door opens, there's a shriek and it slams back shut. Muted gibbering on the other side of that door about a naked wild man draws raucous laughter, but no investigation. "Ladykiller," chuckles Darsce flippantly, head still inside that trunk, covering well any dismay she might have felt and will never admit to. Clothes then begin raining at his feet: A sturdy leather belt with pouches loops and grommets for hanging things on, a thin white cotton sleeveless shirt, breathable cotton grey cargo pants, undergarments and t-shirts, more loose-fitting sturdy cotton shirts in various colors such as pine green, navy and maroon, several pairs of thick socks for his boots, a scuffed but well-made fur-lined leather jacket with a buff finish, wool scarf, fine leather gloves. Everything she selects is used and though casual in style, of fine quality. That she's left a lot as unworthy is evidenced by the huge pile beside the trunk, dropped there with muttering and nose-wrinkling. His pile, however, she approves of.

The door opening and closing, followed by a shriek does get Shae to look up in surprise, but he didn't catch a face or even a word of what was being said on the other side. Not a tint of red is seen on his cheeks as he comments on the strangeness of it all.

"Ye'd 'ave figur'd th'woman 'roun' 'ere woul' 'ave seen a ghost." He states as he shakes his head and pulls up the pants. Then, more clothes start piling up at his feet. Shae can't help but think that this is a bit excessive.

"Whoa whoa, t'ere woman. Ye'think I'll be wearin' all this? I'm 'lready wearin' a top an' pantaloons! I cannae put on th'res' o' this stoof." He says in dismay as he gestures to the knee-high pile at his feet, a look of bewilderment on his face. Obviously the people of the Exile Isles were more concerned about 'take what you need' and not 'what you might need if the days gets colder'.

It's pretty obvious that Shae has no idea how fashion or 'layers' works.

Darsce flips a hand at the door, keeping her head inside that trunk busily sorting clothing. "We get hold gals in who've never seen anything like you," she says negligently. It's a statement that likely does little to clarify anything. His protest has her emerging, flipping silvery-blonde hair over her shoulder to take a cautiously-veiled look though her lashes at him. Ahh he's dressed! She turns fully around, giving him a slow study from head to toe while a slow smile grows on her mouth. "You look ruggedly handsome in that. I still think you're going to roast." She shrugs, then his protest sinks in. "What?" Innocent are the Iceblue eyes that drift to his pile of clothing, which is by far too little if her expression is read correctly. She belatedly tosses what she's left holding onto the pile: a thin leather tie for his hair, followed by a thick leather headband even while staring back at him incredulously, "Where are you from Wild Man? Do you all run around naked there?" Wherever 'there' is. Thea never said.

The red-head looks down at the tie and the headband. At the very least, it would look better than his crows feathers and rope. Taking a moment to undo the hair knot, Shae scoops up the band, carefully adjusts it to keep his hair out of his face and nimbly ties his hair into submission at the base of his neck, still missing three or four strands.
"Where I'm frum?" He asks in a moment of thought before smiling. "I'm frum Wave Break Hol'. Grew up on th'Eastern Ring Isles. Recently asked for me t'git brough' back 'ere so I could make me paren's proud." He says with a chest swollen of pride.
Of course, most people think that only thieves and vagrants come from the Isle of Exiles and Shae's arrival clothing didn't do him any favours in that department.

Eastern ring Isles he says. But wait, wait! The lack of details have her jumping to conclusions here. While others might be freaking out with distaste and judging the young man as riffraff, Darsce's eyes are alight with a wicked little gleam, her smile far too pleased. She found a 'bad boy'! Brightly she has to know, "And you escaped? That is SO cool! I'll help you hide, blend in! Won't that be fun?" She has no idea who knows where he's from, so in her mind this might work! "I can help you make up a backstory too and oh! You'll need more stuff." She's bubbling, buzzing all over the area, pulling a huge leather duffel, tossing that onto his pile, "That's for you to carry your clothes in," she tells him while opening another chest, this one wafting the aromatic scent of cedar into the storage room. She pulls out another shirt, this one is fine wear, not rough woodsman's clothing. The black sisal material shimmers faintly, as do the mushroom-colored dress trous she hauls out. She drapes both garments over her shoulder, pulls out a pair of thin black patent leather dress shoes, then steps towards him. "These will do nicely," she says with a satisfied nod, "for starters. I'll keep looking and find you more." Poor, poor Shae.

Shae is more than a little confused by this. She's acting crazy. No one 'escapes' from the isle. The sea alone would kill a man crazy enough not to take a boat and what little there is on the island surely isn't mature enough to allow for anyone to make such a craft.
Of course, Darsce doesn't know that. After her bubbling blathering ends, Shae puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. Should he have fun with this one? After all, she was a heart breaker. No… That would be wrong. "Listen, Miss' Darsce. I dinnae 'scape. I jus' rode in onna boat an' I jus' met Ma'am Thea. If'n I wuz an 'scapee, she wouldn' a let me come up 'ere wit'hyu." He says bluntly. Apparently Darsce isn't the only direct one in the storage room. "I due 'ppreciate th'sentiment, though." He says with a smile.

He should definitely have fun with this one! Darsce may have the reputation of a heart breaker but that's probably because she's never found anyone capable of keeping hers. But ohh sadness! The adventure ends before it begins. Shae goes from bad boy to refugee in 2 seconds flat. Cocking her head at him, the young woman's pout is a fleeting thing. "IF the Weyrwoman knew whether you were an escapee." Then she waves a hand, polished nails shimmering in the overhead light. "Anyway, you won't be wearing all those clothes at once. Those hide pants will chafe without underthings. The rest… well, you need to change them out once in awhile for washing. Gathers," she's busily folding the formal outfit and tucking it at the bottom of his duffle, then starting on the rest. Amazingly she can do folding sort of work if it is in the interest of preserving clothing, go figure.

Shae does give some thought to Darsce's idea that the Weyrwoman may not know everything, but that's not something he wants to indulge in too much, right now.
"Well, I apologize if'n me humble beginnin' don' quite meet th'levels required ta impress such a fine t'ing as yerself." He says apologetically, but there's an obvious tone of joking involved.

"Well, hyu 'ave m'thanks, Miss' Darsce." He says, gesturing with a nod as he moves towards Darsce in a conservative attempt to retrieve the bag.

Oh but Darsce does all the time - thinks of what Thea does and doesn't know! Especially since the Weyrwoman is weyrmates with her father! Who is also the Weyrsecond. Not that she tells Shae this, no. Instead, she continues folding clothes and filling that duffel right up to the brim while sliding an appreciative look at the now leather-clad Shae. She catches the joking tone but purrs nonetheless, "Oh, you met my impress-requirements just fine," she insists. "It's not every day a man in a loincloth walks into my life." She flutters him a saucy wink, adding, "Clothes aren't everything." Oh, that could mean anything! She's finished and so when he reaches for the bag, she relinquishes it to him. It's going to be heavy. And she might break a nail trying to carry it, after all.

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