Random Log: Just Before Curfew

Xanadu Weyr - Candidate Barracks

A long, low ceiling room opens off the entrance hall to the arena, one wall slightly curved as it is set against the outer wall of the arena itself. Cots are set evenly the length of the room, in two rows, each with its own small press at the foot, for personal belongings. Wide windows are spaced along the outside wall, letting sunlight in, while other lights are available for the night time hours.

It's just a few minutes before curfew and candidates are still filtering into the barracks. Marlyn is in no way prepared to sleep yet, seeing as her cot is covered in white fabric. The girl is putting her craft to good use and is piecing together robes, not only for herself, but for others as well. She's got four or five pins clamped tight between her lips and frowns at the shoulder seam she's in the process of pinning.

Among those last few trickling in is Rhelia, the candidate's blonde hair damp and flat from recent washing and her cheeks are faintly red with the heat of bathing not long before curfew. She makes her way towards her cot and starts to rummage through the sheets before she looks beneath the cot with a frustrated sigh. Flopping down on her bed she glances over at Marlyn, whose cot must not be far from hers. "You happen to see a comb laying about? I think someone knocked mine off my cot."

What? Was that an excuse to take a little break from the frustrating chore of pinning? Marlyn looks up at Rhelia, "Huh? A comb?" She gives the other candidate a blank look for a moment before understanding dawns in her gray eyes, "Oh! I found a comb in the floor earlier." The future robe gets wadded up on her pillow, the only clear space on the cot, and the petite teen starts digging through the fabric around her, "I think I put it here somewhere…" After a few moments, she comes up with the afore mentioned comb and hands it over, "Is this yours?"

Delynni has her robe ready, kind of sloppy a little. But its her /sandals/ that currently have Delynni's attention. She's stopped staring at the cieling on her back, and now with little blue Shirochan peering over her leg with his head resting on her thigh, Delynni is sewing new leather soles onto the sandles with saddle thread. One, two, three layers of suade and a fourth made of the leg skin of a wherry have been added as soles for insulation. Del just has to sew them on and her hatching attire is done.

Rhelia blinks back at Marlyn for that blank look. "Yes, a comb," she repeats slowly, watching the other reach that moment of comprehension. About time. She leans forward on her cot, sitting on the edge as she waits for Marlyn to sort through the piles of fabrics on her bed. "That's exactly it," she says, taking it from Marlyn. "Thanks for picking it up. The floor may be cleaner than before, but I'd still not like to have what I use for combing my hair getting all dirty." With the object in hand she begins to comb her damp hair, working all the tangles out of it. "Find yourself a robe you like that needs adjustments?" She queries while she sets about grooming herself.

Delynni shrugs, in case Rhelia's asking her too. "My robe is done, its the sandles that are giving me trouble. I'm trying to add more padding to the bottom so that my feet don't /entirely/ burn off." She holds up the one she's working on. "The wherry leg skin is both tough and it should help with traction a little."

For the moment, Delynni is ignored as Marlyn rearanges the fabrics into some sort of order, "No problem. I wouldn't want it to end up getting stepped on, or anything." She pulls the half pinned fabric back into her lap and gets back to work, "Not any that weren't too stained to wear." She chuckles half heartedly and gestures to the sea of white nearly spilling onto the floor, "I figured I'd offer my services to anyone that doesn't have the skill enough to make their own out of the fabric brought back from Weaver Crafthall and at least pin a few together." She scowls at the offending seam again, "I think I must be going crosseyed, though. I can't seem to be able to pin this one right."

"I already found one in the stores. Fits about as well as any, I suppose, and covers me decently," Rhelia replies, leaning back on her cot and crossing her legs as she finishes combing through her damp locks. The comb is then placed securely in her press, less it fall on the floor and get dirtied or stepped on. "Why do they ask us to wear /sandals/ on the sands? Sounds like someone's idea of a sick joke to me."

Delynni shakes her head. "I don't mind, I could go barefoot. But its prettier to wear sandals." She shrugs. "I managed to finish mine already. I just took an old one and changed it. There's no need to make a new one if there's one already made that just needs a few stitches to fix." She adds. Shirochan croons, grabbing a scrap of the cloth that Del had used to mend the robe and starts scratching at it, like a cat at a scratching post. Still crooning, the muted little blue rubs his cheek against the soft white scrap.

Marlyn crains her neck to see what's Delynni's talking about, "Wherry leg hide, huh?" She looks thoughtfull, "That sounds like a good idea." The weaver shudders at the condition most of the robes had been in when she arrived, "From what I hear, the weather's been really soggy for a while now and the robes already in stores were so mildewed that they were unwearable. I'm glad there were a few that escaped that fate." She shudders, "It's such a shame to see perfectly good clothing have to go to the scrap pile just due to too much moisture in the air."

"Mine didn't smell mildewy or look awful at all," Rhelia replies matter of factly. "Must not have been buried beneath all the others to get all gross." But still Rhelia's not about to produce it from wherever she's squirreled it away to show off to the others in the room. Someone might be after a robe and steal it, after all. "Sandals from the storerooms are alright, but only if they don't smell like someone's rancid feet." Or charred flesh if the sands were particularly hot.

Delynni nods, "Not all of them were like that." Delynni points out. "Yeah, legend has it the great Harper Menolly ran her shoes ragged when she impressed her firelizards and before she joined the Harpers. She added wherry leg hide to her boots to make them last longer." Delynni bites her lip and holds the sandal up to eye level. "And since I can repair saddles I can sew these."

"Garg!" Marlyn looks ready to throw the offending robe-to-be across the room, "Why couldn't I find something decent in stores?" Not that she looked very hard, as most of the others that were hunting at the same time she was can attest, "I've already given away two that I've pinned, and I can't get this one to look right." She huffs and tosses the fabric onto the rest of the pile, crossing her arms over her chest and down right pouting.

"We only wear them for one day," Rhelia points out rather bluntly to Marlyn. "I doubt anyone's going to really care if they're perfect or not. Mine has a sleeve shorter than the other, but it was free and it hardly matters when I've only got to wear it for a few hours at the most." Her glance then drifts over to Delynni. "Would you mind making a pair for me, then?" said in one of those sweet, cajoling voices.

Delynni shakes her head. "I can show you how they're made, but you should really make or mend your own. You know, I heard a master at the weaver hall made reed sandals, maybe you could get Marlyn here to make you a pair like what she made and then sew the leather soles onto them instead?" She's still concentrating /very/ hard on each stitch.

Marlyn just keeps pouting, refusing to look at the white she's surrounded herself with, "I know, but I can't stand to wear anything that looks like that… What would my sisters think?" She laughs almost bitterly, "They teased me for wanting to be a weaver when we were younger, you know. Said that I couldn't sew a line if my life depended on it." She sighs, "At this rate, it looks like they're right…"

Rhelia looks put out as Delynni refuses to make sandals for her, her gaze lingering a moment before she turns back to Marlyn. "I doubt your sisters will be looking at every hem of your robe when you're standing on the Sands come hatching day," she says, almost sourly as she's still quite unhappy at her request having been denied, even if it wasn't Marlyn who denied her the special sandals. "I know for certain that my attention will be on other things. I intend to Impress well," she announces, her mood brightening at that thought.

Delynni glares at Rhelia. "How about just impressing at all. There are twice as many candidates as there are eggs, more even. I'd be happy with even the smallest dragon on the sands." She tells Rhelia. "And you really should make your own hatching gear. If you impress you'll have to make riding straps. So making your own sandals is actually a good idea. They're both leather. And I've repaired saddles, if making riding straps is anything like that then you should get practice in if you intend to 'impress well.'" Delynni uses her teeth to bite off the end of the thread and to cut a new length of saddle thread. Her teeth also double the thread over once its in the needle, making the stitches stronger.

Marlyn sighs, "I suppose you're right, but it just doesn't feel right to wear something that's poorly made." She smiles half heartedly, "Unprofessional, I suppose." The teen pulls her brown braid over her shoulder and starts toying with the end, curling the hair over her fingers, "I am supposed to be a weaver, after all. Not that you can really tell from that wreched thing!" A finger flips negligently at the discarded fabric and she looks thoughtfully down at the slightly frizzy hair in her hands, "Maybe I should try my hand at some sandals? It can't be much harder than what I'm doing…" Delynni's vehamence gets her attention on what Rhelia said about impressing well, "There really isn't any promise that you'll impress at all… I don't intend on making any plans beyond hatching day, personally. I mean, what if I don't impress? Do I stay here and hope for next time? Or what if I do? What happens then?"

"Clearly you've got no goals at all," Rhelia replies with a bat of her eyes and a condescending smile. "If you're going to do something, you might as well want the cream of the crop, not the leftover pickings that have fallen from the table." Some people use a thread and needle to make things, while others just needle at others to get a rise out of them. Guess which category Rhelia falls into? "That sounds exactly like what those who lack confidence say to justify their failings and lack of success," she says to Marlyn in a similar tone with which she answered Delynni. "There's got to be something that the dragons look for, and I'm quite sure that I've got it." She replies smugly, running her hands through her damp hair lest it dry flat to her skull.

Delynni growls, for the moment ignoring Marlyn. "I'll help you if you decide to try Marlyn." She turns to Rhelia. "Those who want to be the cream of the crop." She grinds out. "Get there by starting from the bottom and clawing their way to the top with lots of effort and hard work. The fact that you expect to…… what color are you looking for?" She demands. "You expect 'the cream of the crop' to be handed to you on a silver platter instead of working? If you impress I pity the hatchling!"

Marlyn rolls her eyes at Rhelia and shakes her head in wonder at the other girl's attitude, refusing to rise to the bait, "I just want to be open for any eventuality." She smirks, "Not that there's any doubt that I'll go on being a weaver, that's simply a given. The question is, do I want to stay here or go back to the Hall if I don't impress." The girl flashes Delynni a bright smile, "Thank you. I might take you up on your offer tomorrow if I still can't pin worth anything."

"Gold, of course," Rhelia replies in a matter-of-fact tone. The fact that Delynni is getting progressively angrier just seems to be creating more amusement in the young woman and encouraging her to continue in the same vein of entitlement. "It's a matter of character, that's what they're looking for, not how well you can make sandals or a robe. They're looking for ambition and potential, not someone who aspires for the lowest common denominator and is contented with menial hand labor." As Marlyn has refused to take the bait - smart girl that one must be - Rhelia doesn't egg her on further, merely dismisses her with, "And you don't dream of being something more? Tch. What an unimaginative bunch you all are."

Delynni bristles like a bull dog. "You want gold you're welcome to it. Aside from laying eggs and looking pretty they're just like any other dragon. I want a green or a blue. They've got fight, bite, and attitude. And that matters more to me than any shiny gold hide. But you know what? The only character I see is an /ARROGANT PRICK./" Those last two words are growled /dangerously./ Each syllable is sounded out. Delynni's hands clench into fists. The snarl on her face makes it clear that she's considering punching that prissy attitude right off Rhelia's face. "I hope you get mauled, and the very gold you're hoping for slashes that prissy sneer right off you snobby face."

Marlyn looks at Rhelia like she's been slapped, "What do you mean 'dream of something more'? I've always dreamed of being a weaver!" Perhaps it's not the most imaginative dream, but at least it's creative, "I sold everything that I made for the Gather here a few seven-days ago, and that's more than can be said of some apprentices!" She's gotten just the tiniest riled at that comment, "I agree with her," She jerks a thumb at Delynni, "I hope you get mauled!" She looks guilty the moment the words are out of her mouth, but doesn't appologise for the outburst.

Rhelia glances to her side at Delynni's comment, "Oh, you must be looking in a mirror, then. Though what I see in front of me is an uninspired childish brat who doesn't want to own up to her own shortcomings and would, as I said, be satisfied with the bare minimum." To Marlyn she turns a pitying gaze. "My dear, if that's all you've ever wanted then I'm sure you'll be happy being /just/ a weaver, but why then did you agree to stand for this clutch?" The young woman pulls her legs out from under her and stands up, stretching. "I'll not wish a mauling on you two for being rude, because that's simply impolite and childish. I do, however, hope that you children grow up and figure out what you want to do with your lives and stop envying those that know what they want." And with that Rhelia strides to the out, tossing a coy smile at Delynni as she leaves the room to take advantage of those last minutes left until curfew and procure something to munch on before bed.

Delynni picks up one of the nearest hard objects, in this case a ball somebody left lying around, and chucks it angrily at Rhelia. "Go jump off a ledge somewhere and go splat! You just watch! I'll have the best hatchling on the sands and you'll walk away alone!" She declares, looking around for something non breakable to follow the ball.

Marlyn just gapes at Rhelia's retreating back, "How did she do that?" She shakes her head and looks ashamed that the other candidate brought out the worst in her.

Rhelia has two brothers. It's an art perfected over the Turns. ;)

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