| IC Date: | 2692.1.21 02:45:26 | OOC Date: | 29 January 2012 |
| Participants: | Fiona, Mihoyan, Theron, Ur'con | Location: | Caverns of Eastern Weyr |
| Summary: | Ur'con gets Theron some decent clothes. In purple. | ||
The common caverns are not exactly busy but there was a tiny bit of a commotion over at one of the tables. No fighting just a couple of guys gambling for fun. Which of course can get rowdy. The weyr boys are all losing their shirts to a blonde male with a too tight shirt and a baggy pair of pants. His clothes definitely are not fitting properly on him, they are obviously not his size. Their is a white candidate knot on his shoulder. "It's just luck, I have a magic touch with dice and I have even better luck with cards." He cracks his knuckles. "You guys want to try your hand at cards, maybe a way of winning back some of your marks?" They all grumble and start to scatter leaving Theron alone with his winnings. "My first investment…. new freaking clothes."
One of the boys starts to make a wiseass comment back, but his eyes get big as he sits back on his heels and gives a respectful nod to a looming presence that seems to be lurking just behind Theron's head. "What's this, Candidate? Bit early to be gambling, isn't it?" Yeah, with that, one of the lads, also a Candidate, hops up and knuckles his forehead…seems he forgot he was on kitchen duty. "Maybe later, Theron," he chirps…and then he's gone. *ZOOOM*
Theron spins around and looks at the looming presence and he eyes him up and down. The other candidates rather quick departure gets the blonde blinking. "It's never too early for gambling. It's when I have some free time. So I might as well make the best of it. Gambling is allowed here at the Weyr, Sir?" He scrunches his nose up. "I needed to get new clothes that the Weyr hasn't supplied me. Figured I would try my hand at playing with some of these guys." He shrugs his shoulders. "Did you want to try a hand sir?"
The bronzerider chuckles for a moment, and notes, "No, lad. I don't gamble. I do that every time I have to take Darlth *between*, and that's risk enough for me. Now…if your complaint's the Weyr's not supplied you with clothes….that I can see to myself." He eyes the young man for a few moments, before he gestures, "Come on with me, and we'll get you something." On the subject of gambling being allowed he's mum. "I tell you, the Weyr's gone soft…when I was a Candidate, we didn't know the meaning of the word 'free time'." The grouse, though, sounds more tease…mostly.
Theron just looks at the bronzerider and he says to him, "It's not that the Weyr has not supplied me with clothes. I just can't seem to find stuff that fits me just right. Always just a little to small or a little too big. I think that I may have to just get some stuff custom tailored." He picks up the marks he had won and he stuffs them into the satchel that he has his medical supplies in. "We work hard, We earned some time off. All work and no play makes Candidates go crazy. I don't want to go crazy. I've been mucking the stables and feeding the runners and washing the runners. I didn't think it was possible to get to know any more about runners then I did."
Ur'con looks strangely skeptical at the young man's explination as to why he's not got clothes, and then he notes, "I think we can certainly find you something. It might be a well repaired hand me down, but you'll look a sight less raggabund in patches than wearing clothes not to your sizing. And better a bit too big than too small. Asides, should you Impress, the Weyr'll have to have you clothes made anyway, at least the basics."
Theron looks at Ur'con for a moment and he says, "I don't really like to take things I have not really earned. These are loaners. I can get my own stuff made from marks that I have earned." He smiles at Ur'con. "But I appreciate the offer sir. You do not have to do anything special for me." He looks at Ur'Con, "I am sorry, you mentioned your lifemates name. But I did not get yours. I am Theron." The blonde renegade turned candidate is sitting at a table with Ur'con still looming over him. The candidate was gambling and the people he was with have since dispersed for the most part.
Ur'con chuckles, "Marks in a weyr are for extras. Everyone deserves a meal and a set of clothes that fits. That's the wey of a Weyr." In other words, he's not taking no for an answer. "Get yourself out of that chair, lad, and come with me." It's almost an afterthought, "And another thing; it's wise to at least learn the names of the Wingleaders and their dragons. I'm Ur'con, bronze Darlth's, Phantasm Wingleader. And I don't want some holder's steward coming in here, finding our Candidates gambling in the middle of the day, dressed like a raggamuffin. I think you can probably appreciate the sense in that."
"The Weyr is really different from what I am used to. Tadarius didn't explain all this to me." Theron takes a deep breathe. "The difference is where I come from, no one gives you anything. You need to get it all by yourself." He does stand up when he is instructed to. "Alright sir, if you insist. Who am I to refuse a wingleader." He pauses. "Although, there are a lot of riders and dragons that I need to learn. I will try to get them all before the hatching." He pauses. "I guess that makes sense. I don't want to make the Weyr or candidates look bad. Don't want to give you all an excuse to give me the boot. I have no where else to go otherwise."
Ur'con chuckles snorts a bit, "We'll make weyrfolk of you, if you keep your nose clean. C'malong…we'll hit the stores and find you something." He pauses, "You don't mind the color purple, do you?"
Theron laughs, "I don't know, We'll have to see about that. Right now it's hard to think that I would someday be a part of the Weyr like that." He shakes his head. "Whatever you provide me with sir. If it's purple or polka dots. I am not going to complain as long as it fits." He puts on a genuine smile. "I have learned a long time ago to not complain, or look a gift runner in the mouth. We are resourceful people and we make do with what we get. It's better then making due with nothing." The renegade moves next to the bronzerider. "Thank you sir."
Ur'con gestures the Candidate along, though he's lost anything resembling a stern expression. He's downright companionable! "Anyone's welcome, lad, so long as they can make themselves useful, follow weyr law and weyr tradition, and doesn't make too much of a stink of themselves. If you Impress, none of that will matter…you'll be a dragonrider, and you'll learn what you need to know as a Weyrling. Trust me, I know…I was born and bred to crafters at Landing." He offers a slight grin, perhaps at some old memory. "So what have you turned your hand to so far, that suits you?"
The blonde renegade takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I don't know. I still feel like that Dragons didn't pick me because they thought I would be a good rider. Sometimes I feel like, they did it because they owed me." He looks down. "I hope that I can make myself useful. I don't have Hall training, but I have work experience working as a medic. I have learned all I could from the limited supplies that I had access to. I at least impressed some of the healers with the work I did stitching up Tadarius and J'yn. Even if others think my methods crude and they insisted on checking and rechecking my work. I have been avoiding the Infirmary because of that. I'm becoming a real pro at scooping up after the Runners at least."
The sounds of laughing and discussion filter up from the storage rooms as the boys draw closer, then what's clearly Fi's voice declares, "Dear Faranth! Is that supposed to be a shirt? How many arms does it have?" The offending garment, being held up for Miho, is truly a sight to behold, perhaps a weaver was practicing making sleeves that day because the poor mis-shapen thing has about fifteen of them sticking out at odd angles.
Ur'con gives a sympathetic chuckle, but notes, "You Impress, and you'll be wishing it was runner manure you were scooping. Dragonet droppings stink to high heavens…" He heads through a series of doorways and passages, before he comes to a busy intersection of caverns workers and bustling activity. "I don't know much about healing myself…not what I care to do…but if you've a mind to busy yourself, I doubt the Healers would object to you apprenticing. They make exception to age, now and again, for the talented…now where's Katli—-" His question gets cut short by the outburst of laugher, and for a moment his ears visibly prick. What the?
The stores aren't quite empty at this time of day it seems. A few feet from the entrance, a small figure is bent down over a cardboard box. Hair pulled up in a high runnerstail and wearing a longsleeved blue shirt with black pants, Miho rummages through the box. At Fi's declaration, the girl straightens up and hides a giggle behind her hand. "That's the worst thing I've ever seen…..Think we can get someone to wear it?"
Theron looks to the bronzerider. "You're not as uptight as I thought you were. The intimidation factor, kind of threw me off." He takes a deep breath. "I am thinking of just using the resources for now. I don't like people staring at me. Before I could slip into a Weyr and not have to worry about people judging me. They didn't know me from a hole in the wall. But then, I had to go and do something good." He stops when Ur'con cuts off and he arches a brow. His glanced heading towards the store room. "Everything alright Sir?"
Fiona actually grins at Miho, Ur'con would probably be shattered at the change the dour tech crafter has gone through since moving to the candidate barracks, "I don't know, honestly, I'm sure Loki would /love/ to turn it into a nest for the next wild green he knocks up." She turns the thing around in her hands, "Wonder if I could convince Eo it's the next best thing in fashion and I'll love her if she wears it."
Ur'con stares for several long moments, before he gets his wits back about him, and then shakes his head to Theron's question, "No, not at all…" But he clears his throat, "Fiona. Mihoyah…I have a task for you. I take it you're on Stores duty today? Or are you just looking for something to wear to the post Impression feast?"
"You think you could? Cause that'd be interesting…." There's another giggle from the glasscrafter before she hears a familiar Wingleader's voice and twists around. She gives a quick salute sort of thing before shaking her head. "Stores duty. Inventory stuf. Uh….What're you looking for?" A glance is given to the candidate beside Ur'con and Miho bites her lips and manages to look sheepish once she recognizes him. "Hi there."
Ur'con gestures to Theron, "This young man here…says we can't find him any suitable, fitting clothes from the Stores. I think I can SAFELY leave him in your hands, to find him two shirts and two pairs of pants that'll fit and make him look respectable if any dignitaries show up?" He eyes Fiona a moment, and then notes, "Use the backstock stuff if you need to, or well mended handme downs. Just make sure it fits!"
Theron looks at Ur'con and then he looks to Fiona and Mihoyan. The blonde frowns and he says, "Oh shards, she is not going to like me trying on clothes in front of her. Her head may go…BOOOOM." He throws his hands out as he makes the explosion noises too. "She freaked out when she saw me shirtless on the beach." He looks to Mihoyan, "I will take anything as longas it fits. I am not exactly concerned with fashion. Just practicality."
Fiona drops the offending garment the moment Ur'con enters the stores and pops a quick salute, "Oh, yes, of course sir. Not the feast, yes, we've been going through the hand-me-downs and lightly-useds." She nudges the many-armed shirt under the box and digs out a couple of the old purple shirts and trous from the cloth incident (tm) and tosses them towards Theron, "I'm a technician, not a weave, try those on for size?" She jerks her head to a pile of boxes he can change behind. No head-splodey for Miho.
Ur'con chuckles a bit at Fiona and then mock-bows to Theron, "There you go, lad. Don't let them put you in pink, but they can help you find exactly what you need…as for me, I have some paperwork to take care of. And don't let them being shy rattle you. You can go as shirtless as you like about a Weyr, within the concept of 'good taste'." He eyes Mihoyan…and then chuckles again, shaking his head.
Mihoyan coughs lightly and picks at the hem of her shirt. "I, uh….I'll just turn around. My head won't go….BOOM. See?" The glasscrafter turns around, crouching down next to the box and begins rummaging through it once more. "Let us know if those work or not." Miho has had more than enough head-splodey. Much more than enough. There's no comment about sense of good-taste, though the glasscrafter does redden a bit. "I think purple will be alright on him….Eh? You're leaving?" There's quick glance shot at Fio and then at Ur'con before there's a small quirk of a smile. What's Miho thinking now?
"You weren't joking about the purple were you?" He looks towards Ur'con, "It's alright. I can make purple look good. Is it the Weyr's colors? I didn't think it was but that sure is a lot of purple clothes." He looks towards Miho as Fiona directs him towards a pile of boxes to change behind. "I can only imagine what would happen if she saw me without my skivvies. I've had girls nearly faint, but I'd be arrested for the murder of another candidate." He laughs softly and goes behind the boxes to try on the clothes.
Fiona gives Ur'con big puppy-dog eyes that say 'pleeeaaase, don't leeeaaave me' then chuckles, "Naw, Eastern's colors are blue 'n' black 'n' silver, but Azura, the weyrwoman 'fore Syra, she spent near half the Weyr's coffers on bolts o' purple cloth, so we've got it in spades."