True Beauty Lies (Within)

Monaco Bay Weyr - Candidate and Weyrling Barracks
Huge in its own right, this series of interlinked caverns is the complex that houses both candidates and weyrlings. Fashioned out of a multitude of hollows, it serves as a central gathering area as well as classroom. A number of deep pockets have been laborously smoothed to provide comfortable dwellings for the young dragons and their riders away from the weather of the central area, and affording them some privacy but not much. Above, the cavern opens to the sky, holding out the worst of the island's weather but allowing an aerial exit and providing natural lighting to the area. Branching off from this cavern is an opening that leads to the exercise yard, and another carved passage that leads onto the hatching sands - though this entrance is typically closed tight to prevent mischief.

It's the hour most beloved by the candidates that remain, the one in which they're dismissed from chores and lessons to seek dinner, friends, family, passtimes, leisure - or, in the cases of some, escape. Brohdan's burst into the candidate barracks is… abrupt, the door that separates them from the caverns banged open wide. He lingers in the gaping maw of doorway that is left behind, wide-eyed and harried and very, very disheveled. "That is the last time I trade chores with any of you," the oversized candidate mutters as he finally realizes he's blocking the way of anyone else getting in. He drags sandalled feet to his cot, where they give up as he collapses to his cot with a whumpf. "Ah feck, the makeup." Because there sure is a lot of that, bright blue ringing his eyes, red splotched over his lips, short tufts of his hair bound up in bands and clips that makes him seem much more porcupine than candidate as he pushes himself back up with a groan and rummages through his stuff to find something, anything to help wash it off.

Really, Wendyn would likely have not noticed Brohdan's arrival had he come in at you know, a normal volume and pace, but instead his loud announcement of his presence has her looking up from where she is lazing in her cot, little bits of shiny balanced on a piece of paper on her chest - shinies which she grabs at frantically as she sits up, trying to get a better look at the large candidate as he closes the distance. Attempting to hide her giggle - she fails spectacularly don't worry - she is swinging her legs off her cot to lean towards him, even as her previous entertainment is shoved in a pocket. "Shards, you look -beautiful-." She gasps, even as she grins.

"If you please, next time, refrain from throwing me under the wher." Ityrziel snips, snippily, from the direction of his cot — where he is freshly scrubbed, but boy, does his face look raw. There's definitely still a rouge-y tint to his cheeks, too, or maybe that's just the scrubbing sand. You never know. "My cuticles will never be the same." The candidate frets, throwing himself backwards on his cot and nearly getting a faceful of a pair of kittens. The marbled, plus one of the others, both curled up on the end of the cot in a fluffy fur-bed — sent from a very fancy shop in Ierne, no doubt — don't look particularly pleased with this, but neither flee. Progress! "By the hearth, man, the hearth." The harper gestures for the basin of hot water and towels that may-or-may-not always be there, WHO KNOWS. Does he get up to assist in the endeavor? Rescue Brodie from himself? No, absolutely not. Tyr stays flat on his back, and it's probably because he's ignoring him that the young felines take up huffy residence on his chest instead of their bed. It doesn't seem to register in the candidate, who's examining his hands mournfully. Wendyn gets something like a reproachful look from the harper's slouch, but he's not offended enough to get up to be dramatic about it, obviously. "You try escaping them. Faranth. It's like they multiply every time you try and sneak away." Beat. Has Tyr noticed the shiny, the quick shuffling? …yeah, no, he's just as oblivious as ever, extremely distracted by the horrendously clashing shades of polish on his nails.

Brohdan is not amused, Wendyn! He expresses as much with a deadpan stare, the attempted-seriousness of it rather ruined by… well… that sparkly clip crowning his forehead, for starters. "Want some? I've plenty to share." He smudges a thumb over his lips, and sure enough it comes away gaudy red, and if the former Miner doesn't look out, she's going to get a pretty smear of it somewhere on her face! Wicked amusement colors blue eyes, eyes that then lift to catch on Ityrziel with a look that borders on piteous. "Listen. It was either you or my toes, and these are already bad enough." He, too, is sporting a beautiful purple shellac, staring down at the vivid colors in dismay before fixing Wendyn with a look. "Say, you're a girl." Nice of him to notice? "D'you know how to get this off?" He'll linger close for now, hoping beyond hope for an answer even as he sighs low and heavy for Tyr's drama, nodding with overemphatic solemnity. "Truly. It was a disaster. I hope your day went better." Is he eyeing that pockets where she just hid the preciouses? Mmmmaybeeee.

Don't worry, Bro, Wendyn is more than amused enough for the *both* of them. Eyes shift to that clip - so sparkly - before eyes slip back to his face as that red is wiped away from his lips and she is leaning back just slightly - though it does nothing to silence her giggles. Tilting her head towards the hearth, she waves a hand at Tyr-who-is-buried-in-kittens. "I would say he has the right of it. Maybe." Of course, maybe that will just make it worse, and that is certainly worth it. "And that, my dear friends, is why you just need to make sure they are scared of you." Children, scared of Wendyn? Probably not a stretch. "Or, like, bribe them or something."

This, well. This Tyr is here for. The harper inclines a little, or well, cranes his head at least, likely because Mrs. Marbles looks like she might skewer him on a paw if he moves too much. "It's only fair to share the bounty." The candidate points out, because if he had to suffer so does everybody else, because Tyr is a younger brother first and foremost. Look. Them's just the cards. "Your toes! Your toes, he says, look at my hands." Tyr all but wails, flailing a hand out, like flapping it back and forth makes it at all visible to Wendyn. "Of course I do. I had to remove it al-sharding-ready. Afraid, you say? How do you do that? They fear nothing, Wendyn, I'm telling you." Beat. Wide-eyed moue of utter sadness. "Much less me." Another pause, and Tyr narrows his eyes, thoughtful. "Bribe. What do kids like? Ah…pens? Rulers?" He has a bazzilionty nieces and nephews. HOW does he not have some idea.

Brohdan laughs when Wendyn leans out of the way of his swiping thumb, leaning in a fraction to accuse her of being, "No fun." There's no heat to it, though - even he doesn't want to be like this, evidenced by the trek he makes to fetch one of those towels. "Hmm," comes on a pause next to Tyr's cot on the way, taking that FLAP-FLAPPING hand in his own to consider it. Suspicious squint, and a push of the harper-candidate's fingers up against the materials of the bright flower-patterned shirt Brodie's wearing. "They made us match." A beat, a trail of his eyes back to Wendyn, tone grave as he says, "This is the level of evil we're dealing with." He abandons Tyr to his woes, wetting a cloth before he scrubs vigorously at the darkness that's been painted over his eyebrows first. "But I meant the nails." There's a helpless shrug for the topic of bribery - he's even more hapless with no youngins in his life for comparison. "I'm with Tyr - you should give us lessons in fear-mongering. I'm all ears, after this." He thumbs one such ear as a joke, and only then notices the stick-on earrings, tugging the polished stickers off with a grimace before flicking them into the hearth one after the other.

A smug look and a wrinkle of her noses and Wendyn is free - well, free-ish - all this laughing has probably set her up for some rather epic retribution karma wise. Hopefully those eggs hatch soon. "I would have thought you -liked- matching." The miner counters with a soft huff, even as she is settling to lean back on her cot once more, giving Tyr - or more specifically the cats with him - an almost jealous look. "You just have to make them think you'll leave them somewhere terrible. And then when they are good, give them candy and send them home." Pause. "I think it's how people train canines, or something. Positive reinforcement?" She considers the term for a second, before shrugging absently. "I think this is the part when I say, 'Shards, you clean up pretty well'?"
Tyr eyes that shirt like it's an affront (which is rich, coming from a guy who was definitely wearing a cravat a few shades darker) to his delicate senses, and groans like a wounded dray. "They do match, you're right." The harper cries, tragic, swiveling his head to eye Wendyn, betrayed. "Perhaps with my own outfits. With that?" The poor, unassuming shirt is gestured to, as Brodie wanders over to the hearth and the lovely bowl of salvation and towels. "Evil. You're right. That's calculated, too." He shuts up, though, contemplates Wendyn's wisdom with a narrow-eyed, thoughtful expression. Does he catch the earrings? NOPE. He's nothing if not predictably self-absorbed. A long beat, then the harper's nodding, humming under his breath. "Right. Positive reinforcement. The old carrot and stick. Only, they'd eat us alive if we tried to offer them carrots, I'm almost certain." At least he's figured that much out.

Oh… retribution is coming, perhaps swifter than she thinks. Brohdan's eyes linger on the once-miner for that 'cleaning up well' comment, a dangerous glitter of amusement running an undercurrent through his gaze. "You know, Tyr, if I didn't know better, I'd say we were being provoked." And of course you know, this means war. "I'm positive Neph keeps her makeup box beneath her bed. Perhaps Wen would like a makeover, too." Maybe - maybe - it's an idle threat, considering the oversized candidate isn't making to move closer just yet, lingering next to the hearth as he scrubs the cerulean from his eyelids. "Though I know you're not talking about my shirt like that, Ityrziel." Uh oh, the full name. Doom! "Not when you don literal frills on the daily." It doesn't seem to occur to him that they're both unfashionable and wrong. Typical. "Do you think that will work after this?," he asks Wendyn, lowering the towel to expose makeup that looks… well. It looks like he's gone and had a good cry, really, black and blue streaking damply down his cheeks. IS HE PRETTY NOW?

"Me? Provoking you? Never…" Wendyn says in such a tone that it is clear she has been spending far too much time hanging out with that sarcasm-dripping bronze of her brother's. As he threatens a makeover, she makes a face. "You wouldn't…" She counters, even as she is turning to glance towards Neph's cot, considering if she can make it there first - a consideration that evaporates as Tyr instead draws her attention back to him, and she snickers softly. "Definitely not carrots. I would, actually.. probably avoid anything even sort of healthy." And so she is distracted when Bro turns his head, and thus as her gaze wanders back, his appearance earns a shrieky yelp, as she jumps a little, eyes wide and starting at him silently - until the silence is broken.. by a hiccup.

Tyr, provoked? "She's not wrong. We certainly look better not covered in Madame Jevel's Best Rouge." He points out, deadpan, waits a beat before grinning, absently patting the kittens on his chest. They don't take his hands clean off, which, another improvement! "We can be reasonable, can't we?" The harper asks, maybe rhetorically. He's not going to do the footwork, anyways, but he does actually sit up in his cot, disrupting the violently-inclined kittens. "Wouldn't we? It only seems fair. Now — ow, kitten, that's my hand," That line of thought? The 'Neph is definitely scarier, we probably shouldn't' line? Yeah, that one flits right out the window, because one: OW, and two: "My accessories, Brohdan, are fashionable and practical." HOW? Who's to say. "You missed some, just…there." The candidate lies, through his teeth, pointing at his forehead. Mention the cheeks? Nah. That would be helpful. He watches poor Wendyn's terrorization by Brodiemonster, completely unruffled, depositing one kitten on the floor next to his cot like that might actually keep it from attacking him.

Brohdan is unconvinced by this dripping sarcasm, and demonstrates as much by laughing beneath that towel as he scrubs away. "Ah, no, brother Tyr, that is definitely provocation. I lived my whole life with Cassie - I would know." As for Wendyn: "Oh, I most certainly would. Just as soon as I—" SCARE HER? Apparently! Brohdan 'gah!'s in response to her shrieky noise, whipping around as though expecting to find a tunnelsnake or a spiderclaw or even the ghost of turnovers-past lurking behind him. "What? What is it? Is it a bug?" His voice creeps up a surprising number of octaves before Tyr says it's him, and, well. If you look up 'gullible' in a dictionary, there Brodie is, probably. Ignoring that his eyes make him look like a very tall nightmare-fiend, he scrubs furiously at the spot indicated on his forehead, grinding away at his own skin before looking poor Wendyn dead in the eye and asking, "Did I get it?" Faranth… At least he's given up on chasing her own with Neph's makeup for the moment? He's squinting his eyes instead, looking vaguely worried as he says, "I thought scares cured hiccups?" Is this another thing he's been lied about his whole country-bumpkin life? Help?

Shoulders start shaking, and Wendyn is curling up around her stomach, the silent giggles shaking her entire body, though the laughter is punctuated now and again by a quick 'pop' as she hiccups, face turning pink, and then red as Bro scrubs away at his face, eyes drifting towards Tyr, before trying to calm her giggles enough to manage a response. "To-" Hiccup. "tally." She finally manages, before she is giggling once more, pulling a leg to her chest, and waving off the question as to the relationship between scares and hiccups. "It.." Hiccup. "It just happens sometimes."

Poor Brodie. Poor Wen. ALAS, all of them. "Cassie thinks he knows." Tyr allows with a vague wobble of his head, eyes cutting towards the other candidate's bunk, amused. Bless Brodie, though, Tyr's much more amused by the poor guy's flailing, trying to figure out what could be so spooky (hint: Reya would absolutely approve) around them. "Not a bug," The harper does allow, graciously, because he's not a total ass. "I haven't seen any since Cluckleston and Drumstick One And Two moved in." Is that their name? PROBABLY NOT. Totally besides the point, though, since Tyr's gallantly standing, favoring Wendyn with a sheepish grin. "Let me go get you some water. I bet you can't drink the whole thing in one go." HE DOUBLE DOG DARES YOU. Or he will. Once he figures out where all the cups have gotten to, and, you know. The water pitcher. He'll get there, kitten clinging to his pajama'd leg ferociously, some day.

Brohdan can't help it - Wendyn's laughter is contagious, especially because it's riddled with hiccups, each and every pop redoubling his own chuckles until he's bent over, hands pressed to his kneecaps, fighting for air. "Your face," he manages after a moment, "so red…" Hypocrite! "Ah, but I needed that. Heh. Heheh." He almost tumbles into more laughs, but sets about wiping the rouge from his lips instead, making a face when he makes several passes and it's still coming. "How? Hhhhhow? How is there so much of it?" Worst. Day. Ever! Not believing Wendyn's broken 'totally' even slightly, Brohdan winds the makeup-ridden cloth up into a ball and hurls it at her, laughing as he says, "Suddenly I don't trust either of you. I'm going to the bathing caverns. Maybe I'll just… let it all soak off?" He's going to scare the literal bejeezus out of every single person he meets along the way, looking like that (there's a proud Reya out there in the world somewhere, INDEED) but what's a little terror amongst friends? "You're a good man, Tyr." SHOULDER CLAP. "And I'll be back for you." Fingers point from his eyes to Wendyn's, promising that retribution!… Just. You know. Later. After he realizes just how badly he was lied to. Dun dun dun!!

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