Opal: For Possibilities
In the midmorning of the twenty third day of the second month in the third turn, Auree meets Jessa in the Caucus Barracks. Jessa puts clothing away while Auree avoids doing homework. They find they have a common woe.
The Caucus barracks are empty, and only a couple of students occupy the commons, mid-morning. Jessa is humming to herself softly as she works her way along the crafter's section, arms piled high with folded clothes. The melody is slow and low, and occasionally marked with a swing of her hips as she sets down a slice of her burden on the end of a bed.
Seated on the edge of another bed, a hide resting on her lap and her back curled forward into one of those positions that etiquette teachers will briskly demand one sit up from, is Auree. She is not so intent on what she reads that soft humming cannot distract her, and the smith girl lifts her gaze as Jessa drifts past. "That's very nice," she offers.
Jessa blinks, pauses, then dips a quick curtsey. "Didn't realise it was out loud, ma'am," she murmurs, juggling the piles of clothes so she can lift one hand to tuck a strand of hair away behind her ear, and venturing a shy smile. Eyes down, she continues on, peeling off three pressed blouses, and settling them on the end of a bed.
There is the beginning of a smile as Jessa responds and though she does not actually voice it, the word 'ma'am' is mouthed as pale fingers begin to roll up the hide. "It was," Auree explains, "I liked it. What song was that?"
"Just a bit of nothing," Jessa murmurs, as she reaches the end of the row, and sets the remainder down on the bed there. "My Ma hummed it, I don't remember the words." She has another shy smile, as she straightens up her pile. "Things from home are nice. Do you know who wears this blue skirt? I thought it belonged to the Journeyman Smith, but I'm not sure."
"Penny?" The other journeyman smith leans forward a little to get a better look at the garment of unknown ownership. "I have not seen her wear it, but I've seen her wear things that are similar. It could be hers. Cot is just there." Auree holds out a hand and points to a bed only a couple past her own. "I'm Auree. Hello."
"Thank you, ma'am." The girl from the laundry walks over to set the skirt down, turning away from it to proffer another of her small curtseys. "Jessa. I'm interrupting your work, I'm sorry." She's not particularly apologetic, though - more, she's shyly friendly, lips tugged up to a small smile.
"Don't be," Auree offers allowing another one of her own faint smiles to appear in return. "I was looking for an interruption. "Do you know much about the weyr?"
"Oh no, nothing, I'm afraid." Jessa trips over herself to provide that answer, shaking her head firmly. "Just blouses, and skirts, and dresses and things." She returns to her stack, and pats it affectionately. "You pile them all up in the order of the beds, and then you can unpile them," she explains. "Except the last few bits, that we didn't have names for."
"I wonder how that happens," muses the smith "The lost names." As Jessa is also lacking in weyr experience, Auree offers a nod. "Me neither," she confesses. "It's different. Makes me homesick, a little."
"The girls who pick it all up don't take proper care, they..." Jessa's right ready to launch into that complaint, and she pulls herself up short, one finger coming to rest on her lips, shushing herself. A shake of her head denies further words, and she lifts the next embroidered blouse, tilting her head to one side as she examines it. "A little homesick," she agrees. "I have my brother here, I'm lucky. It's very strange, though."
"The baths," Auree adds quietly and with a soft laugh, though nothing to further explain why those words are spoken. Jessa is left to decide on her own. Interest is sparked, hazel eyes watching, as the blouse is unfolded. "Good stitching on that one. Nice pattern."
"I know, full of..." Jessa's eyes widen in almost comic dismay, her lips pressing together in a vain attempt to hide a smile. Once more, her finger comes up to her lips, failing to chase it away. Mouth quirking, she schools her face after a moment, and gives the blouse a shake. "It's beautiful," she agrees, wistful. "I'll hang it up where everyone can see, and whoever owns it can take it. That's what they said to do."
"Smart. Good advertising, too, for whoever made it. Maybe some names are intentionally lost?" Auree again studies the shirt before watching, instead, its carrier. "Full of /everybody/. It's awful." The baths.
Jessa laughs, gaze dipping as she turns away to hang the shirt, going up on her toes to snag it carefully on the hooks that are presently empty of coats, meant to serve those in the beds furthest from the door. "Full of everybody and his dog, wandering in and out, and just chatting away, as if..." She's shaking her head, as she turns back to the pile. "I know they're different, but if there was a man I... and he just..." Only head shaking will suffice to communicate the rest of that.
"Yes," and there is a gentle but certain sort of vehemence to the small word. "Exactly," Auree adds. "I try to pick odd hours, but somebody is always there. I keep wrapped in a towel. /In/ the water." She shakes her head. "Too different, sometimes. Common decency, even, is something else."
"They could at least pretend you're not there," Jessa adds, gentle indignation surfacing as she turns back to the pile. "I mean to say, if he came in, and I was there, I... At home, a man's got to marry me if he wants - and here, well, no. Not that he's going to look twice at me, he's..." She trails off there, colouring. "Well, if there was anyone, it'd be different at home. This one's very severe. I suppose it's the healer's."
"The healer's what?" Auree blinks once, slowly, as the hide is officially set aside to slowly uncoil beside her. "Oh. Shirt. You mean there’s /a/ somebody. How tricky." She leans forward a little. "Make him come, keep his back to you, shoo away others." There is a little lift of her lips to suggest that the smith is teasing, rather than offering sage advice.
"Shirt," Jessa agrees, before promptly lifting Medina's shirt to hide her face behind, although not in time to hide swift colour. "No, no, really, ma'am." The shirt comes down, just enough to reveal brown eyes, slightly widened. "He's very handsome, but he hasn't a thought for me, nor should he. But no harm in admiring, is there? Admire fine clothes, admire men of rank. Sometimes I think everything's prettier from far away anyway."
She laughs quietly. "Things are, prettier from far away. Look too closely and you see just the stitches and not the pattern. Have you seen the weyr from up high?" But Jessa is not given a chance to reply, because Auree suddenly snaps to attention. "Bother," she sighs, standing. "Class." The smith girl reaches for the coat draped at the edge of her bed, pulling it on. "Rank is different here, too," she offers as buttons are closed. "Well met, Jessa."
Though Jessa's lips are parted to reply, they're quick to close again, and she nods. Time for another curtsey, and she bobs it easily. "Thank you, ma'am." With another shy smile, she turns back to her contemplation of the unidentified clothes, reaching for the next.
Buttons done, Auree stuffs her hands into her pockets, but she doesn't move away just yet. "The baths. We might...I could be your lookout. If you'd be mine."
Oh. Jessa pauses, in lifting a blouse of fabric so fine that it surely belongs over nearer the Blooded beds. It's a few seconds before she turns her head, lips curving to one of her shy smiles again. "It would be nice, to have..." The girl from the laundry isn't sure what word to choose, and hesitates, but her nod completes the sentence for her.
"Yes," is the quiet agreement, "it would. Lonely here, sometimes, for all the crowds." Auree dips her head into a nod before stepping away from her bed and then moving out into the cold of the bowl.
"Yes'm." Jessa watches the smith depart, fingers curling around the fabric of the fine blouse, until she looks down with a start, hastily shaking out the creases she's created, and returning to work.
The Caucus barracks are empty, and only a couple of students occupy the commons, mid-morning. Jessa is humming to herself softly as she works her way along the crafter's section, arms piled high with folded clothes. The melody is slow and low, and occasionally marked with a swing of her hips as she sets down a slice of her burden on the end of a bed.
Seated on the edge of another bed, a hide resting on her lap and her back curled forward into one of those positions that etiquette teachers will briskly demand one sit up from, is Auree. She is not so intent on what she reads that soft humming cannot distract her, and the smith girl lifts her gaze as Jessa drifts past. "That's very nice," she offers.
Jessa blinks, pauses, then dips a quick curtsey. "Didn't realise it was out loud, ma'am," she murmurs, juggling the piles of clothes so she can lift one hand to tuck a strand of hair away behind her ear, and venturing a shy smile. Eyes down, she continues on, peeling off three pressed blouses, and settling them on the end of a bed.
There is the beginning of a smile as Jessa responds and though she does not actually voice it, the word 'ma'am' is mouthed as pale fingers begin to roll up the hide. "It was," Auree explains, "I liked it. What song was that?"
"Just a bit of nothing," Jessa murmurs, as she reaches the end of the row, and sets the remainder down on the bed there. "My Ma hummed it, I don't remember the words." She has another shy smile, as she straightens up her pile. "Things from home are nice. Do you know who wears this blue skirt? I thought it belonged to the Journeyman Smith, but I'm not sure."
"Penny?" The other journeyman smith leans forward a little to get a better look at the garment of unknown ownership. "I have not seen her wear it, but I've seen her wear things that are similar. It could be hers. Cot is just there." Auree holds out a hand and points to a bed only a couple past her own. "I'm Auree. Hello."
"Thank you, ma'am." The girl from the laundry walks over to set the skirt down, turning away from it to proffer another of her small curtseys. "Jessa. I'm interrupting your work, I'm sorry." She's not particularly apologetic, though - more, she's shyly friendly, lips tugged up to a small smile.
"Don't be," Auree offers allowing another one of her own faint smiles to appear in return. "I was looking for an interruption. "Do you know much about the weyr?"
"Oh no, nothing, I'm afraid." Jessa trips over herself to provide that answer, shaking her head firmly. "Just blouses, and skirts, and dresses and things." She returns to her stack, and pats it affectionately. "You pile them all up in the order of the beds, and then you can unpile them," she explains. "Except the last few bits, that we didn't have names for."
"I wonder how that happens," muses the smith "The lost names." As Jessa is also lacking in weyr experience, Auree offers a nod. "Me neither," she confesses. "It's different. Makes me homesick, a little."
"The girls who pick it all up don't take proper care, they..." Jessa's right ready to launch into that complaint, and she pulls herself up short, one finger coming to rest on her lips, shushing herself. A shake of her head denies further words, and she lifts the next embroidered blouse, tilting her head to one side as she examines it. "A little homesick," she agrees. "I have my brother here, I'm lucky. It's very strange, though."
"The baths," Auree adds quietly and with a soft laugh, though nothing to further explain why those words are spoken. Jessa is left to decide on her own. Interest is sparked, hazel eyes watching, as the blouse is unfolded. "Good stitching on that one. Nice pattern."
"I know, full of..." Jessa's eyes widen in almost comic dismay, her lips pressing together in a vain attempt to hide a smile. Once more, her finger comes up to her lips, failing to chase it away. Mouth quirking, she schools her face after a moment, and gives the blouse a shake. "It's beautiful," she agrees, wistful. "I'll hang it up where everyone can see, and whoever owns it can take it. That's what they said to do."
"Smart. Good advertising, too, for whoever made it. Maybe some names are intentionally lost?" Auree again studies the shirt before watching, instead, its carrier. "Full of /everybody/. It's awful." The baths.
Jessa laughs, gaze dipping as she turns away to hang the shirt, going up on her toes to snag it carefully on the hooks that are presently empty of coats, meant to serve those in the beds furthest from the door. "Full of everybody and his dog, wandering in and out, and just chatting away, as if..." She's shaking her head, as she turns back to the pile. "I know they're different, but if there was a man I... and he just..." Only head shaking will suffice to communicate the rest of that.
"Yes," and there is a gentle but certain sort of vehemence to the small word. "Exactly," Auree adds. "I try to pick odd hours, but somebody is always there. I keep wrapped in a towel. /In/ the water." She shakes her head. "Too different, sometimes. Common decency, even, is something else."
"They could at least pretend you're not there," Jessa adds, gentle indignation surfacing as she turns back to the pile. "I mean to say, if he came in, and I was there, I... At home, a man's got to marry me if he wants - and here, well, no. Not that he's going to look twice at me, he's..." She trails off there, colouring. "Well, if there was anyone, it'd be different at home. This one's very severe. I suppose it's the healer's."
"The healer's what?" Auree blinks once, slowly, as the hide is officially set aside to slowly uncoil beside her. "Oh. Shirt. You mean there’s /a/ somebody. How tricky." She leans forward a little. "Make him come, keep his back to you, shoo away others." There is a little lift of her lips to suggest that the smith is teasing, rather than offering sage advice.
"Shirt," Jessa agrees, before promptly lifting Medina's shirt to hide her face behind, although not in time to hide swift colour. "No, no, really, ma'am." The shirt comes down, just enough to reveal brown eyes, slightly widened. "He's very handsome, but he hasn't a thought for me, nor should he. But no harm in admiring, is there? Admire fine clothes, admire men of rank. Sometimes I think everything's prettier from far away anyway."
She laughs quietly. "Things are, prettier from far away. Look too closely and you see just the stitches and not the pattern. Have you seen the weyr from up high?" But Jessa is not given a chance to reply, because Auree suddenly snaps to attention. "Bother," she sighs, standing. "Class." The smith girl reaches for the coat draped at the edge of her bed, pulling it on. "Rank is different here, too," she offers as buttons are closed. "Well met, Jessa."
Though Jessa's lips are parted to reply, they're quick to close again, and she nods. Time for another curtsey, and she bobs it easily. "Thank you, ma'am." With another shy smile, she turns back to her contemplation of the unidentified clothes, reaching for the next.
Buttons done, Auree stuffs her hands into her pockets, but she doesn't move away just yet. "The baths. We might...I could be your lookout. If you'd be mine."
Oh. Jessa pauses, in lifting a blouse of fabric so fine that it surely belongs over nearer the Blooded beds. It's a few seconds before she turns her head, lips curving to one of her shy smiles again. "It would be nice, to have..." The girl from the laundry isn't sure what word to choose, and hesitates, but her nod completes the sentence for her.
"Yes," is the quiet agreement, "it would. Lonely here, sometimes, for all the crowds." Auree dips her head into a nod before stepping away from her bed and then moving out into the cold of the bowl.
"Yes'm." Jessa watches the smith depart, fingers curling around the fabric of the fine blouse, until she looks down with a start, hastily shaking out the creases she's created, and returning to work.