[Maitrey] Maitrey and Genefra on needles-in-haystacks.
RL Date: 10/1/09
IC Date: 11/26/20
Lakeshore, Fort Weyr
The lake's shore is a broad crescent of golden-hued sand, stretching from the southwest wall near the feeding grounds and arcing toward the southeast and overlooking the blue waters of the lake. Where the lake deepens, that water turns a murkier blue-green, hiding an untold number of perils in its depths. It is an oft-used location for dragons seeking a place to sun or for residents and riders who feel a need to take a stroll; the sand is generally kept pretty clean and while there are no shells, there are periodic bits of obsidian and other volcanic stones to be found if one feels like picking around.
Supposedly, Maitrey is meant to be inside, cleaning up storerooms or some other such chore. But on a day like today, how is a young man supposed to stay indoors and dust stuff and rearrange boxes and what-not? So the harper-turned-candidate is out here, sitting in the gravel where it just starts to turn into sand at the edge of the lake, doing nothing more industrious than building a sand-castle-- which he seems to be marginally good at, though he's busy blowing on damp-sand-cold fingers at the moment, chafing them in a self-granted break.
Lucky Genefra with a rest day, she doesn't even have to make excuses for being out in the sunshine! She's had a good long meander through the bowl, probably spending as much time peering at interesting rocks, saying hello to random strangers and occasional friends, and so on as actually walking. She comes up on the lake, bundled against the cool possibly better than is really necessary, and probably registers Maitrey as 'someone doing something interesting' long before she registers who he actually is. "Hello!" from a distance with a wave. Then, closer, "Oh, hi! Whatcha doing?" This being Genefra, she doesn't really stop and wait for an answer, of course. "It's really nice out today! All that rain we had and I thought I was going to shrivel up and die being stuck inside so much, I really did. I mean, I didn't really, but you get the idea. And now it's all sunshine and nice breeze and I have a rest day and all is right with the world, isn't it?"
Maitrey never really gets around to answering the what-he's-doing; by the time he might have, one can assume Genefra's close enough (and smart enough) to figure it out on her own. So he goes back to patting the columns of his sandcastle now that his fingers aren't bitter red any more, looking up for a few extra seconds till Genefra's appropriately in range that he can hear her without needing to lip-read to be sure he's getting it all. "You tell me, Genefra. Is it? Does a rest day make all right with the world?" he asks, loftily philosophical in tone.
Quite smart enough to recognize sand sculpture when she sees it, yes, Genefra hunkers down closer to have a good look, not so close that losing balance might involve putting a hand through it. Philosophy, however, of any complicated variety may be beyond her. "Well, I can't think of anything wrong, so it seems pretty right to me. It's a very nice day. And I haven't even been bored all day. I've met three different people who didn't know I was a Candidate yet." Three! Imagine people being so completely inobservant. "And telling more people is fun. And everybody says such nice things! I can't think of a thing wrong in the whole world right now. Aren't you having a nice day?"
"Have you thought about wearing a knot? I imagine that would cut down on the number of people who fail to notice your candidacy." Maitrey, of course, neglects to wear his. But, then, he's not in the business of advertising that fact, and seems pretty happy out here building sandcastles and not being expected to dust storerooms. "Although, where you would put a knot..." With a glance to Genefra's dressed-too-warm attire. "Does your mother still pick out your winter clothes?" he guesses with an amused lip-twitch, pat-patting pointlessly at his masterpiece.
"Um, I do, sometimes? But I keep forgetting. And anyway, even if they notice the knot they haven't heard the story, and the story's important, isn't it?" And will remain so until people get so sick of hearing about the firelizard and the sweater that people start avoiding her entirely, probably. Genefra is distracted from this subject, however, by this whole business of clothing. A burst of, "No!" And then a scowl, except she's not terribly good at the scowling business. "Why does everybody ask that? It's just chilly. I wanted to stay warm. It's better to err on the side of caution, y'know, and all that? You could get pneumonia or something. But it's pretty neat anyhow." His masterpiece, of course.
Calmly deduced; "So, you do actually want people to ask you about being a candidate?" Maitrey squints with extra dubiousness at Genefra for that question, like she's some foreign little thing, though the over-the-topness would betray the lack of authenticity. For her no!, he ducks in the same dramatic way, lifts a sandy hand like he needs to protect his head somehow, and adds a hasty, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's only that you tend to talk about your mother in terms of meddlesome, so I thought perhaps... I suppose as long as you're warm, it doesn't matter. Though, aren't you a little too warm?"
Big beam. Genefra has at least caught on that this is something after the vein of teasing. "Well, why not? I think it's not any different than I'd want everybody to know if something else fantastic happened to me. And nothing else really fantastic has happened to me before, so I've got a lot of saved-up excitement, maybe. Anyway, it's okay. She used to, my mom. So I probably shouldn't pick. I don't think I'm too warm, just yet. Just cozy. It's nice to be warm, when it's chilly out. Aside from the not-getting-pneumonia part, which is important." She rocks backward to sit down properly, tugging down her coat as she does so she's sitting on that instead of her heels.
"It's just that you said it like you were surprised or bothered that /three people/," with an effort to replicate her tones, "didn't already know. It sounded a little like you were upset to have to keep telling people, rather than excited to get to keep telling people." More fool Maitrey for thinking he can make sense out of Genefra, huh? "Where is it that you came from, before here? You lived here, went somewhere else, came back here?" This while he eyes her bundling, his own heels digging in to bracket the sandcastle, bracing in the sand so he can rest his elbows on them.
At leats Genefra is more than willing to explain: "I thought I'd already told everybody I knew! So that was a surprise, that I hadn't yet. I should have made up a list and crossed people off." Her eyes get real big, then, and she leans forward, resting her hands on her knees. "Benden. Benden Weyr, before. For awhile. I forgot about that! I have to send letters, too. I didn't even think about that. Although, maybe I should wait. Then send letters if I Impress? I don't know if I want some of those people knowing if I don't. That would be embarrassing."
Commendable seriousness; "Perhaps we could make a banner?" Maitrey illustrates the drape of it with one finger, showing the way it might hang between two columns on his castle, finally to dismiss the idea with a quick shake of his head. "Why would it be embarrassing? It happens to people all the time, doesn't it? There are already twenty of us or so, and there certainly aren't twenty eggs." Party line: "It's an honor to be asked to stand, yes?"
Lips twist up with pondering over that. "Well, I mean, yes, of course it is. But... a couple people did make fun of a girl I knew who didn't Impress? And that wasn't very nice at all." Everything in Genefra's life seems to be defined by its niceness or lack thereof. "Will think it over." She sits back again, goes to cross her legs, seems halfway through to decide against it on the grounds of, well, the ground--it is still kind of cold and damp and there's a limit to how much contact she seems willing to engage in. "There'll be a lot more by the time the Hatching comes, too. Are you excited? You don't really act all that excited." Not that many people are really capable of what would be over-the-top enough to count as 'excitement' in her book.
"If you don't Impress," Maitrey begins, stressing the /if/ pretty well in that, "and anyone makes fun of you for it, let me know? We'll certainly make them sorry for teasing you." The pen being mightier, and all. While Genefra fidgets against the ground, he seems pretty okay there, certainly not overly bothered by the lack of padding between himself and potentially cold-damp-sand. "Yes, usually on the order of twice as many candidates as eggs? Which goes back to the idea that it's really not worth mocking a person if they don't Impress. It's like mocking a person for not finding a needle in a haystack." As to his level of excitement, there's a short laugh and, "I'm not sure yet. Will think it over." Intentionally parroting her there, yes.
"I think," Genefra muses, "that there are usually more than twice as many pieces of hay than needles in a haystack. Well, usually there probably aren't any needles in haystacks, probably, but if you put one needle in a haystack then there'd probably be like..." Pause. "Well, lots more hay." She at least isn't going to launch off into specific estimates. Then there's blushing, possibly for the extended metaphor, possibly not. "You're very nice. People here are nice. Most of them, anyhow. I know more nice people here than not-very-nice people instead of vice versa, which is..." Pause. She's obviously trying to find some word other than 'nice'. "...Pleasant."
Smirking, though ducking his head as if to hide it in a cast of shadow, Maitrey points out, "I suppose that depends on how big of a haystack you're thinking of compared to the size of the ones I'm thinking of. Perhaps, in my world, haystacks are considerably smaller-- and needles are considerably larger?" He digs his fingers into the nearly-dry side of his sand construction, then, scraping away some rough grooves into the columns, he nods satisfactorily for the compliment. "Thank you. I strive to be decent at least. But you seem surprised. Was Benden not known for its niceness?"
The redhead shakes her head very quickly, fast enough for her hair to fly. "It's not that everybody there's not nice or anything. Just some people aren't and... I don't know. I've only met... two people so far who didn't seem mostly nice, I think. And one of them I think might just be lonesome." Genefra rests one elbow on a knee, the side of her head in her hand. "If your world has haystacks like that, it must be very strange indeed. And not very practical. But sometimes being practical is overrated." Says she of the over-bundling.
To the size and practicality of his haystacks, Maitrey can only shrug as if helplessly, the matter beyond his control, poor boy. To the niceness of people-- "Lonely, she says. Tell me, Genefra, who have you met that might be lonely?" As if the deductions of sixteen year old girls are so very interesting.
Faint blush rising again. "There was a man at supper one day--I mean, not that way. Obviously! He wasn't very nice, but then he went on quite a bit about how he didn't have people, he didn't need people. That sort of thing." She waves her hand in an 'and so forth' kind of gesture. "So it seemed like the sort of unpleasantness that comes from not knowing how to deal with people? Maybe?" Genefra says it all brightly enough, so this is probably not the sort of someone who resulted in her in tears. Probably.
"It does seem," Maitrey begins with an inhale and a frown, "that a person who goes to all the trouble of saying he has no one and needs no one probably does need someone more than the rest of us, doesn't it? Like the little children that insist the loudest they aren't the ones stealing from the cookie jar, they always wind up the ones with crumbs in their pockets when you check."
Quirk of a grin. "See? Yes. Yes, that. But. Not really the sort of person who'd be my friend, anyhow. Very--" Genefra here pauses to ponder over a word again. "Well, you know. Not my age? Older by a lot? I hope he finds friends, though. It makes me a little sad to think about people not having friends. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have anybody to talk to." To, at, whichever. "I would be terrible lonesome. And probably bored. I'd end up having conversations with rocks, maybe, and then everybody would think I was crazy and pitiful and I wouldn't want that so I might as well find people to talk to instead."
Truly if merrily, Maitrey answers, "I don't imagine you will ever want for people to talk to, Genefra." Or plants or birds or rocks, yes, he nods along with her addition of those like she's taken the words right out of his mouth. "Though, it does beg the question, what if the rocks are lonely with no one to talk to them? Very likely, most people are worried they'll look a bit off having chats with boulders, so the boulders wind up sitting in lonely silence. --Demolish this for me?" The sandcastle, he means, gestured to with one hand while he uses the other hand to start pushing himself up from his rump to his feet.
"Now," says Genefra with tone scolding but a little smile, "you're just playing with me. That's not very nice! Rocks aren't people. It's not even very easy to pretend they're people." Which probably means that at least at some point in the past, she did try. But then she just blinks at him, then at his sand castle, then back at him again. "What, demolish it? But it's so nice! I mean, I know at some point somebody will, or the wind will blow it off or something, but to just wreck it seems like such a pity... and besides, that's only really fun barefoot."
"Probably I am, yes," Maitrey admits once he's on his feet, dusting off some sand with a glance backward at where it falls. To be sure it doesn't blow over into Genefra's face or anything. "And I'd rather if you kicked it over? Then at least I know that it would suffer a humane demise instead of being ruthlessly pounded by someone less likely to treat it well, or to just sit here and crumble sadly all night long." Hitching his head back toward the general direction of the caverns, he adds, "I have to go inside. Try to stay warm." Also just playing with her that time, yeah. Wheeling, hands pocketed, he strolls off.
Put that way--well, Genefra can hardly say no. So she doesn't say no, just, "See you later," lingering there for awhile. And if at some point later, well, if she ends up back in the caverns with sand in her socks and shoes, it was necessary euthanasia. Obviously.
IC Date: 11/26/20
Lakeshore, Fort Weyr
The lake's shore is a broad crescent of golden-hued sand, stretching from the southwest wall near the feeding grounds and arcing toward the southeast and overlooking the blue waters of the lake. Where the lake deepens, that water turns a murkier blue-green, hiding an untold number of perils in its depths. It is an oft-used location for dragons seeking a place to sun or for residents and riders who feel a need to take a stroll; the sand is generally kept pretty clean and while there are no shells, there are periodic bits of obsidian and other volcanic stones to be found if one feels like picking around.
Supposedly, Maitrey is meant to be inside, cleaning up storerooms or some other such chore. But on a day like today, how is a young man supposed to stay indoors and dust stuff and rearrange boxes and what-not? So the harper-turned-candidate is out here, sitting in the gravel where it just starts to turn into sand at the edge of the lake, doing nothing more industrious than building a sand-castle-- which he seems to be marginally good at, though he's busy blowing on damp-sand-cold fingers at the moment, chafing them in a self-granted break.
Lucky Genefra with a rest day, she doesn't even have to make excuses for being out in the sunshine! She's had a good long meander through the bowl, probably spending as much time peering at interesting rocks, saying hello to random strangers and occasional friends, and so on as actually walking. She comes up on the lake, bundled against the cool possibly better than is really necessary, and probably registers Maitrey as 'someone doing something interesting' long before she registers who he actually is. "Hello!" from a distance with a wave. Then, closer, "Oh, hi! Whatcha doing?" This being Genefra, she doesn't really stop and wait for an answer, of course. "It's really nice out today! All that rain we had and I thought I was going to shrivel up and die being stuck inside so much, I really did. I mean, I didn't really, but you get the idea. And now it's all sunshine and nice breeze and I have a rest day and all is right with the world, isn't it?"
Maitrey never really gets around to answering the what-he's-doing; by the time he might have, one can assume Genefra's close enough (and smart enough) to figure it out on her own. So he goes back to patting the columns of his sandcastle now that his fingers aren't bitter red any more, looking up for a few extra seconds till Genefra's appropriately in range that he can hear her without needing to lip-read to be sure he's getting it all. "You tell me, Genefra. Is it? Does a rest day make all right with the world?" he asks, loftily philosophical in tone.
Quite smart enough to recognize sand sculpture when she sees it, yes, Genefra hunkers down closer to have a good look, not so close that losing balance might involve putting a hand through it. Philosophy, however, of any complicated variety may be beyond her. "Well, I can't think of anything wrong, so it seems pretty right to me. It's a very nice day. And I haven't even been bored all day. I've met three different people who didn't know I was a Candidate yet." Three! Imagine people being so completely inobservant. "And telling more people is fun. And everybody says such nice things! I can't think of a thing wrong in the whole world right now. Aren't you having a nice day?"
"Have you thought about wearing a knot? I imagine that would cut down on the number of people who fail to notice your candidacy." Maitrey, of course, neglects to wear his. But, then, he's not in the business of advertising that fact, and seems pretty happy out here building sandcastles and not being expected to dust storerooms. "Although, where you would put a knot..." With a glance to Genefra's dressed-too-warm attire. "Does your mother still pick out your winter clothes?" he guesses with an amused lip-twitch, pat-patting pointlessly at his masterpiece.
"Um, I do, sometimes? But I keep forgetting. And anyway, even if they notice the knot they haven't heard the story, and the story's important, isn't it?" And will remain so until people get so sick of hearing about the firelizard and the sweater that people start avoiding her entirely, probably. Genefra is distracted from this subject, however, by this whole business of clothing. A burst of, "No!" And then a scowl, except she's not terribly good at the scowling business. "Why does everybody ask that? It's just chilly. I wanted to stay warm. It's better to err on the side of caution, y'know, and all that? You could get pneumonia or something. But it's pretty neat anyhow." His masterpiece, of course.
Calmly deduced; "So, you do actually want people to ask you about being a candidate?" Maitrey squints with extra dubiousness at Genefra for that question, like she's some foreign little thing, though the over-the-topness would betray the lack of authenticity. For her no!, he ducks in the same dramatic way, lifts a sandy hand like he needs to protect his head somehow, and adds a hasty, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's only that you tend to talk about your mother in terms of meddlesome, so I thought perhaps... I suppose as long as you're warm, it doesn't matter. Though, aren't you a little too warm?"
Big beam. Genefra has at least caught on that this is something after the vein of teasing. "Well, why not? I think it's not any different than I'd want everybody to know if something else fantastic happened to me. And nothing else really fantastic has happened to me before, so I've got a lot of saved-up excitement, maybe. Anyway, it's okay. She used to, my mom. So I probably shouldn't pick. I don't think I'm too warm, just yet. Just cozy. It's nice to be warm, when it's chilly out. Aside from the not-getting-pneumonia part, which is important." She rocks backward to sit down properly, tugging down her coat as she does so she's sitting on that instead of her heels.
"It's just that you said it like you were surprised or bothered that /three people/," with an effort to replicate her tones, "didn't already know. It sounded a little like you were upset to have to keep telling people, rather than excited to get to keep telling people." More fool Maitrey for thinking he can make sense out of Genefra, huh? "Where is it that you came from, before here? You lived here, went somewhere else, came back here?" This while he eyes her bundling, his own heels digging in to bracket the sandcastle, bracing in the sand so he can rest his elbows on them.
At leats Genefra is more than willing to explain: "I thought I'd already told everybody I knew! So that was a surprise, that I hadn't yet. I should have made up a list and crossed people off." Her eyes get real big, then, and she leans forward, resting her hands on her knees. "Benden. Benden Weyr, before. For awhile. I forgot about that! I have to send letters, too. I didn't even think about that. Although, maybe I should wait. Then send letters if I Impress? I don't know if I want some of those people knowing if I don't. That would be embarrassing."
Commendable seriousness; "Perhaps we could make a banner?" Maitrey illustrates the drape of it with one finger, showing the way it might hang between two columns on his castle, finally to dismiss the idea with a quick shake of his head. "Why would it be embarrassing? It happens to people all the time, doesn't it? There are already twenty of us or so, and there certainly aren't twenty eggs." Party line: "It's an honor to be asked to stand, yes?"
Lips twist up with pondering over that. "Well, I mean, yes, of course it is. But... a couple people did make fun of a girl I knew who didn't Impress? And that wasn't very nice at all." Everything in Genefra's life seems to be defined by its niceness or lack thereof. "Will think it over." She sits back again, goes to cross her legs, seems halfway through to decide against it on the grounds of, well, the ground--it is still kind of cold and damp and there's a limit to how much contact she seems willing to engage in. "There'll be a lot more by the time the Hatching comes, too. Are you excited? You don't really act all that excited." Not that many people are really capable of what would be over-the-top enough to count as 'excitement' in her book.
"If you don't Impress," Maitrey begins, stressing the /if/ pretty well in that, "and anyone makes fun of you for it, let me know? We'll certainly make them sorry for teasing you." The pen being mightier, and all. While Genefra fidgets against the ground, he seems pretty okay there, certainly not overly bothered by the lack of padding between himself and potentially cold-damp-sand. "Yes, usually on the order of twice as many candidates as eggs? Which goes back to the idea that it's really not worth mocking a person if they don't Impress. It's like mocking a person for not finding a needle in a haystack." As to his level of excitement, there's a short laugh and, "I'm not sure yet. Will think it over." Intentionally parroting her there, yes.
"I think," Genefra muses, "that there are usually more than twice as many pieces of hay than needles in a haystack. Well, usually there probably aren't any needles in haystacks, probably, but if you put one needle in a haystack then there'd probably be like..." Pause. "Well, lots more hay." She at least isn't going to launch off into specific estimates. Then there's blushing, possibly for the extended metaphor, possibly not. "You're very nice. People here are nice. Most of them, anyhow. I know more nice people here than not-very-nice people instead of vice versa, which is..." Pause. She's obviously trying to find some word other than 'nice'. "...Pleasant."
Smirking, though ducking his head as if to hide it in a cast of shadow, Maitrey points out, "I suppose that depends on how big of a haystack you're thinking of compared to the size of the ones I'm thinking of. Perhaps, in my world, haystacks are considerably smaller-- and needles are considerably larger?" He digs his fingers into the nearly-dry side of his sand construction, then, scraping away some rough grooves into the columns, he nods satisfactorily for the compliment. "Thank you. I strive to be decent at least. But you seem surprised. Was Benden not known for its niceness?"
The redhead shakes her head very quickly, fast enough for her hair to fly. "It's not that everybody there's not nice or anything. Just some people aren't and... I don't know. I've only met... two people so far who didn't seem mostly nice, I think. And one of them I think might just be lonesome." Genefra rests one elbow on a knee, the side of her head in her hand. "If your world has haystacks like that, it must be very strange indeed. And not very practical. But sometimes being practical is overrated." Says she of the over-bundling.
To the size and practicality of his haystacks, Maitrey can only shrug as if helplessly, the matter beyond his control, poor boy. To the niceness of people-- "Lonely, she says. Tell me, Genefra, who have you met that might be lonely?" As if the deductions of sixteen year old girls are so very interesting.
Faint blush rising again. "There was a man at supper one day--I mean, not that way. Obviously! He wasn't very nice, but then he went on quite a bit about how he didn't have people, he didn't need people. That sort of thing." She waves her hand in an 'and so forth' kind of gesture. "So it seemed like the sort of unpleasantness that comes from not knowing how to deal with people? Maybe?" Genefra says it all brightly enough, so this is probably not the sort of someone who resulted in her in tears. Probably.
"It does seem," Maitrey begins with an inhale and a frown, "that a person who goes to all the trouble of saying he has no one and needs no one probably does need someone more than the rest of us, doesn't it? Like the little children that insist the loudest they aren't the ones stealing from the cookie jar, they always wind up the ones with crumbs in their pockets when you check."
Quirk of a grin. "See? Yes. Yes, that. But. Not really the sort of person who'd be my friend, anyhow. Very--" Genefra here pauses to ponder over a word again. "Well, you know. Not my age? Older by a lot? I hope he finds friends, though. It makes me a little sad to think about people not having friends. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have anybody to talk to." To, at, whichever. "I would be terrible lonesome. And probably bored. I'd end up having conversations with rocks, maybe, and then everybody would think I was crazy and pitiful and I wouldn't want that so I might as well find people to talk to instead."
Truly if merrily, Maitrey answers, "I don't imagine you will ever want for people to talk to, Genefra." Or plants or birds or rocks, yes, he nods along with her addition of those like she's taken the words right out of his mouth. "Though, it does beg the question, what if the rocks are lonely with no one to talk to them? Very likely, most people are worried they'll look a bit off having chats with boulders, so the boulders wind up sitting in lonely silence. --Demolish this for me?" The sandcastle, he means, gestured to with one hand while he uses the other hand to start pushing himself up from his rump to his feet.
"Now," says Genefra with tone scolding but a little smile, "you're just playing with me. That's not very nice! Rocks aren't people. It's not even very easy to pretend they're people." Which probably means that at least at some point in the past, she did try. But then she just blinks at him, then at his sand castle, then back at him again. "What, demolish it? But it's so nice! I mean, I know at some point somebody will, or the wind will blow it off or something, but to just wreck it seems like such a pity... and besides, that's only really fun barefoot."
"Probably I am, yes," Maitrey admits once he's on his feet, dusting off some sand with a glance backward at where it falls. To be sure it doesn't blow over into Genefra's face or anything. "And I'd rather if you kicked it over? Then at least I know that it would suffer a humane demise instead of being ruthlessly pounded by someone less likely to treat it well, or to just sit here and crumble sadly all night long." Hitching his head back toward the general direction of the caverns, he adds, "I have to go inside. Try to stay warm." Also just playing with her that time, yeah. Wheeling, hands pocketed, he strolls off.
Put that way--well, Genefra can hardly say no. So she doesn't say no, just, "See you later," lingering there for awhile. And if at some point later, well, if she ends up back in the caverns with sand in her socks and shoes, it was necessary euthanasia. Obviously.