(no subject)
Faranth.
Generally like Xorvian okay. After today, though, starting to wonder if maybe prevailing attitude is correct.
Neana blames herself for the fight. Spent a long time talking her down from it. I figure: Xorvian is a jackass, but I can deal with it. But he sent ripples. And ripples hurt others.
Had been feeling vaguely like shit because assigned punishment seemed it would be worse for Xorvian than for me. Now thinking maybe it's more justified than I thought.
Asked Neana to talk to Tuval. She is feeling like a slut or something now, and that's not right. But I can't tell her things I'd like to, because of the flirting. Would be too awkward.
This sucks. Pissed at Xorvian.
Jackass.
Tuval,
I sent Neana to talk to you. Please, please reassure her that she's not a slut and that wearing a bikini in Ista on the beach is not a bad thing and that Xorvian and I got into a fight because we are immature prats and not because of her.
Thanks,
Brady
In the quiet of the workroom, Brady is bent without complaint to his labor of the day: cutting and rolling bandages. There are a lot of bandages to be rolled, and entire bolts of fabric are piled on the table in front of him. His hands move in quick, steady motions: there is something calming about the monotony of bandage-rolling.
Neana enters the room with a large basket of freshly-washed-and-dried sheets obscuring her vision, her voice penetrating the quiet with it's ring as she announces that, "I'm coming through, watch out!" A soft bump sees her steering herself and the basket Brady-wards, entirely by chance, of course.
Oop, and there goes the reverie. Brady's hands still for a moment as he looks up, spotting Neana's approach. After a brief hesitation, he offers her a nod of greeting and resumes his bandage-wrapping, his hands resuming their steady motion. "Good morning," he says easily.
Neana dumps her basket on a nearby clear table, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Journeyman Brady." She finally ventures with an awkward inflection, her eyes searching his face for some sort of clue on how to act. Reach for a sheet, girl! Unfortunately, hands stay still for the moment.
Brady is mostly just continuing with his work; his eyes move over Neana's pile of cloth and he asks, his tone easy and relaxed: "You on bandage duty, too, or is that bedding that needs folding?"
"Um, bedding." Which is reached for as Brady references it, and Neana starts to fold. Awkwardly. As awkwardly as one probably could fold, if trying. To fold awkwardly. "Sir, I -" Pause. Fold, fold, fold. "I wouldn't have said anything, sir. And I was going to come to you and Journeyman Xorvian about the volleyball thing."
That gives Brady pause for a moment. He continues to wrap his bandages, but he doesn't speak, his forehead creasing. "I didn't talk to Master Taree because I was afraid you were going to turn me in, Neana," he says finally. "I talked to her because I'd violated my oaths as a Healer, and if I didn't report that, I would be living a lie. I'm only sorry I had to make the decision for Journeyman Xorvian as well as myself."
Neana doesn't pause even a second after that. "Well, I just wanted you to know, I'm not some lying, blackmailing weyrscum, or anything. I've got morals, too." They just don't involve her apparel, is all! "Y'know, all you did was get in a punch-up. They happen all the time, in pubs and stuff."
"But they shouldn't happen between healers," Brady says simply. "We take an oath to do no harm, and when I took a swing at Xorvian, I was violating that oath." He tucks in the end of the bandage into the roll, then takes up a new strip, starting slowly. "And there's a difference between getting into a brawl at a pub and taking a swing at someone who's not expecting it on the beach."
Neana doesn't argue with that, simply adding a quick, "Yes, sir," at the end. She's quiet for the folding of a few sheets, using the lull in conversation to process the response. "I understand if you'd rather run alone in the mornings from now on, sir. And I won't talk with you unless I'm dressed appropriately from now on." She drawls, eyes locked on her work.
Brady hesitates at that. After a few seconds, he places the bandages aside for a moment and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning towards Neana. His head is low enough in this position that he needs to look up at her. "Neana, look. I don't... what Xorvian said was out of line. And it's not what other people think. Xorvian is just..." He breaks off, then tries again. "When you're not in classes or doing chores, you should feel free to dress as you like. You aren't breaking any rules."
Neana doesn't stop with her folding, nor does she attempt to make eye-contact with the Journeyman. "Sir, I understand that the Hall is a little different to the weyr... I never meant to cause any trouble between you'n Journeyman Xorvian. I guess you just have to be... a little less friendly, around here. Things're more formal than I'm used to."
"What happened was not your fault," Brady says firmly. There is no hesitation at all in his voice. "What happened happened because Xorvian likes to push me, and I'm generally happy to push back. We both miscalculated this time, and I lost my temper. It would have happened even if you hadn't been there."
Neana winces, looking up and pausing her folding for a moment. "Sir, you don't have to say that." With wide eyes, Nea looks quite disturbed. "Journeyman Xorvian was right to say some of those things. It didn't look real good from an outsiders point of view, did it?"
"I'm not just saying it," Brady says. "It's true." He pauses a moment, then essays a bit more depth. "Look... you don't know Xorvian that well." He pauses again, looking for a way to phrase this. "Xorvian has been at the hall for a while, and never really made any friends here. He's a really smart guy, but he's prickly, and he tends to find something to needle other journeymen about in every conversation. He's found a lot of ways to poke at me, and I'm generally pretty good at dealing with it. He knows that I generally like women, and so he said... what he did. To try and get to me. It was meant as a commentary on me. Not on you."
During Brady's pauses, Neana quips short, "Yes, sir,"'s. She's trying not to be flirty, here. "No offence, but I'm pretty smart, too. And not all of what he was sayin' was directed at you, Journeyman. I've heard how he is from rumours, too. I just... I jus' wanted you to know, I'm sorry he came across us. And I want - I mean, if I'm always dressed proper, and speak proper, and we don't jog together and play volleyball together and whatever, he can't call me an oversexed, half-dressed apprentice to get at you, can he?" The insults have obviously stuck in the apprentice's mind, as she rattles them off without a second thought.
Neana's words seem to be causing Brady some amount of pain. After a moment, he says, "Can you do me a favor, Neana? Can you find an opportunity to talk with Tuval about this? There are things I don't think I can say here safely that I think he can. And he'll be straight with you."
"I'm one step ahead o'ya there. I was already going to try and find him this afternoon in my study break, sir." Neana replies simply, turning back to her folding, muttering something about 'old creep' and 'Sapha' and 'more oversexed'.
"Thanks," Brady says. He considers adding something else, but does not end up doing so. Instead, he just focuses on rolling bandages.
And Neana just folds more sheets, after a short, "You're welcome." Fold, fold, fold... fold, fold. Fold. Fold, foldy. "Um, so should I sleep in tomorrow?"
Damn tough question, that one. Brady considers it for a moment as he works. "No," he says finally. "There's nothing inappropriate in what we have actually been doing, whatever Xorvian thinks." A brief pause. "I may see if I can scare up another person or two to jog with us, though." For appearances sake.
"You could always ask your brother." Neana suggests helpfully, finishing the last crease on what appears to be the last sheet in her basket. "I could probably draft someone to supervise us, if you're worried about it lookin' suss."
Brady laughs at the mention of Faulk, looking relaxed for the first time in a bit. "I think Faulk would probably rather have his fingernails ripped out than go for a dawn jog," he says. "And I don't think we need supervision; I just think it would look a little better if we had someone, at least until I'm off probation."
"It only took a smile to get him jumping at the chance to play volleyball in his underwear," Neana reminds Brady as she starts to stack her folding back into the basket neatly. "Faranth forbid I suggest you might rather another girl to jog with us, huh?" She jokes half-heartedly.
"I actually hadn't thought about it," Brady says, looking genuinely startled. "But I was thinking most of /my/ friends probably wouldn't help anything." Knowing his friends. "If you think you can find someone interested, that would be good."
Neana smirks at that response. "If you don't mind Faulk for company, I'll ask him - otherwise, that bartender friend of yours was pretty cute? Or I could ask one of the girl apprentices, but they're... kinda standoffish, towards me. Or Journeyman Tuval, I guess?"
"I don't think Tuval would be up for a jog," Brady says. "He's a good guy, but he's really not in very good shape, and he has a lot of issues with movement. He doesn't even really like long walks. We have to respect his physical limitations. If you can get Faulk out, that would be fine."
Neana takes up her basket, able to see over the top now that the contents are folded neatly. "Sure... sorry, I do respect his limitations, sir. I'll ask Faulk, and we'll meet you tomorrow morning." Pause. "And, thank-you. For sticking up for me. I'm - I'm sorry about your lip, and the punishment and stuff."
"Don't blame yourself," Brady says simply, although without much hope it will stick this time. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Neana nods her head respectfully, before turning to saunter off the way she came, basket balancing on her hip.
Generally like Xorvian okay. After today, though, starting to wonder if maybe prevailing attitude is correct.
Neana blames herself for the fight. Spent a long time talking her down from it. I figure: Xorvian is a jackass, but I can deal with it. But he sent ripples. And ripples hurt others.
Had been feeling vaguely like shit because assigned punishment seemed it would be worse for Xorvian than for me. Now thinking maybe it's more justified than I thought.
Asked Neana to talk to Tuval. She is feeling like a slut or something now, and that's not right. But I can't tell her things I'd like to, because of the flirting. Would be too awkward.
This sucks. Pissed at Xorvian.
Jackass.
Tuval,
I sent Neana to talk to you. Please, please reassure her that she's not a slut and that wearing a bikini in Ista on the beach is not a bad thing and that Xorvian and I got into a fight because we are immature prats and not because of her.
Thanks,
Brady
In the quiet of the workroom, Brady is bent without complaint to his labor of the day: cutting and rolling bandages. There are a lot of bandages to be rolled, and entire bolts of fabric are piled on the table in front of him. His hands move in quick, steady motions: there is something calming about the monotony of bandage-rolling.
Neana enters the room with a large basket of freshly-washed-and-dried sheets obscuring her vision, her voice penetrating the quiet with it's ring as she announces that, "I'm coming through, watch out!" A soft bump sees her steering herself and the basket Brady-wards, entirely by chance, of course.
Oop, and there goes the reverie. Brady's hands still for a moment as he looks up, spotting Neana's approach. After a brief hesitation, he offers her a nod of greeting and resumes his bandage-wrapping, his hands resuming their steady motion. "Good morning," he says easily.
Neana dumps her basket on a nearby clear table, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Journeyman Brady." She finally ventures with an awkward inflection, her eyes searching his face for some sort of clue on how to act. Reach for a sheet, girl! Unfortunately, hands stay still for the moment.
Brady is mostly just continuing with his work; his eyes move over Neana's pile of cloth and he asks, his tone easy and relaxed: "You on bandage duty, too, or is that bedding that needs folding?"
"Um, bedding." Which is reached for as Brady references it, and Neana starts to fold. Awkwardly. As awkwardly as one probably could fold, if trying. To fold awkwardly. "Sir, I -" Pause. Fold, fold, fold. "I wouldn't have said anything, sir. And I was going to come to you and Journeyman Xorvian about the volleyball thing."
That gives Brady pause for a moment. He continues to wrap his bandages, but he doesn't speak, his forehead creasing. "I didn't talk to Master Taree because I was afraid you were going to turn me in, Neana," he says finally. "I talked to her because I'd violated my oaths as a Healer, and if I didn't report that, I would be living a lie. I'm only sorry I had to make the decision for Journeyman Xorvian as well as myself."
Neana doesn't pause even a second after that. "Well, I just wanted you to know, I'm not some lying, blackmailing weyrscum, or anything. I've got morals, too." They just don't involve her apparel, is all! "Y'know, all you did was get in a punch-up. They happen all the time, in pubs and stuff."
"But they shouldn't happen between healers," Brady says simply. "We take an oath to do no harm, and when I took a swing at Xorvian, I was violating that oath." He tucks in the end of the bandage into the roll, then takes up a new strip, starting slowly. "And there's a difference between getting into a brawl at a pub and taking a swing at someone who's not expecting it on the beach."
Neana doesn't argue with that, simply adding a quick, "Yes, sir," at the end. She's quiet for the folding of a few sheets, using the lull in conversation to process the response. "I understand if you'd rather run alone in the mornings from now on, sir. And I won't talk with you unless I'm dressed appropriately from now on." She drawls, eyes locked on her work.
Brady hesitates at that. After a few seconds, he places the bandages aside for a moment and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning towards Neana. His head is low enough in this position that he needs to look up at her. "Neana, look. I don't... what Xorvian said was out of line. And it's not what other people think. Xorvian is just..." He breaks off, then tries again. "When you're not in classes or doing chores, you should feel free to dress as you like. You aren't breaking any rules."
Neana doesn't stop with her folding, nor does she attempt to make eye-contact with the Journeyman. "Sir, I understand that the Hall is a little different to the weyr... I never meant to cause any trouble between you'n Journeyman Xorvian. I guess you just have to be... a little less friendly, around here. Things're more formal than I'm used to."
"What happened was not your fault," Brady says firmly. There is no hesitation at all in his voice. "What happened happened because Xorvian likes to push me, and I'm generally happy to push back. We both miscalculated this time, and I lost my temper. It would have happened even if you hadn't been there."
Neana winces, looking up and pausing her folding for a moment. "Sir, you don't have to say that." With wide eyes, Nea looks quite disturbed. "Journeyman Xorvian was right to say some of those things. It didn't look real good from an outsiders point of view, did it?"
"I'm not just saying it," Brady says. "It's true." He pauses a moment, then essays a bit more depth. "Look... you don't know Xorvian that well." He pauses again, looking for a way to phrase this. "Xorvian has been at the hall for a while, and never really made any friends here. He's a really smart guy, but he's prickly, and he tends to find something to needle other journeymen about in every conversation. He's found a lot of ways to poke at me, and I'm generally pretty good at dealing with it. He knows that I generally like women, and so he said... what he did. To try and get to me. It was meant as a commentary on me. Not on you."
During Brady's pauses, Neana quips short, "Yes, sir,"'s. She's trying not to be flirty, here. "No offence, but I'm pretty smart, too. And not all of what he was sayin' was directed at you, Journeyman. I've heard how he is from rumours, too. I just... I jus' wanted you to know, I'm sorry he came across us. And I want - I mean, if I'm always dressed proper, and speak proper, and we don't jog together and play volleyball together and whatever, he can't call me an oversexed, half-dressed apprentice to get at you, can he?" The insults have obviously stuck in the apprentice's mind, as she rattles them off without a second thought.
Neana's words seem to be causing Brady some amount of pain. After a moment, he says, "Can you do me a favor, Neana? Can you find an opportunity to talk with Tuval about this? There are things I don't think I can say here safely that I think he can. And he'll be straight with you."
"I'm one step ahead o'ya there. I was already going to try and find him this afternoon in my study break, sir." Neana replies simply, turning back to her folding, muttering something about 'old creep' and 'Sapha' and 'more oversexed'.
"Thanks," Brady says. He considers adding something else, but does not end up doing so. Instead, he just focuses on rolling bandages.
And Neana just folds more sheets, after a short, "You're welcome." Fold, fold, fold... fold, fold. Fold. Fold, foldy. "Um, so should I sleep in tomorrow?"
Damn tough question, that one. Brady considers it for a moment as he works. "No," he says finally. "There's nothing inappropriate in what we have actually been doing, whatever Xorvian thinks." A brief pause. "I may see if I can scare up another person or two to jog with us, though." For appearances sake.
"You could always ask your brother." Neana suggests helpfully, finishing the last crease on what appears to be the last sheet in her basket. "I could probably draft someone to supervise us, if you're worried about it lookin' suss."
Brady laughs at the mention of Faulk, looking relaxed for the first time in a bit. "I think Faulk would probably rather have his fingernails ripped out than go for a dawn jog," he says. "And I don't think we need supervision; I just think it would look a little better if we had someone, at least until I'm off probation."
"It only took a smile to get him jumping at the chance to play volleyball in his underwear," Neana reminds Brady as she starts to stack her folding back into the basket neatly. "Faranth forbid I suggest you might rather another girl to jog with us, huh?" She jokes half-heartedly.
"I actually hadn't thought about it," Brady says, looking genuinely startled. "But I was thinking most of /my/ friends probably wouldn't help anything." Knowing his friends. "If you think you can find someone interested, that would be good."
Neana smirks at that response. "If you don't mind Faulk for company, I'll ask him - otherwise, that bartender friend of yours was pretty cute? Or I could ask one of the girl apprentices, but they're... kinda standoffish, towards me. Or Journeyman Tuval, I guess?"
"I don't think Tuval would be up for a jog," Brady says. "He's a good guy, but he's really not in very good shape, and he has a lot of issues with movement. He doesn't even really like long walks. We have to respect his physical limitations. If you can get Faulk out, that would be fine."
Neana takes up her basket, able to see over the top now that the contents are folded neatly. "Sure... sorry, I do respect his limitations, sir. I'll ask Faulk, and we'll meet you tomorrow morning." Pause. "And, thank-you. For sticking up for me. I'm - I'm sorry about your lip, and the punishment and stuff."
"Don't blame yourself," Brady says simply, although without much hope it will stick this time. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Neana nods her head respectfully, before turning to saunter off the way she came, basket balancing on her hip.