The Candidate Quarters
Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dream. ~Paulo Coelho
OOC Date: February 27, 2010
IC Date: Day 5, month 1, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Who: Gabrion, Silarra
Where: Candidate Quarters, HRW
After her confrontation with K'del, Elie caught up with Gabrion. Now that the cat is out of the bag, he decides to move into the candidate quarters along with the rest of the candidates: there's nothing to lose, other than his comfy room and bed. Silarra helps him unpack, while he whines about all his troubles.
Gabrion comes into the candidate barracks with a heaping armload of clothing, towels, and assorted personal belongings. He looks rather put out about something. Part way into the room, he pauses and looks around for a bed that hasn't been claimed.
Silarra is sitting cross legged on her cot, a notebook open in front of her. She looks up at Gabe walks in, and slams the thing closed. "Gabe? You're joining us in here? Auntie is going to /freak/. No way she won't notice that." Silarra states, by way of greeting. "Need a cot?" Is it a coincidence that no one has chosen one of the ones next to her?
"She already noticed," Gabe says through his teeth. He walks over and dumps his stuff in a jumble on one of the beds next to Silarra's. "She said she's never ever going to forgive me for the rest of my life if I stand." And yet he's here.
Silarra winces at that. And she's actually sympathetic and not punching, for now at least. "She will, though. I mean, she's your /mom/. So she gets to try to make you guilty. Right?" Silarra states, standing to move over. "Need help settling that stuff away?"
"Whatever." Gabe sits down on the cot and hunches his shoulders. "I don't get why everyone has to be like that. Even P'ax says I shouldn't stand. The weyrleader thought it was a good idea. It's not faiiiir." Whine! "Why can't I just have a normal mom?"
"Because you're an Alhan. On your mom's side at least." Silarra states dryly. "I think you should stand. If it's what you want to do, you shouldn't let your mom guilt you into not doing it. For one thing, if that works, she'd probably use it a lot."
"I am going to," Gabe says, stubborn. "But she really means it." He's still whiny. "At least your parents aren't total freaks. I hope it's not genetic or something. I mean, imagine if you grew up like that."
Silarra shudders at that idea. "I doubt I will. I mean, I know I'm kind of, well, crazy, but I don't think I'm crazy like /that/. But maybe if I had a kid die? Maybe that's the trigger for Alhan craziness?" Silarra suggests. "I still don't think she'll really disown you." Silarra grabs for any clothes in that pile to start folding them neatly.
Gabrion is sitting on the bed next to Silarra's, with a jumble of clothes and other personal items piled randomly at the foot of the bed. He's whining. "But she said - you don't understand, Silarra, when she says stuff like that, she really meeeaans it." Whine, whine, whine.
Silarra starts in on folding Gabrion's clothes, making a neat little pile of it to put into his press. "Yeah, yeah. But she's your /mom/. She might not talk to you for awhile, but I doubt she's really going to follow through on disowning you forever for standing." Silarra pauses a second before joking dryly. "Do I need to go punch her for it?"
Gabrion sighs heavily. "No, I don't think that would help," he grumbles. "Maybe I should just fake my own death." He's half serious, half kidding. "She'd leave me alone, then. And maybe it would undo the crazy. Like, one kid dies, you get crazy, another one dies, you get uncrazy? You think that would work?"
Silarra rolls her eyes. "That's a stupid idea. All it's likely to do is make her freak out more. And then, it's not going to stick. Because you can't pretend to be dead forever, especially if you live in the same weyr." Silarra points out, neatly folding a pair of underthings. "Maybe I should have Dad come talk some kind of sense into her? I mean, he's her brother, right? I listen to Casir. Sometimes."
"Maybe," Gabe says, dubious at first, but as he thinks it over for a few seconds, the idea seems to grow on him. "Do you think that would work?" This time, the question is actually a serious one, and there's a ray of hope in his doom-and-glum expression.
Silarra considers it as she finishes up the folding. "It might. I mean, it's worth a try, isn't it? I know Dad is a pretty smooth talker, all those deals and things. Plus, he's brave." Which is apparently an important consideration in dealing with her aunt.
"When you've known someone ever since they were a little kid, it kind of gives you an advantage," Gabe says thoughtfully. "He maybe could do it. I guess it couldn't hurt to ask. Is he planning on visiting or anything, anytime soon?" Finally, he gets up off the bed, and starts to pick up the last of his things so he can put them away himself, in a token effort not to make Silarra do ALL the work.
Silarra looks down at the clothes. "Do you want them any certain way? Like underthings on top so you don't forget them in the morning? Or is all muddled together fine?" That might be teasing. Maybe. "Yeah, and you know, if your mom is giving you a hard time, you've still got the rest of the clan behind you. I think they're still all cozy for the winter. But I'm really hoping they'll be here by the hatching. It'd be nice to have my parents watching. /And/ it would be good trading chances at the same time, I bet, with the extra people here for the hatching."
"Oh... I'll get it," Gabe says. He's actually quite particular about how he keeps his clothes, but he's somehow accidentally stumbled across enough tact not to say so. "Thanks for helping fold." With the trunk open, he sits cross-legged on the floor and starts fussing with things, stacking them up just so, and then changing his mind and putting them in a new order. "Good point, that would be pretty awesome if they brought the whole clan along."
Silarra moves to sit back on her cot, next to Gabe's. "It would be. And then, even if your Mom chooses not to come see the hatching, you'd still have all those aunts and uncles and cousins there rooting you on. The whole bushy eyebrowed crew." Silarra jokes, leaning back on her elbows.
"I don't care if she comes to see the hatching or not," Gabe grumbles sourly. "She doesn't have to. She can just..." he doesn't finish the sentence, only shakes his head and goes on putting his things away in the most anal-retentive way possible. "So." He changes the subject. "What's it been like in here with those convicts and all?"
Silarra watches Gabe put his things away so anally and then just shakes her head. "And I thought I fell on the neat side." She mutters before she just shrugs. "Can't say I've given it that much thought. Other than that annoying one, Chauncey, I've never had an issue with any of the convicts. I'd prefer some of them to some of the idiots who aren't convicts."
Gabrion laughs. "Don't hold back, say what you really think," he teases Silarra. "Anyway. At least I'm not Gevran. If I was, this whole side of the barracks would need to be flamed clean by the time the hatching came around."
Silarra gives Gabe a quick, bright grin. "Come on. It's /me/. Do you expect me /not/ to say what I really think?" Silarra states with a sarcastic tone. "Ug. How did you share a room with him? I think I'd be tempted to just put his things away on the sly. Or to light them on fire."
"You... kind of get used to it," Gabe says with a shrug. Emphasis on the 'kind of.' "Anyway, he's my brother, you know, so."
"And you're twins. So he's like, super, your brother. You've put up with it since you were born." Silarra decides before she grins. "Someday you might even be tall enough to breathe the same air he does."
"Before we were born, even!" Gabe says, gesturing dramatically. "He was probably leaving, you know, his fetus clothes around mom's uterus." He looks pleased with himself showing off all those technical terms. At the last comment of Silarra's, he sticks out his tongue. "Shut up, I'm growing. I bet I get taller than YOU."
"Yeah, but you're a /boy/. You're supposed to be taller." Silarra will celebrate being a girl only when it helps her arguement, it seems. "Yeah, sounds really healer like to say babies have clothes before they're born. I know they're born all naked."
"I spent all my energy on being /awesomer/," Gabe retorts. Zing! "Anyway, how do you know babies don't have clothes in there that just dissolve before they're born?" Can she prove they don't? Can she?
Silarra rolls her eyes. "Special dissolving baby clothes? Yeah right. And what do babies need clothes for before they're born anyway? They're warm enough inside their mom and no ones going to see them naked everywhere." Silarra states before she adds, "Awesomer at being short?"
To leave around all over the place, if they're Gevran," Gabe says with his irrefutable logic. "No, awesomer at /everything/. Just like I'm shorter than everything."
"So all babies ever have had special dissolvable clothes, just so Gevran could start annoying you in the womb by tossing them all about?" Silarra shakes her head with a roll of the eyes. "So, if you get taller than me, that'll mean that I get to be awesomer?"
"Depends," Gabe says with a grin for Silarra as he finally closes his trunk and stands up. "You're way mouthier, so I don't know if you have enough juice left to put into awesome and catch up with me."
"Well, maybe I'll just be way awesomer at being mouthy." Silarra decides before she grins. "I think I like that. I could be the very, very best at telling people off, if I just kept practicing."
"I think you already are," Gabe says, and looks around the room. Then he reaches into his trunk and pulls out a towel. "I'm gonna go take a bath. I'll see you later, okay?"
Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. It's a Taikrin, returned from the dead to once more haunt the candidate barracks! Or something. She certainly looks as if she might be undead: her face, finally clean, has the pallor of one long-ill, and the incredibly stiff posture of her midsection speaks of many hidden bandages. More visibly, her right arm is in a sling and there are numerous little bandages visible covering apparently minor cuts and scrapes. Her steps are indeed quite slow and deliberate as she makes her way into the barracks. She doesn't make it far, though-- at the very first trunk, she stops and sits upon it, heedless of whomever it might actually belong to. "Bloody shells..."
Silarra strikes a little pose of strength where she's sitting on her cot. "How very awesome!" She declares. "Enjoy your bath. And don't let your mom get you down. I'll write a letter to Dad, maybe we can get it to him, and he can talk sense into her."
"Okay. Thanks," Gabe says, and grins at Silarra as he heads off. He does a double take at Taikrin but, intent on his bath, he doesn't stop. He can find out why she looks like a wherry chewed her up and spit her back out, afterwards.
OOC Date: February 27, 2010
IC Date: Day 5, month 1, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Who: Gabrion, Silarra
Where: Candidate Quarters, HRW
After her confrontation with K'del, Elie caught up with Gabrion. Now that the cat is out of the bag, he decides to move into the candidate quarters along with the rest of the candidates: there's nothing to lose, other than his comfy room and bed. Silarra helps him unpack, while he whines about all his troubles.
Gabrion comes into the candidate barracks with a heaping armload of clothing, towels, and assorted personal belongings. He looks rather put out about something. Part way into the room, he pauses and looks around for a bed that hasn't been claimed.
Silarra is sitting cross legged on her cot, a notebook open in front of her. She looks up at Gabe walks in, and slams the thing closed. "Gabe? You're joining us in here? Auntie is going to /freak/. No way she won't notice that." Silarra states, by way of greeting. "Need a cot?" Is it a coincidence that no one has chosen one of the ones next to her?
"She already noticed," Gabe says through his teeth. He walks over and dumps his stuff in a jumble on one of the beds next to Silarra's. "She said she's never ever going to forgive me for the rest of my life if I stand." And yet he's here.
Silarra winces at that. And she's actually sympathetic and not punching, for now at least. "She will, though. I mean, she's your /mom/. So she gets to try to make you guilty. Right?" Silarra states, standing to move over. "Need help settling that stuff away?"
"Whatever." Gabe sits down on the cot and hunches his shoulders. "I don't get why everyone has to be like that. Even P'ax says I shouldn't stand. The weyrleader thought it was a good idea. It's not faiiiir." Whine! "Why can't I just have a normal mom?"
"Because you're an Alhan. On your mom's side at least." Silarra states dryly. "I think you should stand. If it's what you want to do, you shouldn't let your mom guilt you into not doing it. For one thing, if that works, she'd probably use it a lot."
"I am going to," Gabe says, stubborn. "But she really means it." He's still whiny. "At least your parents aren't total freaks. I hope it's not genetic or something. I mean, imagine if you grew up like that."
Silarra shudders at that idea. "I doubt I will. I mean, I know I'm kind of, well, crazy, but I don't think I'm crazy like /that/. But maybe if I had a kid die? Maybe that's the trigger for Alhan craziness?" Silarra suggests. "I still don't think she'll really disown you." Silarra grabs for any clothes in that pile to start folding them neatly.
Gabrion is sitting on the bed next to Silarra's, with a jumble of clothes and other personal items piled randomly at the foot of the bed. He's whining. "But she said - you don't understand, Silarra, when she says stuff like that, she really meeeaans it." Whine, whine, whine.
Silarra starts in on folding Gabrion's clothes, making a neat little pile of it to put into his press. "Yeah, yeah. But she's your /mom/. She might not talk to you for awhile, but I doubt she's really going to follow through on disowning you forever for standing." Silarra pauses a second before joking dryly. "Do I need to go punch her for it?"
Gabrion sighs heavily. "No, I don't think that would help," he grumbles. "Maybe I should just fake my own death." He's half serious, half kidding. "She'd leave me alone, then. And maybe it would undo the crazy. Like, one kid dies, you get crazy, another one dies, you get uncrazy? You think that would work?"
Silarra rolls her eyes. "That's a stupid idea. All it's likely to do is make her freak out more. And then, it's not going to stick. Because you can't pretend to be dead forever, especially if you live in the same weyr." Silarra points out, neatly folding a pair of underthings. "Maybe I should have Dad come talk some kind of sense into her? I mean, he's her brother, right? I listen to Casir. Sometimes."
"Maybe," Gabe says, dubious at first, but as he thinks it over for a few seconds, the idea seems to grow on him. "Do you think that would work?" This time, the question is actually a serious one, and there's a ray of hope in his doom-and-glum expression.
Silarra considers it as she finishes up the folding. "It might. I mean, it's worth a try, isn't it? I know Dad is a pretty smooth talker, all those deals and things. Plus, he's brave." Which is apparently an important consideration in dealing with her aunt.
"When you've known someone ever since they were a little kid, it kind of gives you an advantage," Gabe says thoughtfully. "He maybe could do it. I guess it couldn't hurt to ask. Is he planning on visiting or anything, anytime soon?" Finally, he gets up off the bed, and starts to pick up the last of his things so he can put them away himself, in a token effort not to make Silarra do ALL the work.
Silarra looks down at the clothes. "Do you want them any certain way? Like underthings on top so you don't forget them in the morning? Or is all muddled together fine?" That might be teasing. Maybe. "Yeah, and you know, if your mom is giving you a hard time, you've still got the rest of the clan behind you. I think they're still all cozy for the winter. But I'm really hoping they'll be here by the hatching. It'd be nice to have my parents watching. /And/ it would be good trading chances at the same time, I bet, with the extra people here for the hatching."
"Oh... I'll get it," Gabe says. He's actually quite particular about how he keeps his clothes, but he's somehow accidentally stumbled across enough tact not to say so. "Thanks for helping fold." With the trunk open, he sits cross-legged on the floor and starts fussing with things, stacking them up just so, and then changing his mind and putting them in a new order. "Good point, that would be pretty awesome if they brought the whole clan along."
Silarra moves to sit back on her cot, next to Gabe's. "It would be. And then, even if your Mom chooses not to come see the hatching, you'd still have all those aunts and uncles and cousins there rooting you on. The whole bushy eyebrowed crew." Silarra jokes, leaning back on her elbows.
"I don't care if she comes to see the hatching or not," Gabe grumbles sourly. "She doesn't have to. She can just..." he doesn't finish the sentence, only shakes his head and goes on putting his things away in the most anal-retentive way possible. "So." He changes the subject. "What's it been like in here with those convicts and all?"
Silarra watches Gabe put his things away so anally and then just shakes her head. "And I thought I fell on the neat side." She mutters before she just shrugs. "Can't say I've given it that much thought. Other than that annoying one, Chauncey, I've never had an issue with any of the convicts. I'd prefer some of them to some of the idiots who aren't convicts."
Gabrion laughs. "Don't hold back, say what you really think," he teases Silarra. "Anyway. At least I'm not Gevran. If I was, this whole side of the barracks would need to be flamed clean by the time the hatching came around."
Silarra gives Gabe a quick, bright grin. "Come on. It's /me/. Do you expect me /not/ to say what I really think?" Silarra states with a sarcastic tone. "Ug. How did you share a room with him? I think I'd be tempted to just put his things away on the sly. Or to light them on fire."
"You... kind of get used to it," Gabe says with a shrug. Emphasis on the 'kind of.' "Anyway, he's my brother, you know, so."
"And you're twins. So he's like, super, your brother. You've put up with it since you were born." Silarra decides before she grins. "Someday you might even be tall enough to breathe the same air he does."
"Before we were born, even!" Gabe says, gesturing dramatically. "He was probably leaving, you know, his fetus clothes around mom's uterus." He looks pleased with himself showing off all those technical terms. At the last comment of Silarra's, he sticks out his tongue. "Shut up, I'm growing. I bet I get taller than YOU."
"Yeah, but you're a /boy/. You're supposed to be taller." Silarra will celebrate being a girl only when it helps her arguement, it seems. "Yeah, sounds really healer like to say babies have clothes before they're born. I know they're born all naked."
"I spent all my energy on being /awesomer/," Gabe retorts. Zing! "Anyway, how do you know babies don't have clothes in there that just dissolve before they're born?" Can she prove they don't? Can she?
Silarra rolls her eyes. "Special dissolving baby clothes? Yeah right. And what do babies need clothes for before they're born anyway? They're warm enough inside their mom and no ones going to see them naked everywhere." Silarra states before she adds, "Awesomer at being short?"
To leave around all over the place, if they're Gevran," Gabe says with his irrefutable logic. "No, awesomer at /everything/. Just like I'm shorter than everything."
"So all babies ever have had special dissolvable clothes, just so Gevran could start annoying you in the womb by tossing them all about?" Silarra shakes her head with a roll of the eyes. "So, if you get taller than me, that'll mean that I get to be awesomer?"
"Depends," Gabe says with a grin for Silarra as he finally closes his trunk and stands up. "You're way mouthier, so I don't know if you have enough juice left to put into awesome and catch up with me."
"Well, maybe I'll just be way awesomer at being mouthy." Silarra decides before she grins. "I think I like that. I could be the very, very best at telling people off, if I just kept practicing."
"I think you already are," Gabe says, and looks around the room. Then he reaches into his trunk and pulls out a towel. "I'm gonna go take a bath. I'll see you later, okay?"
Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. It's a Taikrin, returned from the dead to once more haunt the candidate barracks! Or something. She certainly looks as if she might be undead: her face, finally clean, has the pallor of one long-ill, and the incredibly stiff posture of her midsection speaks of many hidden bandages. More visibly, her right arm is in a sling and there are numerous little bandages visible covering apparently minor cuts and scrapes. Her steps are indeed quite slow and deliberate as she makes her way into the barracks. She doesn't make it far, though-- at the very first trunk, she stops and sits upon it, heedless of whomever it might actually belong to. "Bloody shells..."
Silarra strikes a little pose of strength where she's sitting on her cot. "How very awesome!" She declares. "Enjoy your bath. And don't let your mom get you down. I'll write a letter to Dad, maybe we can get it to him, and he can talk sense into her."
"Okay. Thanks," Gabe says, and grins at Silarra as he heads off. He does a double take at Taikrin but, intent on his bath, he doesn't stop. He can find out why she looks like a wherry chewed her up and spit her back out, afterwards.