Log: Playing Dressups
Who: Bailey, Palia
When: Day 14, month 12, turn 22 of Interval 10. (Played 6/6/10, finished by LJ post)
Where: Beach, Ista Weyr
What: Bailey has a gift for Palia and the two get to have a little bit of girlie time around while talking around a serious subject.
Main Beach, Ista Weyr(#444RJ)
The coastline of black sand stretches out in either direction, tropical waters lapping ceaselessly against the subtle decline of the main beach that rests at the base of the plateau cliff. To the northeast, water from the upper pool cascades over the plateau's edge, its destination shrouded in the lush fronts of the jungle's edge and a hint of blue-tinged mist. The Sandbar, Ista's seaside tavern, stands to the south beside the long branching structure of the docks.
No rain today and it's not so hot out what with winter encroaching to the north. Palia is perched on the porch rail of the Beach House on the non-restaurant side, bare leg and feet swinging off the side. She's dressed in her typical 'uniform' of a tank top and shorts and a liberal coating of sand, curly hair french-braided back on either side of her head, though those irrepressible curls are making a bid for escape and sproing out of the binding here and there. Lingering dampness in the cross-points of each twist of braid indicate swimming or surfing earlier, as does the board that leans against the side of the cothold. The rest of the family aren't in evidence. Paddy's probably cooking, Dharia and Dylan are probably napping and T'mic ... it's probably best not to speculate.
The lunch hour approaching finds Bailey making her way toward the Beach House a little earlier than usual. Barefoot and wrapped in a sky-blue sarong with a light wrap pulled around her shoulders against the light breeze coming off of the sea, her path carries her toward said establishment. More precisely, toward the little girl perched upon its railing. Dangling from one hand are her sandals, and from the other, a small pink drawstring pouch.
The flicker of blue approaching sees Palia sitting up a bit straighter and her cheeks plump up, dimpled with her smile as she waves energetically toward the approaching woman. "Hi Bailey! I like your ... wrappy-thingie," she points to the sarong. "Blue is one of my favorite colors! You know, like the sky. Or parts of the ocean," the little girl declares and she gives a push of feet outward, hops off the railing and trots forward to wrap her arms around Bailey's waist for a hug.
“Palia!” Bailey’s face breaking into a wide grin as she flickers a glance down over her attire, “It’s called a sarong. And thanks, blue’s one of my favourite colours too,” a little mysterious smile appearing for that. With the little girl on a bee-line toward her with the obvious intent of hugging her around the waist area, the brunette takes a quick step back, the hand carrying the little pink bag coming up in front her. Swinging it back and forth enticingly, “Saw these down at the market and thought how pretty they’d look in your hair.” If Palia opens the drawstring bag, she’ll find within, a pair of hair combs with a row of small enamelled shipfish crafted along their tops in varying shades of blue.
"A sarong," Palia repeats. "I want to wear one like that when I get bigger." That side-step leaves Palia visibly confused and she tips a look up at Bailey first, then her gaze slides over to the swinging pink pouch and back to Bailey. Slowly she reaches for the pouch, takes it and holds it but there's traces of hurt in the girl's gaze. "Are you okay?" is what she asks, even as she loosens the strings on the pouch and opens it up. The combs spill out into her palm and she looks at them, smiles a little. "Blue," Palia murmurs with a wider grin and her finger traces the curve of the shipfish.
Perhaps she misses the hurt expression, or maybe she doesn’t for as soon as Palia’s taken the pink pouch, Bailey hunkers down before the little girl and after drawing the wrap from her shoulders holds out an arm to accept the hug offered earlier. With a hint of confusion at first, “I’m fine. Why, do I have something stuck in my hair?” fingers creeping up to pat at the top and sides of her head, just in case. Watching as the combs are taken out and admired, “You like them?” The wrap that had been bundled into her lap when she’d hunkered down is now held up, “Would you like me to wrap this around you like mine?” her sarong.
Relief floods Palia's face and she steps into that offered embrace, actually leans her head against Bailey's shoulder. "My mother does that. I mean, step aside. So I never know if she actually wants to hug me or not," Palia explains. "I just -- it scared me for a second," she confesses. Her hand closes over the combs and she nods a couple of times. "I like them a lot. Thanks, Bailey." Her arm stays hooked around the woman's neck for a few moments of silence then she leans back and /beams/ at the trader/waitress. "Oh yes! We can play dressups!"
Palia’s explanation paints a look of chagrin across Bailey’s face and the woman drops a soft kiss to the top of the little girl’s head where it’s leaned against her shoulder, “Oh sweetie. I’m so sorry, really I am. I was just so excited to give you the combs. I didn’t think how you might see it.” Now a warm smile appears, “You’re very welcome.” Delight greets the little girl’s response, “Alright, and then after we can put the combs in your hair.” Shifting her position from crouching to kneeling before the child, “Step back and hold your arms up like this,” demonstrating by lifting her own slightly above her head.
"It's okay. I mean ... you'd never get all weird on me, right?" Palia asks and tilts another look up at Bailey, all smiles now as she fingers the fabric Bailey holds out. "Okay!" she says delightedly and slips the combs back into the pouch for safekeeping, then holds her arms up as bidden. "Should I get my hairbrush and stuff for the combs? My hair got all salty and sandy from surfing after lunch."
Grinning crookedly, “There’s some that would say it’s too late and that I’m already a little weird.” The fabric has a pale blue tie-dyed pattern set against a white background that should offset Palia’s tan beautifully. Giving the wrap a little shake, Bailey reaches forward and drawing it against the little girl’s back, brings the top edges toward the front. “Lift your braids,” she instructs before crossing the ends over each other and knotting them neatly behind her neck. Leaning back on her heels, her head tips to one side, “Such a little lady,” she pronounces with a smile, “What do you think?” As to the query on fetching a hairbrush, the brunette nods solemnly, “Of course. And a little hand mirror, if you have one?”
"Well not /that/ kind of weird," Palia makes sure to clarify and slides her hand under braids, curls fingers around the ends and holds them against the back of her head. That pronouncement makes her stick her tongue out though. "Am /not/." But her braids are let loose and her hand runs down the soft fabric again, clearly pleased. "It's so light. And soft." And she twirls around even, letting the 'skirt' bell out a little. "Sure, though, do you want to come inside? Papa won't mind."
After a short chuckle Bailey frowns a little, trying to understand what it is that Palia’s getting at, “What kind of weird?” Light laughter follows and the brunette imitates the little girl by sticking her own tongue out too, “Do too! You know,” fussing with the edges of the wrap that falls to just below the child’s knees until she’s satisfied with the drape, “I like being a tomboy too but sometimes,” smiling as if imparting a secret, “Sometimes, it’s a lot of fun to play dress up and pretend like you’re a lady too.” Watching as she twirls the trader’s expression is openly fond, “Do you think you could remember how to tie it yourself?” As to going inside, she flickers a glance toward the Beach House then slowly shakes her head as fingers touch to the gold necklace with the key pendant dangling at the hollow of her throat, “I’ve got someone waiting for me after I’ve done your hair. But I’ll be back in time for the dinner rush,” she promises.
"I like to look /pretty/," is Palia's take on things. "But I don't want any corsets or whatall some ladies have to wear," she tells Bailey confidentially. "Can you imagine being all squeezed into your clothes like that? Ewwwww." Her head cocks to the side though, pondering wrap technique. "Probably. It didn't look hard and I guess if it gets slippy you can pin it?" Palia takes a breath, lets it out and nods. "Oh I meant you know, come in to do the hair stuff. But I can just bring my brush. I'll be right back!" She scrambles off then bare feet pattering away along the porch and through the side door that's well away from the restaurant. It doesn't take long for her to come back with the brush, a comb, a towel (smart kid) and a very small hand mirror with a wooden back, cradled carefully in her hands.
Bailey makes a face, nodding her agreement, “Which is probably why those high and mighty ‘misses’ faint all the time,” in a conspiratorial whisper, “The poor delicate creatures can’t breathe,” wink. Setting her hands to her thighs, she smiles her approval when Palia appears confident of being able to wrap the fabric herself, “Good, then you can keep it, and if you’re having problems with tying it and making it stay in place, just shout and I’ll show you again.” Her mouth forms a small ‘Oh’ when the child explains her reasoning behind having the trader accompany her inside. A soft smile follows the little girl’s disappearance, a hand touching lightly to her concealed belly. Once Palia reappears, she’ll find that the older woman has taken up residence on the edge of the porch with her back leaned against a pillar staring out to sea.
"Hi!" Palia announces as she returns. While inside, she's ditched the tank top and shorts. "See? I put it back on by myself." She sits down right next to Bailey, looks to put the requested items down in the woman's lap. "It's a pretty view, isn't it? I'm really glad that Papa built this place. It ... it really feels like home," she says thoughtfully.
The announcement breaks Bailey’s reverie and she turns a smile onto the little girl, “Hi, yourself.” Approval warms her expression, “And a really good job you did of it too. It’s nice and cool isn’t it?” Hands lift to receive the items. The brush and mirror laid down next to her, the towel is laid over her knees and fingers begin deftly unwinding Palia’s braids, “It is beautiful. He chose a really good spot.” Quieter now as she lifts the towel to carefully rub the damp and clinging grains of sand from springy brown hair, “It hasn’t always felt like home?”
Palia folds her legs up and sits very still as Bailey starts to deal with her hair. "I like this a lot. It's pretty and if you wear it over pants you can still run around," she points out about the sarong. Palia blows out a breath and looks out over the water, though her head holds still, apparently she's used to having her hair dealt with and has learned the important lesson about not moving around to avoid pulls. "No. I mean, I was little when we moved, but Miara wasn't with us at first and I missed her. And I didn't like moving around between Papa's weyr and the caverns."
Amusement filters in, “I hadn’t thought about putting pants on underneath. That’s a good idea.” Having done as much as she can with the towel, it gets laid back over her knees and the brush is taken up. Not having had a sister of her own, or very much to do with young children, let alone little girls, despite Bailey’s best efforts, Palia’s hair may get tugged here and there as the brush gets caught in tangles. Eventually however, it’s all brushed out and the trader holds out a hand for one of the combs. Unseen her nose wrinkles, “I didn’t like being moved around all the time either. Makes it hard to feel like you belong somewhere.” Smiling through her next words, “I’m glad that you’ve got somewhere now that feels like home. That’s important.”
Now and then there's a quiet 'ow' for those tugs, but Palia otherwise handles the clean up pretty well. The combs are passed back when requested and Palia does nod a little bit. "Yeah, I think Papa really wanted that feeling too. I think he needed it too," the girl says slowly, thoughtfully and tilts a little smile over her shoulder at Bailey.
At least Bailey has the grace to wince inwardly for each quiet utterance of ‘ow’ that comes from Palia. A section of hair is brushed from either side of the little girl’s head and a comb carefully positioned to hold it in place leaving just a few stray curls to gently frame her face. Taking up the mirror and holding it out to the child, “What do you think?” While she studies herself in it, the brunette nods as shoulders roll in a small shrug, noting as she does, “Even adults need to feel like they belong somewhere.”
In spite of those 'ows' Palia is otherwise calm through the hairdressing and she sits up straight once the combs are in and beams. "Thank you! I like this," is her determination. The mirror is set down and Palia turns to slide her arm around Bailey leans into the woman with a quiet sigh."I guess everyone does. I'm just glad that's /here/ for us."
Fond is the nature of the smile produced for Palia, an arm slipping about the child as she drops a kiss to the top of her recently dressed head. “They say home is where the heart is, and your papa holds you close to his. All this,” a small gesture with her free hand, “is simply decoration when you’re with people that love and care for you. Always remember that.” With a last squeeze, Bailey then gently disentangles herself from the little girl and brings her feet up under her, making ready to stand and leave, the edges of an enigmatic smile appearing, “One day perhaps I’ll have a little girl just like you. But right now, I need to get back and see to…something that requires my attention.”
When: Day 14, month 12, turn 22 of Interval 10. (Played 6/6/10, finished by LJ post)
Where: Beach, Ista Weyr
What: Bailey has a gift for Palia and the two get to have a little bit of girlie time around while talking around a serious subject.
Main Beach, Ista Weyr(#444RJ)
The coastline of black sand stretches out in either direction, tropical waters lapping ceaselessly against the subtle decline of the main beach that rests at the base of the plateau cliff. To the northeast, water from the upper pool cascades over the plateau's edge, its destination shrouded in the lush fronts of the jungle's edge and a hint of blue-tinged mist. The Sandbar, Ista's seaside tavern, stands to the south beside the long branching structure of the docks.
No rain today and it's not so hot out what with winter encroaching to the north. Palia is perched on the porch rail of the Beach House on the non-restaurant side, bare leg and feet swinging off the side. She's dressed in her typical 'uniform' of a tank top and shorts and a liberal coating of sand, curly hair french-braided back on either side of her head, though those irrepressible curls are making a bid for escape and sproing out of the binding here and there. Lingering dampness in the cross-points of each twist of braid indicate swimming or surfing earlier, as does the board that leans against the side of the cothold. The rest of the family aren't in evidence. Paddy's probably cooking, Dharia and Dylan are probably napping and T'mic ... it's probably best not to speculate.
The lunch hour approaching finds Bailey making her way toward the Beach House a little earlier than usual. Barefoot and wrapped in a sky-blue sarong with a light wrap pulled around her shoulders against the light breeze coming off of the sea, her path carries her toward said establishment. More precisely, toward the little girl perched upon its railing. Dangling from one hand are her sandals, and from the other, a small pink drawstring pouch.
The flicker of blue approaching sees Palia sitting up a bit straighter and her cheeks plump up, dimpled with her smile as she waves energetically toward the approaching woman. "Hi Bailey! I like your ... wrappy-thingie," she points to the sarong. "Blue is one of my favorite colors! You know, like the sky. Or parts of the ocean," the little girl declares and she gives a push of feet outward, hops off the railing and trots forward to wrap her arms around Bailey's waist for a hug.
“Palia!” Bailey’s face breaking into a wide grin as she flickers a glance down over her attire, “It’s called a sarong. And thanks, blue’s one of my favourite colours too,” a little mysterious smile appearing for that. With the little girl on a bee-line toward her with the obvious intent of hugging her around the waist area, the brunette takes a quick step back, the hand carrying the little pink bag coming up in front her. Swinging it back and forth enticingly, “Saw these down at the market and thought how pretty they’d look in your hair.” If Palia opens the drawstring bag, she’ll find within, a pair of hair combs with a row of small enamelled shipfish crafted along their tops in varying shades of blue.
"A sarong," Palia repeats. "I want to wear one like that when I get bigger." That side-step leaves Palia visibly confused and she tips a look up at Bailey first, then her gaze slides over to the swinging pink pouch and back to Bailey. Slowly she reaches for the pouch, takes it and holds it but there's traces of hurt in the girl's gaze. "Are you okay?" is what she asks, even as she loosens the strings on the pouch and opens it up. The combs spill out into her palm and she looks at them, smiles a little. "Blue," Palia murmurs with a wider grin and her finger traces the curve of the shipfish.
Perhaps she misses the hurt expression, or maybe she doesn’t for as soon as Palia’s taken the pink pouch, Bailey hunkers down before the little girl and after drawing the wrap from her shoulders holds out an arm to accept the hug offered earlier. With a hint of confusion at first, “I’m fine. Why, do I have something stuck in my hair?” fingers creeping up to pat at the top and sides of her head, just in case. Watching as the combs are taken out and admired, “You like them?” The wrap that had been bundled into her lap when she’d hunkered down is now held up, “Would you like me to wrap this around you like mine?” her sarong.
Relief floods Palia's face and she steps into that offered embrace, actually leans her head against Bailey's shoulder. "My mother does that. I mean, step aside. So I never know if she actually wants to hug me or not," Palia explains. "I just -- it scared me for a second," she confesses. Her hand closes over the combs and she nods a couple of times. "I like them a lot. Thanks, Bailey." Her arm stays hooked around the woman's neck for a few moments of silence then she leans back and /beams/ at the trader/waitress. "Oh yes! We can play dressups!"
Palia’s explanation paints a look of chagrin across Bailey’s face and the woman drops a soft kiss to the top of the little girl’s head where it’s leaned against her shoulder, “Oh sweetie. I’m so sorry, really I am. I was just so excited to give you the combs. I didn’t think how you might see it.” Now a warm smile appears, “You’re very welcome.” Delight greets the little girl’s response, “Alright, and then after we can put the combs in your hair.” Shifting her position from crouching to kneeling before the child, “Step back and hold your arms up like this,” demonstrating by lifting her own slightly above her head.
"It's okay. I mean ... you'd never get all weird on me, right?" Palia asks and tilts another look up at Bailey, all smiles now as she fingers the fabric Bailey holds out. "Okay!" she says delightedly and slips the combs back into the pouch for safekeeping, then holds her arms up as bidden. "Should I get my hairbrush and stuff for the combs? My hair got all salty and sandy from surfing after lunch."
Grinning crookedly, “There’s some that would say it’s too late and that I’m already a little weird.” The fabric has a pale blue tie-dyed pattern set against a white background that should offset Palia’s tan beautifully. Giving the wrap a little shake, Bailey reaches forward and drawing it against the little girl’s back, brings the top edges toward the front. “Lift your braids,” she instructs before crossing the ends over each other and knotting them neatly behind her neck. Leaning back on her heels, her head tips to one side, “Such a little lady,” she pronounces with a smile, “What do you think?” As to the query on fetching a hairbrush, the brunette nods solemnly, “Of course. And a little hand mirror, if you have one?”
"Well not /that/ kind of weird," Palia makes sure to clarify and slides her hand under braids, curls fingers around the ends and holds them against the back of her head. That pronouncement makes her stick her tongue out though. "Am /not/." But her braids are let loose and her hand runs down the soft fabric again, clearly pleased. "It's so light. And soft." And she twirls around even, letting the 'skirt' bell out a little. "Sure, though, do you want to come inside? Papa won't mind."
After a short chuckle Bailey frowns a little, trying to understand what it is that Palia’s getting at, “What kind of weird?” Light laughter follows and the brunette imitates the little girl by sticking her own tongue out too, “Do too! You know,” fussing with the edges of the wrap that falls to just below the child’s knees until she’s satisfied with the drape, “I like being a tomboy too but sometimes,” smiling as if imparting a secret, “Sometimes, it’s a lot of fun to play dress up and pretend like you’re a lady too.” Watching as she twirls the trader’s expression is openly fond, “Do you think you could remember how to tie it yourself?” As to going inside, she flickers a glance toward the Beach House then slowly shakes her head as fingers touch to the gold necklace with the key pendant dangling at the hollow of her throat, “I’ve got someone waiting for me after I’ve done your hair. But I’ll be back in time for the dinner rush,” she promises.
"I like to look /pretty/," is Palia's take on things. "But I don't want any corsets or whatall some ladies have to wear," she tells Bailey confidentially. "Can you imagine being all squeezed into your clothes like that? Ewwwww." Her head cocks to the side though, pondering wrap technique. "Probably. It didn't look hard and I guess if it gets slippy you can pin it?" Palia takes a breath, lets it out and nods. "Oh I meant you know, come in to do the hair stuff. But I can just bring my brush. I'll be right back!" She scrambles off then bare feet pattering away along the porch and through the side door that's well away from the restaurant. It doesn't take long for her to come back with the brush, a comb, a towel (smart kid) and a very small hand mirror with a wooden back, cradled carefully in her hands.
Bailey makes a face, nodding her agreement, “Which is probably why those high and mighty ‘misses’ faint all the time,” in a conspiratorial whisper, “The poor delicate creatures can’t breathe,” wink. Setting her hands to her thighs, she smiles her approval when Palia appears confident of being able to wrap the fabric herself, “Good, then you can keep it, and if you’re having problems with tying it and making it stay in place, just shout and I’ll show you again.” Her mouth forms a small ‘Oh’ when the child explains her reasoning behind having the trader accompany her inside. A soft smile follows the little girl’s disappearance, a hand touching lightly to her concealed belly. Once Palia reappears, she’ll find that the older woman has taken up residence on the edge of the porch with her back leaned against a pillar staring out to sea.
"Hi!" Palia announces as she returns. While inside, she's ditched the tank top and shorts. "See? I put it back on by myself." She sits down right next to Bailey, looks to put the requested items down in the woman's lap. "It's a pretty view, isn't it? I'm really glad that Papa built this place. It ... it really feels like home," she says thoughtfully.
The announcement breaks Bailey’s reverie and she turns a smile onto the little girl, “Hi, yourself.” Approval warms her expression, “And a really good job you did of it too. It’s nice and cool isn’t it?” Hands lift to receive the items. The brush and mirror laid down next to her, the towel is laid over her knees and fingers begin deftly unwinding Palia’s braids, “It is beautiful. He chose a really good spot.” Quieter now as she lifts the towel to carefully rub the damp and clinging grains of sand from springy brown hair, “It hasn’t always felt like home?”
Palia folds her legs up and sits very still as Bailey starts to deal with her hair. "I like this a lot. It's pretty and if you wear it over pants you can still run around," she points out about the sarong. Palia blows out a breath and looks out over the water, though her head holds still, apparently she's used to having her hair dealt with and has learned the important lesson about not moving around to avoid pulls. "No. I mean, I was little when we moved, but Miara wasn't with us at first and I missed her. And I didn't like moving around between Papa's weyr and the caverns."
Amusement filters in, “I hadn’t thought about putting pants on underneath. That’s a good idea.” Having done as much as she can with the towel, it gets laid back over her knees and the brush is taken up. Not having had a sister of her own, or very much to do with young children, let alone little girls, despite Bailey’s best efforts, Palia’s hair may get tugged here and there as the brush gets caught in tangles. Eventually however, it’s all brushed out and the trader holds out a hand for one of the combs. Unseen her nose wrinkles, “I didn’t like being moved around all the time either. Makes it hard to feel like you belong somewhere.” Smiling through her next words, “I’m glad that you’ve got somewhere now that feels like home. That’s important.”
Now and then there's a quiet 'ow' for those tugs, but Palia otherwise handles the clean up pretty well. The combs are passed back when requested and Palia does nod a little bit. "Yeah, I think Papa really wanted that feeling too. I think he needed it too," the girl says slowly, thoughtfully and tilts a little smile over her shoulder at Bailey.
At least Bailey has the grace to wince inwardly for each quiet utterance of ‘ow’ that comes from Palia. A section of hair is brushed from either side of the little girl’s head and a comb carefully positioned to hold it in place leaving just a few stray curls to gently frame her face. Taking up the mirror and holding it out to the child, “What do you think?” While she studies herself in it, the brunette nods as shoulders roll in a small shrug, noting as she does, “Even adults need to feel like they belong somewhere.”
In spite of those 'ows' Palia is otherwise calm through the hairdressing and she sits up straight once the combs are in and beams. "Thank you! I like this," is her determination. The mirror is set down and Palia turns to slide her arm around Bailey leans into the woman with a quiet sigh."I guess everyone does. I'm just glad that's /here/ for us."
Fond is the nature of the smile produced for Palia, an arm slipping about the child as she drops a kiss to the top of her recently dressed head. “They say home is where the heart is, and your papa holds you close to his. All this,” a small gesture with her free hand, “is simply decoration when you’re with people that love and care for you. Always remember that.” With a last squeeze, Bailey then gently disentangles herself from the little girl and brings her feet up under her, making ready to stand and leave, the edges of an enigmatic smile appearing, “One day perhaps I’ll have a little girl just like you. But right now, I need to get back and see to…something that requires my attention.”