(no subject)
Who: Aelan, Carina
Time: It is 22:41 on day 24, month 2, turn 2 of the 7th Pass.
Caucus Common Area
The common area between the two barracks has been made over into a sort of lounge area. Several sitting areas have been marked out by the use of cheerful rugs and circles of chairs and couches. Low tables are set in the center of each of these areas, and provide a place to set mugs of klah or reading material. A small hearth has been built at the east end of the room. There are never less than two pots of fresh klah simmering over the fire built within.
Contents:
Aelan
***
Boyish and slender, Aelan looks very little like a proper Lady Holder. She's tall for a woman, at five feet and ten inches prone to looking men right in the eye, and she holds herself with a stubborn defiance that makes her height even more obvious. Her boyish form is sorely lacking in feminine charms, rangy and too clearly marked with athletic muscle, only slender fingers and the lines of long legs truly feminine. Her features are bold, if not beautiful, large eyes of a hard slate grey tilted upwards slightly at the corners, and a narrow nose marked by a distinct hook in the bridge. Dusky skin and thick, dark hair showing signs of growing out of an uneven cut complete the picture, the shaggy cut falling to a sharp chin in the front and brushing her shoulders at the back.
Aelan's clothes are an odd mix of rich and poor fabrics, and good and poor fitting. From the waist up, a close-fitting shirt of cloud-soft charcoal flannel hugs her slender torso beneath a heavy vest of ivory suede lined with silvery rabbit fur and worked in crimson embroidery. The high-quality materials and tailored cut show the status of the Blood of Keroon, as does the expertly-worked piece of red jade in the shape of a galloping runner that hangs from a black leather thong at her throat. Her lower half, however, is nearly lost in a pair of leather trous worn shiny from use that look like something from a common stores, cinched and bunched at a slender waist, worn at the hems, and pooling at her feet, hiding most of a pair of soft black suede boots lined with fur.
***
Carina is the epitome of the dark and mysterious school of beauty. She has an unremarkable face shape, distinguished only by her distinctively proud nose, aquiline in shape. In the season of winter, her skin has paled to a very fair color, the only splash of color being a rosy tint to her cheekbones. Her hazel eyes are outlined in kohl, finely applied, and her dark eyebrows she keeps trimmed to a medium width -- the better for a striking gaze. Her dark colored hair falls free in thick tightly coiled ringlets that bounce as she moves. In winter, they remain a deep brown approaching black.
Today, Carina has dressed appropriately for the cold, yet manages an extravagence in layers of white undoubtedly inspired by the purity of snow. Her sweater is a soft piled wool, bleached to a point where just the barest hint of the natural buff color remains. The neck of it is an exuberant scalloped turtleneck, the fabric flopping just below her chin. She has on over it a blindingly white coat made of a stiffer, coarser wool that is cinched at the waist, reaching midcalf in length. The buttons are half-done up, round ones made of tortose-shell. Under her layers, she has on white slacks and neutral buff-colored suede boots with trim of white fur.
***
As the evening wears on, and it grows close to time for the Caucus students to be returning to the barracks, Aelan is, wonder of wonders, a little early. Wrapped in a thick, heavy blanket and sitting in a chair pulled perilously close to the fire, she holds a fan in one hand and class notes in the other, grimacing at both.
With a whirl of snow nipping at her feet, Carina stomps into the barracks. Literally. She stomps once, and then twice in rather bold gestures clearly including a real measure of anger at the snow for sticking to her boots. After a moment, she looks up, and upon seeing a student inside, pulls herself up straight to walk over to the fire.
"Sharding cold out there, isn't it?" Aelan mumbles without looking up, shaking out the fan awkwardly with one hand and eyeing it. "Too damn cold to do anything with this other than..." She leans forward, fanning the fire with the fan until the flames jump a bit, looking up with a swift grin at that. "Well, that, at least, I can handle."
Carina fans her hands out in front of the flames, crouching low towards the fire. Her coat brushes against the floor, however, and as abruptly as she bent she pulls herself up again and steps away. "Those who play with fire often get burned." She remarks, light smile on her face at the remark.
Aelan chuckles, continuing to fan the fire. "Only if they don't know how it works," she says lightly, though she soon leans back in her chair, closing the fan in an awkward manner that leaves the folds all out of sorts. Tucking it and the notes away, she brushes a hand off on her thigh before holding it out in cheerful introduction. "I'm Aelan."
Carina's eyes flick to her hand but she takes it with just a touch. "Carina of Benden." She releases Aelan's hand almost as soon as she took it, simply moving it a few millimeters away to hover it in the air with poise. "That would make you Aelan of Keroon, daughter of Lord Aleser, would it not? A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."
Aelan's smile fades a bit at the recognition of the additional introduction, though she manages to force a simulation of it back. "That would be me, yes," she agrees, rubbing her hands on her thighs as though to clean off any residual dirt. "Don't look like much trouble, do I?" she tries to laugh, smile weak.
Carina raises a slim eyebrow and says, "You shouldn't constantly rub your hands against your clothing. Either you keep them clean or don't, but it betrays your uncertainty and nervousness and is an insult to the weaver who made your garment." She clasps her hands in front of her waist, a perfect example of what she means.
"Why?" Aelan asks, brow quirking in return, though she seems more curious than confrontational. "They made it to be worn, and it's getting worn. Seems to me that wearing them like a real person for the purpose they were made'd be plenty of honor for the work. Besides," she adds with a wry smile, flipping the blanket aside to reveal the worn leather of her poorly fitting pants, "I don't think much work went into these."
Tsk. Carina's eyes flash as she tilts her head. "How should you know? You're not a weaver. You're a member of the blood and the sole representative of the honor of your family and the honor of Keroon. You need to at least be able to act that part, if you can't actually live up to it or else everyone will walk over you and this entire experience will have been a waste. It starts by treating your clothes like they aren't made of the same thing as dirt and wearing the appropriate thing at the appropriate time." She takes a step closer to Aelan's seat, hands still clasped in front of her.
"I might not /be/ a weaver, but I've seen how they work. My uncle took me travelling," Aelan says, brow arching further as she sits up straighter, chin rising defiantly. "And /no one/ walks all over me. Certainly not you." She snorts, a distinctly indelicate sound. "Bit of hypocrisy there, don't you think? Telling me not to treat my clothes poorly so people don't walk all over me while you try to do the same."
"I just /did/." Carina says, voice entirely low and dangerous. Her eyes focus directly on Aelan. "Or else you wouldn't be quite so upset, would you little Keroon? You may put your chin up at me all you like, but the fact remains that those who look like they muck the runners will be treated like the runners." After lowering her head to look at Aelan, she moves not one inch. Not even to brush a strand of hair out of her face, now damp with melted snow.
Aelan snorts again, quite runner-like. "You've only succeeded in walking all over me if I change to please you. Which I won't. So you can take your Benden act over to another hearth if it suits you. Besides," she adds, smirking as she lets a thick Keroon drawl slip into her voice. "Ain't nothin' wrong with muckin' out the runners. Keeps all the pretty white thangs from slippin' in the shit."
Carina ignores her to smile ever so, and then says, "The next time I see you, wear clothes appropriate to your rank. If you need help finding them, or a woman to do your hair, I will be more than willing to help." And with that, Carina walks out of the room, the picture of calm serenity.
Aelan raises a hand to wave with a flick of her wrist and a cheerful smile. "Good luck finding those flying porcines!" she calls after the other woman in a sing-song voice. She watches Carina out, still smirking with a touch of amusement, before shaking her head and going back to her notes and the fan.
Time: It is 22:41 on day 24, month 2, turn 2 of the 7th Pass.
Caucus Common Area
The common area between the two barracks has been made over into a sort of lounge area. Several sitting areas have been marked out by the use of cheerful rugs and circles of chairs and couches. Low tables are set in the center of each of these areas, and provide a place to set mugs of klah or reading material. A small hearth has been built at the east end of the room. There are never less than two pots of fresh klah simmering over the fire built within.
Contents:
Aelan
***
Boyish and slender, Aelan looks very little like a proper Lady Holder. She's tall for a woman, at five feet and ten inches prone to looking men right in the eye, and she holds herself with a stubborn defiance that makes her height even more obvious. Her boyish form is sorely lacking in feminine charms, rangy and too clearly marked with athletic muscle, only slender fingers and the lines of long legs truly feminine. Her features are bold, if not beautiful, large eyes of a hard slate grey tilted upwards slightly at the corners, and a narrow nose marked by a distinct hook in the bridge. Dusky skin and thick, dark hair showing signs of growing out of an uneven cut complete the picture, the shaggy cut falling to a sharp chin in the front and brushing her shoulders at the back.
Aelan's clothes are an odd mix of rich and poor fabrics, and good and poor fitting. From the waist up, a close-fitting shirt of cloud-soft charcoal flannel hugs her slender torso beneath a heavy vest of ivory suede lined with silvery rabbit fur and worked in crimson embroidery. The high-quality materials and tailored cut show the status of the Blood of Keroon, as does the expertly-worked piece of red jade in the shape of a galloping runner that hangs from a black leather thong at her throat. Her lower half, however, is nearly lost in a pair of leather trous worn shiny from use that look like something from a common stores, cinched and bunched at a slender waist, worn at the hems, and pooling at her feet, hiding most of a pair of soft black suede boots lined with fur.
***
Carina is the epitome of the dark and mysterious school of beauty. She has an unremarkable face shape, distinguished only by her distinctively proud nose, aquiline in shape. In the season of winter, her skin has paled to a very fair color, the only splash of color being a rosy tint to her cheekbones. Her hazel eyes are outlined in kohl, finely applied, and her dark eyebrows she keeps trimmed to a medium width -- the better for a striking gaze. Her dark colored hair falls free in thick tightly coiled ringlets that bounce as she moves. In winter, they remain a deep brown approaching black.
Today, Carina has dressed appropriately for the cold, yet manages an extravagence in layers of white undoubtedly inspired by the purity of snow. Her sweater is a soft piled wool, bleached to a point where just the barest hint of the natural buff color remains. The neck of it is an exuberant scalloped turtleneck, the fabric flopping just below her chin. She has on over it a blindingly white coat made of a stiffer, coarser wool that is cinched at the waist, reaching midcalf in length. The buttons are half-done up, round ones made of tortose-shell. Under her layers, she has on white slacks and neutral buff-colored suede boots with trim of white fur.
***
As the evening wears on, and it grows close to time for the Caucus students to be returning to the barracks, Aelan is, wonder of wonders, a little early. Wrapped in a thick, heavy blanket and sitting in a chair pulled perilously close to the fire, she holds a fan in one hand and class notes in the other, grimacing at both.
With a whirl of snow nipping at her feet, Carina stomps into the barracks. Literally. She stomps once, and then twice in rather bold gestures clearly including a real measure of anger at the snow for sticking to her boots. After a moment, she looks up, and upon seeing a student inside, pulls herself up straight to walk over to the fire.
"Sharding cold out there, isn't it?" Aelan mumbles without looking up, shaking out the fan awkwardly with one hand and eyeing it. "Too damn cold to do anything with this other than..." She leans forward, fanning the fire with the fan until the flames jump a bit, looking up with a swift grin at that. "Well, that, at least, I can handle."
Carina fans her hands out in front of the flames, crouching low towards the fire. Her coat brushes against the floor, however, and as abruptly as she bent she pulls herself up again and steps away. "Those who play with fire often get burned." She remarks, light smile on her face at the remark.
Aelan chuckles, continuing to fan the fire. "Only if they don't know how it works," she says lightly, though she soon leans back in her chair, closing the fan in an awkward manner that leaves the folds all out of sorts. Tucking it and the notes away, she brushes a hand off on her thigh before holding it out in cheerful introduction. "I'm Aelan."
Carina's eyes flick to her hand but she takes it with just a touch. "Carina of Benden." She releases Aelan's hand almost as soon as she took it, simply moving it a few millimeters away to hover it in the air with poise. "That would make you Aelan of Keroon, daughter of Lord Aleser, would it not? A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."
Aelan's smile fades a bit at the recognition of the additional introduction, though she manages to force a simulation of it back. "That would be me, yes," she agrees, rubbing her hands on her thighs as though to clean off any residual dirt. "Don't look like much trouble, do I?" she tries to laugh, smile weak.
Carina raises a slim eyebrow and says, "You shouldn't constantly rub your hands against your clothing. Either you keep them clean or don't, but it betrays your uncertainty and nervousness and is an insult to the weaver who made your garment." She clasps her hands in front of her waist, a perfect example of what she means.
"Why?" Aelan asks, brow quirking in return, though she seems more curious than confrontational. "They made it to be worn, and it's getting worn. Seems to me that wearing them like a real person for the purpose they were made'd be plenty of honor for the work. Besides," she adds with a wry smile, flipping the blanket aside to reveal the worn leather of her poorly fitting pants, "I don't think much work went into these."
Tsk. Carina's eyes flash as she tilts her head. "How should you know? You're not a weaver. You're a member of the blood and the sole representative of the honor of your family and the honor of Keroon. You need to at least be able to act that part, if you can't actually live up to it or else everyone will walk over you and this entire experience will have been a waste. It starts by treating your clothes like they aren't made of the same thing as dirt and wearing the appropriate thing at the appropriate time." She takes a step closer to Aelan's seat, hands still clasped in front of her.
"I might not /be/ a weaver, but I've seen how they work. My uncle took me travelling," Aelan says, brow arching further as she sits up straighter, chin rising defiantly. "And /no one/ walks all over me. Certainly not you." She snorts, a distinctly indelicate sound. "Bit of hypocrisy there, don't you think? Telling me not to treat my clothes poorly so people don't walk all over me while you try to do the same."
"I just /did/." Carina says, voice entirely low and dangerous. Her eyes focus directly on Aelan. "Or else you wouldn't be quite so upset, would you little Keroon? You may put your chin up at me all you like, but the fact remains that those who look like they muck the runners will be treated like the runners." After lowering her head to look at Aelan, she moves not one inch. Not even to brush a strand of hair out of her face, now damp with melted snow.
Aelan snorts again, quite runner-like. "You've only succeeded in walking all over me if I change to please you. Which I won't. So you can take your Benden act over to another hearth if it suits you. Besides," she adds, smirking as she lets a thick Keroon drawl slip into her voice. "Ain't nothin' wrong with muckin' out the runners. Keeps all the pretty white thangs from slippin' in the shit."
Carina ignores her to smile ever so, and then says, "The next time I see you, wear clothes appropriate to your rank. If you need help finding them, or a woman to do your hair, I will be more than willing to help." And with that, Carina walks out of the room, the picture of calm serenity.
Aelan raises a hand to wave with a flick of her wrist and a cheerful smile. "Good luck finding those flying porcines!" she calls after the other woman in a sing-song voice. She watches Carina out, still smirking with a touch of amusement, before shaking her head and going back to her notes and the fan.