Making friends is this easy.
Who: Ownah and M'cay
Where: Five Mines Hold
When: Dinnertime on day 20, month 8, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Ownah meets one of the newer residents of the hold. She makes a glorious impression on the poor boy. Maybe she's a bit overly cruel. A wee bit. Maybe. But it does drive him to wanting to hit her which is funny!
4/21/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 17:12 on day 20, month 8, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
It's the time at the hold when the main room is full of people. Dinnertime is a good time to notice the disreputable sorts. Which are, well, the majority of the population at the old. With so many people around it's hard to avoid anyone, but at least one can hope no one will do anything. The sorts of troubles Ownah wishes to avoid are more troublesome in smaller rooms, darker places, and solitary conditions. She's seated at a table with others, trying to keep to herself for the most part and eat her meal in peace.
M'cay steps through the doors and moves with purposeful strides towards the serving tables. The lad takes a sparse selection of the available food, wrinkling his nose slightly at one thing or the other. Then he takes up a mug of water (how boring) and searches for a place to sit. Black and grey catches his eyes and he moves to an empty space near Ownah. The bronze weyrling pauses respectfully, and asks in a low but deep voice, "May I sit?"
Ownah looks up from her plate, looks over the person asking, and shrugs. "Not my place to say otherwise, is it? Sit if you want." Her own cup and plate are pulled closer as if one more person at the table is going to take up the last of the room available. Of which there is still a decent amount.
M'cay swings a leg over the bench and sits, leaving a respectful amount of space between them. "M'cay," he offers by way of greeting before arranging his plate and mug so that he can dig in with a minimum amount of fuss. "From the island." Obviously, to judge by his tan and gaunt features.
Ownah shakes her head and picks up a piece of her bread to stare at it. "Really. And here I was thinking you were joinin' us from somewhere else. Nice ta meet you, I guess." Not entirely friendly, but she's not thrown anything at him yet. "Ownah. From Nabol."
M'cay smiles slightly; it's more of a twitch in the corner of his mouth than anything. "Well met," he replies softly. "What, er, could you pass me that bit of bread, there?" he asks, nodding to a loaf in the center of the table.
Ownah lets out an annoyed sigh and reaches for the bread before handing it over. "Sure. Spend all day doin' for others I suppose I ain't got no right to expect dinner will be any different now we got all you here. Just going to make more trouble is what you're going to do." Shaking her head she goes back to tearing up her own bread and sprinkling it on her food.
M'cay's brows furrow, "Thank you," he says very deliberately as she hands him the bread. "Is there anything I can get for you?" he courteously offers. "And for your information, I didn't choose to come here. I didn't have a choice. I don't intend to make trouble - I'm leaving as soon as I can."
Ownah snorts behind her cup. "Oh, please. We all got a choice on where we can be. You ain't got to stay here if you don't want to. It's no matter to me. I'm just here to work until I can go back to my husband. And I don't need nothing from anyone, but thank you very much." Frowning she asks, "You one of the ones they stole then? We heard about it."
M'cay bristles a little bit, "I had no choice," he whispers, deep emotion coloring his voice with anger. Then he calms himself and nods, "Yes, I was stolen from Greystones. You wouldn't know of any messengers heading that way, would you? I want to get a message to my family that I'm alright." A moment of hesitation and then, "Your husband?"
"You got a choice now. Go on and leave. Ain't no one going to stop you now." Not exactly the truth, but Ownah's world is a simple one. Black and white. "Ain't got no information on no messengers. Not anyone I'm trying to say anything to right now." His question earns a nod of her head. "Yea. My husband."
M'cay glares at the young woman, "I told you, I can't leave," he says, his voice layered with frustration. The rider glances around, "Where is your husband? He wouldn't mind me talking to you would he?"
Ownah gestures out towards the outside. "You got here. Who's keeping you from leaving? You got a dragon. Go on home." Into her mouth goes the last of her bread and she must chew on it before she can talk again. "He ain't here. And so long as you just talk and you ain't tryin' anything then ain't no one going to have a problem with anything. You get out of line you'll be sorry is all."
M'cay closes his eyes to let his frustration drain away from him. "J'lor," is his answer, "and Tenzinth isn't fully grown yet so we can't go anywhere. He doesn't know how to between anywhere other than here and the islands." The young teen swallows and licks his lip, looking hungrily at the woman for a brief moment before he regains control of himself and turns to his food. "So why are you here if he isn't here?"
"You don't know what your home looks like? Ain't it the same? You just, you know, picture where you want to go. How hard can it be?" Ownah picks at her food as she talks, but between sentences she eats as heartily as any of the men. "Ain't none of your business. Why I'm here and why he ain't. Got no reason to tell you or anyone at all. I'm here and that's all anyone has to be told."
M'cay shrugs a shoulder, "Sorry," the lad mumbles. He returns to his meal, cleaning his plate in short order and downing his water. He looks around, "So, what do people do here for fun?"
Ownah narrows her eyes down at her plate as she takes a drink from her cup. "What? Fun? Who has time? I work all day and spend my nights stayin' out of the way. Don't be gamblin' with anyone here. You wind up owin' the wrong person and you're in trouble." Bobbing her head once she picks at her food again. "You just learn to keep to yourself is all. You want to do stuff you got to find it yourself."
M'cay lifts his brows, "Thanks for the advice," the young man says. Just for a moment (if she catches it) his 'tough guy' mask slips, and he looks nervously around him. But something restores his confidence and his face slips back into it's casual indifference mode. "Say I needed something for my weyr, who would I talk to? Or do I have to make it myself?"
Ownah frowns at her plate and chews on her thumbnail. "Depends on what you want and all. There's not much here, but I imagine we got more than you're used to where you used to be. Supposedly being a civilised place and all. I don't know. I just got my cot in the dorms. Suppose with you being on your own you don't need ta be told about getting a good lock on your chest."
M'cay chuckles, "Tenzinth is as good as any lock," the young rider says with unabashed affection for his dragon. He frowns, "Do people steal from you?" His eyes flick around the Hall as though at any moment someone might mug the woman and he'd have to defend her.
Ownah shakes her head and polishes off her dinner. "No. No one takes anything from me, but I ain't got anything no one wants either. Everything I showed up with that was worth anything I turned over to the hold. Just my clothes is all I got and no one's takin' those. Got no need for stuff. Hold provides."
M'cay seems a little surprised by that sentiment, "You've got nothing?" Well, M'cay, let's be fair. You don't have anything either. He reaches up to touch the shell necklace he wears. "What exactly do you do here?"
Ownah grins widely, chipped tooth on display in all its glory. "Got the clothes on my back and a few others. Ain't got no need for anything else. Got good solid boots even. More than some can say. Ain't no lady to need grand things." As for what she does here, shoulders shrug. "What I'm assigned. Lots of laundry. Worked the laundry in other places and am good at it. Also, it's summer so we do a lot of hangin' outside and I like bein' outside. Do clean up in the kitchen too. Mendin' stuff as I get told. Just whatever. Cleanin' up mostly."
M'cay nods, thoughtful for a moment, "I like being outside too. If you ever need any help..." he trails off. "I'm not too sure what I'm supposed to be doing here, and Tenzinth no longer takes up /all/ my time."
Ownah wrinkles her nose, head shaking. "Ain't looking to spend no time with any of you riders. I know what you're all like and I got enough to worry about the rest of the men without worryin' about you that think it's your due to do what you want."
M'cay looks genuinely hurt, for all the good it'll do him. "I would never take advantage of you," the bronzerider says firmly, "I wasn't exiled myself, remember, I was kidnapped. I'm a good, holdbred lad. I'm not a rapist."
Ownah shakes her head once more, her braid flopping over her shoulder and then getting pushed back. "Yea. So were lots of riders. Then they went and got a dragon. Don't trust you is all. You all do what you think is your right and it ain't what the rest of us think is all. You're fine to talk to in here at meals. But don't be trying anything else, is all."
M'cay steadies himself with a hand on the table, "And what is it that you think is my right? Or not my right? And what if," he says, gripped by a sudden flare of anger, "What if I did try to take advantage of you? What would you do then?"
Ownah smirks at the last question and settles both her palms flat on the table. "Kick your ass is what I'd do." Eyes rolling she glances around to be sure no one else heard. "Ain't got to worry about that. You get out of line I'll show you were the line is. That's all there is to it. I've lived at a weyr, you know. I know the stuff your sort do. that's all I'm sayin' and I ain't wanting any part of it."
M'cay rises to his feet, "Oh yeah? You think you could kick me down?" All the anger and resentment he's been feeling suddenly boils to the surface and it doesn't matter that she's a girl, or that he's usually such a mild-mannered young man. He wants to fight. "Prove it."
Ownah glances around the room, at the way people have started to pay attention to the conversation. "Right. I don't think I'm interested. You want to hit an unarmed woman who's sitting here you go right ahead." She pauses, smirking. "Go on, show everyone what a big man you are by doin' that."
M'cay shakes his head, "I'm not going to hit you unless you're ready for it. I was offering you a contest. I don't strike anyone unless they're able to fight back."
Ownah shakes her head and gestures at herself. "I look like I can? I'm just sittin' here. Trying to eat my dinner and you're threatening me. Seems my point is proved about what you riders will do, yea? You just run along. Plenty of people here who will be happy to toss you on your butt."
M'cay feels all his anger drain out of him, replaced by embarrassment and shame. The bronzerider sits heavily on the bench and tries to avoid the amused glances he's receiving. He puts his head in one hand and takes a few breaths. "I apologize," he says softly to the woman, "That was very rude and uncalled for. Please...forgive me?"
Ownah wipes away the bangs hanging in her eyes. "Sure. Forgive ya. Ain't my place to call you on anything, right? Am just a woman anyway." Rising to her feet she gathers up her dishes and shakes her head. "You best learn not to be threatening people. You'll wind up hurt bad, dragon or no. Not everyone here is as nice as me." She grins again and then heads off to return her dishes and do whatever it is she does.
M'cay dips his head, "So I'm learning," he murmurs as she leaves.
Where: Five Mines Hold
When: Dinnertime on day 20, month 8, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Ownah meets one of the newer residents of the hold. She makes a glorious impression on the poor boy. Maybe she's a bit overly cruel. A wee bit. Maybe. But it does drive him to wanting to hit her which is funny!
4/21/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 17:12 on day 20, month 8, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
It's the time at the hold when the main room is full of people. Dinnertime is a good time to notice the disreputable sorts. Which are, well, the majority of the population at the old. With so many people around it's hard to avoid anyone, but at least one can hope no one will do anything. The sorts of troubles Ownah wishes to avoid are more troublesome in smaller rooms, darker places, and solitary conditions. She's seated at a table with others, trying to keep to herself for the most part and eat her meal in peace.
M'cay steps through the doors and moves with purposeful strides towards the serving tables. The lad takes a sparse selection of the available food, wrinkling his nose slightly at one thing or the other. Then he takes up a mug of water (how boring) and searches for a place to sit. Black and grey catches his eyes and he moves to an empty space near Ownah. The bronze weyrling pauses respectfully, and asks in a low but deep voice, "May I sit?"
Ownah looks up from her plate, looks over the person asking, and shrugs. "Not my place to say otherwise, is it? Sit if you want." Her own cup and plate are pulled closer as if one more person at the table is going to take up the last of the room available. Of which there is still a decent amount.
M'cay swings a leg over the bench and sits, leaving a respectful amount of space between them. "M'cay," he offers by way of greeting before arranging his plate and mug so that he can dig in with a minimum amount of fuss. "From the island." Obviously, to judge by his tan and gaunt features.
Ownah shakes her head and picks up a piece of her bread to stare at it. "Really. And here I was thinking you were joinin' us from somewhere else. Nice ta meet you, I guess." Not entirely friendly, but she's not thrown anything at him yet. "Ownah. From Nabol."
M'cay smiles slightly; it's more of a twitch in the corner of his mouth than anything. "Well met," he replies softly. "What, er, could you pass me that bit of bread, there?" he asks, nodding to a loaf in the center of the table.
Ownah lets out an annoyed sigh and reaches for the bread before handing it over. "Sure. Spend all day doin' for others I suppose I ain't got no right to expect dinner will be any different now we got all you here. Just going to make more trouble is what you're going to do." Shaking her head she goes back to tearing up her own bread and sprinkling it on her food.
M'cay's brows furrow, "Thank you," he says very deliberately as she hands him the bread. "Is there anything I can get for you?" he courteously offers. "And for your information, I didn't choose to come here. I didn't have a choice. I don't intend to make trouble - I'm leaving as soon as I can."
Ownah snorts behind her cup. "Oh, please. We all got a choice on where we can be. You ain't got to stay here if you don't want to. It's no matter to me. I'm just here to work until I can go back to my husband. And I don't need nothing from anyone, but thank you very much." Frowning she asks, "You one of the ones they stole then? We heard about it."
M'cay bristles a little bit, "I had no choice," he whispers, deep emotion coloring his voice with anger. Then he calms himself and nods, "Yes, I was stolen from Greystones. You wouldn't know of any messengers heading that way, would you? I want to get a message to my family that I'm alright." A moment of hesitation and then, "Your husband?"
"You got a choice now. Go on and leave. Ain't no one going to stop you now." Not exactly the truth, but Ownah's world is a simple one. Black and white. "Ain't got no information on no messengers. Not anyone I'm trying to say anything to right now." His question earns a nod of her head. "Yea. My husband."
M'cay glares at the young woman, "I told you, I can't leave," he says, his voice layered with frustration. The rider glances around, "Where is your husband? He wouldn't mind me talking to you would he?"
Ownah gestures out towards the outside. "You got here. Who's keeping you from leaving? You got a dragon. Go on home." Into her mouth goes the last of her bread and she must chew on it before she can talk again. "He ain't here. And so long as you just talk and you ain't tryin' anything then ain't no one going to have a problem with anything. You get out of line you'll be sorry is all."
M'cay closes his eyes to let his frustration drain away from him. "J'lor," is his answer, "and Tenzinth isn't fully grown yet so we can't go anywhere. He doesn't know how to between anywhere other than here and the islands." The young teen swallows and licks his lip, looking hungrily at the woman for a brief moment before he regains control of himself and turns to his food. "So why are you here if he isn't here?"
"You don't know what your home looks like? Ain't it the same? You just, you know, picture where you want to go. How hard can it be?" Ownah picks at her food as she talks, but between sentences she eats as heartily as any of the men. "Ain't none of your business. Why I'm here and why he ain't. Got no reason to tell you or anyone at all. I'm here and that's all anyone has to be told."
M'cay shrugs a shoulder, "Sorry," the lad mumbles. He returns to his meal, cleaning his plate in short order and downing his water. He looks around, "So, what do people do here for fun?"
Ownah narrows her eyes down at her plate as she takes a drink from her cup. "What? Fun? Who has time? I work all day and spend my nights stayin' out of the way. Don't be gamblin' with anyone here. You wind up owin' the wrong person and you're in trouble." Bobbing her head once she picks at her food again. "You just learn to keep to yourself is all. You want to do stuff you got to find it yourself."
M'cay lifts his brows, "Thanks for the advice," the young man says. Just for a moment (if she catches it) his 'tough guy' mask slips, and he looks nervously around him. But something restores his confidence and his face slips back into it's casual indifference mode. "Say I needed something for my weyr, who would I talk to? Or do I have to make it myself?"
Ownah frowns at her plate and chews on her thumbnail. "Depends on what you want and all. There's not much here, but I imagine we got more than you're used to where you used to be. Supposedly being a civilised place and all. I don't know. I just got my cot in the dorms. Suppose with you being on your own you don't need ta be told about getting a good lock on your chest."
M'cay chuckles, "Tenzinth is as good as any lock," the young rider says with unabashed affection for his dragon. He frowns, "Do people steal from you?" His eyes flick around the Hall as though at any moment someone might mug the woman and he'd have to defend her.
Ownah shakes her head and polishes off her dinner. "No. No one takes anything from me, but I ain't got anything no one wants either. Everything I showed up with that was worth anything I turned over to the hold. Just my clothes is all I got and no one's takin' those. Got no need for stuff. Hold provides."
M'cay seems a little surprised by that sentiment, "You've got nothing?" Well, M'cay, let's be fair. You don't have anything either. He reaches up to touch the shell necklace he wears. "What exactly do you do here?"
Ownah grins widely, chipped tooth on display in all its glory. "Got the clothes on my back and a few others. Ain't got no need for anything else. Got good solid boots even. More than some can say. Ain't no lady to need grand things." As for what she does here, shoulders shrug. "What I'm assigned. Lots of laundry. Worked the laundry in other places and am good at it. Also, it's summer so we do a lot of hangin' outside and I like bein' outside. Do clean up in the kitchen too. Mendin' stuff as I get told. Just whatever. Cleanin' up mostly."
M'cay nods, thoughtful for a moment, "I like being outside too. If you ever need any help..." he trails off. "I'm not too sure what I'm supposed to be doing here, and Tenzinth no longer takes up /all/ my time."
Ownah wrinkles her nose, head shaking. "Ain't looking to spend no time with any of you riders. I know what you're all like and I got enough to worry about the rest of the men without worryin' about you that think it's your due to do what you want."
M'cay looks genuinely hurt, for all the good it'll do him. "I would never take advantage of you," the bronzerider says firmly, "I wasn't exiled myself, remember, I was kidnapped. I'm a good, holdbred lad. I'm not a rapist."
Ownah shakes her head once more, her braid flopping over her shoulder and then getting pushed back. "Yea. So were lots of riders. Then they went and got a dragon. Don't trust you is all. You all do what you think is your right and it ain't what the rest of us think is all. You're fine to talk to in here at meals. But don't be trying anything else, is all."
M'cay steadies himself with a hand on the table, "And what is it that you think is my right? Or not my right? And what if," he says, gripped by a sudden flare of anger, "What if I did try to take advantage of you? What would you do then?"
Ownah smirks at the last question and settles both her palms flat on the table. "Kick your ass is what I'd do." Eyes rolling she glances around to be sure no one else heard. "Ain't got to worry about that. You get out of line I'll show you were the line is. That's all there is to it. I've lived at a weyr, you know. I know the stuff your sort do. that's all I'm sayin' and I ain't wanting any part of it."
M'cay rises to his feet, "Oh yeah? You think you could kick me down?" All the anger and resentment he's been feeling suddenly boils to the surface and it doesn't matter that she's a girl, or that he's usually such a mild-mannered young man. He wants to fight. "Prove it."
Ownah glances around the room, at the way people have started to pay attention to the conversation. "Right. I don't think I'm interested. You want to hit an unarmed woman who's sitting here you go right ahead." She pauses, smirking. "Go on, show everyone what a big man you are by doin' that."
M'cay shakes his head, "I'm not going to hit you unless you're ready for it. I was offering you a contest. I don't strike anyone unless they're able to fight back."
Ownah shakes her head and gestures at herself. "I look like I can? I'm just sittin' here. Trying to eat my dinner and you're threatening me. Seems my point is proved about what you riders will do, yea? You just run along. Plenty of people here who will be happy to toss you on your butt."
M'cay feels all his anger drain out of him, replaced by embarrassment and shame. The bronzerider sits heavily on the bench and tries to avoid the amused glances he's receiving. He puts his head in one hand and takes a few breaths. "I apologize," he says softly to the woman, "That was very rude and uncalled for. Please...forgive me?"
Ownah wipes away the bangs hanging in her eyes. "Sure. Forgive ya. Ain't my place to call you on anything, right? Am just a woman anyway." Rising to her feet she gathers up her dishes and shakes her head. "You best learn not to be threatening people. You'll wind up hurt bad, dragon or no. Not everyone here is as nice as me." She grins again and then heads off to return her dishes and do whatever it is she does.
M'cay dips his head, "So I'm learning," he murmurs as she leaves.